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Complete Works of Shakespeare - Part 4
FIRST PART OF
KING HENRY IV.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
the
KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
HENRY, Prince of Wales,
PRINCE JOHN of Lancaster,
EARL OF WESTMORELAND, \Friends to
SIR WALTER BLUNT, } KING.
THOMAS PERCY, Earl of Worcester.
HENRY PERCY, Earl of Northumberland.
HENRY PERCY, surnamed HOTSPUR, his Son.
EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March.
SCROOP, Archbishop of York.
SIR MICHAEL, a Friend to the Archbishop.
ARCHIBALD, Earl of Douglas.
OWEN GLENDOWER.
SIR RICHARD VERNON.
SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.
POINS.
GADSHILL.
PETO.
BARDOLPH.
LADY PERCY, Wife to HOTSPUR, and Sister to
MORTIMER.
LADY MORTIMER, Daughter to GLENDOWER,
and Wife to MORTIMER.
MRS. QUICKLY, Hostess of a Tavern in East-
cheap.
Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain,
Drawers, Two Carriers, Travellers, and
Attendants.
SCENE, ENGLAND.
ACT I.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Room, in the Palace.
Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, SIR
WALTER BLUNT, and others.
K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with
care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in strands afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's
blood;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All ot one nature, of one substance bred,
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
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 levy ;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers'
womb
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 twelvemonth 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 expedience.
West. My liege, this haste was hot in ques-
tion,
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 Welshman taken,
A thousand of his people butchered ;
Upon whose dead corpse there was such mis-
use,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
462
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
FACT i.
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
Without much shame re-told or spoken of.
K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of
this broil
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
West. This, match'd with other, did, my
gracious Lord ;
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 them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.
K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious
friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, 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.
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
took
Mordake, Earl of Fife and eldest son
To beaten Douglas ; and the Earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
JC. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and
mak'st me sin,
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son,
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
Of my young Harry. O that it could be prov'd
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle- clothes our children where they lay,
And calPd mine Percy, his Plantagenet !
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine :
But let him from my thoughts. What think
you, coz,
Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,
To his own use he keeps ; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.
West. Th's is his uncle's teaching, this is
Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspects;
Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.
K. Hen. 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:
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. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The same. Another Room in the
Palace.
Enter PRINCE HENRY and FALSTAFF.
FaL Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drink-
ing of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after
supper, and sleeping upon benches after neon,
that thou hast forgotten 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, 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 flame-coloured taf-
feta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so
superfluous to demand the time of the day.
Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal ;
for we that take purses go by the moon and
the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that
wandering knight so fair. And, I pr'ythee,
sweet wag, when thou art king, as, God save
thy grace, (majesty, I should say ; for grace
thou wilt have none,)
P. IJen. What, none?
Fal. No, by my troth ; not so much as will
serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.
P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly,
roundly.
Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art
king, let not us that are squires of the night's
body be called thieves of the day's beauty : let
us 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.
P. Hen. Thou sayest well, and it holds well
too ; for the fortune of us that are the moon's
SCENE II.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
463
men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being
governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As, for
proof, now: a purse of gold most resolutely
snatched on 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 sayest true, lad.
And is not my hostess of the tavern a most
sweet wench?
P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad
of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most
sweet robe of durance?
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?
P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with
my hostess of the tavern?
Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckon-
ing many a time and oft.
P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy
part?
Fal. No; Til give thee thy due, thou hast
paid all there.
P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my
coin would stretch; and where it would not, I
have used my credit.
Fal. Yea, and so used it that, were it not
here apparent that thou art heir-apparent, but,
I p'rythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows
standing in England when thou art king? and
resolution thus fobbed as it is with the rusty
curb of old father antic the law? Do not thou,
when thou art king, hang a thief.
P. Hen. No; thou shall.
Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll
be a brave judge.
P. Hen. 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. Hen. 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 lugged bear.
P. Hen. Or an old lion, or a love?s lute.
Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bag-
pipe.
P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the
melancholy of Moor-ditch?
Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes,
and art, indeed, the most comparative, ras-
callest, sweet young prince, but, Hal, I
pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I
would to God thou and I knew where a com-
modity of good names were to be bought. An
old lord of the council rated me the other day
in the street about you, sir, but I marked him
not ; and yet he talked very wisely, but I re-
garded him not ; and yet he talked wisely, and
in the street too.
P. Hen. Thou didst well ; for wisdom cries
out in the streets, and no man regards it.
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 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 'M
be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.
P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-
morrow, Jack?
Fal. Where thou wilt, lad ; I '11 make one ;
an I do not, call me villain, and baffle me.
P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in
thee, from praying to purse-taking.
Enter POINS at a distance.
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. O, if men were to be saved by
merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for
him? Tins is the most omnipotent villain that
ever cried stand to a true man.
P. Hen. Good-morrow, Ned.
Poins. Good-morrow, sweet Hal. What says
Monsieur Remorse ? What says Sir John Sack-
and-sugar ? Jack , how agrees the devil and thee
about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-
Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold
capon's le^?
P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the
devil shall have his bargain ; for he was never
yet a breaker of proverbs, he will give the
devil his due.
Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping
thy word with the devil.
P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozen-
ing the devil.
Potns. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow
morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill !
there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich
offerings, and traders riding to London with fat
purses : I have visards for you all ; you have
horses for yourselves : Gadshill lies to-night in
Rochester: I have bespoke supper to-mcrrow
night in Eastcheap : we may do it as secure as
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT i.
sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses
full of crowns ; if you will not, tarry at home
and be hanged.
FaL Hear ye, Yedward ; if I tarry at home
and go not, I '11 hang you for going.
Poins. You will, chops?
FaL Hal, wilt thou make one?
P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by
my faith.
FaL There 's neither honesty, manhood, nor
good fellowship in thee, nor thou earnest not of
the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten
shillings.
P. Hen. Well, then, cnce in my days I '11 be
a madcap.
FaL Why, that 's well said.
P. Hen, Well, come what will, I '11 tarry at
home.
FaL By the Lord, I'll be a traitor, then,
when thou art king.
P. Hen. I care not.
Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince
and me alone : I will lay him down such reasons
for this adventure that he shall go.
FaL Well, God give thee the spirit of persua-
sion, and him the ears of profiting, that what
thou speakest 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 of the time want countenance. Farewell:
you shall find me in Eastcheap.
P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring ! Fare-
well, All-hallown summer ! {Exit IALSTAFF.
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 waylaid ; yourself and I will not
be there ; and when they have the booty, if you
and I do not rob them, cut this head from my
shoulders.
P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in
setting forth?
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 achieved, but
we '11 set upon them.
P. Hen. Ay, but 'tis like 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 '11 tie them in the wood ; our visards we will
change after we leave them ; and, sirrah, I have
cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our
noted outward garments. ;i.-;
P. Hen. 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 turned back ;
and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees
reason, I '11 forswear arms. The virtue of this
jest will be the incomprehensible lies that this
same fat rogue 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. Hen. Well, I '11 go with thee : provide us
all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow
night in Eastcheap ; there I '11 sup. Farewell.
Poins. Farewell, my lord. {Exit POINS.
P. Hen. I know you all, and will awhile
uphold
The unyok d humour of your idleness :
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work ;
But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for
come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I '11 so offend, to make offence a skill ;
Redeeming time when men think least I will.
[Exit.
SCENE III. The same. Another Room in
the Palace.
Enter KING HENRY, NORTHUMBERLAND,
WORCESTER, HOTSPUR, SIR WALTER
BLUNT, and others.
K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and
temperate,
Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me ; for accordingly
You tread upon my patience : but be sure
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition ;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young
down,
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
465
And therefore lost that title of respect
Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the
proud.
Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little
deserves
The scourge of greatness to be used on it ;
And that same greatness, too which our own
hands
Have holp to make so portly.
North. My lord,
K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone ; for I see
danger
And disobedience in thine eye : O, sir,
Your presence is too bold and peremptory
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier of a servant brow.
You have good leave to leave us : when we need
Your use and counsel we shall send for you.
[Exit WORCESTER.
You were about to speak.
[To NORTHUMBERLAND.
North. Yea, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your highness' name de-
manded,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
As is delivered to your majesty :
Either envy, therefore, or misprision
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remember when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reap'd
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ;
He was perfum'd like a milliner;
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took 't away again ;
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff: and still he smil'd and talk'd;
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He question'd me ; among the rest, demanded
My prisoners in your majesty's behalf.
I, then all smarting with my wounds being cold,
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,
Out of my grief and my impatience,
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what,
He should, or he should not ; for he made me
mad
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, God save
the mark !
And telling me the sovereign's! thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bniise ;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjoin ted chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said ;
And I beseech you, let not his report
Come current for an accusation
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my
lord,
Whatever Harry Percy then had said
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.
K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners,
But with proviso and exception,
That we at our own charge shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower,
Whose daughter, as we hear, that Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then,
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I shall never hold that man my friend
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
Hot. Revolted Mortimer !
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war : to prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue for all those
wounds, [took,
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
In single opposition, hand to hand,
He did confound tne best part of an hour
In changing hardiment with great Glendower :
Three times they breath'd, and three times did
they drink,
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did base and rotten policy
4 66
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT i.
Colour her working with such deadly wounds ;
Nor could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly :
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt.
K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou
dost belie him ;
He never did encounter with Glendower :
I tell thee,
He durst as well have met the devil alone
As Owen Glendower for an en:my.
Art thou not asham'd? But, drrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer :
Send me your prisoners with the speediest
means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you. My Lord Northumber-
land,
We license your departure with your son.
Send us your prisoners, or you '11 hear of it
\_Exeunt K. HENRY, BLUNT, and Train.
Hot. And if the devil come and roar for
them,
I will not send them : I will after straight,
And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart,
Albeit I make a hazard of my head.
North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and
pause awhile :
Here comes your uncle.
Re-enter WORCESTER.
Hot. Speak of Mortimer !
Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him :
Yea, on his part I '11 empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the
dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high i' the air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.
North. Brother, the king hath made your
nephew mad. [ To WORCESTER.
Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was
gone?
Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners ;
And when I urg'd the ransom once again
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale,
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
Wor. I cannot blame him : was he not pro-
claim'd
By Richard that dead is the next of blood?
North. He was: I heard the proclamation:
And then it was when the unhappy king
Whose wrongs in us God pardon !-did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition ;
From whence he intercepted did return
To be depos'd, and shortly murdered.
Wor. And for whose death we in the world's
wide mouth
Live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of. [then
Hot. But, soft, I pray you ; did King Richard
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown?
North. He did ; myself did hear it.
Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin
king,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve.
But shall it be that you tnat set the crown
Upon the head of this forgetful man,
And for his sake wear the detested blot
Of murderous subornation, shall it be
That you a world of curses undergo,
Being the agents, or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?
O, pardon me, that I descend so low
To show the line and the predicament
Wherein you range under this subtle king;
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power
Did 'gage them both in an unjust behalf,
As both of you, God pardon it ! have done,
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
Ana plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off
By him for whom these shames ye underwent?
No ; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again,
Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king, who studies day and night
To answer all the debt he owes to you
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths:
Therefore, I say,
Wor. Peace, cousin ; say no more :
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I '11 read you matter deep and dangerous ;
As full of peril and adventurous spirit
As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
Hot. If he fall in, good-night ! or sink or
swim :
Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare !
North. Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
Hot. By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd
moon;
Or dive into the bottom of the deep.
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
467
Where fathom- line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ;
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
Without corrival all her dignities :
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship !
Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.
Good cousin, give me audience for awhile.
Hot. I cry you mercy.
Wor. Those same noble Scots
That are your prisoners,
Hot. I '11 keep them all ;
By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them ;
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not :
I '11 keep them, by this hand.
Wor. You start away,
And lend no ear unto my purposes.
Those prisoners you shall keep.
Hot. Nay, I will ; that 's flat :
He said he would not ransom Mortimer ;
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer ;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I '11 holla Mortimer!
Nay,
I '11 have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,
To keep his anger still in motion.
WOT. Hear you, cousin ; a word.
Hot. All studies here I solemnly deiy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke :
And that same sword-and -buckler Prince of
Wales,
But that I think his father loves him not,
And would be glad he met with some mischance,
I 'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale.
Wor. Farewell, kinsman : I will talk to you
When you are better temper'd to attend.
North. Why, what a wasp-tongue and im-
patient fool
Art thou to break into this woman's mood,
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own !
Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and
scourg'd with rods,
Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard's time, what do ye call the place?
A plague upon \ it is in Glostershire ;
'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept,
His uncle York : where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.
North. At Berkley Castle.
Hot. You say true :
Why, what a candy deal of courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me !
Look, ivhen his infant fortune came to age,
And, gentle Harry Percy > and, kind cousin^
O, the devil take such cozeners ! God forgive
me!
Good uncle, tell your tale ; for I have done.
Wor. Nay, if you have not, to 't again ;
We '11 stay your leisure.
Hot. I have done, i' faith.
Wor. Then once more to your Scottish
prisoners.
Deliver them up without their ransom straight,
And make the Douglas' son your only mean
For powers in Scotland ; which, for divers
reasons
Which I shall send you written, be assur'd,
Will easily be granted. You, my lord,
{To NORTHUMBERLAND.
Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,
Shall secretly into the bosom creep
Of that same noble prelate, well belov'd,
The archbishop.
Hot. Of York, is 't not?
Wor. True ; who bears hard
His brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation,
As what I think might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,
And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.
Hot. I smell it : upon my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still
lett'st slip. [plot :
Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble
And then the power of Scotland and of York.
To join with Mortimer, ha?
Wor. And so they shall.
Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.
Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed,
To save our heads by raising of a head ;
For, bear ourselves as even as we can,
The king will always thinl- him in our debt,
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home :
And see already how he doth begin
To make us strangers to his looks of love.
Hot. He does, he does : we '11 be revengM on
him.
Wor. Cousin, farewell : no further go in this
Than I by letters shall direct your course.
When time is ripe, which will be suddenly,
I '11 steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer;
Where you and Douglas, and our powers at
once,
As I will fashion it, shall happily meet,
To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.
North. Farewell, good brother: we shall
thrive, I trust.
Hot. Uncle, adieu : O, let the hours be short,
4 68
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT ii.
Till fields and blows and groans applaud our
sport. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. ROCHESTER. An Inn Yard.
Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.
I Car. Heigh-ho ! an 't be not four by the
day, I '11 be hanged : Charles' wain is over the
new chimney, and yet our horse not packed.
What, ostler !
Ost. [Within.'} Anon, anon.
1 Car. I pr'ythee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle,
put a few flocks in the point ; the poor jade is
wrong in the withers out of all cess.
Enter another Carrier.
2 Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a
dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades
the bots : this house is turned upside down since
Robin ostler died.
1 Car. Poor fellow ! never joyed since the
price of oats rose ; it was the death of him.
2 Car. I think this be the most villanous
house in all London road for fleas : I am stung
like a tench.
1 Car. Like a tench ! by the mass, there is
ne'er a king in Christendom could be better bit
than I have been since the first cock.
2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jor-
den, and then we leak in your chimney; and
your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach.
1 Car. What, ostler! come away, and be
hanged ; come away.
2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two
races of ginger, to be delivered as far as Char-
ing-cross.
i Car. 'Odsbody ! the turkeys in my pannier
are quite starved. What, ostler ! A plague on
thee ! hast thou never an eye in thy head?
canst not hear? An 'twere not as good a deed
as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very
villain. Come, and be hanged : hast no faith
in thee?
Enter GADSHILL.
Good -morrow, carriers.
What 's
Gads.
o'clock?
i Car. I think it be two o'clock.
Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see
my gelding in the stable.
1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye ; I know a trick
worth two of that, i' faith.
Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine.
2 Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy
lantern, quoth a? marry, I'll see thee hanged
first.
Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean
to come to London? ; u jforj
2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a
candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbour
Mugs, we '11 call up the gentlemen : they will
along with company, for they have great charge.
[Exeunt Carriers.
Gads. What, ho ! chamberlain !
Cham. [Within.'} At hand, quoth pick-purse.
Gads. That 's even as fair as at hand, quoth
the chamberlain ; for thou variest no more from
picking of purses than giving direction doth
from labouring ; thou layest the plot how.
Enter Chamberlain.
Cham. Good-morrow, Master Gadshill. It
holds current that I told you yesternight:
there's a franklin in the wild of Kent hath
brought three hundred marks with him in gold :
I heard him tell it to one of his company last
night at supper ; a kind of auditor ; one that
hath abundance of charge too, God knows what.
They are up already, and call for eggs and
butter : they will away presently.
Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint
Nicholas' clerks, I '11 give thee this neck.
Cham. No, I '11 none of it : I pr'ythee, keep
that for the hangman ; for I know thou wor-
shippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of
falsehood may.
Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hang,
man ? If I hang, I '11 make a fat pair of gallows ;
for if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me ; and
thou knowest he's no starveling. Tut! there
are other Trojans that thou dreamest not of,
the which, for sport-sake, are content to do the
profession some grace ; that would, if matters
should be looked into, for their own credit-sake,
make all whole. I am joined with no foot land-
rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of
these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms ;
but with nobility and tranquillity ; burgomasters
and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as
will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner
than drink, and drink sooner than pray: and
yet I lie ; for they pray continually to their
saint, the commonwealth ; or, rather, not pray
to her, but prey on her ; for they ride up and
clown on her, and make her their boots.
Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots?
will she hold out water in foul way?
Gads. She will, she will ; justice hath liquored
her. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure; we
have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible.
Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are
more beholding to the night than to fern-seed
for your walking invisible.
SCENE II.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
469
Gads. Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a
share in our purchase, as I am a true man.
Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are
a false thief.
Gads. Go to ; homo is a common name to all
men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of
the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave.
{Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Road by Gadshill.
Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS ; BARDOLPH
and PETO at some, distance.
Poins. Come, shelter, shelter: I have re-
moved Falstaff s horse, and he frets like a
gummed velvet.
P. Hen. Stand close. {They retire.
Enter FALSTAFF.
Fal. Poins ! Poins, and be hanged ! Poins !
P. Hen. [Coming forward.] Peace, ye fat-
kidneyed rascal ! what a brawling dost thou
keep !
Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?
P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the
hill : I '11 go seek him.
[Pretends to seek POINS.
Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief s
company : the rascal hath removed my horse,
and tied him I know not where. If I travel
but four foot by the squire further a-foot, I
shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but
to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging
for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his
company hourly any time this two-and-twenty
year, and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's
company. If the rascal have not given me
medicines to make me love him, I '11 be hanged;
it could not be else ; I have drunk medicines.
Poins ! Hal ! a plague upon you both !
Bardolph ! Peto ! I '11 starve, ere I '11 rob a
foot further. An 'twere not as good a deed as
drink, to turn true man, and leave these rogues,
I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a
tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is three-
score and ten miles a-foot with me; and the
stony-hearted villains know it well enough : a
plague upon 't, when thieves cannot be true to
one another! [They whistle.'] Whew! a
plague upon you all ! Give me my horse, you
rogues ; give me my horse, and be hanged.
P. Hen. [Coming forward.] Peace, ye fat-
guts! lie down; lay thine ear close to the
ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of
travellers.
Fa!. Have you any levers to lift me up again,
being down? 'Sblood, I '11 not bear mine own
flesh so far a-foot again for all the coin in thy
father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye
to colt me thus?
P. Hen. Thou liest; thou art not colted,
thou art uncolted.
Fal. I pr'ythee, good Prince Hal, help me
to my horse, good king's son. [ostler?
P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your
Fal. Go, hang thyself in thine own heir-
apparent garters ! If I be ta'en, I '11 peach for
this. An I have not ballads made on you all,
and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be
my poison : when a jest is so forward, and a-
foot too ! I hate it.
Enter GADSHILL.
Gads. Stand.
Fal. So I do, against my will.
Poins. O, 'tis our setter : I know his voice.
[Coming jorward with BARD, and PETO.
Bard. W.iat news?
Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your vis-
ards : there 's money of the king's coming down
the hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer.
Fal. You lie, you rogue; 'tis going to the
king's lavern.
Gads. There 's enough to make us all.
Fal. To be hanged.
P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in
the narrow lane ; Ned Poins and I will walk
lower : if they 'scape from your encounter, then
they light on us.
Peto. How many be there of them t
Gads. Some eight or ten.
Fal. Zounds, will they not rob us?
P. Hen. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?
Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your
grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal.
P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof.
Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind
the hedge : when thou needest him, there thou
shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.
Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should
be hanged.
P. Hen. [Aside to POINS.} Ned, where are
our disguises?
Poins. Here, hard by : stand close.
[Exeunt. P. HENRY and POINS.
Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his
dole, say I : every man to his business.
Enter Travellers.
I Trav. Come, neighbour: the boy shall
lead our horses down the hill ; we '11 walk a-foot
awhile, and ease our legs.
Fal. t Gads., &f. Stand!
Trav. Jesu bless us 1
470
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT ii.
Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the
villains' throats: ah, whoreson caterpillars!
bacon-fed knaves ! they hate us youth : down
with them ; fleece them. [for ever !
Trav. O, "we are undone, both we and ours
Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye un-
done? No, ye fat chuffs; I would your store
were here ! On, bacons on ! What, ye knaves !
young men must live. You are grand-jurors,
are ye? we'll jure ye, i' faith.
[Exeunt FAL., &r. , driving the
Travellers out.
Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS.
P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true
men. Now could thou and I rob the thieves,
and go merrily to London, it would be argument
for a week, laughter for a month, and a good
jest for ever.
Poins. Stand close ; I hear them coming.
Re-enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH.
and PETO.
Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and
then to horse before day. An the Prince and
Poins be not two arrant cowards, there 's no
equity stirring : there 's no more valour in that
Poins than in a wild duck.
P. Hen. Your money !
[Rushing out upon them.
Poins. Villains!
[GADS., BARD., and PETO run away; and
FAL. also, after a blow or two, leaving the
booty.
P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily
to horse : [fear
The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with
So strongly that they dare not meet each other;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along :
Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poins. How the rogue roar'd ! [Exeunt.
SCENE III. WARKWORTH. A Room in the
Castle.
Enter HOTSPUR, reading a letter.
Hot. But) for mine own party my lord, I
could be well contented to be there, in respect
of the love I bear your house. He could be
contented, why is he not, then? In respect
of the love he bears our house: he shows
in this, he loves his own barn better than he
loves our house. Let me see some more.
The purpose yoti undertake is dangerous.
Why, that's certain: 'tis dangerous to take
a cold, to sleep, to drink ; but I tell you, my
lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck
this flower, safety. The purpose you undertake
is dangerous; the friends you have named un-
certain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole
plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an
opposition. Say you so, say you so? I say
unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly
hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this!
By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was
laid ; our friends true and constant : a good plot,
good friends, and full of expectation ; an excel-
lent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-
spirited rogue is this ! Why, my Lord of York
commends the plot and the general course of the
action. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal,
I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there
not my father, my uncle, and myself? Lord
Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and
Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides, the
Douglas? Have I not all their letters to meet
me in arms by the ninth of the next month ? and
are they not some of them set forward already 1 ,.
What a pagan rascal is this ! an infidel ! Ha !
you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and
cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all
our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and
go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed
milk with so honourable an action ! Hang him !
Let him tell the king : we are prepared. I will
set forward to-night.
Enter LADY PERCY.
How now, Kate! I must leave you within
these two hours. [alone?
Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus
For what offence have I this fortnight been
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from
thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,
And given my treasures and my rights of thee
To thick-ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars ;
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ;
Cry, Courage! to the field I And thou hast
talk'd
Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the currents of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
471
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream ;
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden hest. O, what portents
are these ?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hot. What, ho !
Enter a Servant.
Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago.
Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from
the sheriff? [now.
Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even
Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it
not?
Serv. It is, my lord.
Hot. That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight : O esperancel
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
[Exit Servant.
Lady. But hear you, my lord.
Hot. What say'st thou, my lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape !
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
As you are toss'd with. In faith,
I 'U know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title, and hath sent for you
To line his enterprise : but if you go,
Hot. So far a-foot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question that I ask :
In faith, I '!! break thy little finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
Hot. Away,
Away, you trifler! Love? I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world
To play with mammets and to tilt with lips :
We must have bloody noses and crack' d crowns,
And pass them current too. Gods me, my
horse! [with me?
What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have
Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, in-
deed?
Well, do not, then ; for since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.
Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o' horseback, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate ;
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout:
Whither I must, I must ; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise ; but yet no further wise
Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are ;
But yet a woman : and for secrecy,
No lady closer ; for I well believe
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.
Lady. How! so far? [Kate:
Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you,
Whither I go, thither shall you go too ;
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.
Will this content you, Kate?
Lady. It must, of force. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. EASTCHEAP. A Room in the
Boards Head Tavern.
Enter PRINCE HENRY.
P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat
room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little.
Enter POINS.
Poms. Where hast been, Hal?
P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads
amongst three or fourscore hogsheads. I have
sounded the very base string of humility.
Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of
drawers ; and can call them all by their Chris-
tian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis.
They take it already upon their salvation, that
though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the
king of courtesy ; and tell me flatly I am no
proud Jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad
of mettle, a good boy, by the Lord, so they call
me, and when I am king of England I shall
command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They
call drinking deep, dying scarlet ; and when you
breathe in your watering, they cry hem I and
bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good
a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I
can drink with any tinker in his own language
during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast
lost much honour, that thou wert not with me
in this action. But, sweet Ned, to sweeten
which name of Ned, I give thee this penny-
worth of sugar, clapped even now into my hand
by an under-skinker ; one that never spake other
English in his life than, Eight shillings and six-
pence, and You are welcome; with this shrill
addition, Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bas-
tard in the Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to
drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr'y-
thee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I
question my puny drawer to what end he gave
me the sugar ; and do thou never leave calling
472
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT 33,
Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but
anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a pre-
cedent. [Exit POINS.
Poms. [Within.] Francis!
R Hen. Thou art perfect.
Poins. [Within.] Francis!
Enter FRANCIS.
Fran. Anon, anon, sir. Look down into the
Pomegranate, Ralph.
P. Hen. Come hither, Francis.
Fran. My lord?
P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis?
Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as
to,
Poins. [Within.] Francis!
Fran. Anon, anon, sir.
P. Hen. Five years ! by 'r lady, a long lease
for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest
thou be so valiant as to play the coward with
thy indenture, and show it a fair pair of heels
and run from it?
Fran. O Lord, sir, I '11 be sworn upon all the
books in England, I could find in my heart,
Poins. [Within.'} Francis!
Fran. Anon, anon, sir.
P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis?
Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next
I shall be,-
Poins. {Within.} Francis!
Fran. Anon, sir. Pray you, stay a little, my
lord.
P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis : for the
sugar thou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth,
was't not?
Fran. O Lord, sir, I would it had been two !
P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand
pound : ask me when thou wilt, and thou shall
have it.
Poins. [Within.] Francis!
Fran. Anon, anon.
P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but
to-morrow, Francis ; or, Francis, on Thursday ;
or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But,
Francis,
Fran. My lord?
P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern -jerkin,
crystal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-
stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Span-
ish-pouch,
Fran. O Lord, sir, who do you mean?
P. Hen. Why, then, your brown bastard is
your only drink ; for, look you, Francis, your
white canvas doublet will sully: in Barbary, sir,
it cannot come to so much.
Fran. What, sir?
Poins. [Within.] Francis!
P. Hen. Away, you rogue ! dost thou not
hear them call?
[Here they both call him ; FRANCIS stands
amazed, not knowing which way to go.
Enter Vintner.
Vint. What, standest thou still, and hearest
such a calling? Look to the guests within.
[Exit FRAN.] My lord, old Sir John, with
half-a-dozen more, are at the door: shall I let
them in?
P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then
open the door. [Exit Vintner.] Poins!
-+'j>
Re-enter POINS.
Poins. Anon, anon, sir.
P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the
thieves are at the door: shall we be merry?
Poms. As merry as crickets, my lad. But
hark ye; what cunning match have you made
with this jest of the drawer? come, what's the
issue?
P. Hen. I am now of all humours that have
showed themselves humours since the old days
of goodman Adam to the pupil-age of this pre-
sent twelve o'clock at midnight. What's
o'clock, Francis?
Fran. [Within.] Anon, anon, sir.
P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have
fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a
woman ! His industry is upstairs and down-
stairs ; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning.
I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of
the north ; he that kills me some six or seven
dozen Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands,
and says to his wife, Fie upon this quiet life !
I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she,
how many hast thou killed to-day? Give my
roan horse a drench, says he ; and answers, Some
fourteen, an hour after, a trifle, a trifle. I
pr'ythee, call in Falstaff: I '11 play Percy, and
that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer
his wife. Rivo says the drunkard. Call in ribs,
call in tallow.
Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and
PETO ; followed by FRANCIS with wine.
Poins. Welcome, Jack: where hast thou been?
Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a
vengeance too ! marry, and amen ! Give me a
cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I '11
sew nether-stocks, and mend them and foot them
too. A plague of all cowards ! Give me a cup
of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant?
[He drinks.
P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a
dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted
SCENE l\T. j
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
473
at the sweet tale of the sun ! if thou didst, then
behold that compound.
Fal. You rogue, here 's lime in this sack too :
there is nothing but roguery to be found hi vil-
lanous man : yet a coward is worse than a cup
of sack with lime in it, a villanous coward.
Go thy ways, old Jack ; die when thou wilt, if
manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon
the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring.
There live not three good men unhanged in
England ; and one of them is fat, and grows old:
God help the while ! a bad world, I say. I
would I were a weaver ; I could sing psalms or
anything. A plague of all cowards, I say still.
P. Hen. How now, woolsack ! what mutter
you?
Fal. A king's son ! If I do not beat thee out
of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive
all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild
geese, I '11 never wear hair on my face more.
You Prince of Wales !
P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man,
what 's the matter ?
Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to
that: and Poins there?
Poms. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me
coward, I '11 stab thee.
Fal. I call thee coward ! I '11 see thee damned
ere I call thee coward: but I would give a
thousand pound I could run as fast as thou
canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders,
you care not who sees your back : call you
that backing of your friends? A plague upon
such backing ! give me them that will face me.
Give me a cup of sack : I am a rogue if I
drunk to-day.
P. Hen. O villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped
since thou drunkest last.
Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all
cowards, still say I. [ffe drinks.
P. Hen. What 's the matter?
Fal. What's the matter! there be four of
us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day
morning.
P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it?
Fal. Where is it ! taken from us it is : a hun-
dred upon poor four of us.
P. Hon. What, a hundred, man?
Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-
sword with a dozen of them two hours to-
gether. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight
times thrust through the doublet, four through
the hose ; my buckler cut through and through ;
my sword hacked like a hand-saw, tcce sig-
num! I never dealt better since I was a man :
all would not do. A plague of all cowards !
Let them speak : if they speak more or less than
truth, they are villains, and the sons of dark'
ness.
P. Hen. Speak, sirs; how was it?
Gads. We four set upon some dozen,
Fal. Sixteen at least, my lord.
Gads. And bound them.
Peto. No, no, they were not bound.
Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man
of them ; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven
fresh men set upon us,
Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come
in the other.
P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all?
Fal. All ! I know not what ye call all ; but
if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch
of radish: if there were not two or three
and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no
two-legged creature.
P. Hen. Pray God, you have not murdered
some of them.
Fat. Nay, that's past praying for: I have
peppered two of them ; two I am sure I have
paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell
thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my
face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward ;
here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four
rogues in buckram let drive at me,
P. Hen. What, four? thou saidst but two
even now.
Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four.
Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.
Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly
thrust at me. I made me no more ado but took
all their seven points in my target, thus.
P. Hen. Seven? why, there were but four
even now in buckram.
Poins. Ay, four in buckram suits. [else.
Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain
P. Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall
have more anon.
Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?
P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to.
These nine in buckram that I told thee of,
P. Hen. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points being broken,
Poins. Down fell their hose.
Fal. Began to give me ground : but I followed
me close, came in foot and hand ; and with a
thought seven of the eleven I paid.
P. Hen. O monstrous ! eleven buckram men
grown out of two !
Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three
misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at my
back and let drive at me ; for it was so dark,
Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.
474
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT ii.
P. Hen. These lies are like the father that
begets them, gross as a mountain, open, palp-
able. Why, thou clay-brained guts, thou nott-
pated fool, thou whoreson, obscene, greasy
tallow-keech,
Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is
not the truth the truth?
P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these
men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou
couldst not see thy hand? come, tell us your
reason: what sayest thou to this?
Poms. Come, your reason, Jack, your
reason.
Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I
at the strappado, or all the racks in the world,
I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you
a reason on compulsion! if reasons were as
plenty as blackberries I would give no man a
reason upon compulsion, I.
P. Hen. I '11 be no longer guilty of this sin ;
this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse
back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,
FaL Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you
dried neat's tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish,
O for breath to utter what is like thee ! you
tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile
standing-tuck ,
P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it
again : and when thou hast tired thyself in base
comparisons, hear me speak but this.
Poms. Mark, Jack.
P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four ;
you bound them, and were masters of their
wealth. Mark now, how a plain tale shall put
you down. Then did we two set on you four;
and, with a word, out-faced you from your prize,
and have it ; yea, and can show it you here in
the house : and, Falstaff, you carried your guts
away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and
roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as
ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou,
to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then
say it was in fight ! What trick, what device,
what starting-hole, canst thou now find out to
hide thee from this open and apparent shame?
Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick
hast thou now?
FaL By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he
that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters : was
it for me to kill the heir-apparent? Should I
turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest
I am as valiant as Hercules : but beware instinct;
the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct
is a great matter ; I was a coward on instinct. I
shall think the better of myself and thee during
my life ; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true
prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you
have the money. Hostess, clap to the doors
\to Hostess within] : watch to-night, pray to-
morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold,
all the titles of good fellowship come to you !
What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a
play extempore?
P. Hen. Content; and the argument shall
be thy running away.
Fal. Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou
lovest me !
Enter Hostess.
Host. O Jesu, my lord the prince,
/>. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess!
What sayest thou to me?
Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman
of the court at door would speak with you : he
says he comes from your father.
P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him
a royal man, and send him back again to my
mother.
Fal. What manner of man is he?
Host. An old man.
Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at
midnight? Shall I give him his answer?
P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do, Jack.
Fal. Faith, and I '11 send him packing.
[Exit,
P. Hen. Now, sirs: by'r lady, you fought
fair ; so did you, Peto ; so did you, Bardolph :
you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct,
you will not touch the true prince ; no, fie !
Bard. Faith, I ran when I saw others run.
P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, how came
Falstaff's sword so hacked?
Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger;
and said he would swear truth out of England,
but he would make you believe it was done in
fight ; and persuaded us to do the like.
Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-
grass to make them bleed; and then to be-
slubber our garments with it, and swear it was
the blood of true men. I did that I did not
this seven year before, I blushed to hear his
monstrous devices.
P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack
eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the
manner, and ever since thou hast blushed ex-
tempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy
side, and yet thou rannest away : what instinct
hadst thou for it?
Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors?
do you behold these exhalations?
P. Hen. I do.
Bard. What think you they portend?
P. Hen. Hot livers and cold purses.
Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
SCENE IV.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
475
P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter. Here
comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone.
Re-enter FALSTAFF.
How now, my sweet creature of bombast ! How
long is 't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own
knee?
Fal. My own knee ! when I was about thy
years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the
waist ; I could have crept into any alderman's
thumb-ring: a plague of sighing and grief! it
blows a man up like a bladder. There's
villanous news abroad: here was Sir John
Bracy from your father ; you must to the court
in the morning. That same mad fellow of the
north, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave
Amaimon the bastinado, and made Lucifer
cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman
upon the cress of a Welsh hook, what, a
plague, call you him?
Poins. O, Glendower.
Fal. Owen, Owen, the same ; and his son-
in-law, Mortimer ; and old Northumberland ;
and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that
mns o' horseback up a hill perpendicular,
P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and
with his pistol kills a sparrow flying ?
Fed. You have hit it.
P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow.
Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in
him ; he will not run ;
P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou, then,
to praise him so for running.
Fal. O' horseback, ye cuckoo; but a-foot he
will not budge a foot.
P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.
Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is
there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand
blue-caps more: Worcester is stolen away to-
night; thy father's beard is turned white with
the news : you may buy land now as cheap as
stinking mackerel.
P. Hen. Why, then, it is like, if there come
a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall
buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the
hundreds.
Fed. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true ; it is
like we shall have good trading that way. But
tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou
being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee
out three such enemies again as that fiend
Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glen-
dower? Art thou not horribly afraid? doth not
thy blood thrill at it?
P. Hen. Not a whit, i' faith; I lack some of
thy instinct.
Fed. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-
morrow when thou comest to thy father : if thou
love me, practise an answer.
P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father! and
examine me upon the particulars of my life.
Fal. Shall I? content : this chair shall be
my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this
cushion my crown.
P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool,
thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy
precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown !
Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite
out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. Give
me a cup of sack to make mine eyes look red,
that it may be thought I have wept ; for I must
speak in passion, and I will do it in King
Cambyses' vein.
P. Hen. Well, here is my leg.
Fal. And here is my speech. Stand aside,
nobility.
Host. O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith !
Fal. Weep not, sweet queen; for trickling
tears are vain.
Host. O, the father, how he holds his counte-
nance ! [ful queen ;
Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my trist-
For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.
Host. O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these
harlotry players as ever I see !
Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good
tickle-brain. Harry, I do not only marvel
where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou
art accompanied : for though the camomile, the
more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet
youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
That thou art my son, I have partly thy mother's
word, partly my own opinion ; but chiefly a
villanous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hang-
ing of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me.
If, then, thou be son to me, here lies the
point; why, being son to me, art thou so
pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven
prove a micher, and eat blackberries? a question
not to be asked. Shall the son of England
prove a thief, and take purses? a question to be
asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou
hast often heard of, and it is known to many in
our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as
ancient writers do report, doth defile ; so doth
the company thou keepest : for, Harry, now I
do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears ; not
in pleasure, but in passion ; not in words only,
but in woes also: and yet there tea virtuous
man whom I have often noted in thy company,
but I know not his name.
P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your
majesty?
Fal* A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a
476
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT ii.
corpulent ; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye,
and a most noble carriage ; and, as I think, his
age some fifty, or, by 'r lady, inclining to three-
score; and now I remember me, his name is
Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given,
he deceiveth me ; for, Harry, I see virtue in his
looks. If, then, the tree may be known by the
fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily
I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff: him
keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now,
thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou
been this month?
P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king? Do
thou stand for me, and I '11 play my father.
Fal. Depose me? if thou dost it half so
gravely, so majestically, both in word and
matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-
sucker or a poulter's hare.
P. Hen. Well, here I am set.
Fal. And here I stand : judge, my masters.
P. Hen. Now, Harry, whence come you?
Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
P. Hen. The complaints I hear of thee are
grievous.
Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false : nay,
I '11 tickle ye for a young prince, i' faith.
P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy?
henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently
carried away from grace : there is a devil haunts
thee, in the likeness of a fat old man, a tun cf
man is thy companion. Why dost thou con-
verse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-
hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of
dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stiffed
cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox,
with the pudding in his belly, that reverend
vice, that gray iniquity, that father ruffian, that
vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to
taste sack and drink it? wherein neat and
cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it?
wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty,
but in villany? wherein villanous, but in all
things? wherein w rthy, but in nothing?
Fal. I would your grace would take me with
you: whom means your grace?
P. Hen. That villanous abominable mis-
leader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded
Satan.
Fal. My lord, the man I know.
P. Hen. I know thou dost.
Fal. But to say I know more harm in him
than in myself, were to say more than I know.
That he is old, the more the pity, his white
hairs do witness it ; but that he is, saving your
reverence, a whoremaster, that I utterly deny.
If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the
wicked ! If to be old and merry be a sin,
then many an old host that I know is damned:
if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean
kine are to be loved. No, my good lord;
banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins :
but, for sweet Jack Falstaff, k'ind Jack Falstaff,
true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and
therefore more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack
Falstaff. banish not him thy Harry's company,
banish not him thy Harry's company : banish
plump Jack, and banish all the world.
P. Hen. I do, I will. [A knocking heard.
{Exeunt Host., FRAN., awr/BARD.
Re-enter BARDOLPH, running.
Bard. O, my lord, my lord ! the sheriff with
a most monstrous watch is at the door.
Fal. Out, you rogue ! play out the play : I
have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.
Re-enter Hostess, hastily.
Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord,
P. Hen. Heigh, heigh ! the devil rides upon
a fiddle-stick : what 's the matter?
Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at
the door : they are come to search the house.
Shall I let them in?
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true
piece of gold a counterfeit: thou art essentially
mad, without seeming so.
P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without
instinct.
Fal. I deny your major: if you will deny
the sheriff, so; if not, let him enter: if I be-
come not a cart as well as another man, a plague
on my bringing up ! I hope I shall as soon be
strangled with a halter as another.
P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras:
the rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for
a true face and good conscience.
Fal. Both which I have had ; but their date
is out, and therefore I '11 hide me.
[Exeunt all but the PRINCE and POINS.
P. Hen. Call in the sheriff.
Enter Sheriff and Carrier.
Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me?
Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and
cry
Hath followed certain men unto this house.
P. Hen. What men? [lord,
Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious
A gross fat man.
Car. As fat as butter.
P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here;
For I myself at this time have employ'd him.
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time,
SCENE IV.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
477
Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For anything he shall be charg'd withal :
And so, let me entreat you leave the house.
Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gentle-
men
Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.
P. Hen. It may be so: if he have robb'd
these men
He shall be answerable ; and so, farewell.
Sher. Good-night, my noble lord.
P. Hen. I think it is good-morrow, is it not?
Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two
o'clock. [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier.
P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as
Paul's. Go, call him forth.
Poins. Falstaff ! fast asleep behind the arras,
and snorting like a horse.
P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath.
Search his pockets. [PoiNS searches.] What
hast thou found?
Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord.
P. Hen. Let 's see what they be : read them.
Poins. [Reads.] Item, A capon, 2s. 2d.
Item, Sauce, . kjii.fi. * orr^aoJ . os. 4d.
Item, Sack, two gallons, . . 55. 8d.
Item, Anchovies and sack after supper, 2s. 6d.
Item, Bread, . an n?si'.. . . os. od.
P. Hen. O monstrous! but one halfpenny-
worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack !
What there is else, keep close ; we '11 read it at
more advantage: there let him sleep till day.
I' 11 to the court in the morning. We must all
to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable.
I '11 procure this fat rogue a charge of foot ; and
I know his death will be a march of twelve-
score. The money shall be paid back again
with advantage. Be with me betimes in the
morning; and so, good-morrow, Poins.
Poins. Good-morrow, good my lord.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. BANGOR. A Room in the ARCH-
DEACON'S House.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER,
and GLEN DOWER.
Mort. These promises are fair, the parties
sure,
And our induction full of prosperous hope.
Hot. Lord Mortimer, and cousin Glen-
dower,
Will you sit down?
And uncle Worcester : a plague upon it !
I have forgot the map.
Glend. No, here it is.
Sit, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur,
For by that name as oft as Lancaster
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with
A rising sigh he wishes you in heaven.
Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.
Glend. I cannot blame him : at my nativity
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets ; and at my birth
The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shak'd like a coward.
Hot. Why, so it would have done,
At the same season, if your mother's cat
Had but kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er
been born. [born.
Glend. I say the earth did shake when I was
Hot. And I say the earth was not of my mind,
If you suppose as fearing you it shook.
Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth
did tremble.
Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the
heavens on fire,
And not in fear of your nativity.
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions ; oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind [striving,
Within her womb; which, for enlargement
Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down
Steeples and moss-grown towers. Atyour birth,
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.
Glend. Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
To tell you once again that at my birth
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ;
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary ;
And all the courses of my life do show
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipp'd in with the sea
That chides the banks of England, Scotland,
Wales,
Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out that is but woman's son
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
And held me pace in deep experiments.
Hot. I think there is no man speaks better
Welsh.
I '11 to dinner. [mad.
Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him
Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man ;
But will they come when you do call for them?
Glend. Why, I can teach thee, cousin, to
command
The devil.
478
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
(.ACT III.
Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame
the devil
By telling truth : tell truth, and shame the devil!
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I '11 be sworn I have power to shame him
hence. [devil !
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the
Mort. Come, come,
No more of this unprofitable chat.
Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke
made head [Wye
Against my power; thrice from the banks of
And sandy-bottom' d Seven, have I sent him
Bootless home and weather-beaten back, [too !
Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather
How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name?
Glend. Come, here's the map: shall we
divide our right
According to our threefold order ta'en?
Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits very equally :
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east is to my part assign'd :
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn ;
Which being sealed interchangeably,
A business that this night may execute,
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,
And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth
To meet your father and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:
Within that space \to GLEND.] you may have
drawn together [men.
Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentle-
Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you,
lords :
And in my conduct shall your ladies come ;
From whom you now must steal, and take no
leave;
For there will be a world of water shed
Upon the parting of your wives and you.
Hot. Methinks my moiety, north from Burton
here,
In quantity equals not one of yours :
See how this river comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my land
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.
I '11 have the current in this place damm'd up ;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run
In a new channel, fair and evenly :
It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.
JSlend. Not wind ! it shall, it must ; you see
it doth.
Mort. Yea. [up
But mark how he bears his course and runs me
With like advantage on the other side ;
Gelding the opposed continent as much
As on the other side it takes from you.
Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench
him here,
And on this north side win this cape of larki.
And then he runs straight and even.
Hot. I '11 have it so : a little charge will do it.
Glend. I will not have it alter'd.
Hot. Will not you?
Glend. No, nor you shall not.
Hot. Who shall say me nay?
Glend. Why, that will I.
Hot. Let me not understand you, then ;
Speak it in Welsh. [you ;
Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as
For I was train'd up in the English court ;
Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty, lovely well,
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament,
A virtue that was never seen in you. [heart :
Hot. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my
I had rather be a kitten and cry mew,
Than one of these s*me metre ballad-mongers ;
I had rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry :
'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.
Hot. I do not care ; I '11 give thrice so much
land
To any well-deserving friend ;
But in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I '11 cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone?
Glend. The moon shines fair; you may away
by night :
I '11 haste the writer, and withal
Break with your wives of your departure hence :
I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit.
Mort. Fie, cousin Percy ! how you cross my
lather ! [me
Hot. I cannot choose : sometimes he angers
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies,
And of a dragon and a finless fish,
A clip-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven,
A couching lion and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,
He held me last night at least nine hours
SCENE I.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
479
In reckoning up the several devils' names
That were his lackeys : I cried hum, and well,
goto,
But mark'd him not a word. O, he : s as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife ;
Worse than a smoky house : I had rather live
With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
In any summer-house in Christendom.
Mart. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman ;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments ; valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable ; and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope
When you do cross his humour ; faith, he does :
I warrant you, that man is not alive
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof :
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.
Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-
blame ;
And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this
fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage,
blood,
And that 's the dearest grace it renders you,
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain :
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.
Hot. Well, I am school'd: good manners
be your speed !
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.
Re-enter GLENDOWER, with LADY MORTIMER
and LADY PERCY.
Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers
me,
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
Glend. My daughter weeps : she will not part
with you ;
She '11 be a soldier too, she '11 to the wars.
Mort. Good father, tell her that she and my
aunt Percy
Shall follow in your conduct speedily.
[GLEND. speaks to LADY MORT. in Welsh,
and she answers him in the same.
Glend. She 's desperate here ; a peevish, self-
will'd harlotry,
One that no persuasion can do good upon.
[LADY MORT. speaks to MORT. in Welsh.
Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty
Welsh [heavens,
Which thou pour'st down from these welling
I am too perfect in ; and, but for shame,
In such a parley should I answer thee.
[LADY MORT. speaks again.
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that J s a feeling disputation :
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learned thy language ; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute. [mad.
Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run
[LADY MORT. speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this 1
Glend. She bids you on the wanton rushes
lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ;
Making such difference betwixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east, [sing:
Mort. With all my heart I '11 sit and hear her
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
Glend. Do so ;
And those musicians that shall play to you
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence ;
And straight they shall be here : sit, and attend.
Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying
down : come, quick, quick, that I may lay my
head in thy lap.
Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.
[The music plays.
Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands
Welsh;
And 'tis no marvel he 's so humorous.
By 'r lady, he 's a good musician.
Lady P. Then should you be nothing but
musical ; for you are altogether governed by
humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady
sing in Welsh.
Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach,
howl in Irish.
Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken?
Hot. No.
Lady P. Then be still.
Hot. Neither ; 'tis a woman's fault.
Lady P. Now God help thee !
Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.
Lady P. What's that?
Hot. Peace ! she sings.
[A Welsh Song sung by LADY MORT,
4 8o
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT in.
Hot. Come, Kate, I '11 have your song too.
Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth.
Hot. Not yours, in good sooth ! 'Heart, you
swear like a comfit-maker's wife 1 Not you , in
good sooth; and, As true as I live ; and, As God
shall mend me; and, As sure as day:
And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths,
As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury.
Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath ; and leave in sooth,
And such protest of pepper-gingerbread,
To velvet guards and Sunday-citizens.
Come, sing.
Lady P. I will not sing.
Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be
redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn,
I '11 away within these two hours ; and so, come
in when ye will. [Exit.
Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer; you
are as slow
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go.
By this our book is drawn ; we will but seal,
And then to horse immediately.
With all my heart.
Mort.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
> Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE HBNRY, and
Lords.
K. Hen. Lords, give us leave ; the Prince of
Wales and I [hand,
Must have some conference; but be near at
For we shall presently have need of you.
Exeunt Lords.
I know not whether God will have it so,
For some displeasing service I have done,
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood
He '11 breed revengement and a scourge for me;
But thou dost, in thy passages of life,
Make me believe that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven
To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate and low desires,
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean
attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
&s thou art match'd withal and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart ?
P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would I
could
Quit all offences with as clear excuse,
As well as I am doubtless I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal :
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
&&, in reproof of many tales devis'd,
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.
K. Hen. God pardon thee! yet let me
wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied ;
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 soul of every man
Prophetically does forethink thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney 'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company,
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession,
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at ;
That men would tell their children, This is he t
Others would say, Where^ which is Baling-
broke ?
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh and new ;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen but wonder'd at : and so my state,
Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast,
And won by rareness such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and soon burn'd : carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with carping fools ;
Had his great name profaned with their scorns ;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative;
Grew a companion to the common streets,
EnfeofFd himself to popularity ;
That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey, and began
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,
Heard, not regarded, seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze,
SCENE II.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
4*1
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes :
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eyelidsdown,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries,
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand' st thou ;
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With vile participation : not an eye
But is a- weary of thy common sight,
Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more ;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,- -
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious
lord,
Be more myself.
K. Hen. For all the world,
As thou art to this hour, was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then is Percy now.
Now, by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state
Than thou, the shadow of succession :
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm ;
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou
JLeads ancient lords and reverend bishops on
To bloody battles and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas ! whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions, and great na*ne in arms,
Holds from all soldiers chief majority
And military title capital [Christ :
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing-
clothes.
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomfited great Douglas ; ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumber-
land,
The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas,
Mortimer,
Capitulate against us, and are up.
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.
P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall n
it so:
so, you shall not find
And God forgive them that have so muck
sway'd
Your majesty's good thoughts away from met
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you that I am your son ;
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favours in a bloody mask, [it:
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.
For every honou/ sitting on his helm,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled ! for the time will come
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities,
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperances
If not, the end of life cancels all bands ;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in
this : [herein.
Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust
Enter SIR WALTER BLUNT.
How now, good Blunt ! thy looks are full of
speed. [speak of.
Blunt. So hath the business that I come to
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word
That Douglas and the English rebels met
The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,
As ever orTer*d foul play in a state.
K. Hen, The Earl of Westmoreland set forth
to-day;
With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster ;
For this advertisement is five days old :
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set for*
ward;
On Thursday we ourselves will march :
Our meeting is Bridgenorth : and, Harry, you
Shall march through Glostershire ; by which
account,
Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridjzenorth shall meet.
482
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT in.
Our hands are full of business : let 's away ;
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay.
SCENE III. EASTCHEAP. A Room in the
Boar's Head Tavern.
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.
Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely
since this last action? do I not bate? do I not
dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like
an old lady's loose gown ; I am withered like an
old apple-John. Well, I '11 repent, and that sud-
denly, while I am in some liking ; I shall be out
of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength
to repent. An I have not forgotten what the
inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-
corn, a brewer's horse : the inside of a church !
Company, villanous company, hath been the
spoil of me.
Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you can-
not live long.
Fal. Why, there is it : come, sing me a bawdy
song ; make me merry. I was as virtuously given
as a gentleman need to be ; virtuous enough ;
swore little; diced not above seven times a
week ; went to a bawdy-house not above once
in a quarter of an hour ; paid money that I
borrowed three or four times : lived well, and
in good compass: and now I live out of all
order, out of all compass.
Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you
must needs be out of all compass, out of all
reasonable compass, Sir John.
Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I '11 amend
my life : thou art our admiral, thou bearest the
lantern in the p op, but 'tis in the nose of thee;
thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp.
Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no
harm.
Fal. No, I Ml be sworn ; I make as good use
of it as many a man doth of a Death's head or a
memento mori: I never see thy face but I think
upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple ;
for there he is in his robes, burning, burning.
If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would
swear by thy face ; my oath should be, By this
fire, that's God's angel; but thou art altogether
given over ; and wert indeed, but for the light
in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When
thou rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch
my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an
ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, there 's no
purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual
triumph, an everlasting bonfire light! Thou
hast saved me a thousand marks in links and
torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt
tavern and tavern : but the sack that thou hast
drunk me would have bought me lights as good
cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I
have maintained that salamander of yours with
fire any time this two-and-thirty years; God re-
ward me for it ! [belly !
Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your
Fal. God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be
heart-burn'd.
Enter Hostess.
How now, Dame Partlet the hen ! have you in-
quired yet who picked my pocket?
Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think,
Sir John? do you think I keep thieves in my
house? I have searched, I have inquired, so
has my husband, man by man, boy by boy,
servant by servant : the tithe of a hair was never
lost in my house before.
Fal. You lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved,
and lost many a hair ; and I' 11 be sworn my
pocket was picked. Go to, you are a woman,
go.
Host. Who, I? no; I defy thee: God's light,
I was never called so in mine own house before.
Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.
Host. No, Sir John; you do not know me,
Sir John. I know you, 'Sir John : you owe me
money, Sir John ; and now you pick a quarrel
to beguile me of it : I bought you a dozen of
shirts to your back.
Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given
them away to bakers' wives, and they have made
bolters of tflem.
Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland
of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here
besides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings,
and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound.
Fal. He had his part of it ; let him pay.
Host. He? alas, he is poor ; he hath nothing.
Fal. How! poor? look upon his face ; what
call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them
coin his cheeks : I '11 not pay a denier. What,
will you make a younker of me? shall I not take
mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my
pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my
grandfather's worth forty mark.
Host. O Jesu, I have heard the prince tell
him, I know not how oft, that that ring was
copper !
Fal. How ! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup:
'sblood, an he were here I would cudgel him
like a dog if he would say so.
Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS, marching.
FALSTAFF meets the PR T NCE, playing on his
truncheon like a fife.
Fal. How now, lad ! is the wind in that door,,
i' faith? must we all march?
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
483
Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly?
How does thy husband? I love him well; he
is an honest man.
Host. Good my lord, hear me.
Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack?
Fal. The other night I fell asleep here be-
hind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this
house is turned bawdy-house; they pick pockets.
P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack ?
Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or
four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-
ring of my grandfather's.
P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.
Host. So I told him, my lord ; and I said I
heard your grace say so: and, my lord, he
speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed
man as he is, and said he would cudgel you.
P. Hen. What ! he did not?
Host. There 's neither faith, truth, nor woman-
hood in me else.
Fal. There 's no more faith in thee than in a
stewed prune ; nor no more truth in thee than
in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, Maid
Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to
thee. Go, you thing, go.
Host. Say, what thing? what thing?
Fal. What thing ! why, a thing to thank God
on.
Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I
would thou shouldst know it ; I am an honest
man's wife ; and, setting thy knighthood aside,
thou art a knave to call me so.
Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art
a beast to say otherwise.
Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
Fal. What beast ! why, an otter.
P. Hen. An otter, Sir John ! why an otter?
Fal. Why, she 's neither fish nor flesh ; a man
knows not where to have her.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so :
thou or any man knows where to have me, thou
knave, thou !
P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he
slanders thee most grossly.
Host. So he doth you, my lord ; and said this
other day you ought him a thousand pound.
P. Hen. Sirraji, do I owe you a thousand
pound?
Fal. A thousand pound, Hal! a million: thy
love is worth a million ; thou owest me thy love.
Host. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and
said he would cudgel you.
Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
Fal. Yea, if he said my ring was copper.
P. Hen. I say 'tis copper : darest thou be as
good as thy word now ?
Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art
but man, I dare : but as thou art prince, I fear
thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.
P. Hen. And why not as the lion?
Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the
lion : dost thou think I '11 fear thee as I fear thy
father? nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break.
P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts
fall about thy knees ! But, sirrah, there 's no
room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom
of thine, it is all filled up with guts and mid-
riff. Charge an honest woman with picking
thy pocket ! Why, thou whoreson, impudent,
embossed rascal, if there were anything in thy
pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of
bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of
sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if thy
pocket were enriched with any other injuries
but these, I am a villain : and yet you will stand
to it; you will not pocket-up wrong: art thou
not ashamed?
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest in
the state of innocency Adam fell; and what
should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of
villany? Thou seest I have more flesh than an-
other man, and therefore more frailty. You
confess, then, you picked my pocket?
P. Hen. It appears so by the story.
Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : go, make ready
breakfast; love thy husband, lock to thy
servants, cherish thy guests : thou shall find me
tractable to any honest reason : thou seest I am
pacified. Still? Nay, pr'ythee, be gone.
{Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at
court : for the robbery, lad, how is that an-
swe-ed?
P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be
g^od angel to thee: the money is paid back
again.
Fal. O, I do not like that paying back ; 'tis
a double labour.
P. Hen. I am good fr ends with my father,
and may do anything.
Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing
thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too.
Bard. Do, my lord. [of foot.
P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge
Fal. L would it had been of horse. Where
shall I find one that can steal well? O for a
fine thief, of the age of two-and -twenty or
thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided.
Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they
offend none but the virtuous : I laud them, I
praise them.
484
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT iv.
P. Hen. Bardolph,
Bard. My lord. [Lancaster,
P. Hen. Go bear this letter to Lord John of
To my brother John ; this to my Lord of West-
moreland. [Exit BARDOLPH.
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou and I
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time.
[Exit POINS.
Jack, meet me to-morrow in the Temple-hall
At two o'clock in the afternoon : [receive
There shalt thou know thy charge, and there
Money and order for their furniture.
The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ;
And either they or we must lower lie. [Exit.
Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hostess,
my breakfast ; come :
O, I could wish this tavern were my drum !
[Exit.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS.
Hot. Well said, my noble Scot : if speaking
truth
In this fine age were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter ; I defy
The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place
In my heart's love hath no man than yourself:
Nay, task me to my word ; approve me, lord.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour :
No man so potent breathes upon the ground
But I will beard him.
Hot. Do so, and 'tis well.
Enter a Messenger with letters.
What letters hast thou there? I can but thank
you.
Mess. These letters come from your father,
Hot. Letters from him ! why comes he not
himself? [ous sick.
Mess. He cannot come, my lord ; he 's griev-
Hot. Zounds ! how has he the leisure to be
sick
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?
Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my
lord. [bed?
Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his
Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set
forth;
And at the time of my departure thence
He was much fear'd by his physicians.
Wor. I would the state of time had first been
whole
Ere he by sickness had been visited :
His health was never better worth than nW.
Hot, Sick now! droop now! this sickness
doth infect
The very life-blood of cur enterprise;
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
He writes me here that inward sickness,
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soca be drawn ; nor did he think it meet
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul removed, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
That with our small conjunction we should on ;
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us ;
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the king is certainly possess'd
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd
And yet, in faith, 'tis not ; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it : were it good
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast? to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good ; for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope,
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.
Drug. Faith, and so we should ;
Where now remains a sweet reversion :
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
Is to come in:
A comfort of retirement lives in this.
Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,
If that the devil and mischance look big
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. [here.
Wor. But yet I would your father had been
The quality and hair of our attempt
Brooks no division : it will be thought
By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence :
And think how such an apprehension
May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause ;
For well you know we of the offering side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement,
And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
This absence of your father's draws a curtain
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.
Hot. You strain too far.
I, rather, of his absence make this use:
SCENE I.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
485
It lends a lustre and more great opinion,
A larger dare to our great enterprise,
Than if the earl were here : for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head
To push against the kingdom, with his help
We sh 11 o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
Doug. As heart can think : there is not such
a word
Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear.
Enter SIR RICHARD VERNON.
Hot. My cousin Vemon! welcome, by my
soul. [lord.
Ver. Pray God my news be worth a welcome,
The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand
strong,
Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince John.
Hot. No harm: what more?
Ver. And further, I have learn'd
The king himself in person is set forth,
Or hitherwards intended speedily,
With strong and mighty preparation. [son,
Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his
The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales
And his comrades, that daff d the world aside,
And bid it pass ?
Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms ;
All plum'd like estridges, that wing the wind ;
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd ;
Glittering in golden coats, like images ;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer ;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rise from the ground like featherd Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Hot. No more, no more ; worse than the sun
in March,
This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come.
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war,
All hot and bleeding, will we offer them :
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh.
And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse,
Who is to bear me, like a th. nderbolt,
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales :
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,
Meet, and ne'er part till one drop down a
corse.
O that Glendower were come !
Ver. There is more news:
I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Doug. That 's the worst tidings that I hear
of yet. [sound.
War. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty
Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach
unto?
Ver. To thirty thousand.
Hot. Forty let it be :
My father and Glendower being both away,
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us take a muster speedily :
Doomsday is near ; die all, die merrily.
Doug. Talk not of dying ; I am out of fear
Of death or death's hand for this one half-year.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IL A public Road near Coventry.
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.
Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry ;
fill me a bottle of sack : our soldiers shall march
through ; we '11 to Sutton-Cop-hill to-night.
Bard. Will you give me money, captain?
Fal. Lay out, lay out.
Bard. This bottle makes an angel.
Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour ; and
if it make twenty, take them all ; I '11 answer
the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me
at the town's end.
Bard. I will, captain: farewell. [Exit.
Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I
am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's
press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a
hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and
odd pounds. I press me none but good house-
holders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out con-
tracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice
on the bans ; such a commodity of warm slaves
as had as lief hear the devil as a drum ; such as
fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck
fowl or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none
but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their
bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they
have bought out their services ; and now my
whole charge consists of ancients, corporals,
lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as
ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where
the glutton's dogs licked his sores ; and such
as, indeed, were never soldiers, but discarded
unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger
brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-
fallen ; the cankers of a calm world and a long
peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged
than an old-faced ancient : and such have I, to
fill up the rooms of them that have bought out
4 86
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
{ACT IV.
their services, that you would think that I had
a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals lately
come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and
husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and
told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and
pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen
such scarecrows. I'll not march through
Coventry with them, that 's flat : nay, and the
villains march wide betwixt tl legs, as if they
had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of
them out of prison. There 's but a shirt and a
half in all my company ; and the half-shirt is
two napkins tacked together and thrown over
the shoulders like a herald's coat without
sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen
from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose
innkeeper of Daventry. But that 's all one ;
they '11 find linen enough on every hedge.
Enter FRINGE HENRY and WESTMORELAND.
P. Hen. How now, blown Jack ! how now,
quilt !
FaL What, Hal ! how now, mad wag ! what
a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? My good
Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy: I
thought your honour had already been at
Shrewsbury.
West. Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time
that I were there, and you too ; but my powers
are there already. The king, I can tell you,
looks for us all : we must away all night.
FaL Tut, never fear me : I am as vigilant as
a cat to steal cream.
P. Hen. I think, to steal cream, indeed ; for
thy theft hath already made thee butter. But
tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that come
after?
FaL Mine, Hal, mine.
P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals.
FaL Tut, tut ; good enough to toss ; food for
powder, food for powder ; they '11 fill a pit as
well as better : tush, man, mortal men, mortal
men.
West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are
exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly.
FaL Faith, for their poverty, I know not
ivhere they had that ; and for their bareness, I
am sure they never learned that of me.
P. Hen. No I '11 be sworn ; unless you call
three fingers on the ribs bare. But, sirrah,
make haste : Percy is already in the field.
FaL What, is the king encamped?
West. He is. Sir John : I fear we shall stay
too long.
FaL Well, [a feast
To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of
Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. \Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Rebel Camp near Shrews-
bury.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS,
and VERNON.
Hot. We '11 fight with him to-night.
Wor. It may not be.
Doug. You give him, then, advantage.
Ver. Not a whit.
Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply?
Ver. So do we.
Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, beadvis'd; stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.
Doug. You do not counsel well :
You speak it out of fear and cold heart.
Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my
life,
And I dare well maintain it with my life-,
If well-respected honour bid me on,
I hold as little counsel with weak fear
As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives:
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle
Which of us fears.
Doug. Yea, or to-night.
Ver. Content
Hot. To-nightj say I. [much,
Ver. Come, come, it may not be. I wonde*
Being men of such great leading as you are,
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition : certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up:
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day ;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half of himself.
Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-bated and brought low :
The better part of ours is full of rest.
Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours.
For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.
\The trumpet sounds a parley.
Enter SIR WALTER BLUNT.
Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the
king,
If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect.
Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt ; and would
to God
You were of our determination !
Some of us love you well ; and even those somr
Envy your great deservings and good name,
Because you are not of our quality,
But stand against us like an enemy, [stand so,
Blunt. And God defend but still I should
So long as out of limit and true rule
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
You stand against anointed majesty !
But, to my charge. The king hath sent to
know
The nature of your griefs ; and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
Such bold hostility; teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty. If that the king
Have any way your good deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,
He bids you name your griefs ; and with all speed
You shall have your desires with interest,
And pardon absolute for yourself, and these
Herein misled by your suggestion. [king
Hot. The king is kind ; and well we know the
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
My father and my uncle and myself
Did give him that same royalty he wears;
And when he was not six-and- twenty strong,
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,
My father gave him welcome to the shore ;
And when he heard him swear, and vow- to God,
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery and beg his peace,
With tears of innocency and terms of zeal,
My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less came in with cap and knee :
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages;
A ttended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs as pages, follow'd him
Even at the heels in golden multitudes.
He presently, as greatness knows itself, -i
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg ;
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform
Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees,
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth ;
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep
Over his country's wrongs ; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for:
Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads
Of all the favourites that the absent king
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war.
Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this.
Hot. Then to the point.
In short time after, he depos'd the king;
Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life ;
And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state :
To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman
March,-
Who is, if every owner were well plac'd,
Indeed his knig, to be incag'd in Wales
There without ransom to lie forfeited ;
Disgrac'd me in my h?ppy victories;
Sought to entrap me by intelligence;
Rated my uncle from the council-board ;
In rage dismiss'd my father from the court ;
Brock oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong;
And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out
This head of safety; and withal to pry
Into his title, the which we find
Too indirect for long continuance.
Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king?
Hot. Not so, Sir Walter: we'll withdraw
awhile.
Go to the king ; and let there be impawn'd
Some surety for a safr return again,
And in the morning early shall my uncle
Bring him our purposes : and so, farewell.
Blunt. I would you would accept of grace
and love.
Hot. And may be so we shall.
Blunt. Pray God you do !
\_Exeunt.
SCENE IV. YORK. A Room in the ARCH-
BISHOP'S House.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, and SIR
MICHAEL.
Arch. Hie, good Sir Michael ; bear this sealed
brief
With winged haste to the lord marshal ;
This to my cousin Scroop ; and all the rest
To whom they are directed. If you knew
How much they do import, you would make
haste.
Sir M. My good lord,
I guess their tenor.
Arch. Like enough you do.
To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must bide the touch ; for, sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly given to understand,
The king, with mighty and quick-raised power,
Meets with Lord Harry: and I fear, Sir
Michael,
What with the sickness of Northumberland,
Whose power was in the first proportion,
And what with Owen Glendower's absence
thence,
Who with them was a rated sinew too,
And comes not in, o'erruled by prophecies,
I fear the power of Percy is too weak
To wage an instant trial with the king.
Sir M. Why, my good lord, you need not fear ;
there is Douglas,
And Lord Mortimer.
4 88
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT v.
Arch. No, Mortimer is not there.
Sir M. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord
Harry Percy,
And there is my Lord of Worcester ; and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.
Arch. And so there is ; but yet the king hath
drawn
The special head of all the land together :
The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt ;
And many more corrivals and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms, [oppos'd.
Sir M. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well
Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear ;
And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed :
For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the king
Dismiss his power, he means to visit us,
For he hath heard of our confederacy,
And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him:
Therefore make haste. I must go write again
To other friends ; and so, farewell, Sir Michael.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT V.
SCENE I. The KING'S Camp near Shrews -
biiry.
Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE HENRY, PRINCE
JOHN OF LANCASTER, SIR WALTER BLUNT,
and SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.
K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer
Above yon bosky hill 1 the day looks pale
At his distemperature.
P. Hen. The southern wind
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ;
And by his hollow whistling in me leaves
Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.
1C. Hen, Then with the losers let it sympa-
thize,
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
[Trumpet sounds.
Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.
How now, my Lord of Worcester ! 'tis not well
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet. You have deceiv'd our trust ;
And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel ;
This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
What say you to it? will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war?
And move in that obedient orb again
Where you did give a fair and natural light ;
And be no more an exhal'd meteor,
A prodigy of fear, and a portent
Of broached mischief to the unborn times!
Wor. Hear me, my liege :
For mine own part, I could be well content
To entertain the lag-end of my life
With quiet hours ; for, I do protest,
I have not sought the day of this dislike.
K. Hen. You have not sought it ! how comes
it, then? [it.
Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found
P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace ! [looks
Wor. It pleas'd your majesty to turn your
Of favour from myself and all our house ;
And yet I must remember you, my lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends.
For you my staff of office did I break
In Richard's time ; and posted day and night
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
It was myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
The dangers of the time : you swore to us,
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ;
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster :
To this we swore our aid. But in short space
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head ;
And such a flood of greatness fell on you, c
What with our help, what with the absent king/
What with the injuries of a wanton time,
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
And the contrarious winds that held the king
So long in his unlucky Irish wars
That all in England did repute him dead,
And, from this swarm of fair advantages,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
To gripe the general sway into your hand ;
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ;
And, being fed by us, you us'd us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth the sparrow, did oppress our nest,
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk [sight
That even our love durst not come near your
For fear of swallowing ; but with nimble wing
We were enforc'd, for safety-sake, to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head:
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself;
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.
K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have ar-
ticulated,
Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches ;
To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine colour that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
SCENE I.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
489
Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation :
And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours to impaint his cause ;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pellmell havoc and confusion. [a soul
P. Hen. In both our armies there is many
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the
world
In praise of Henry Percy : by my hopes,
This present enterprise set off his head,
I do not think a braver gentleman,
More active- valiant or more valiant -young,
More daring or more bold, is now alive
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry;
And so I hear he doth account me too :
Yet this before my father's majesty,
I am content that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation,
And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.
K. Hen. And, Prince of Wales, so dare we
venture thee,
Albeit considerations infinite
Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no,
We love our people well ; even those we love
That are misled upon your cousin's part ;
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man
Shall be my friend again, and I '11 be his:
So tell your cousin, and bring me word
What he will do : but if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
And they shall do their office. So, be gone ;
We will not now be troubled with reply :
We offer fair ; take it advisedly.
[Exeunt WOR. and VER.
P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life :
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.
K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to
his charge ;
For, on their answer, will we set on them :
And God befriend us, as our cause is just !
[Exeunt KING, BLUNT, and P. JOHN.
Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle,
and bestride me, so ; 'tis a point of friendship.
P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee
that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell.
Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all
well.
P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death.
[Exit.
Fal. Tis not due yet ; I would be loth to
pay him before his day. What need I be so
forward with him that calls not on me ? Well,
tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but
how if honour prick me off when I come on ?
how then ? Can honour set-to a leg? no : or an
arm ? no : or take away the grief of a wound ?
no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then?
no. What is honour ? a word. What is in that
word, honour? What is that honour? air. A
trim reckoning ! Who hath it ? he that died o'
Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he
hear it ? no. Is it insensible, then ? yea, to the
dead. But will it not live with the living ? no.
Why? detraction will not suffer it : therefore
I 11 none of it : honour is a mere scutcheon
and so ends my catechism. [Exit.
SCENE II. The Rebel Camp.
Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.
Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir
Richard,
The liberal kind offer of the king.
Ver. 'Twere best he did.
Wor. Then are we all undone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The king should keep his word in loving us ;
He will suspect us still, and find a time
To punish this offence in other faults:
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes :
For treason is but trusted like the fox,
Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
Look how we can, or sad or merrily,
Interpretation will misquote our looks;
And we shall feed like oxen at a stall,
The better cherish'd still the nearer death.
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot,
It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood,
And an adopted name of privilege,
A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen .
All his offences live upon my head
And on his father's: we did train him on;
And, his corruption being ta'en from us,
We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all.
Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know,
In any case the offer of the king.
Ver. Deliver what you will, I '11 say 'tis so.
Here comes your cousin.
Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS; Officers and
Soldiers behind.
Hot. My uncle is return'd : deliver up
My Lord of Westmoreland. Uncle, what news?
Wor. The king will bid you battle presently.
490
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT v.
Doug. Defy him by the Lord of Westmore-
land.
Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.
Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly.
[Exit.
Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king.
Hot. Did you beg any ? God forbid !
Wor. I told him gently of our grievances,
Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus,
By now forswearing that he is forsworn :
He calls us rebels, traitors ; and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.
Re-enter DOUGLAS.
Doug. Arm, gentlemen ; to arms ! for I have
thrown
A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,
And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear
it;
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
Wor. The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth be-
fore the king,
And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.
Hot. O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads ;
And that no man might draw short breath to-
day
But I and Harry Monmouth ! Tell me, tell me,
How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt ?
Ver. No, by my soul : I never in my life
Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly,
Unless a brother should a brother dare
To gentle exercise and proof of arms.
He "gave you all the duties of a man ;
Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue;
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ;
Making you ever better than his praise,
By still dispraising praise valu'd with you :
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital of himself;
And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he master'd there a double spirit,
Of teaching and of learning instantly.
There did he pause : but let me tell the world,
If he outlive the envy of this day,
England did never owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstru'd in his wantonness.
Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured
Upon his follies : never did I hear
Of any prince so wild o' liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy.
Arm, arm with speed : and, fellows, soldiers,
friends,
Better consider what you have to do
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood u^ with persuasion.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.
Hot. I cannot read them now.
gentlemen, the time of life is very short !
To spend that shortness basely were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
An if we live, we live to tread on kings ;
If die, brave death, when princes die with us !
Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair,
When the intent of bearing them is just.
Enter another Messenger.
Mess. My lord, prepare ; the king comes on
apace. [tale,
Hot. I thank him that he cuts me from my
For I profess not talking ; only this,
Let each man do his best : and here draw I
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on.
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace :
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.
[ The trumpets sound. They embrace , and
exeunt.
SCENE III. Plain near Shrewsbury.
Excursions ) and parties fighting. Alarum to
the battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and BLUNT,
meeting.
Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle
thus
Thou Grossest me ? What honour dost thou seek
Upon my head?
Doug. Know, then, my name is Douglas ;
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus
Because some tell me that thou art a king.
Blunt. They tell thee true.
Doug. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath
bought
Thy likeness ; for, instead of thee, King Harry,
The sword hath ended him : so shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.
Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud
Scot;
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
Lord Stafford's death.
{They fight, and BLUNT is slain.
Enter HOTSPUR.
Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at
Holmedon thus,
1 never had triumph'd upon a Scot.
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
491
Doug. All 's done, all 's won ; here breath-
less lies the king.
Hot. Where?
Doug. Here.
Hot. This, Douglas ? no ; I know this face
full well :
A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt ;
Semblably furnish'd like the king himself.
Dottg. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes !
A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear :
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king ?
Hot. The king hath many masking in his
coats.
Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his
coats ;
I '11 murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
Until I meet the king.
Hot. Up, and away !
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day.
[Exeunt.
Other alarums. Enter FALSTAFF.
Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at Lon-
don, I fear the shot here : here 's no scoring but
upon the pate. Soft! who art thou? Sir
Walter Blunt : there 's honour for you : here 's
no vanity ! I am as hot as molten lead, and as
heavy too : God keep lead out of me ! I need
no more weight than mine own bowels. I have
led my raggamuffins where they are peppered :
there 's not three of my hundred and fifty left
alive ; and they are for the town's end, to beg
during life. But who comes here ?
Enter PRINCE HENRY.
P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here ? lend
me thy sword :
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are unreveng'd : pr'ythee, lend
me thy sword.
Fal. O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to
breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such
deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have
paid Percy, I have made him sure.
P. Hen. He is, indeed ; and living to kill
thee. Lend me thy sword, I pr'ythee.
Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be
alive thou gettest not my sword ; but take my
pistol, if thou wilt.
P. Hen. Give it me : what, is it in the
case?
Fal. Ay, Hal ; 'tis hot, 'tis hot ; there 's
that will sack a city.
[The PRINCE draws out a bottle of sack.
P. Hen. What, is 't a time to jest and dally
now ? \Thrnos it at him t and exit.
Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I '11 pierce him.
If he do come in my way, so ; if he do not, if
I come in his willingly, let him make a car-
bonado of me. I like not such grinning honour
as Sir Walter hath : give me life : which if I
can save, so ; if not, honour comes unlooked
for, and there 's an end. [Exit.
SCENE IV. Anotlier part of the Field.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter KING HENRY,
PRINCE HENRY, PRINCE JOHN, and WEST-
MORELAND.
K. Hen. I pr'ythee,
Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too
much.
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed
too.
P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
K. Hen. I will do so.
My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his
tent.
West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to
your tent.
P. Hen. Lead me, my lord ? I do not need
your help :
And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive
The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on,
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres !
P. John. We breathe too long : come,
cousin Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies ; for God's sake, come.
[Exeunt P. JOHN and WEST.
P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me,
Lancaster ;
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit :
Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John ;
But now I do respect thee as my soul.
K. Hen. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the
point
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.
P. Hen. O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all. [Exit.
Alarums. Enter DOUGLAS.
Doug. Another king ! they grow like Hydra's
heads :
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
That wear those colours on them : What art
thou,
That counterfeit'st the person of a king ?
K. Hen. The king himself, who, Douglas,
grieves at heart,
492
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT v.
So many of his shadows thou hast met,
And not the very king. I have two boys
Seek Percy and thyself about the field :
But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee; so, defend thyself!
Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit ;
And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king:
But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be,
And thus I win thee.
[They fight; the KING being in danger,
re-enter P. HENRY.
P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot., or
thou art like
Never to hold it up again ! the spirits
Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms :
It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee ;
Who never promiseth but he means to pay.
[They fight; DOUGLAS^.?.
Cheerly, my lord: how fares your grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton : I '11 to Clifton straight.
K. Hen. Stay, and breathe awhile :
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion ;
And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
P. Hen. O God, they did me too much in-
jury
That ever said I hearken'd for your death !
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you,
Which would have been as speedy in your end
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son.
K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir
Nicholas Gawsey. [Exit.
Enter HOTSPUR.
Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Mon-
mouth.
P. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my
name.
Hot. My name is Harry Percy.
P. Hen. Why, then I see
A very valiant rebel of the name.
I am the Prince of Wales; and think not,
Percy,
To share with me in glory any more :
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere ;
Nor can one England brook a double reign,
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.
Hot. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
To end the one of us ; and would to God
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine !
P. Hen. I '11 make it greater ere I part from
thee;
And all the budding honours on thy crest
I '11 crop, to make a aarland for my head.
Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities.
[They fight.
Enter FALSTAFF.
Fal. Well said, Hal ! to it, Hal ! Nay, you
shall find no boy's play here, I can tell you.
Re-enter DOUGLAS ; he fights with FALSTAFF,
who falls down as if he were dead, and exit
DOUGLAS. HOTSPUR is wounded, and falls.
Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my
youth !
I better brook the loss of brittle life
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ;
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword
my flesh :
But thought 's the slave of life, and life time's
fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue : No, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for [Dies.
P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy : fare thee
well, great heart !
Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk !
When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound ;
But now two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough: this earth that bears thee dead
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
I should not make so dear a show of zeal :
But let my favours hide thy mangled face ;
And, even in thy behalf, I '11 thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven 1
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph !
[He sees FAL. on the ground.
What, old acquaintance ! could not all this
flesh
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell !
I could have better spar'd a better man.
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee,
If I were much in love with vanity.
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day,
Though many dearer, in this bloody fray.
EmbowelPd will I see thee by and by:
Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit.
Fal. [Rising slowly.} Embowelled! if thou
embowel me to-day, I '11 give you leave to
powder me and eat me too to-morrow. 'Sblood ,
'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant
Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counter-
feit? I lie, I am no counterfeit : to die is to be
a counterfeit ; for he i* but the counterfeit of a
SCENE IV.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
493
man who hath not the life of a man ; but to
counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth,
is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect
image of life indeed. The better part of valour
is discretion ; in the which better part I have
saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid of this
gunpowder Percy, though he be dead ; how if
he should counterfeit too, and rise? I am
afraid he would prove the better counterfeit.
Therefore I '11 make him sure : yea, and I '11
swear I killed him. Why may not he rise as
well as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and
nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah [stabbing
him\ with a new wound in your thigh, come
you along with me.
{Takes HOTSPUR on his back.
Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and PRINCE JOHN.
P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely
hast thou flesh'd
Thy maiden sword.
P. John. But, soft ! whom have we here?
Did you not tell me this fat man was dead ?
P. Hen. I did ; I saw him dead, breathless
and bleeding
On the ground.
Art thou alive? or is it fantasy
That plays, upon our eyesight? I pr'ythee,
speak;
We will not trust our eyes without our ears :
Thou art not what thou seem'st.
Fal. No, that 's certain ; I am not a double
man : but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I
a Jack". There is Percy {throwing the body
down] : if your father will do me any honour,
so ; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself.
I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure
you.
P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and
saw thee dead.
Fal. Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this
world is given to lying! I grant you I was
down and out of breath, and so was he ; but we
rose both at an instant, and fought a long hour
by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed,
so ; if not, let them that should reward valour
bear the sin upon their own heads. I '11 take
it upon my death, I gave him this wound in
the thigh: if the man were alive, and would
deny it, zounds, I would make him eat a piece
of my sword.
P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er
I heard.
P. Hen. This fc the strangest fellow, brother
John.
Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back :
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I '11 gild it with the happiest terms I have.
{A retreat is sounded.
The trumpet sounds retreat ; the day is ours.
Come, brother, let 's to the highest of the field,
To see what friends are living, who are dead.
{Exeunt P. HENRY and P. JOHN.
Fal. I '11 follow, as they say, for reward. He
that rewards me, God reward him ! If I do
grow great, I '11 grow ICLS ; for I '11 purge, and
leave sack, and live cleanly, as a nobleman,
should do. {Exit, bearing off the body.
SCENE \ '.Another part of the Field.
The Trumpets sound. Enter KING HENRY,
PRINCE HENRY, PRINCE JOHN, WESTMORE-
LAND, and others, with WORCESTER and
VERNON prisoners.
K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.
Ill-spirited Worcester ! did we not send grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you ?
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary?
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust?
Three knights upon our party slain to-day,
A noble earl, and many a creature else,
Had been alive this hour,
If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.
Wor. What I have done my safety urg'd me to,
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.
K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and
Vernon too :
Other offenders we will pause upon.
{E: ntnt WOR. and VER. , guarded.
How goes the field?
P. Hen. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas,
when he saw
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest ;
And falling from a hill, he was so bruis'd
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
The Douglas is ; and I beseech your grace
I may dispose of him.
K. Hen. With all my heart.
P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to
you
This honourable bounty shall belong :
Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ransom less and free :
His valour, shown upon our crests to-day,
Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds
Even in the bosom of our adversaries.
P. John. I thank your grace for this high
courtesy,
Which 1 shall give away immediately.
494
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT v.
K. Hen. Then this remains, that we divide
our power.
You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
Towards York shall bend you with your dearest
speed,
To meet Northumberland and the prelate
Scroop,
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms:
Myself, and you, son Harry, will towards
Wales,
To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day :
And since this business so fair is done,
Let us not leave till all our own be wen.
[Exeunt.
495
SECOND PART OF
KING HENRY IV,
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
HENRY, Prince of Wales, afterwards*
KING HENRY V.,
THOMAS, Duke of Clarence,
PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, after-
wards (Henry V.) Duke of Bedford,
PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOSTER,
afterwards (Henry V.) Duke of
his
Sons.
of the
KING'S party.
EARL OF WARWICK,
EARL OF WESTMORELAND,
EARL OF SURREY,
GOWER,
HARCOURT,
Lord Chief-Justice of the King's Bench.
A Gentleman attending on the Chief-Justice.
EARL OF NORTHUMBER--
LAND,
SCROOP, Archbishop of
York,
LORD MOWBRAY,
LORD HASTINGS,
LORD BARDOLPH,
SIR JOHN COLEVILE,
Enemies to tfa
KING.
TRAVERS and MORTON, Retainers of NOR-
THUMBERLAND.
FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Page.
POINS and PETO, Attendants on PRINCE
HENRY.
SHALLOW and SILENCE, Country Justices.
DAVY, Servant to SHALLOW.
MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and
BULLCALF, Recruits.
FANG and SNARE, Sheriff's Officers.
Rumour.
A Porter.
A Dancer, Speaker of the Epilogue.
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.
LADY PERCY.
MISTRESS QUICKLY, Hostess of a Tavern in
Eastcheap.
DOLL TEARSHEET.
Lords and other Attendants; Officers, Soldiers,
Messengers, Drawers, Beadles, Grooms,
&c.
SCENE, ENGLAN D.
INDUCTION.
WARKWORTH. Before NORTHUMBERLAND'S
Castle.
Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues.
Riim. Open your ears ; for which of you will
stop
The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the v/ind my post-horse, still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth :
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world :
Anil who but Rumour, who but only I,
Make fearful musters and prepared defence;
Whilst the big year, swoln with some other grief;
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ;
And of so easy and so plain a stop
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize
Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before King Harry's victory ;
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,
Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his
troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first? my office is
To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's swords
496
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
CACTI.
And that the king before the Douglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
Lies crafty-sick : the posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me : from Rumour's
tongues
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than
true wrongs. [Exit.
ACT I.
aoi&iafl . ; m ,
SCENE I. The same.
The Porter before the Gate; enter LORD
BARDOLPH.
L. Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho?
Where is the earl?
Port. What shall I say you are?
L. Bard. Tell thou the earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the
orchard :
Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,
And he himself will answer.
X. Bard. Here comes the earl.
[Exit Porter.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.
North. What news, Lord Bardolph? every
minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem :
The times are wild ; contention, like a horse,
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
L. Bard. Noble earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an God will !
L. Bard. As good as heart can wish :
The king is almost wounded to the death ;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the
Blunts (John,
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas : young Prince
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir
John,
Is prisoner to your son : O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times,
Since Caesar's fortunes !
North. How is this deriv'd ?
Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?
L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that
me from thence ;
A gentleman well bred and of good name,
That freely render'd me these news for true.
North. Here comes my servant Travers, whom
I sent
On Tuesday last to listen after news.
Z,, Bard. My lord, I over-rode h^n on the way;
And he is furnish'd with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.
Enter TRAVERS.
North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come
with you? [back
Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me
With joyful tidings ; and, being better hors'd,
Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
With that, he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
.Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head ; and starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
North. Ha ! Again :
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion
Had met ill-luck?
L. Bard. My lord, I '11 tell you what ;
If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honour, for a silken point
I '11 give my barony : never talk of it.
North. Why should the gentleman that rode
by Travers
Give, then, such instances of loss?
L. Bard. Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow, that had stolen
The horse he rode on ; and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more
news.
Enter MORTON,
North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-
leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume :
So looks the strand, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation,
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
North. How doth my son and brother ?
Thou tremblest ; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
497
Even such a. man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was
burn'd;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue.
And I my Percy's death ere thou report's! it.
This thou wouldst say, Your son did thus and
thus;
Your brother thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds :
But' in the end to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with brother, son, and all are dead.
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet ;
But, for my lord your son,
North. Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath I
He that but fears the thing he would not know
Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes
That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak,
Morton ;
Tell thou thy earl his divination lies,
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mor. You are too grer.t to be by me gainsaid :
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy 's
dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye :
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so;
The tongue offends not that reports his death :
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead ;
Not he which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend.
L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son
is dead.
Mor. I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen;
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-
breath'd, [down
To Harry Monmouth ; whose swift wrath beat
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprang up.
In few, his death, whose spirit leirt a fire
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best-temper'd courage in his troops ;
For from his metal was his party steel'd ;
Which once in him abated, all the rest
Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead i
And as the thing that 's heavy in itself,
Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed,
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their
fear,
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was that noble
Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner ; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring
sword [king,
Had three times slain the appearance of the
'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backs; and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is, that the king hath won ; and hath sent out
A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct cf young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
North. For this I shall have time enough to
mourn.
In poison there is physic ; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me
sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well :
And as the wretch, whose fever- weaken'd joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now earag'd with
grief,
Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou
nice crutch t
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel,
Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly
quoif!
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The rugged'st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland !
Let heav'n kiss earth ! Now let not Nature's
hand
Keep the wild flood confined ! let order die !
And let this world no longer be a stage
To feed contention in* a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cam
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead !
Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong,
my lord.
L. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom
from your honour.
Mor. The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health ; the which, if you give o'er
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
49*
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
CACT i.
You cast the event of war, my noble lord,
And suram'd the account of chance, before you
said,
Let us make head. It was your presurmise
That in the dole o' olows your son might
drop:
You knew he walk'd o'er perils on an edge,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er ;
You were advis'd his flesh was capable
Of wounds and scars ; and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger
rang'd :
Yet did you say, Go forth ; and none of this
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action. What hath, then, be-
fallen,
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
L. Bard. We all that are engaged to this loss
Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas,
That if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one :
And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd
Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd ;
And since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
Mor. 'Tis more than time: and, my most
noble lord,
I hear for certain, and do speak the truth,
The gentle Archbishop of York is up
With well-appointed powers : he is a man
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corpse,
But shadows and the shows of men, to fight :
For that same word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls ;
And they did fight with queasiness, constraint.
As men drink potions; that their weapons only
Seera'd on our side, but, for their spirits and
souls,
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,
As fish are in a pond. But now the arch-
bishop
Turns insurrection to religion :
Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He 's follow'd both with body and with mind ;
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret
stones ;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause ;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ;
And more and less do flock - follow him.
Worth. I knew of this before ; but, to speak
truth,
This present grief had wip'd it from my mind
Go in with me ; and counsel every man
The aptest way for safety and revenge
Get posts and letters, and make mends with
speed,
Never so few, and never yet more need.
\Exeunt.
SCENE II. LONDON. A Street.
Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, with his Page
bearing his sword and btickler.
Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor
to my water?
Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good
healthy water ; but, for the party that owed it,
he might have more diseases than he knew of.
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at
me : the brain of this foolish-compounded clay,
man, is not able to invent anything that tends
to laughter, more than I invent or is invented
on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the
cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk
before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed
all her litter but one. If the prince put thee
into my service for any other reason than to set
me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou
whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn
in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was
never manned with an agate till now : but I will
set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile
apparel, and send you back again to your master,
for a jewel, the Juvenal, the prince your master,
whose chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner
have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than
he shall get one on his cheek ; and yet he will
not stick to say his face is a face-royal : God may
finish it when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet:
he may keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber
shall never earn sixpence out of it ; and yet he
will be crowing as if he had writ man ever since
his father was a bachelor. He may keep his
own grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can
assure him. What said Master Dumbleton about
the satin for my short cloak and my slops?
Page. He said, sir, you should procure him
better assurance than Bardolph : he would not
take his bond and yours; he liked not the
security.
Fal. Let him be damned, like the glutton !
may his tongue be hotter ! A whoreson Achi
tophel ! a rascally yea-forsooth knave ! to bear
a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon
security ! The whoreson smooth -pates do now
wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of
keys at their girdles ; and if a man is thorough
with them in honest taking up, then they must
stand upon security. I hau as lief they would
put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with
security. I looked he should have sent me two*
.SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
499
and-twenty yards of satin, as 1 am a true knight,
and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep
in security ; for he hath the horn of abundance,
and the lightness of his wife shines through it :
and yet cannot he see, though he have his own
lantern to light him. Where's Bardolph?
Page. He 's gone into Smithfield to buy your
worship a horse.
FaL I bought him in Paul's, and he '11 buy
me a horse in Smithfield: an I could get me
but a wife, in the stews, I were manned, horsed,
and wived.
Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that
committed the prince for striking him about
Bardolph.
Fal. Wait close ; I will not see him.
Enter the Lord Chief-Justice and an Attendant
Ch. Just. What's he that goes there?
Atten. Falstaff, an 't please your lordship.
Ch. Just. Pie that was in question for the
robbery?
Atten. He, my lord : but he hath since done
good service at Shrewsbury ; and, as I hear, is
now going with some charge to the Lord John
of Lancaster.
Ch.Just. What, to York? Call him back
again.
Atten. Sir John Falstaff!
Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deaf. [deaf.
Page. Yon must speak louder; my master is
Ch. Just. I am sure he is, to the hearing of
anything good. Go, pluck him by the elbow;
I must speak with him.
Atten. Sir John,
Fal. What ! a young knave, and begging !
Is there not wars? is there not employment ?
Doth not the king lack subjects ? Do not the
rebels need soldiers ? Though it be a shame to
be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg
than to be on the worst side, were it worse than
the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.
Atten. You mistake me, sir.
Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest
man ? setting my knighthood and my soldiership
aside, I had lied in my throat if I had said so.
Atten. I pray you, sir, then set your knight-
hood and your soldiership aside ; and give me
leave to tell you, you lie in your throat, if you
say I am any other than an honest man.
Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay
aside that which grows to me ! If thou gettest
any leave of me, hang me } if thou takest leave,
thou wert better be hanged. You hunt-counter,
hence! avaunt!
Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with you.
Ch. Jzisi, Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
Fal. My good lord ! God give your lordship
good time 01 day. I am glad to see your lord-
ship abroad: I heard say your lordship was
sick: I hope your lordship goes abroad by
advice. Your lordship, though not clean past
your youth, hath yet some smack of age in you,
some relish of the saltness of time ; and I most
humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverend
care of your health.
Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your
expedition to Shrewsbury.
Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear his
majesty is returned with some discomfort from
Wales.
Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty : you
would not come when I sent for you.
Fal.^ And I hear, moreover, his highness is
fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy.
Ch. Just. Well, God mend him ! I pray you
let me speak with you.
Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of
lethargy, an't please your lordship; a kind of
sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling.
Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as it
is.
Fal. It hath its original from much grief,
from study, and perturbation of the brain: I
have read the cause of his effects in Galen j it
is a kind of deafness.
Ch. Just. I think you are fallen into the
disease ; for you hear not what I say to you.
Fal. Very well, my lord, very well: rather,
an 't please you, it is the disease of not listening,
the malady of not marking, that I am troubled
vvithaL
Ch.Jusf. To punish you by the heels would
amend the attention of your ears ; and I care
not if I do become your physician.
Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not
so patient: your lordship may minister the
potion of imprisonment to me in respect of
poverty ; but how I should be your patient to
follow your prescriptions, the wise may make
some dram of a scruple, or, indeed, a scruple
itself.
Ch.Just. I sent for you when there were
matters against you for your life, to come speak
with me.
Fal. As I was then advised by my learned
counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did
not come.
Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you
live in great infamy.
Fal. He that buckles him in my belt cannot
live in less.
Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and
your waste is great.
500
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV,
CACTI.
Fal. I would it were otherwise; I would my
means were greater and my waist slenderer.
Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful
prince.
Fal. The young prince hath misled me : I
am the fellow with the great belly, and he my
Ik. fust. Well, I am loth to gall a new-healed
wound : your day's service at Shrewsbury hath
a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gads-
hill : you may thank the unquiet time for your
quiet o'erposting that action.
Fal. My lord,
Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so :
wake not a sleeping wolf.
Fal. To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a
fox.
Ch.Just. What! you are as a candle, the
better part burnt out.
Fal. A wassail candle, my lord ; all tallow :
if I did say of wax, my growth would approve
the truth.
Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your
face but should have his effect of gravity.
Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
Ch. fust. You follow the young prince up
and down, like his ill angel.
Fal. Not so, my lord ; your ill angel is light ;
but I hope he that looks upon me will take me
without weighing: and yet, in some respects, I
grant, I cannot go: I cannot tell. Virtue is
of so little regard in these costermonger times
that true valour is turned bear-herd : pregnancy
is made a tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted
in giving reckonings: all the other gifts ap-
pertinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes
them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that
are old consider not the capacities of us that are
young; you measure the heat of our livers with
the bitterness of your galls: and we that are in
the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are
wags too.
Ch. fust. Do you set down your name in the
scroll of youth, that are written down old with
all tue characters of age ? Have you not a moist
eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheek? a white beard?
a decreasing leg? an increasing belly? Is not
your voice broken? your wind short? your chin
double? your wit single? and every part about
you blasted with antiquity? and will you yet call
yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John !
Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the
clock in the afternoon, with a white head, and
something a round belly. For my voice, I
have lost it with hollaing and singing of anthems.
To approve my youth further, I will not ; the
truth is, I am only old in judgment and under-
standing ; and he that will caper with me for a
thousand marks, let him lend me the money,
and have at him. For the box o' the ear that
the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude
prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I
have checked him for it; and the young lion
repents ; marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but
in new silk and old sack.
Ch. fust. Well, God send the prince a better
companion !
Fal. God send the companion a better prince !
I cannot rid my hands of him.
Ch.fust. Well, the king hath severed you
and Prince Harry: I hear you are going with
Lord j ohn of Lancaster against the archbishop
and the Earl of Northumberland.
Fal. Yea ; I thank your pretty sweet wit for
it. But look you, pray, ail you that kiss my
Lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in
a hot day ; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts
out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordin-
arily : if it be a hot day, and I brandish anything
but my bottle, I would I might never spit
white again. There is not a dangerous action
can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it-.
well, I cannot last ever : but it was alway yet
the trick of our English nation, if they have a
good thing, to make it too common. If you
will needs say I am an old man, you should
give me rest. I would to God my name were
not so terrible to the enemy as it is : I were
better to be eaten to death with rust than to be
scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.
Ch,fust. Well, be honest, be honest; and
God bless your expedition !
Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand
pound to furnish me forth?
Ch. fust. Not a penny, not a penny; you
are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you
well : commend me to my cousin Westmoreland.
{Exeunt Chief-Justice and Attendant.
Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man
beetle. A man can no more separate age and
covetousness than he can part young limbs and
lechery : but the gout galls the one, and the
pox pinches the other ; and so both the diseases
prevent my curses. Boy!
Page. Sir?
Fal. What money is in my purse?
Page. Seven groats and two pence.
Fal. I can get no remedy against this con-
sumption of the purse : borrowing only lingers
and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.
Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster \
this to the prince ; this to the Earl of West-
moreland; and this to old Mistress Ursula,
whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I
SCENE III.)
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
50*
perceived the first white hair on my chin.
About it ; you know where to find me. \Erit
Page.] A pox of this gout ! or, a gout of this
pox ! for the one or the other plays the rogue
with my great toe. It is no matter if I do
halt ; I have the wars for my colour, and my
pension shall seem the more reasonable. A
good wit will make use of anything. I will
turn diseases to commodity. {Exit.
SCENE III. YORK. A Room in the ARCH-
BISHOP'S Palace.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the LORDS
HASTINGS, MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH.
Arch. Thus have you heard our cause and
know our means;
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes :
And first, lord marshal, what say you to it?
Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms ;
But gladly would be better satisfied
How, in our means, we should advance ourselves
To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the power and puissance of the king.
Hast. Our present musters grow upon the file
To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice ;
And our supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom bums
With an incensed fire of injuries.
L. Bard. The question, then, Lord Hast-
ings, standeth thus;
Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland?
Hast. With him, we may.
L. Bard. Ay, marry, there J s the point :
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is, we should not step too far
Till we had his assistance by the hand ;
For, in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted.
Arch. 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for,
indeed,
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.
L. Bard. It was, my lord; who lin'd him-
self with hope,
Eating the air on promise of supply,
Flattering himself with project of a power
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts :
And so, with great imagination,
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,
And, winking, leap'd into destruction. [hurt
Hast. But, by your leav^, it never yet did
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
L. Bard. Yes, in this present quality of war;
Indeed, the instant action, a cause on foot,
Lives so in hope, as in an early spnng
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove
fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to
build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model ;
And when we see the figure of the hou c c.
Then must we rate the cost of the erection ;
Which, if we find outweighs ability,
What do we then but draw anew the model
In fewer offices, or at least desist [work,
To build at all? Much more, in this great
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
And set another up, should we survey
The plot of situation and the model,
Consent upon a sure foundation,
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite ; or else,
We fortify in paper and in figures,
Using the names of men instead of men :
Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it ; who, half through.
Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost
A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
Hast. Grant that our hopes, yet likely of
fair birth,
Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd
The utmost man of expectation ;
I think we are a body strong enough,
Even as we are, to equal with the king.
L. Bard. What, is the king but five-and-
twenty thousand?
Hast. To us no more ; nay, not so much, Lord
Bardolph;
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
Are in three heads: one power against the
French,
And one against Glendower ; perforce a third
Must take up us : so is the unfirm king
In three divided ; and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
Arch. That he should draw his several
strengths together,
And come against us in rail puissance,
Need not be dreaded.
Hast. If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and
Welsh
Baying him at the heels: never fear that
L. Bard. Who is it like should lead his forces
hither? Pand ;
Hast. The Duke of Lancaster and Westmore-
Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Mon*
mouth :
502
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT H.
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I have no certain notice.
Arch. Let us on,
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice ;
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited :
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many ! with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Boling-
broke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be !
And being now trimm'd in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard ;
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these
times? [die,
They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him
Are now become enamour'd on his grave:
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came sighing
on
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke,
Cry'st now, O earth yield us that king again>
And take thou this ! O thoughts of men accurst !
Past, and to come, seems best ; things present,
worst. [set on?
Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and
Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids
be gone. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Street.
Enter Hostess, FANG and his Boy with her,
and SNARE following.
Host. Master Fang, have you entered the
action ?
Fang. It is entered.
Host. Where is your yeoman? Is it a lusty
yeoman? will he stand to it?
Fang. Sirrah, where 's Snare?
Host. O Lord, ay ! good Master Snare.
Snare. Here, here.
Fang. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
Host. Yea, good Master Snare ; I have en-
tered him and all.
Snare. It may chance cost some of us our
lives, for he will stab.
Host. Alas the day ! take heed of him ; he
stabbed me in mine own house, and that most
beastly : in good faith, he cares not what mis-
chief he doth, if his weapon be out : he will foin
like any devil; he will spare neither mar.,
woman, nor child.
Fang. If I can close with him, I care not fo:
his thrust.
Host. No, nor I neither : I '11 be at your elbow.
Fang. An I but fist him once ; an he come
but within my vice,
Host. I am undone by his going; I warrant
you, he is an infinitive thing upon my score :
good Master Fang, hold him sure; good Master
Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes continu-
antly to Pie-corner, saving your manhoods,
to buy a saddle ; and he is indited to dinner to the
Lubber's Head in Lumbert Street, to Master
Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my
exion is entered, and my case so openly known
to the world, let him be brought in to his
answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a
poor lone woman to bear : and I have borne,
and borne, and borne; and have been fubbed
off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off, from this daj
to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on.
There is no honesty in such dealing ; unless a
woman should be made an ass and a beast, to
bear every knave's wrong. Yonder he comes ;
and that arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph,
with him. Do your offices, do your offices,
Master Fang and Master Snare ; do me, do me,
do me your offices.
Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, Page, and BAR-
DOLPH.
Fal. How now! whose mare's dead? what's
the matter?
Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of
Mistress Quickly.
Fal. Away, varlets ! Draw, Bardolph: cut
me off the villain's head; throw the quean in
the channel.
Host. Throw me in the channel ! I '11 throw
thee in the channel. Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou
bastardly rogue ! Murder, murder ! O thou
honeysuckle villain! wilt thou kill God's officers
and the king's? O thou honey- seed rogue ! thou
art a honey-seed ; a inan-queller and a woman-
queller.
Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.
Fang- A rescue ! a rescue !
Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two.
Thou. wo 't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't thou?
do, do, thou rogue ! do, thou hemp-seed !
Fal. Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you
fustilarian ! I '11 tickle your catastrophe.
Enter the Lord Chief-Justice, attended.
Ch. Jtist. What is the matter? keep the peace
here, hoi
SCENE I.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
503
Host. Good my lord, be good to me ! I be-
seech you, stand to me !
Ch. fast. How now, Sir John ! what, are you
brawling here? [business?
Doth this become your place, your time, and
You should have been well on your way to
York. [on him?
Stand from him, fellow: wherefore hang'st thou
Host. O my most worshipful lord, an 't please
your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap,
and he is arrested at my suit.
Ch. Just. For what sum ?
Host. It is more than for some, my lord; it
is for all, all I have. He hath eaten me out
of house and home ; he hath put all my sub-
stance into that fat belly of his: but I will have
some of it out again, or I will ride thee o' nights
like the mare.
Fal. I think I am as like to ride the mare, if
I have any vantage of ground to get up.
Ch. Just. How comes this, Sir John? Fie !
What man of good temper would endure this
tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed
to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course
to come by her own ?
Fal. What is the gross sum that I owe thee?
Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man,
thyself and the money too. Thou didst swear
to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my
Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-
coal fire, upon Wednesday in Whitsun-week,
when the prince broke thy head for liking his
father to a singing-man of Windsor, thou didst
swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound,
to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife.
Canst thou deny it? Did not good wife Keech,
the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me
gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of
vinegar; telling us she had a good dish of
prawns ; whereby thou didst desire to eat some ;
whereby I told thee they were ill for a green
wound? And didst thou not, when she was
gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so
familiarity with such poor people ; saying that
ere long they should call me madam? And
didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee
thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book-
oath : deny it, if thou canst !
Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and
she says, up and down the town, that her eldest
son is like you : she hath been in good case,
and, the truth is, poverty hath distracted her.
But for these foolish officers, I beseech you I
may have redress against them.
Ch. Just. Sir John, Sir John, I am well ac-
quainted with your manner of wrenching the
true cause the false way. It is not a confident
brow, ncr the throng of words that come with
such more than impudent sauciness from you,
can thrust me from a level consideration : you
have, as it appears to me, practised upon the
easy yielding spirit of this woman, and made her
serve your uses both in purse and in person.
Host. Yea, in troth, my lord.
Ch. Just. Pr'ythee, peace. Pay her the debt
you owe her, and unpay the villany you have
done with her: the one you may do with ster-
ling money, and the other with current repent-
ance.
Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap
without reply. You call honourable boldness
impudent sauciness : if a man will make court'sy,
and say nothing, he is virtuous: no, my lord,
my humble duty remembered, I will not be your
suitor. I say to you, I do desire deliverance
from these officers, being upon hasty employ-
ment in the king's affairs.
Ch. Just. You speak as having power to do
wrong : but answer in the effect of your reputa-
tion, and satisfy the poor woman.
Fal. Come hither, hostess. \Takes her aside.
Enter GOWER.
Ch. Just. Now, Master Gower, what news?
Gow. The king, my lord, and Harry Prince
of Wales
Are near at hand : the rest this paper tells.
[Gives a Utter.
Fal. As I am a gentleman,
Host. Nay, you said so before.
Fal. As I am a gentleman : come, no more
words of it.
Host. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I
must be fain to pawn both my plate and the
tapestry of my dining- chambers.
Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking:
and for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or
the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunt-
ing in water-work, is worth a thousand of these
bed-hangings and these fly-bitten tapestries.
Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an
it were not for thy humours, there is not a better
wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and
draw thy action. Come, thou must not be in
this humour with me ; dost not know me? come,
come, I know thou wast set on to this.
Host. Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty
nobles: i' faith, I am loth to pawn my plate, so
God save me, la.
Fal. Let it alone; I'll make other shift:
you '11 be a fool still.
Host. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn
my gown. I hope you'll come to supper.
You"ll pay me all together?
504
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT n.
Fal. Will I live? Go, with her, with her
\to BARDOLPH] ; hook on, hook on.
Host. Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you
at supper?
Fal. No more words ; let 's have her.
[##/ HOST., BARD., Officers,
Ch. Just. I have heard better news.
Fal. What 's the news, my good lord?
Ch.Just. Where lay the king last night?
GOTO. At Basingstoke, my lord.
Fal. I hope, my lord, all 's well : what 's the
news, my lord?
Ch. Just. Come all his forces back?
Gow. No ; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred
horse,
Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland and the archbishop.
Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my
noble lord? [sently:
Ch. Just. You shall have letters of me pre-
Come, go along with me, good master Gower.
Fal. My lord !
Ch. Just. What 's the matter?
Fal. Master Gower, shall 1 entreat you with
me to dinner?
Gow. I must wait upon my good lord here,
I thank you, good Sir John.
Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long,
being you are to take soldiers up in counties as
you go.
Fal. Will you sup with me, Master Gower?
Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you
these manners, Sir John?
FaL Master Gower, if they become me not,
he was a fool that taught them me. This is the
right fencing grace, my lord ; tap for tap, and
so part fair.
Ch. Just. Now, the Lord lighten thee ! thou
art a great fool. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The same. Another Street.
Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS.
P. Hen. Before God, I am exceeding weary.
Poins. Is it come to that? I had thought
weariness durst not have attached one of so high
blood.
P. Hen. Faith, it does me; though it dis-
colours the complexion of my greatness to ac-
knowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me
to desire small beer?
Poins. Why, a prince should not be so loosely
studiec 1 as to remember so weak a composition.
P. Hen. Belike, then, my appetite was not
pre iseivgot; for, by my troth, I do now re-
uaembe'r the poor creature, small beer. But,
'indeed, these humble considerations make me
out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace
is it to me to remember thy name? or to know
thy face to-morrow? or to take note how many
pair of silk stockings thou hast ; viz. , these, and
those that were thy peach-coloured ones? or to
bear the inventory of thy shirts, as, one for
superfluity, and one other for use? but that the
tennis court-keeper knows better than I ; for it
is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou
keepest not racket there ; as thou hast not done
a great while, because the rest of thy low-
countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland:
and God knows, whether those that bawl out
the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom :
but the midwives say the children are not in the
fault; whereupon the world increases, and
kindreds are mightily strengthened.
Poins. How ill it follows, after you have
laboured so hard, you should talk so idly ! Tell
me, how many good young princes would do so,
their fathers being so sick as yours at this time
is?
P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins ?
Poins. Yes, faith ; and let it be an excellent
good thing.
P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no
higher breeding than thine.
Poins. Go to ; I stand the push of your one
thing that you will tell.
P. Hen. Marry, I tell thee, it is not meet
that I should be sad, now my father is sick :
albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases
me, for fault of a better, to call my friend, I
could be sad and sad indeed too.
Poins. Very hardly upon such a subject.
P. Hen. By this hand, thou think'st me as
far in the devil's book as thou and Palstaff for
obduracy and persistency : let the end try the
man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly
that my father is so sick : and keeping such vile
company as thou art hath in reason taken from
me all ostentation of sorrow.
Poins. The reason ?
P. Hen. What wouldst thou think of me if
I should weep?
Poins. I would think thee a most princely
hypocrite.
P. Hen. It would be every man's thought ;
arid thou art a blessed fellow to think as every
man thinks : never a man's thought in the world
keeps the road- way better taan thine : every man
would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what
accites your most worshipful thought to think
so?
Poins. Why, because you have been so lewd,
and so much engrafted to Falstaff.
P. Hen. And to thee.
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
505
Poms. By this light, I am well spoke on ; I
can hear it with mine own ears : the worst that
they can say of me is that I am a second brother,
and that I am a proper fellow of my hands ; and
those two things, I confess, I cannot help. By
the mass, here comes Bardolph.
P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaff:
he had him from me Christian ; and look, if
the fat villain have not transformed him ape.
Enter BARDOLPH and Page.
Bard. God save your grace !
P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph !
Bard. Come, you virtuous ass [to the Page],
you bashful fool, must you be blushing? where-
fore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-
arms are you become? Is it such a matter to
get a pottle-pot's maidenhead?
Page. He called me even now, my lord,
through a red lattice, and I could discern no part
of his face from the window : at last I spied his
eyes ; and methought he had made two holes in
the alewife's new red petticoat, and so peeped
through.
P. Hen. Hath not the boy profited?
Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit,
away !
Page. Away, you rascally Althaea's dream,
away!
P. Hen. Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
Page. Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamed she
was delivered of a fire-brand ; and therefore I
call him her dream.
P. Hen. A crown's worth of good interpre-
tation: there it is, boy. [Gives him money.
Poins. O that this good blossom could be
kept from cankers ! Well, there is sixpence to
preserve thee.
Bard. An you do not make him be hanged
among you, the gallows shall have wrong.
P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your
grace's coming to town; there's a letter for
you.
Poms. Delivered with good respect. And
how doth the martlemas, your master?
Bard. In bodily health, sir.
Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a
physician; but that moves not him: though
that be sick, it dies not.
P. Hen. I do allow this wen to be as familiar
with me as my dog : and he holds his place ; for
look you how he writes.
Poins. [Reads.] John Falstaff, knight,
every man must know that, as oft as he has
occasion to name himself: even like those that
are kin to the king; for they neve* prick their
finger but they say, There is some of the kings
blood spilt. How comes that? says he, that
takes upon him not to conceive. The answer
i5 as ready as a borrower's cap, / am the king's
poor cousin, sir.
P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they
will fetch it from Japhet. But to the letter :
Poins. [Reads,] Sir John Falstaff, knight, to
the son the king, nearest his father, Harry
Prince of Wales, greeting. Why, this is a
certificate.
P. Hen. Peace!
Poins. [Reads.] I will imitate the honourable
Romans in brevity: sure he means brevity in
breath, short-winded. / commend me to thee,
I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too
familiar with Poins ; for he misuses thy favours
so much that he swears thou art to marry his
sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayest,
and so, farewell.
Thine, by yea and no, (which is as
much as to say, as thou usest him t )
JACK FALSTAFF, with my familiars;
JOHN, with my brothers and sisters;
and SIR JOHN with all Europe.
My lord, I will steep this letter in sack, and
make him eat it.
P. Hen. That 's to make him eat twenty of
his words. But do you use me thus, Ned?
must I marry your sister?
Poins. God send the wench have no worse
fortune ! but I never said so.
P. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with
the time ; and the spirits of the wise sit in the
clouds and mock us. Is your master here in
London?
Bard. Yes, my lord.
P. Hen. Where sups he? doth the old boar
feed in the old frank?
Bard. At the old place, my lord, in East-
cheap.
P. Hen. What company?
Page. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.
P. Hen. Sup any women with him ?
Page. None, my lord, but old Mistress
Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.
P. Hen. What pagan may that be?
Page. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a
kinswoman of my master's.
P. Hen. Even such kin as the parish heifers
are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon them,
Ned, at supper?
Poins. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll
follow you.
P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph,
no word to your master that I am yet come to
town: there 's for your silence.
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT ii.
Bard. I have no tongue, sir.
Page. And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
P. Hen. Fare ye well ; go. [Exeunt BAR-
DOLPH tfw/Page.] This Doll Tearsheet should
be some road.
Poms. I warrant you, as common as the
way between Saint Alban's and London.
P. Hen. How might we see Falstaff bestow
himself to-night in his true colours, and not
ourselves be seen?
Poins. Put on two leathern jerkins and
aprons, and wait upon him at his table as
drawers.
P. Hen. From a god to a bull? a heavy de-
scension! it was Jove's case. From a prince
to a prentice? a low transformation ! that shall
be mine; for in everything the purpose must
weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. WARKWORTH. Before the Castle.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUM-
BERLAND, and LADY PERCY.
North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle
daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs :
Put not you on the visage of the times,
And be, like them, to Percy troublesome.
Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no
more:
Do what you will ; your wisdom be your guide.
North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at
pawn;
And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
Lady P. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to
these wars !
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now ;
When your own Percy, when my heart-dear
Harry,
Threw many a northward look to see his father
Bring up his powers ; but he did long in vain.
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours lost, yours and your
son's.
For yours, may heavenly glory brighten it !
For his, it stuck upon him, as the sun
In the grey vault of heaven : and by his light
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts : he was, indeed, the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves :
He had no legs that practis'd not his gait ;
And speaking thick, which nature made his
blemish,
liecaine the accents of the valiant ;
For those that could speak low and tardily
Would turn their own perfection to abuse
To seem like him : so that in speech, in gait,
In diet, in affections of delight,
In military rules, humours of blood,
He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous
him!
miracle of men ! him did you leave,
Second to none, unseconded by you,
To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage ; to abide a field
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
Did seem defensible : so you left him.
Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong
To hold your honour more precise and nice
With others than with him ! let them alone :
The marshal and the archbishop are strong :
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.
North. Beshrew your heart,
Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me
With new lamenting ancient oversights.
But I must go, and meet with danger there ;
Or it will seek me in another place,
And find me worse provided.
Lady N. O, fly to Scotland,
Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of
the king,
Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves,
First let them try themselves. So did your son ;
He was so suffer'd : so came I a widow ;
And never shall have length of life enough
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
For recordation to my noble husband.
North. Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis
with my mind
As with the tide swell'd up unto its height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back.
1 will resolve for Scotland : there am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Room in the Boar's
Head Tavern in East-cheap.
Enter two Drawers.
1 Draw. What the devil hast thou brought
there? apple-Johns? thou know'st Sir John
cannot endure an apple-John.
2 Draw. Mass, thou sayest true. The prince
SCENE IV.)
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
507
once set a dish of apple-Johns before him, and
told him there were five more Sir Johns ; and,
putting off his hat, said, / "will now take my
leave of these six dry, round, old, withered
knights. It angered him to the heart : but he
hath forgot that.
1 Draw. Why, then, cover, and set them
down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak's
noise : Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some
music. Despatch : the room where they sup-
ped is too hot; they'll come in straight.
2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be the prince and
Master Poins anon; and they will put on two
of our jerkins and aprons ; and Sir John must
not know of it : Bardolph hath brought word.
1 Draw. By the mass, here will be old utis :
it will be an excellent stratagem.
2 Draw. I '11 see if I can find out Sneak.
[Exit.
Enter Hostess and DOLL TEARSHEET.
Host. I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you
Ure in an excellent good temperality : your pul-
sidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would
desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as
red as any rose : but, i' faith, you have drunk
too much canaries; and that's a marvellous
searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere
one can say, What's this? How do you now?
Doll. Better than I was : hem.
Host. Why, that 's well said ; a good heart 's
Worth gold. Look, here comes Sir John.
Enter FALSTAFF singing.
o o
Fal. When Arthur first in court Empty
the jorden. {Exit I Drawer.] And was a
worthy king. How now, Mistress Doll!
Host. Sick of a calm ; yea, good sooth.
Fal. So is all her sect ; an they be once in
a calm, they are sick.
Doll. You muddy rascal, is that all the com-
fort you give me?
Fal. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
Doll. I make them ! gluttony and diseases
make them ; I make them not.
Fal. If the cook help to make the gluttony,
you help to make the diseases, Doll : we catch
of you, Doll, we catch of you ; grant that, my
poor virtue, grant that.
Doll. Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.
Fal. Your brooches, pearls, and ouches: for
to serve bravely is to come halting off, you
know : to come off the breach with his pike
bent bravely, and to surgery bravely ; to ven-
ture upon the charged chambers bravely,
Doll. Hang yourself, you muddy conger,
yourself!
Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion ;
you two never meet but you fall to some discord:
you are both, in good troth, as rheumatic as two
dry toasts ; yoi 1 cannot one bear with another's
confirmities. What the good-year! one must
bear, and that must be you \to DOLL] : you are
the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier
vessel.
Doll. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a
huge full hogshead? there 's a whole merchant's
venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him ; you have
not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold.
Come, I '11 be friends with thee, Jack : thou
art going to the wars ; and whether I shall ever
see thee again or no, there is nobody cares.
Re-enter First Drawer.
I Draw. Sir, Ancient Pistol is below, and
would speak with you.
Doll. Hang him, swaggering rascal ! let him
not come hither : it is the foul-mouth'dst rogue
in England.
Host. If he swagger, let him not come here :
no, by my faith; I must live amongst my
neighbours ; I '11 no swaggerers : I am in good
name and fame with the very best: shut the
door ; there comes no swaggerers here : I have
not lived all this while to have swaggering now:
shut the door, I pray you.
Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess?
Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, Sir John:
there comes no swaggerers here.
Fal. Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient.
Host. Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me:
your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors.
I was before Master Tisick, the deputy, the other
day ; and, as he said to me, it wis no longer
ago than Wednesday last, Neighoour Quickly,
says he ; Master Dumb, our minister, was by
then ; Neighbour Quickly, says he, receive those
that are civil; for, saith he, you are in an ill-
name; now he said so, I can tell whereupon ;
for, says \vz,you are an honest woman, and well
thought on; therefore take heed what guests you
receive: re ei e, says he, no swaggering com-
panions. There comes none here; you would
bless you to hear what he said : no, I '11 no
swaggerers.
Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame
cheater, i' faith ; you may stroke him as gently
as a puppy greyhound : he will not swagger with
a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any
show of resistance. Call him up, drawer.
[Exit I Drawer.
Host. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no
honest man my house, nor no cheater : but I do
not love swaggering; by mv troth, I am the
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT n.
worse when one says swagger: feel, masters,
how I shake ; look you, I warrant you.
Doll. So you do, hostess.
Host. Do I ? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere
an aspen leaf : I cannot abide swaggerers.
Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and PAGE.
Pist. God save you, Sir John !
Fal. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol,
I charge you with a cup of sack : do you dis-
charge upon mine hostess.
Pist. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with
two bullets.
'Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir ; you shall hardly
offend her.
Host. Come, I '11 drink no proofs nor no bullets :
I '11 drink no more than will do me good, for
no man's pleasure, I.
Pkt. Then to you, Mrs. Dorothy; I will
charge you.
Doll. Charge me ! I scorn you, scurvy com-
panion. What I you poor, base, rascally, cheat-
ing, lack-linen mate ! Away, you mouldy rogue,
away ! I am meat for your master.
Pist. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
Doll. Away, you cut-purse rascal ! you filthy
bung, away ! by this wine, I '11 thrust my knife
in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy
cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal !
you basket-hilt stale juggler, you ! Since when,
I pray you, sir? God s light, with two points
on your shoulder? much !
Pist. I will murder your ruff for this.
Fal. No more, Pistol ; I would not have you
go off here : discharge yourself of our company,
Pistol.
Host. No. good Captain Pistol; not here,
sweet captain.
Doll. Captain! thou abominable damned
cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called cap-
tain? If captains were of my mind, they would
truncheon you out, for taking their names upon
you before you have earned them. You a cap-
tain! you slave, for what? for tearing a poor
whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain !
hang him, rogue ! He lives upon mouldy stewed
prunes and dried cakes. A captain! God's light,
these villains will make the word as odious as
the word occupy ; which was an excellent good
word before it was ill -sorted : therefore captains
had need look to it.
Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
Pist. Not I : I tell thee what, Corporal Bar-
dolph, I could tear her : I '11 be revenged on
her.
Page. Pray thee, go down.
Pist. I '11 see her damned first ; to Pluto's
damned lake, by this hand, to the infernal deep,
with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook
and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down,
faitors ! Have we not Hiren here?
Host. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet ; it is
very late, i' faith : I beseek you now, aggravate
your choler.
Pist. These be good humours, indeed ! Shall
packhorses,
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty miles a-day,
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them
with
King Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?
Host. By my troth, captain, these are very
bitter words.
Bard. Be gone, good ancient : this will grow
to a brawl anon.
Pist. Die men like dogs ! give crowns like
pins ! Have we not Hiren here?
Host. O' my word, captain; there's none
such here. What the good-year ! do you think
I would deny her? for Godsake, be quiet.
Pist. Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
Come, give me some sack.
Se fortuna mi tormenta, lo sperare mi con>
tenta.
Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire:
Give me some sack : and, sweetheart, lie thou
there. [Laying down his sword.
Come we to full points here ; and are et-ceteras
nothing?
Fal. Pistol, I would, be quiet.
Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: what!
we have seen the seven stars.
Doll. Thrust him downstairs; I cannot endure
such a fustian rascal.
Pist. Thrust him down stairs ! know we not
Galloway nags?
Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-
groat shilling : nay, an he do nothing but speak
nothing, he shall be nothing here.
Bard. Come, get you down stairs.
Pist. What! shall we have incision? shall we
imbrue ? \Snatching up his sword.
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful
days !
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three ! Come, Atropos, I
say !
Host. Here 's goodly stuff toward !
Fal. Give me my rapier, boy.
Doll. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not
draw.
SCENE IV.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
509
Fal. Get you down stairs.
[Drawing^ and driving PlST. out.
Host. Here 's a goodly tumult ! I '11 forswear
keeping house afore I '11 be in these tirrits and
frights. So; murder, I warrant now. Alas,
alas ! put up your naked weapons, put up your
naked weapons. [Exeunt PIST. and BARD.
Doll. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet ; the rascal
is gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain,
you !
Host. Are you not hurt i' the groin? me-
thought he made a shrewd thrust at your belly.
Re-enter BARDOLPH.
Fal. Have you turned him out of doors?
Bard. Yes, sir. The rascal 's drunk : you
have hurt him, sir, in the shoulder.
Fal. A rascal ! to brave me !
Doll. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you ! Alas,
poor ape, how thou sweatest ! come, let me wipe
thy face ; come on, you whoreson chops : ah,
rogue ! i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as valor-
ous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamem-
non, and ten times better than the nine worthies :
ah, villain !
Fal. A rascally slave ! I will toss the rogue
in a blanket.
Doll. Do, if thou darest for thy heart: if
thou dost, I '11 canvass thee between a pair of
sheets.
Enter Musicians.
Page. The music is come, sir.
Fal. Let them play; play, sirs. Sit on my
knee, Doll. A rascal-bragging slave ! the rogue
fled from me like quicksilver.
Doll. I' faith, and thou followedst him like a
church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew
boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o' days
and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up
thine old body for heaven?
Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS
disguised as Drawers.
Fal. Peace, good Doll ! do not speak like a
Death's-head; do not bid me remember mine
end.
Doll. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of?
Fal. A good shallow young fellow : he would
have made a good pantler; he would have
chipped bread well.
Doll. They say Poins has a good wit.
Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his
wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard ; there is
no more conceit in him than is in a mallet.
Doll. Why does the prince love him so, then?
Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness ;
and he plays at quoits well ; and eats conger and
fennel; and drinks off candles' ends for flap-
dragons ; and rides the wild mare with the boys;
and jumps upon joint-stools ; and swears with a
good grace; and wears his boot very smooth,
like unto the sign of the leg ; and breeds no bate
with telling of discreet stories; and such other
gambol faculties he has, that show a weak mind
and an able body, for the which the prince ad-
mits him : for the prince himself is such another ;
the weight of a hair will turn the scales between
their avoirdupois.
P. Hen. Would not this nave of a wheel have
his ears cut off?
Poins. Let us beat him before his whore.
P. Hen. Look, whether the withered elder
hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.
Poins. Is it not strange that desire should so
many years outlive performance?
Fal. Kiss me, Doll.
P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in con-
junction! what says the almanac to that?
Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon,
his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables,
his note-book, his counsel-keeper.
Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses.
Doll. By ruy troth, I kiss thee with a most
constant heart.
Fal. I am old, I am old.
Doll. I love thee better than I love e'er a
scurvy young boy of them all.
Fal. What stuff wilt thou have a kirtle of? I
shall receive money on Thursday; thou shall
have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come :
it grows late ; we will to bed. Thou wilt forget
me when I am gone.
Doll. By my troth, thou wilt set me a weep-
ing, an thou sayest so : prove that ever I dress
myself handsome till thy return : well, hearken
the end.
Fal. Some sack, Francis.
P. Hen., Poins. Anon, anon, sir.
[Advancing.
Fal. Ha ! a bastard son of the king's? And
art not thou Poins, his brother?
P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents,
what a life dost thou lead !
Fal. A better than thou : I am a gentleman ;
thou art a drawer.
P. Hen. Very true, sir, and I come to draw
you out by the ears.
Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace !
by my troth, welcome to London. Now, the
Lord bless that sweet face of thine ! O Jesu,
are you come from Wales?
Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT n.
majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood,
thou art welcome.
[Leaning his hand upon DOLL.
Doll. How, you fat fool ! I scorn you.
Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your
revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take
not the heat.
P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how
vilely did you speak of me even now before this
honest, virtuous, civil, gentlewoman!
Host. God's blessing on your good heart ! and
so she is, by my troth.
Fal. Didst thou hear me?
P. Hen. Yes ; and you knew me, as you did
when you ran away by Gadshill : you knew I
was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to
try my patience.
Fal. No, no, no; not so; I did not think
thou wast within hearing.
P. Hen. I shall drive you, then, to confess
the wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle
you.
Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no
abuse.
P. Hen. Not ! to dispraise me, and call me
pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not
what!
Fal. No abuse, Hal.
Poins. No abuse !
Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest
Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked,
that the wicked might notfall in love with him;
in which doing, I have done the part of a care-
ful friend and a true subject, and thy father is
to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal ;
none, Ned, none; no, faith, boys, none.
P. Hen. See now, whether pure fear and en-
tire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this
virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? is she
of the wicked? is thine hostess here of the wicked?
or is thy boy of the wicked ? or honest Bardolph,
whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked ?
Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph
irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy-
kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-
worms. For the boy, there is a good angel
about him ; but the devil outbids him too.
P. Hen. For the women?
Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already,
and burns, poor soul ! For the other, I owe
her money; and whether she be damned for
that, I know not.
Host. No, I warrant you.
Fal. No, I think thou art not ; I think thou
art quit for that. Marry, there is another in-
dictment upon thee for suffering flesh to be
eaten in thy house, contrary to the law ; for the
which I think thou wilt howl.
Host. All victuallers do so : what 's a joint of
mutton or two in a whole Lent?
P. Hen. You, gentlewoman,
Doll. What says your grace?
Fal. His grace says that which his flesh re-
bels against. [Knocking within.
Host. Who knocks so loud at door? Look
to the door there, Fr?ncis.
Enter PETO.
P. Hen. Peto, how now ! what news?
Pet. 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, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much
to blame,
So idly to profane the precious time ;
When tempest of commotion, like the south,
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good-
night.
[Exeunt P. HEN., POINS, PETO, and BARD.
Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of
the night, and we must hence, and leave it un-
picked. [Knocking within.'] More knocking
at the door !
Re-enter BARDOLPH.
How now ! what 's the matter?
Bard. You must away to court, sir, presently;
a dozen captains stay at door for you,
Fal. Pay the musicians, sirrah [to the Page].
Farewell, hostess; farewell, Doll. You see,
my good wenches, how men of merit are sought
after : the undeserver may sleep, when the man
of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches :
if I be not sent away post, I will see you again
ere I go.
Doll. I cannot speak ; if my heart be not
ready to burst, well, sweet Jack, have a care
of thyself.
Fal. Farewell, farewell.
[Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.
Host. 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.'} Mistress Tearsheet,
Host. What 's the matter?
Bard. [Within.'} Bid Mistress Tearsheet
come to my master.
SCENE I.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
Host. O, run, Doll, run; run, good DolL
[Exeunt.
ACT IIL
SCENE I WESTMINSTER. A Room IK the
Palace.
Enter KING HENRY in his nightgown, with a
Page.
K. Hen. Go call the Earls of Surrey and of
Warwick ; [letters,
But, ere they come, bid them o'er- read these
And well consider of them : make good speed.
[Exit Page.
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle
sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, [slumber,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under high canopies of costly state,
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why li^st thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch
A watch-case or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging
them
With de?.fening clamour in the slippery shrouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so 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 !
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Enter WARWICK and SURREY.
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 sent you?
War. We have, my liege. [kingdom
K. Hen. Then you perceive the body of our
How foul it is ; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.
War. It is but us a body yet distemper'd ;
Which to his former strength may be restored
With good advice and little medicine :
My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.
K. Hen. O God ! that one might read the
book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea ! and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean [mock,
Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors ! Oh, if this were seen,
The happiest youth, viewing his progress
through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
'Tis not ten years gone [friends,
Since Richard and Northumberland, great
Did feast together, and in two years after
Were they at wars. It is but eight years since
This Percy was the man nearest my soul ;
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot ;
Yea, for my sake, 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 brimful 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 cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne^
Though then, God knows, I had no such intent,
But that necessity so bow'd the state
That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss:
The ~time shall come, thus did he follow it,
The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition,
And the division of our amity.
War. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd ;
The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of tilings
As yet not come to life, which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured. [time;
Such things become the hatch and brood of
And, by the necessary form of this,
King Richard might create a perfect guess
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness;
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.
K. Hen. Are these things, then, necessities ?
Then let us meet them like necessities ;
And that same word even now cries out on us 1
512
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT in.
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 instance that Glendower is dead.
Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill;
And these unseason'd hours perforce must add
Unto your sickness.
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 Gloucestershire.
Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting;
MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULL-
CALF, and Servants, behind.
Shal. Come on, come on, come on, sir ; give
me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir : an
early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my
good cousin Silence?
SiL Good-morrow, good cousin Shallow.
Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bed-
fellow ? and your fairest daughter and mine, my
god-daughter Ellen?
Sil. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!
Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my
cousin William is become a good scholar : he
is at Oxford still, is he not?
Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost.
Shal. He must, then, to the inns of court
shortly : I was once of Clement's-inn ; where I
think they will talk of mad Shallow yet.
Sil. You were called lusty Shallow then, cousin.
Shal. By the mass, I was called anything;
and I would have done anything 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 Cots-
wold man, you had not four such swinge-
bucklers in all the inns of court again : and, I
may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas
were, and had the best of them all at command-
ment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John,
a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of
Norfolk
Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither
anon about soldiers?
Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. I
saw him break Skogan s head at the court gate,
when he was a crack not thus high : and the
very same day did I fight with one Sampson
Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's-inn. Jesu,
Jesu, the mad days that I have spent ! and to
see how many of mine old acquaintance are
dead!
SiL We shall all follow, cousin.
Shal. Certain, 'tis certain ; very sure, very
sure : death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to
all ; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks
at Stamford fair?
Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there.
Shal. Death is certain, Is old Double of
your town living yet?
Sil. Dead, sir.
Shal. Jesu, Jesu, dead! he drew a good
bow ; and dead ! he shot a fine shoot : John
of Gaunt loved him well, and betted much
money on his head. Dead ! he would have
clapp'd in the clout at twelve score, and carried
you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen
and a half, that it would have done a man's
heart good to see. How a score of ewes now?
Sil. Thereafter as they be : a score of good
ewes may be worth ten pounds.
Shal. And is old Double dead?
Sil. Here come twc of Sir John Falstaff C
men, as I think.
Enter BARDOLPH and one with him.
Bard. Good-morrow, honest gentlemen: I
beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?
Shal. I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor es-
quire of this county, and one of the king's
justices of the peace : what is your good plea-
sure with me?
Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you;
my captain, Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman,
by heaven, and a most gallant leader.
Shal. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a
good backsword man: how doth the good
knight? may I ask how my lady his wife doth?
Bard. Sir, pardon ; a soldier is better ac-
commodated than with a wife.
Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir ; and it is
well said indeed too. Better accommodated !
it is good ; yea, indeed, is it : good phrases are
surely, and ever were, very commendable. Ac-
commodated ! it comes from accommodo: very
good ; a good phrase.
Bard. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word.
Phrase call you it? By this good day, I know
not the phrase ; but I will maintain the word
with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a
word of exceeding good command. Accommo-
dated ; that is, when a man is, as they say, ac-
commodated j or, when a man is, being, whereby
SCEWE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
513
he may be thought to be accommodated ; which
is an excellent thing.
ShaL It is very just. Look, here comes good
Sir John.
Enter FALSTAFF.
Give me your good hand, give me your worship's
good hand : by my troth, you look well and bear
your years very well : welcome, good Sir John.
Fal. I am glad to see you well, good Master
Robert Shallow : Master Surecard, as I think ?
Shal. No, Sir John, it is my cousin Siience,
in commission with me.
Fal. Good Master Silence, it well befits you
should 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 suffi-
cient men?
Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?
Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you.
Shal. Where's the roll? where 's the roll?
where 's the roll ? let me see, let me see. So,
Bo, so, so: yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy!
let them appear as I call ; let them do so, let
them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy?
Moul. Here, an 't please you.
^ Shal. What think you, Sir John? a good
limbed fellow; young, strong, and of good
friends.
Fal. Is thy name Mouldy?
Moul. Yea, an 't please you.
Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used.
Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith !
filings that are mouldy lack use : very singular
good ! in faith, well said, Sir John ; very well
said.
Fal. Prick him. \To SHALLOW.
Moul. I was pricked well enough before, an
vou 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 pricked
me ; there are other men fitter to go out than I.
Fal. Go to ; peace, Mouldy ; you shall go.
Mouldy, it is time you were spent.
Moul. Spent!
Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside:
know you where you are? For the other, Sir
John : let me see ; Simon Shadow !
Fal. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit
nnder: he's like to be a cold soldier.
Shal. Where's Shadow?
Shad. Here, sir.
Fal-. Shadow, whose son art thou?
Shad. My mother's son, sir.
Fal, Thy mother's son ! like enough ; and thy
father's shadow : so the son of the female is the
shadow of the male : it is often so, indeed ; but
not much of the father's substance.
Shal. Do you like him, Sir John?
Fal. Shadow will serve for summer, prick
him ; for we have a number of shadows to fill
up the muster-book.
Shal. Thomas Wart !
Fal. Where 'she?
Wart. Here, sir.
Fal. Is thy name Wart?
Wart. Yea, sir.
Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart.
Shal. Shall I prick him, Sir John?
Fal. It were superfluous ; for his apparel is
built upon his back, and the whole frame stands
upon pins : prick him no more.
Shal. Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you
can do it: I commend you well. Francis
Feeble 1
Fee. Here, sir.
Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble?
Fee. A woman's tailor, sir.
Shal. Shall I prick him, sir?
Fal. You may : but if he had been a man's
tailor, he would have pricked you. Wilt thou
make as many holes in an enemy's battle as thou
hast done in a woman's petticoat ?
Fee. I will do my good will, sir ; you can have
no more.
Fal* Well said, good woman's tailor ! well
said, courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as
valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnani-
mous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor well,
Master Shallow ; deep, Master Shallow.
Fee. I would Wart might have gone, sir.
Fal. ^ I would thou wert a man's tailor, that
thou mightst mend him, and make him fit to go.
I cannot put him to a private soldier, that is the
leader of so many thousands: let that suffice,
most forcible Feeble.
Fee. It shall suffice, sir.
Fal. I am bound to thee, Reverend Feeble.
Who is next?
Shal. Peter Bullcalf of the green !
Fal. Yea, marry, let us see Bullcalf.
Bull. Here, sir.
Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick
me, Bullcalf, till he roar again.
Bull. O lord ! good my lord captain,
Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art
pricked?
Bull. O lord, sir ! I am a diseased man.
Fal. What disease hast thou?
Bull. A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir,
which I caught with ringing in the king's affairs
upon his coronation day, sir.
Fal. Come, thou shalt go co the wars in a
$14
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT in.
gown ; we will have away thy cold ; and I will
take such order that thy friends shall ring for
tb.ee. Is here all?
Shal. Here is two more called than your
number; you must have but four here, sir:
and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.
Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I
cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by
my troth, Master Shallow.
Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since
we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's
Fields?
Fal. No more of that, good Master Shallow,
no more of that.
Shal. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane
Nightwork alive?
Fal. She lives, Master Shallow.
Shal. She never could away with me.
Fal. Never, never; she would always say she
could not abide Master Shallow.
Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the
heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she
hold her own well?
Fal. Old, old, Master Shallow.
Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot
choose but be old ; certain she 's old ; and had
Robin Nightwork, by old Nightwork, before I
came to Clement's-inn.
Sil. That 's fifty -five year ago.
Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst
seeii that that this knight and I have seen J Ha,
Sir John, said I well?
Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight,
Master Shallow.
Shal. That we have, that we have, that we
nave ; in faith, Sir John, we have : our watch-
word was, Hem, boys ! Come, let 's to dinner ;
come, let's to dinner : O, the days that we have
seen! come, come.
[Exeuni FAL., SHAL., aw^SiL.
Bull. Good Master Corporate Bardolph,
stand my friend; and here is four Harry ten
shillings in French crowns for you. In very
truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go:
and yet, for mine own part, sir, I do not care ;
but rather, because I am unwilling, and, for
mine own part, have a desire to stay with my
friends ; else, sir, I did not care for mine own
part, so much.
Bard. Go to ; stand aside.
Moul. And, good master corporal captain, for
my old dame's sake, stand my friend: she has
nobody to do anything about her when I am
gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself:
you shall have forty, si/.
Bard. Go to ; stand aside.
Fee. By my troth, I care not ; a man can die
but once ; we owe God a death : I '11 ne'er bear
a base mind : an 't be my destiny, so ; an 't be
not, so : no man 's too good to serve his prince ;
and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this
year is quit for the next.
Bard. Well said ; thou 'rt a good fellow.
Fee. Faith, I '11 bear no base mind.
Re-enter FALSTAFF and Justices.
Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have?
Shal. Four of which you please.
Bard. Sir, a word with you : I have three
pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf.
Fal. Goto; well.
Shal. Come, Sir John, which four will you
have?
Fal. Do you choose for me.
Shal. Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf,
Feeble, and Shadow.
Fal. Mouldy and Bullcalf : for you, Mouldy,
stay at home till you are past service : and for
your part, Bullcalf, grow till you come unto
it : I will none of you.
Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself
wrong : they are your likeliest men, and I would
have you served with the best.
Fal. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how
to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the
thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance
of a man ! Give me the spirit, Master Shallow.
Here 's Wart ; you see what a ragged appear-
ance it is: he shall charge you and discharge
you, with the motion of a pewterer's hammer;
come off, and on, swifter than he that gibbets-
on the brewer's bucket. And this same half-
faced fellow, Shadow, give me this man : he
presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman
may with as great aim level at the edge of a
penknife. And, for a retreat, how swiftly will
this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O,
give me the spare men, and spare me the great
ones. Put me a caliver into Wart's hand,
Bardolph.
Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus,
thus.
Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So :
very well: go to: very good: exceeding
g>od. O, give me always a little, lean, old,
chapped, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart;
thou 'rt a good scab : hold, there 's a tester for
thee.
Shal. He is not his crafts-master, he doth not
do it right. I remember at Mile-end Green,
when I lay at Clement's-inn, I was then Sir
Dagonet in Arthur 3 * show, there was a little
quiver fellow, and he would manage you his
piece thus; and he would about and about, and
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
SIS
come you in and come you in: rah, tah, tah,
would he say ; bounce would he say ; and away
again would he go, and again would he come :
I shall never see such a fellow.
Fal. These fellows will do well, Master
Shallow. God keep you, Master Silence: I
will not use many words with you. Fare you
well, gentlemen both : I thank you : I must a
dozen mile to-night. Bardolph, give the
soldiers coats.
Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper
your affairs, and send us peace ! as you return,
visit my house; let our old acquaintance be
renewed : peradventure I will with you to the
court.
Fal. 'Fore God, I would you would, Master
Shallow.
Shal. Go to ; I have spoke at a word. Fare
you well. [Exeunt SHAL. a*/SiL.
Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On,
Bardolph ; lead the men away. [Exetint BAR-
DOLPH, Recruits, &c.] As I return, I will
fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom of
Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we
old men are to this vice of lying ! This same
starved justice hath done nothing but prate to
me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats
he hath done about Turnbull Street ; and every
third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than
the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at
Clement's-inn, like a man made after supper of
a cheeze- paring : when he was naked, he was,
for all the world, like a forked radish, with a
head fantastically carved upon it with a knife :
he was so forlorn that his dimensions to any
thick sight were invincible: he was the very
genius of famine ; yet lecherous as a monkey,
and the whores called him mandrake : he came
ever in the rearward of the fashion ; and sung
those tunes to the overscutched huswifes that
he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they
were his fancies or his good -nights. And now
is this Vice's dagger become a squire, and talks
as familiarly of John of Gaunt as if he had been
sworn brother to him ; and I Ml be sworn he
never saw him but once in the Tilt-yard ; and
then he burst his head for crowding among the
marshal's men. I saw it, and told John of
Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might
have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-
skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a
mansion for him, a court : and now has he
land and beeves. Well, I will be acquainted
with him if I return ; and it shall go hard but
I will make him a philosopher's two stones to
me : if the young dace be a bait for the old pike,
I see no reason, in the law of nature, but I may
snap at him. - Let time shape, and there an
end. [Exit.
ACT IV.
SCENE \.A Forest in Yorkshire.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY,
HASTINGS, and others.
Arch. What is this forest call'd ?
Hast. Tis Gualtree Forest, an 't shall please
your grace.
Arch. Here stand, my lords ; and send dis-
coverers forth
To know the numbers of our enemies.
Hast. We have sent forth already.
Arch. 'Tis well done.
My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd
New-dated letters from Northumberland;
Their cold intent, tenour, and substance, thus:
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers
As might hold sortance with his quality,
The which he could not levy; whereupon
He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes,
To Scotland ; and concludes in hearty prayers
That your attempts may over-live the hazard
And fearful meeting of their opposite.
Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him
touch ground,
And dash themselves to pieces.
iJ^^'Jt&TJ^ o^ii iUfi>/.K work' v^n !; >" t03
Enter a Messenger.
Hast. Now, what news?
Mess. West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,
In goodly form comes on the enemy ;
And, by the ground they hide, I judge their
number
Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand.
Mowb. The just proportion that we gave them
out.
Let us sway on, and face them in the field.
Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us
here?
Mowb. I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
West. Health and fair greeting from our
general
The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.
Arch. Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in
peace,
What doth concern your coming.
West. Then, my lord,
Unto your grace do I in chief address
The substance of my speech. If that rebellion
Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags,
5 i6
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT IV.
And countenanc'd by boys and beggary,
I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd,
In his true, native, and most proper shape,
You, reverend father, and these noble lords,
Had not been here, to dress the ugly form
Of base and bloody insurrection
With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop,
Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd ;
Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath
touch'd ; [tutor'd ;
Whose learning and good letters peace hath
Whose white investments figure innocence,
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace,
Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war ;
Turning your books to greaves, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?
Arch. Wherefore do I this? so the question
stands.
Briefly to this end : we are all diseas'd;
And with our surfeiting and wanton hours
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
And we must bleed for it : of which disease
Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.
But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland,
I take not on me here as a physician ;
Nor do I, as an enemy to peace,
Troop in the throngs of military men ;
But, rather, show awhile like fearful war,
To diet rank minds sick of happiness,
And purge the obstructions which begin to stop
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs
we suffer,
And find our griefs heavier than our offences.
We see which way the stream of time doth run,
And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere
By the rough torrent of occasion ;
And have the summary of all our griefs,
When time shall serve, to show in articles ;
Which long ere this we offer'd to the king,
And might by no suit gain our audience :
When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our
griefs,
We are denied access unto his person [wrong.
Even by those men that most have done us
The dangers of the days but newly gone,
Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet appearing blood, and the examples
Of every minute's instance, present now,
Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms;
Not to break peace, or any branch of it,
But to establish here a peace indeed,
Concurring both in name and quality.
West. When ever yet was your appeal
denied ;
Wherein have you been galled by the king ;
What peer hath been suborn' d to grate on
you;
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine,
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?
Arch, ^ybrothergeneral, the commonwealth,
To brother born an household cruelty,
I make my quarrel in particular.
West. There is no need of any such redress ;
Or if there were, it not. belongs to you. [all
Mowb. Why not to him in part, and to us
That feel the bruises of the days before,
And suffer the condition of these times
To lay a heavy and unequal hand
Upon our honours?
West. O, my good Lord Mowbray,
Construe the times to their necessities,
And you shall say indeed, it is the time,
And not the king, that doth you injuries.
Yet, for your part, it not appears to me,
Either from the king or in the present time,
That you should have an inch of any ground
To build a grief on : were you not restored
To all the Duke of Norfolk's signiories,
Your noble and right-well-remember'd father's?
Mowb. What thing, in honour, had my father
lost,
That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me?
The king, that lov'd him, as the state stood then,
Was, force perforce, compell'd to banish him,
And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he,
Being mounted and both roused in their seats,
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,
Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down,
Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of
steel,
And the loud trumpet blowing them together,
Then, then, when there was nothing could have
stay'd
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,
O, when the king did throw his warder down,
His own life hung upon the staff he threw ;
Then threw he down himself, and all their lives
That by indictment and by dint of sword
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.
West. You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you
know not what.
The Earl of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman :
Who knows on whom fortune would then have
smil'd?
But if your father had been victor there,
He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry :
For all the country, in a general voice,
SCENE I.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
517
Cried hate upon him ; and all their prayers and
love
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bless'd and grac'd indeed, more than the
king.
But this is mere digression from my purpose.
Here come I from our princely general
To know your griefs ; to tell you from his grace
That he will give you audience ; and wherein
It shall appear that your demands are just,
You shall enjoy them, everything set off
That might so much as think you enemies.
Mowb. But he hath forc'd us to compel this
offer;
And it proceeds from policy, not love.
West. Mowbray, you overween to take it so ;
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear :
For, lo ! within a ken, our army lies :
Upon mine honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best ;
Then reason will our hearts should be as good :
Say you not, then, our offer is compell'd.
Mowb. Well, by my will we shall admit no
parley.
West. That argues but the shame of your
offence :
A rotten case abides no handling.
Hast. Hath the Prince John a full commis-
sion,
In very ample virtue of his father,
To hear and absolutely to determine
Of what conditions we shall stand upon?
West. That is intended in the general's name:
I muse you make so slight a question.
Arch. Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland,
this schedule,
For this contains our general grievances :
Each several article herein redress'd,
All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew'd to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form,
And present execution of our wills
To us and to our purposes consign'd,
We come within our awful banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
West. This will I show the general. Please
you, lords,
In sight of both our battles we may meet ;
And either end in peace, which God so
frame !
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.
Arch. My lord, we will do so.
[Exit WESTMORELAND.
Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom
tells me
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
Hast. Fear you not that : if we can make our
peace
Upon such large terms and so absolute
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That every slight and false-derived cause,
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason,
Shall to the king taste of this action ;
That, were our royal faitr s martyrs in love,
We shall be winnow'd wkh so rough a wind
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
And good from bad find no partition.
Arch. No, no, my lord. Note this, the
king is weary
Of dainty and such picking grievances :
For he hath found, to end one doubt by death
Revives two greater in the heirs of life ;
And therefore will he wipe his tables clean,
And keep no teil-tale to his memory,
That may repeat and history his loss
To new remembrance : for full well he knows
He cannot so precisely weed this land
As his misdoubts present occasion :
His foes are so enrooted with his friends
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so and shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wife
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes,
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm
That was uprearM to execution. [rods
Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his
On late offenders, that he now doth lack
The very instruments of chastisement :
So that his power, like to a fangless lion,
May offer, but not hold.
Arch. 'Tis very true :
And therefore be assur'd, my good lord marshal,
If we do now make our atonement well,
Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
Grow stronger for the breaking.
Mowb. Be it so,
Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland.
. Re-enter WESTMORELAND.
West. The prince is here at hand : pleaseth
your lordship
To meet his grace just distance 'tween our
armies?
Mowb. Your grace of York, in God's name,
then, set forward.
Arch. Before, and greet his grace : my lord,
welcome. \Exeunt.
5 i8
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT IV.
SCENE II. Another part of the Forest.
Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, the ARCH-
BISHOP, HASTINGS, and others: from the
other side, PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER,
WESTMORELAND, Officers and Attendants.
P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my
cousin Mowbray:
Good-day to you, gentle lord archbishop ;
And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all.
My Lord of York, it better show'd with you
When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
Encircled you to hear with reverence
Your exposition on the holy text,
Than now to see you here an iron man.
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to sword, and life to death.
That man that sits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the sunshine of his favour,
Would he abuse the countenance of the king,
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach
In shadow of such greatness ! With you, lord
bishop,
It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken
How deep you were within the books of God?
To us the speaker in his parliament;
To us the imagin'd voice of God himself;
The very opener and intelligencer
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,
And our dull workings. O, who shall believe
But you misuse the reverence of your place,
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name,
In deeds dishonourable? You have taken up,
Under the counterfeited seal of God,
The subjects of his substitute, my father,
And both against the peace of heaven and him
Have here up-swarm'd them.
Arch. Good my Lord of Lancaster,
I am not here against your father's peace ;
But as I told my lord of Westmoreland,
The time misorder'd doth, in common sense,
Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form,
To hold our safety up. I sent your grace
The parcels and particulars of our grief,
The which hath been with scorn shov'd from
the court,
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born ;
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd
asleep
With grant of our most just and right desires,
And true obedience, of this madness cur'd,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
To the last man.
Hast. And though we here fall down,
We have supplies to second our attempt :
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them ;
And so success of mischief shall be born,
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up
Whiles England shall have generation.
P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings,
much too shallow,
To sound the bottom of the after-times.
West. Pleaseth your grace to answer them
directly,
How far -forth you do like their articles.
P. John. I like them all, and do allow them
well;
And swear here, by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been mistook ;
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning and authority.
My lord; these griefs shall be with speed re-
dress'd ; [you,
Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please
Discharge your powers unto their several coun-
ties,
As we will ours : and here, between the armies,
Let 's drink together friendly, and embrace,
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home
Of our restored love and amity.
Arch. I take your princely word for these re
dresses. [word:
P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my
And thereupon I drink unto your grace.
Hast. Go, captain [to an Officer], and deliver
to the army [part:
This news of peace; let them have pay, and
I know it will well please them. Hie thee,
captain. [Exit Officer.
Arch. To you, my noble Lord of Westmore-
land, [what pains
West. I pledge your grace ; and, if you knew
I have bestow'd to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely: but my love to you
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
Arch. I do not doubt you.
West. I am glad of it.
Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray.
Mowb. You wish me health in very happy
season ;
For I am, on the sudden, something ill.
Arch. Against ill chances men are ever merry;
But heaviness foreruns the good event.
West. Therefore be merry, coz ; since sudden
sorrow [morrow.
Serves to say thus, Some good thing comes to-
Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.
Mowb. So much the worse, if your own rule
be true. [Shouts within.
P.John. The word of peace is render'd-
hark, how they shout !
SCENE III.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
519
Mowb. This had been cheerful after victory.
Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest ;
For then both parties nobly are subdued,
And neither party loser.
P. John. Go, my lord,
And let our army be discharged too.
[Exit WESTMORELAND.
And, good my lord, so please you let your trains
March by us, that we may peruse the men
We should have cop'd withal.
Arch. Go, good Lord Hastings,
And, ere they be dismissed, let them march by.
[Exit HASTINGS.
P. John, I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-
night together.
Re-enter WESTMORELAND.
Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?
West. The leaders, having charge from you
to stand,
Will not go off until they hear you speak.
P. John. They know their duties.
Re-enter HASTINGS.
Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already:
Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their
courses [up,
East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke
Each hurries toward his home and sporting-
place, [the which
West. Good tidings, my Lord Hastings ; for
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason :
And you, lord archbishop, and you, Lord
Mowbray.
Of capital treason I attach you both.
Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable?
West. Is your assembly so?
Arch. Will you thus break your faith?
P. John. I pawn'd thee none :
I promis'd you redress of these same grievances
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine
honour,
I will perform with a most Christian care.
But for you, rebels, look to taste the due
Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours.
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray :
God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder-up of breath.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. Anotlier part of the Forest.
Alarums: excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and
COLEVILE, meeting.
Fal. What 's your name, sir? of what condi-
tion are you, and of what place, I pray?
'
Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is
Colevile of the dale.
Fal. Well, then, Colevile is your name, a
knight is your degree, and your place the dale :
Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor your
degree, and the dungeon your dale, a dale deep
enough; so shall you be still Colevile of the
dale.
Cole. Are not you Sir John Falstaff?
Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am.
Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? If
I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and
they weep for thy death ; therefore rouse up fear
and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.
Cole. I think you are Sir John Falstaff; and
in that thought yield me.
Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this
belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all
speaks any other word but my name. An I had
but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply
the most active fellow in Europe : my womb,
my womb, my womb undoes me. Here comes
our general.
Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WEST-
MORELAND, and others.
P. John. The heat is past, follow no farther
now:
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.
[Exit WESTMORELAND.
Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this
while?
When everything is ended, then you come :
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some gallows' back.
Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should
be thus : I never knew yet but rebuke and check
was the reward of valour. Do you think me a
swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? have I, in my
poor and old motion, the expedition of thought?
I have speeded hither with the very extremest
inch of possibility ; I have foundered nine-score
and odd posts : and here, travel tainted as I am,
have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken
Sir John Colevile of the dale, a most furious
knight and valorous enemy. But what of that?
he saw me, and yielded ; that I may justly say
with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, I came,
saw, and overcame.
P. John. It was more of his courtesy than
your deserving.
Fal. I know not: here he is, and here I
yield him : and I beseech your grace, let it be
booked with the rest of this day's deeds ; or,
by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad
else, with mine own picture on the top of it,
Colevile kissing my foot : to the which course
520
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT iv.
if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt
two-pences to me, and I, in the clear sky of
fame, o'ershine you as much as the full moon
doth the cinders of the element, which show
like pins' heads to her, believe not the word of
the noble : therefore let me have right, and let
desert mount.
P. John. Thine 's too heavy to mount.
Fal. Let it shine, then.
P. John. Thine 's too thick to shine.
Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that
may do me good, and call it what you will.
P. John. Is thy name Colevile ?
Cole. It is, my lord.
P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.
Fal. And a famous true subject took him.
Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are
That led me hither : had they been rul'd by me,
You should have won them dearer than you have.
Fal. I know not how they sold themselves :
but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away
gratis ; and I thank thee for thee.
Re-enter WESTMORELAND.
P. John. Now, have you left pursuit?
West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd.
P. John. Send Colevile, with his confeder-
ates,
To York, to present execution : [sure.
Blunt, lead him hence ; and see you guard him
[Exeunt some with COLEVILE.
And now despatch we toward the court, my
lords.
I hear the king, my father, is sore sick :
Our news shall go before us to his majesty,
Which, cousin, you shall bear, to comfort him;
And we with sober speed will follow you.
Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave
to go [court,
Through Glostershire : and, when you come to
Stand, my good lord, pray, in your good report.
P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff : I, in my
condition,
Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
[Exeunt all but FAL.
Fal. I would you had but the wit: 'twere
better than your dukedom. Good faith, this
same young sober-blooded boy doth not love
me ; nor a man cannot make him laugh ; but
that 's no marvel ; he drinks no wine. There 's
never any of these demure boys come to any
proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their
blood, and making many fish-meals, that they
fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and
then, when they marry, they get wenches : they
are generally fools and cowards ; which some
of us should be too, but for inflammation. A
good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in
it. It accends me into the brain; dries me
there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours
which environ it ; makes it apprehensive, quick,
forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable
shapes ; which delivered o'er to the voice, the
tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent
wit. The second property of your excellent
sherris is, the warming of the blood ; which,
before cold and settled, left the liver white and
pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and
cowardice : but the sherris warms it, and makes
it course from the inwards to the parts extreme :
it illumineth the face; which, as a beacon,
gives warning to all the rest of this little king-
dom, man, to arm; and then the vital com-
moners and inland petty spirits muster me all
to their captain, the heart, who, great and
puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of
courage : and this valour comes of sherris. So
that skill in the weapon is nothing without
sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning, a
mere hoard of gold kept by a devil till sack
commences it and sets it in act and use.
Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant;
for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of
his father, he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare
land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with
excellent endeavour of drinking good and good
store of fertile sherris, that he is become very
hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the
first human principle I would teach them should
be, to forswear thin potations, and to addict
themselves to sack.
Enter BARDOLPH.
How now, Bardolph !
Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone.
Fal. Let them go. I'll through Gloster-
shire: and there will I visit Master Robert
Shallow, Esquire : I have him already temper-
ing between my finger and my thumb, and
shortly will I seal with him. Come away.
[Exeunt.
A Room in the
SCENE IV. WESTMINSTER.
Palace.
Enter KING HENRY, CLARENCE, PRINCE
HUMPHREY, WARWICK, and others.
K. Hen. Now, lords, if God doth give sue
cessful end
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
SCENE IV.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
521
And everything lies level to our wish :
Only, we want a little personal strength ;
And pause us till these rebels, now afoot,
Come underneath the yoke of government.
War- Both which we doubt not but your
majesty
Shall soon enjoy.
K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster,
Where is the prince your brother?
P. Humph. I think he 's gone to hunt, my
lord, at Windsor.
K. Hen. And how accompanied?
P. Humph. I do not know, my lord.
K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of
Clarence, with him?
P. Humph. No, my good lord, he is in
presence here.
Cla. What would my lord and father?
K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas
of Clarence.
How chance thou art not with the prince thy
brother? [Thomas ;
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him,
Thou hast a better place in his affection
Than all thy brothers : cherish it, my boy ;
And noble offices thou mayst effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,
Between his greatness and thy other brethren :
Therefore omit him not ; blunt not his love,
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
By seeming cold or careless of his will ;
For he is gracious if he be observ'd :
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he 's flint ;
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd :
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth ;
But, being moody, give him line and scope,
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. Learn this,
Thomas,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion,
As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with
him, Thomas? [London.
Cla. He is not there to-day ; he dines in
K. Hen. And how accompanied ? canst thou
tell that?
Cla. With Poins, and other his continual fol-
lowers.
K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to
weeds;
And he, the noble image of my youth,
Is overspread with them : therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death :
The blood weeps from my heart when I do
shape,
In forms imaginary, the unguided days
And rotten times that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay !
War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him
quite :
The prince but studies his companions
Like a strange tongue; wherein, to gain the
language,
'Tis needful that the most immodest word
Be look'd upon and learn'd ; which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use
But to be known and hated. So, like gross
terms,
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers ; and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
By which his grace must mete the lives of others,
Turning past evils to advantages.
K. Hen. 'Tis seldom when the bee doth
leave her comb
In the dead carrion,
Enter WESTMORELAND.
Who 's here? Westmoreland ?
West. Health to my sovereign, and new
happiness
Added to that that I am to deliver ! [hand :
Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's
Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all,
Are brought to the correction of your law ;
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed,
But peace puts forth her olive everywhere :
The manner how this action hath been borne,
Here at more leisure may your highness read,
With every course in his particular.
K. Hen. O, Westmoreland, thou art a
summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting-up of day. Look, here 's more news.
Enter HARCOURT.
Har. From enemies heaven keep your
majesty;
522
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT IV.
And, when they stand against you, may they
fall
As those that I am come to tell you of !
The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bar-
dolph,
With a great power of English and of Scots,
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown :
The manner and true order of the fight
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
K. Hen. And wherefore should these good
news make me sick?
Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food,
Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach, such are therich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not
I should rejoice now at this happy news;
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy:
O me ! come near me, now I am much ill.
\Swoons.
P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty !
Cla. O my royal father !
West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself,
look up.
War. Be patient, princes ; you do know,
these fits
Are with his highness very ordinary. [well.
Stand from him, give him air ; he '11 straight be
Cla. No, no : he cannot long hold out these
pangs:
The incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure, that should confine it
in, [out.
So thin, that life looks through, and will break
P. Humph. The people fear me ; for they do
observe
Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature :
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd
them over. [tween ;
Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb be-
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say it did so a little time before [died.
That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and
War. Speak lower, princes, for the king re-
covers, [end.
P. Humph. This apoplexy will certain be his
K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear
me hence
Into some other chamber: softly, pray.
{They convey the KING into an inner part of
the room.) and place him on a bed.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
War. Call for the music in the other room.
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow
here.
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise !
Enter PRINCE HENRY.
P. Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now ! rain within doors, and
none abroad !
How doth the king ?
P. Humph. Exceeding ill.
P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet?
Tell it him.
P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hear-
ing it.
P. Hen. If he be sick
With joy, he will recover without physic.
War. Not so much noise, my lords; sweet
prince, speak low ;
The king your father is dispos'd to sleep.
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will 't please your grace to go along
with us?
P. Hen. No ; I will sit and watch here by
the king. [Exeunt all but P. H EN R Y.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation ! golden care !
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night ! sleep with it now !
Yet not so sound and hah so deeply sweet
As he whose brow with homely biggin bound
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty !
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather which stirs not :
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my
father !
This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd
So many English kings. Thy due from me
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due from thee is this imperial crown,
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,
[Putting it on his head.
Which God shall guard : and put the world's
whole strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me : this from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. [Exit.
K. Hen. Warwick ! Gloster ! Clarence !
SCENE IV.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
5*3
Re-enter WARWICK and the rest.
Cla. Doth the king call ?
War. What would your majesty ? how fares
your grace ? [my lords ?
K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone,
Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my
liege,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
K. Hen. The Prince of Wales ! Where is
he? let me see him :
He is not here.
War. This door is open ; he is gone this way.
P. Humph. He came not through the cham-
ber where we stay'd.
K. Hen. Where is the crown ? who took it
from my pillow ?
War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left
it here.
K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence :
go, seek him out.
Is he so hasty that he doth suppose
My sleep my death ? [hither.
Find him, my Lord of Warwick ; chide him
[Exit WARWICK.
This part of his conjoins with my disease,
And helps to end me. See, sons, what things
*>m you are !
How quickly nature falls into revolt
When gold becomes her object !
For this the foolish over-careful fathers
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their
brains with care,
Their bones with industry ;
For this they have engrossed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold ;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises :
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets, [pack'd,
Our thighs with wax, our mouths with honey
We bring it to the hive : and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield his engrossments to the ending father.
Re-enter WARWICK.
Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me ?
War. My lord, I found the prince in the
next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away
the crown ?
Re-enter PRINCE HENRY.
Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me,
Harry.
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
[Exeunt CLAR., P. HUMPH., Lords, &c.
P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak
again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that
thought :
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine
honours
Before thy hour be ripe ? O foolish youth !
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm
thee.
Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind
That it will quickly drop : my day is dim.
Thou hast stolen that which, after some few
hours,
Were thine without offence ; and at my death
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation :
Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
To stab at half an hour of my life.
What 1 canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then, get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself;
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head :
Only compound me with forgotten dust ;
Give that which gave thee life unto the worms.
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ;
For now a time is come to mock at form :
Harry the fifth is crown'd : up, vanity !
Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors,
hence !
And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness ! [scum :
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your
Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more ;
England shall double-gild his treble guilt,
England shall give him office, honour, might ;
For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows !
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
524
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT iv.
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants !
P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege ! but for
my tears, [Kneeling.
The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke
Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard
The course of it so far. There is your crown ;
And He that wears the crown immortally
Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more
Than as your honour and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise,
Which my most inward and true duteous spirit
Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending!
God witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your
majesty,
How cold it struck my heart ! If I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die,
And never live to show the incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed !
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,
I spake unto the crown as having sense, [ing
And thus upbraided it : The care on theedepend-
Hath fed upon the body of my father ;
Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold:
Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in medicine potable ; \nowrfd,
But thou, most fine, most honoured, most re-
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal
liege,
Accusing it, I put it on my head,
To try with it, as with an enemy
That had before my face murder'd my father,
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ;
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
Did with the least affection of a welcome
Give entertainment to the might of it,
Let God for ever keep it from my head,
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it !
K. Hen. O my son,
God put it in thy mind to take it hence,
That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it !
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,
By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown ; and I myself know well
How troublesome it sat upon my head :
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation ;
For all the soil of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand;
And I had many living to upbraid
My gain of it by their assistances ;
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace : all these bold fears
Thou see'st with peril I have answered ;
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument : and now my death
Changes the mode ; for what in me was pur-
chas'd,
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort ;
So thou the garland wear'st successively.
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I
could do,
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green ;
And all my friends, which thou must make thy
friends,
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displac'd : which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land,
Lest rest and lying still might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course to busy giddy minds [out,
With foreign quarrels ; that action, hence borne
May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God forgive ;
And grant it may with thee in true peace live !
P. Hen. My gracious liege,
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me ;
Then plain and right must my possession be :
Which I with more than with a common pain
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of
Lancaster.
Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WAR-
WICK, Lords, and others.
P. John. Health, peace and happiness to my
royal father !
K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness and
peace, son John f
But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare wither'd trunk : upon thy sight,
My worldly business makes a period.
Where is my Lord of Warwick ?
P. Hen. My Lord of Warwick !
K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon ?
War. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.
K. Hen. Laud be to God ! even there my
life must end.
SCENE IV.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
It hath been prophesied to me many years,
I should not die but in Jerusalem ;
Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land :
But bear me to that chamber ; there I '11 lie ;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE L GLOUCESTERSHIRE. A Hall in
SHALLOW'S House,
Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and
Page.
Shal. By cock and pie, sir, you shall not
away to-night. What, Davy, I say!
Fal. You must excuse me, Master Robert
Shallow.
Shal, I will not excuse you; you shall not
be excused; excuses shall not be admitted;
there is no excuse shall serve ; you shall not be
excused. Why, Davy !
Enter DAVY.
Davy. Here, sir.
Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see,
Davy; let me see: yea, marry, William cook,
bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not
be excused.
Davy. Marry, sir, thus ; those precepts can-
not be served : and, again, sir, shall we sow
the headland with wheat?
Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for
William cook: are there no young pigeons?
Davy. Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's
note for shoeing and plough -irons.
Shal. Let it be cast, and paid. Sir John,
you shall not be excused.
Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket
must needs be had : and, sir, do you mean to
stop any of William's wages about the sack he
lost the other day at Hinckley fair?
Shal. He shall answer iL, Some pigeons,
Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of
mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws,
tell William cook.
Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night,
sir?
Shal. Yea, Davy, I will use him well: a
friend i' the court is better than a penny in
purse. Use his men well, Davy ; for they are
arrant knaves, and wi'*'I backbite.
Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten,
sir ; for they have marvellous foul linen.
Shal. Well conceited, Davy: about thy
business, Davy.
Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance
William Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes
of the hill.
Shal. There are many complaints, Davy,
against that Visor: that Visor is an arrant
knave, on my knowledge.
Davy. I grant your worship that he is a knave,
sir; but yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should
have some countenance at his friend's request.
An honest man, sir, is able to speak for 'himself,
when a knave is not. I have served your, wor-
ship truly, sir, this eight years ; and if I cannot
once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave
against an honest man, I have but a very little
credit with your worship. The knave is mine
honest friend, sir; therefore, I beseech your
worship, let him be countenanced.
Shal. Go to ; I say, he shall have no wrong.
Look about, Davy. [Exit DAVY.] Where are
you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off with
your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bar-
dolph.
Bard. I am glad to see your worship.
Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind
Master Bardolph: and welcome, my tall
fellow [to the Page]. Come, Sir John.
Fal. I 'II follow you, good Master Robert
Shallow. [Exit SHALLOW.] Bardolph, look
to our horses. [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page.]
If I were sawed into quantities, I should make
four dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as
Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see
the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and
his : they, by observing of him, do bear them-
selves like foolish justices; he, by conversing
with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-
man : their spirits are so married in conjunction
with the participation of society that they flock
together in consent, like so many wild geese.
If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would
humour his men with the imputation of being
near their master : if to his men, I would curry
with Master Shallow that no man could better
command his servants. It is certain that either
wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as
men take diseases, one of ano her: therefore,
let men take heed of their company. I will
devise matter enough out of this Shallow to
keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the
wearing out of six fashions, which is four
terms, or two actions, and he shall laugh
without intervallums. O, it is much that
a lie with a slight oath, and a jest with a
sad brow, will do with a fellow that never
had the ache in his shoulders ! O, you shall
see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak
ill laid up !
Shal. [Within.} Sir John !
Fal. \ come, Master Shallow; I come,
Master Shallow. [Exit.
526
SECOND PART. OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT v.
SCENE II. WESTMINSTER. A Room in the
Palace.
Enter, severally, WARWICK and the Lord
Chief-Justice.
War. How now, my lord chief-justice!
whither away?
Ch.Just. How doth the Icing? [ended.
War. Exceeding well ; his cares are now all
Ch. Just. I hope, not dead.
War. He 's walk'd the way of nature ;
And to our purposes he lives no more.
Ch. Just. I would his majesty had call'd me
with him:
The service that I truly did his life
Hath left me open to all injuries. [you not.
War. Indeed I think the young king loves
Ch. Just. I know he doth not ; and do arm
myself
To welcome the condition of the time ;
Which cannot look more hideously upon me
Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.
War. Here come the heavy issue of dead
Harry:
that the living Harry had the temper
Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen !
How many nobles then should hold their places,
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort !
Ch. Just. O God, I fear all will be overturn'd.
Enter PRINCE JOHN, PRINCE HUMPHREY,
CLARENCE, WESTMORELAND, and others.
P. John. Good-morrow, cousin Warwick,
good-morrow.
P. Humph,, Cla. Good -morrow, cousin.
P. John. We meet like men that had forgot
to speak.
War. We do remember ; but our argument
Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
P.John. Well, peace be with him that hath
made us heavy !
Ch. Just. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier!
P. Htimph. O, good my lord, you have lost
a friend indeed ;
And I dare swear you borrow not that face
Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your own.
P. John. Though no man be assur'd what
frace to find,
in coldest expectation:
1 am the sorrier ; would 'twere otherwise.
Cla. Well, you must now speak Sir John
Falstaff fair ;
Which swims against your stream of quality.
Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did
in honour,
Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ;
And never shall you see that I will beg
A e( j an( j forestall'd remission.
If truth and upright innocency fail me,
I '11 to the king my master that is dead,
And tell him who hath sent me after him.
War. Here comes the prince.
Enter KING HENRY V.
Ch. Just. Good-morrow; and God save yo^r
majesty ! [majesty,
King. This new and gorgeous garment,
Sits not so easy on me as you think.
Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear :
This is the English, not the Turkish court ;
Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers,
For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you :
Sorrow so royally in you appears
That I will deeply put the fashion on,
And wear it in my heart: why, then, be sad;
But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
Than a joint burden laid upon us all.
For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd,
I '11 be your father and your brother too;
Let me but bear your love, I '11 bear your cares :
Yet weep that Harry 'c dead ; and so will I ;
But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears,
By number, into hours of happiness.
P.John, 5rV. We hope no other from your
majesty.
King. You all look strangely on me: and
you most ; [ To the Chief-Justice.
You are, I think, assur'd I love you not.
Ch.Just. I am assur'd, if I be measur'd
rightly,
Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
King. No!
How might a prince of my great hopes forget
So great indignities you laid upon me?
What ! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
The immediate heir of England ! Was this easy?
May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?
Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your
father;
The image of his power lay then in me :
And, in the administration of his law,
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
Your highness pleased to forget my place,
And majesty and power of law and justice,
The image of the king whom I presented,
And struck me in my very seat of judgment;
Whereon, as an offender to your father,
I gave bold way to my authority,
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a son set your decrees at naught,
To pluck down justice from your awful bench f
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
527
To trip the course of law, and bb'nt the sword
That guards the peace and safety of your person ;
Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image,
And mock your workings in a second body.
Question your royal thoughts, make the case
yours ;
Be now the father, and propose a son ;
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd,
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd ;
And then imagine me taking your part,
And, in your power, soft silencing your sont
After this cold ccnsiderance, sentence me ;
And, as you are a king, speak in your state
What I have done that misbecame my place,
My person, or my liege's sovereignty.
King. You are right, justice, and you weigh
this well ;
Therefore still bear the balance and the sword :
And I do wish your honours may increase
Till you do live to see a son of mine
Offend you, and obey you, as I did.
So shall I live to speak my father's words
Happy am I, that have a man so bold.
That dares do justice on my proper son ;
And not less happy, having such a son,
That would deliver up his greatness so
Into the hands of justice. You did commit me :
For which I do commit into your hand
The unstain'd sword that you have us'd to bear ;
With this remembrance, that you use the same
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit
As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand;
You shall be as a father to my youth :
My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear;
And I will stoop and humble my intents
To your well-practis'd wise directions.
And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you ;
My father is gone wild into his grave,
For in his tomb lie my affections ;
And with his spirit sadly I survive,
To mock the expectation of the world,
To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out
Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
After my seeming. The tide of blood in me
Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now :
Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea,
Where it shall mingle with *he state of floods,
And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
Now call we our high court of parliament:
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,
That the great body of our state may go
In equal rank with the best-govern'd nation ;
That war or peace, or both at once, may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us ;
In which you, father, shall have foremost hand.
[ To the Lord Chief- Justice.
Our coronation done, we will accite,
As I before remember'd, all our state :
And, God consigning to my good intents,
No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say,
God shorten Harry's happy life one day.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. GLOUCESTERSHIRE. The Garden
of SHALLOW'S House.
Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, BAR-
DOLPH, the Page, and DAVY.
Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard, where,
in an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of
my own graffing, with a dish of carraways, and
so forth : come, cousin Silence : and then to
bed.
Fal. 'Fore God, you have here a goodly
dwelling and a rich.
Shal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all,
beggars all, Sir John : marry, good air.
Spread, Davy; spread, Davy: well said, Davy.
Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses ; he
is your serving-man and your husband.
Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very
good varlet, Sir John: by the mass, I have
drunk too much sack at supper : a good varlet.
Now sit down, now sit down : come, cousin.
Sil. Ah, sirrah ! quoth-a, we shall
Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer,
[Singing.
And praise heaven for the merry year ;
When flesh is cheap, and females dear,
And lusty lads roam here and there,
So merrily ',
And ever among so merrily.
Fal. There 's a merry heart ! Good Master
Silence, I '11 give you a health for that anon.
Shal. Give Master Bardolphsoine wine, Davy.
Davy. Sweet sir, sit [seating BARDOLPH and
the Page at another table]; I'll be with you
anon; most sweet sir, sit. Master Page, good
Master Page, sit. Preface! What you want
in meat, we '11 have in drink. But you must
bear; the heart 's all. [Exit.
Shal. Be merry, Master Bardolph; and,
my little soldier there, be merry.
Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;
[Singing.
For women are shrews, both short and tall;
5 Tis merry in hall when beards wag all,
And welcome merry shrove-tide.
Be merry, be merry, &c.
Fal. I did not think Master Silence had been
a man of this mettle.
Sil. Who, I? I have been merry twice and
once ere now.
S 28
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
[ACT v.
Re-enter DAVY.
Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats for
you. " {.Setting them before BARD.
Shal. Davy,
Davy. Your worship? I'll be with you
straight [to BARD.] A cup of wine, sir?
Sil. A cup of wine that 's brisk and fine,
[Singing.
And drink unto the leman mine;
And a merry heart lives long-a.
Fal Well, said, Master Silence.
Sil. And we shall be merry ; now comes in
the sweet of the night.
Fal. Health and long life to you, Master
Silence.
Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come ; [Singing.
I* II pledge you a mile to the bottom.
Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome : if thou
wan test anything, and wilt not call, beshrew
thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief [to
the Page] ; and welcome indeed too. I '11 drink
to Master Bardolph, and to all the cavaleroes
about London.
Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die.
Bard. An I might see you there, Davy,
Shal. By the mass, you '11 crack a quart to-
gether, ha! will you not, Master Bardolph?
Bard. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.
Shal. By God's liggens, I thank thee : the
knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that :
he will not out ; he is true bred.
Bard. And I '11 stick by him, sir.
Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack no-
thing : be merry. [Knocking heard. ] Look
who's at door there, ho! who knocks?
[Exit DAVY.
Fal. Why, now you have done me right.
[To SIL., who has drunk a bumper.
Sil. Do me right, [Singing.
And dub me knight:
Samingo.
Is 't not so?
Fal. 'Tis so.
Sil. Is't so? Why, then, say an old man
can do somewhat.
Re-enter DAVY.
Davy. An it please your worship, there's
one Pistol come from the court with news.
Fal. From the court ! let him come in.
Enter PISTOL,
How now, Pistol !
Pist. Sir John, God save you !
Fal. What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man
to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of
the greatest men in the realm.
Sil. By 'r lady, I think he be, but goodman
Puff of Barson.
Pist. Puff?
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base !
Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend,
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee ;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.
Fal. I pr'ythee now, deliver them like a man
of this world. [base !
Pist. A foutra for the world and worldlings
I speak of Africa and golden joys.
Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Sil. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.
[Singing.
Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Heli-
cons?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your
breeding.
Pist. Why, then, lament, therefore.
Shal. Give me pardon, sir : if, sir, you come
with news from the court, I take it there is but
two ways ; either to utter them, or to conceal
them. I am, sir, under the king, in some
authority.
Pist. Under which king, bezonian? speak,
or die.
Shal. Under King Harry.
Pist. Harry the fourth? or fifth?
Shal. Harry the fourth.
Pist. A foutra for thine office !
Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king ;
Harry the fifth 's the man. I speak the truth :
When Pistol lies, do this ; and fig me, like
The bragging Spaniard.
Fal. What! is the old king dead?
Pist. As nail in door : the things I speak are
just.
Fal. Away, Bardolph ! saddle my horse.
Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou
wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double-
charge thee with dignities.
Bard. O joyful day !
I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.
Pist. What, I do bring good news?
Fal. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master
Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt ;
I am fortune's steward. Get on thy boots:
we'll ride aii night: O sweet Pistol ! away,
Bardolph! [Exit BARDOLPH.] Come, Pistol,
utter more to me; and, withal, devise some-
thing to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master
SCENE IV.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
529
Shallow : I know the young king is sick for me.
Let us take any man's horses ; the laws of Eng-
land are at my commandment. Happy are
they which have been my friends; and woe
unto my Lord Chief-Justice !
Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also !
Where is the life that late I led? say they :
Why, here it is; welcome this pleasant day!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Street.
Enter Beadles, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY
and DOLL TEARSHEET.
Host. No, thou arrant knave; I would I
might die, that I might have thee hanged : thou
hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.
I Bead. The constables have delivered her
over to me ; and she shall have whipping-cheer
enough, I warrant her : there hath been a man
or two lately killed about her.
Doll. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come
on ; I 'II tell thee what, thou damned tripe-
visaged rascal, an the child I now go with do
miscarry, thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy
mother, thou paper-faced villain.
Host. O the Lord, that Sir John were come !
he would make this a bloody day to somebody.
But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry !
I Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of
cushions again; you have but eleven now.
Come, I charge you both go with me ; for the
man is dead that you and Pistol beat among you.
Doll. I '11 tell thee what, thou thin man in a
censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for
this, you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy fam-
ished correctioner, if you be not swinged, I '11
forswear half-kirtles.
I Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errant,
come. [might !
Host. O God, that right should thus overcome
Well, of sufferance comes ease. [a justice.
Doll. Come, you rogue, come ; bring me to
Host. Ay, come, you starved bloodhound.
Doll. Goodman death, goodman bones !
Host. Thou atomy, thou !
Doll. Come, you thin thing ; come, you rascal.
I Bead. Very well. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. A public Place near Westminster
Abbey.
Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes.
1 Groom. More rushes, more rushes.
2 Groom. The trumpets have sounded twice.
I Groom. It will be two o'clock ere they come
from the coronation : despatch, despatch.
[Exeunt.
Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, PISTOL, BAR-
DOLPH, and the Page.*
Fal. Stand here by me, Master Robert Shal-
low ; I will make the king do you grace : I will
leer upon him, as he comes by; and do but
mark the countenance that he will give me.
Pist. God bless thy lungs, good knight.
Fal. Come here, Pistol; stand behind me.
O, if I had had time to have made new liveries,
I would have bestowed the thousand pound I
borrowed of you \to SHALLOW]. But 'tis no
matter ; this poor show doth better : this doth
infer the zeal I had to see him, .
Shal. It doth so.
Fal. It shows my earnestness of affection,
Shal. It doth so.
Fal. My devotion,
Shal. It doth, it doth, it doth.
Fal. As it were, to ride day and night ; and
not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have
patience to shift me,
Shal. It is most certain.
Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and
sweating with desire to see him; thinking of
nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion,
as if there were nothing else to be done but to
see him.
Pist. 'Tis semper idem, for absque hoc nthil
est: 'tis all in every part.
Shal. 'Tis so, indeed.
Pist. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver,
And make thee rage.
Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,
Is in base durance and contagious prison;
Haul'd thither
By most mechanical and dirty hand : [snake,
Rouse up revenge from ebon den withfell Alecto's
For Doll is in. Pistol speaks naught but truth.
Fal. I will deliver her.
{Shouts within, and the trumpets sound.
Pist. There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-
clangor sounds.
Enter the KING and his Train, the Chief-Justice
among them.
Fal. God save thy grace, King Hal; my
royal Hal !
Pist. The heavens thee guard and keep, most
royal imp of fame !
Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy ! [man.
King. My lord chief-justice, speak to that vain
Ch. Just. Have you your wits? know you
what 'tis you speak? [heart !
Fal. My king ! my Jove ! I speak to thee, my
King. I know thee not, old man : fall to thy
prayers;
530
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT v.
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester !
I have long dream'd of such a kind of man,
So su l feit-swell'd, so old, and so profane ;
But, being awake, I do despise my dream.
Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace ;
Leave gormandizing ; know the grave doth gape
For thee thrice wider than for other men.
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest :
Presume not that I am the thing I was ;
For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,
That I have turn'd away my former self;
So will I those that kept me company.
When thou dost hear I am as I have been,
Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,
The tutor and the feeder of my riots :
Till then I banish thee, on pain ot death,
As I have done the rest of my misieaders,
Not to come near our person by ten mile.
For competence of life I will allow you,
That lack of means enforce you not to evil :
And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,
We will, according to your strength and qualities,
Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my
lord,
To see perform'd the tenor of our word.
Set on. [Exeunt KING and his Train.
Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand
pound.
Shal. Yea, marry, Sir John ; which I be-
seech you to let me have home with me.
Fal. That can hardly be, Master Shallow.
Do not you grieve at this ; I shall be sent for
in private to him : look you, he must seem thus
to the world : fear not your advancement ; I
will be the man yet that shall make you great.
Shal. I cannot perceive how, unless you
give me your doublet, and stuff me out with
straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me
have five hundred of my thousand.
Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word : this
that you heard was but a colour. [Sir John.
Shal. A colour, I fear, that you will die in,
Fal. Fear no colours : go with me to
dinner. Come, Lieutenant Pistol ; come,
Bardolph : I shall be sent for soon at night.
Re-enter PRINCE JOHN, the Chief-Justice,
Officers, &c.
Ch. Just. Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the
Fleet ;
Take all his company along with him.
Fal. My lord, my lord, [you soon.
Ch. Jitst. I cannot now speak : I will hear
Take them away. \contenta.
Pist. Se fortuna mi tormenta, lo sperare mi
[Exeunt FAL., SHAL., PIST., BARD.,
Page, and Officers.
P. John. I like this fair proceeding of the
king's :
He hath intent his wonted followers
Shall all be very well provided for ;
But all are banish'd till their conversations
Appear more wise and modest to the world.
Ch.Just. And so they are.
P.John. The king hath call'd his parliament,
my lord.
Ch. Jus!. He hath.
P. John. I will lay odds that, ere this year
expire,
We bear our civil swords and native fire
As far as France : I heard a bird so sing,
Whose music, to my thinking, pleas'd the king.
Come, will you hence ? [Exeunt.
EPILOGUE. Spoken by a Dancer.
First my fear; then my court'sy ; last my
speech. My fear is, your displeasure ; my
court'sy, my duty ; and my speech, to beg your
pardons. If you look for a good speech now,
you undo me : for what I have-to say is of mine
own making ; and what, indeed, I should say
will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But
to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it
known to you, as it is very well, I was lately
here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray
your patience for it, and to promise you a
better. I did mean, indeed, to pay you with
this ; which, if, like an ill venture, it come un-
luckily home, I break, and you, my gentle
creditors, lose. Here I promised you I would
be, and here I commit my body to your mercies:
bate me some, and I will pay you some, and,
as most debtors do, promise you infinitely.
If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me,
will you command me to use my legs ? and yet
that were but light payment, to dance out of
your debt. But a good conscience will make
any possible satisfaction, and so will I. All
the gentlewomen here have forgiven me : if
the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do
not agree with the gentlewomen, which was
never seen before in such an assembly.
One word more, I beseech you. If you be
not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble
author will continue the story, with Sir John
in it, and make you merry with fair Katharine
of France : where, for anything I know, Fal-
staff shall die of a sweat, unless already he be
killed with your hard opinions ; for Oldcastle
died a martyr, and this is not the man. My
tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will
bid you good-night : and so kneel down before
you ; but, indeed, to pray for the queen.
A T.-V. ]
- /. ; A
*fc.
KING HENRY V.
KING HENRY THE FIFTH.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Chorus.
DUKE OF EXETER, Uncle to the KING.
DUKE OF YORK, Cousin to the KING.
EARLS OF SALISBURY, WESTMORELAND, and
WARWICK.
ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.
BISHOP OF ELY.
SIR THOMAS GREY, ) the KlNG *
SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM,GOWER,FLUELLEN,
MACMORRIS, JAMY, Officers in KING
HENRY'S Army.
BATES, COURT, WILLIAMS, Soldiers in the
same.
NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, formerly Servants
to FALSTAFF, now Soldiers in the same.
Boy, Servant to them.
A Herald.
CHARLES THE SIXTH, King qf France.
Louis, the Dauphin.
DUKES OF BURGUNDY, ORLEANS, and BOUR-
BON.
The Constable of France.
RAMBURES and GRANDPREE, French Lords.
Governor of Harfleur.
MONTJOY, a French Herald.
Ambassadors to the King of England.
ISABEL, Queen of France.
KATHARINE, Daughter to CHARLES and
ISABEL.
ALICE, a Lady attending en the PRINCESS
KATHARINE.
QUICKLY, PISTOL'S Wife, an Hostess.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, French and English
Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants.
SCENE, At the beginning of the Play> lies in ENGLAND ; but afterwards wholly in FRANCE.
Enter Chorus.
Chor. O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention !
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene !
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword,
and fire, [all,
Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles
The flat unraised spirit that hath dar'd
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object : can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt ?
O, pardon ! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million ;
And let us, ciphers to this great acompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder :
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts :
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
And make imaginary puissance ; [them
Think, when we talk of horses, that you see
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth ;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our
kings,
Carry them here and there ; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass : for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history ;
Who, prologue- like, your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
ACT I.
SCENE I. LONDON. An Ante-chamber in
the KING'S Palace.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and
the BISHOP OF ELY.
Cant. My lord, I '11 tell you, that self bill
is urg'd, [reign
Which in the eleventh year of the last king's
Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd,
532
KING HENRY V.
[ACT i.
But that the scambling and unquiet time
Did push it out of further question. [now?
Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it
Cant. It must be thought on. If it pass
against us,
We lose the better half of our possession :
For all the temporal lands, which men devout
By testament have given to the church,
Would they strip from us; being valu'd thus,
As much as would maintain, to the king's
honour,
Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights,
Six thousand and two hundred good esquires ;
And, to relief of lazars and weak age,
Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil,
A hundred alms-houses right well supplied ;
And to the coffers of the king, beside, [bill.
A thousand pounds by the year : thus runs the
Ely. This would drink deep.
Cant. 'T would drink the cup and all.
. Ely. But what prevention ? [gard.
Cant. The king is full of grace and fair re-
Ely. And a true lover of the holy church.
Cant. The courses of his youth promis'dit not.
The breath no sooner left his father's body
But that his wildness, mortified in him,
Seem'd to die too : yea, at that very moment,
Consideration, like an angel, came, ; -I 2&'
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him,
Leaving his body as a paradise,
To envelop and contain celestial spirits.
Never was such a sudden scholar made ;
Never came reformation in a flood,
With such a heady current, scouring faults ;
Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness
So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,
As in this king.
Ely. We are blessed in the change.
Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity,
And, all-admiring, with an inward wish
You would desire the king were made a prelate :
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs,
You would say, it hath been all-in-all his study :
List his discourse of war, and you shall hear
A fearful battle render' d you in music :
Turn him to any cause of policy,
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter : that, when he speaks,
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still,
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears.
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences ;
So that the art and practice part of life
Must be the mistress to this theoric : [it,
Which is a wonder how his grace should glean
Since his addiction was to courses vain ;
His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow ;
His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports ;
And never noted in him any study,
Any retirement, any sequestration
From open haunts and popularity. [nettle,
Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality :
And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation
Under the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt,
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night,
Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.
Cant. It must be so ; for miracles are ceas'd ;
And therefore we must needs admit the means
How things are perfected.
Ely. But, my good lord,
How now for mitigation of this bill
Urg'd by the commons? Doth his majesty
Incline to it, or no ?
Cant. He seems indifferent ;
Or, rather, swaying more upon our part
Than cherishing the exhibitors against us :
For I have made an offer to his majesty,
Upon our spiritual convocation,
And in regard of causes now in hand,
Which I have open'd to his grace at large,
As touching France, to give a greater sum
Than ever at one time the clergy yet
Did to his predecessors part withal. [lord?
Ely. How did this offer seem receiv'd, my
Cant. With good acceptance of his majesty;
Save that there was not time enough to hear,
As, I perceiv'd, his grace would fain have
done,
The severals and unhidden passages
Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms,
And, generally, to the crown and seat of France,
Deriv'd from Edward, his great-grandfather.
Ely. What was the impediment that broke
this off? [stant
Cant. The French ambassador upon that in-
Crav'd audience : and the hour, I think, is come
To give him hearing: is it four o'clock?
Ely. It is.
Cant. Then go we in, to know his embassy ;
Which I could, with a ready guess, declare,
Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.
Ely. I '11 wait upon you ; and I long to hear
it. \Exeunt.
SCENE II. The same. A Room of State in
the same.
Enter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, BEDFORD,
EXETER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and
Attendants.
K. Hen. Where is my gracious Lord of
Canterbury?
Exe. Not here in presence.
SCENE H.]
KING HENRY V.
533
K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle.
West. Shall we call in the ambassador, my
liege? [resolv'd,
K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin ; we would be
Before we hear him, of some things of weight,
That task our thoughts, concerning us and
France.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and
BISHOP OF ELY.
Cant. God and his angels guard your sacred
throne,
And make you long become it !
K. Hen. Sure, we thank you.
My learned lord, we pray you to proceed,
And justly and religiously unfold
Why the law Salique, that they have in France,
Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim :
And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your
reading,
Or nicely charge your understanding soul
With opening titles miscreate, whose right
Suits not in native colours with the truth ;
For God doth know how many, now in health,
Shall drop their blood in approbation
Of what your reverence shall incite us to :
Therefore take heed how you impawn our
person,
How you awake the sleeping sword of war :
We charge you, in the name of God, take heed ;
For never two such kingdoms did contend
Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless
drops
Are every one a woe, a sore complaint
'Gainst him whose wrongs give edge unto the
swords
That make such waste in brief mortality.
Under this conjuration, speak, my lord ;
For we will hear, note, and believe in heart
That what you speak is in your conscience
wash'd
As pure as sin with baptism.
Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign,
and you peers,
That owe yourselves, your lives, and services
To this imperial throne. There is no bar
To make against your highness' claim to France
But this, which theyproducefromPharamond,
In terrain Salicam mulieres ne succedanf,
No woman shall succeed in Saligue land:
Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze
To be the realm of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this law and female bar.
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm
That the land Salique is in Germany,
Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe ;
Where Charles the Great, having subdu'd the
Saxons,
There left behind and settled certain French ;
Who, holding in disdain the German women
For some dishonest manners of their life,
Establish'd then this law, to wit, no female
Should be inheritrix in Salique land :
Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala,
Is at this day in Germany called Meisen.
Then doth it well appear, the Salique law
Was not devised for the realm of France :
Nor did the French possess the Salique land
Until four hundred one-and-twenty years
After defunction of King Pharamond,
Idly suppos'd the founder of this law ;
Who died within the year of our redemption
Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French
Beyond the river Sala, in the year
Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say,
King Pepin, which deposed Childerick,
Did, as heir general, being descended
Of Blithild, which was daughter to King
Clothair,
Make claim and title to the crown of France.
Hugh Capet also, who usurp'd the crown
Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male
Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great,
To fine his title with some show of truth,
Though, in pure truth, it was corrupt and
naught,
Conveyed himself as heir to the Lady Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son
To Louis the emperor, and Louis the son
Of Charles the Great. Also King Louis the Tenth,
Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet,
Could not keep quiet in his conscience,
Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied
That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother,
Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare,
Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Lor-
raine : [Great
By the which marriage the line of Charles the
Was re-united to the Crown of France.
So that, as clear as is the summer's sun,
King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim,
King Louis his satisfaction, all appear
To hold in right and title of the female :
So do the kings of France unto this day ;
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law
To bar your highness claiming from the female ;
And rather choose to hide them in a net
Than amply to imbar their crooked titles
Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.
K. Hen. May I with right and conscience
make this claim ?
Cant. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign !
534
KING HENRY V.
LACT i.
For in the book of Numbers is it writ,-
When the man dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord,
Stand for your own ; unwind your bloody flag ;
Look back unto your mighty ancestors :
Go, my dread lord, to your great -grandsire's
tomb,
From whom you claim ; invoke his warlike spirit,
And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black
Prince,
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
Making defeat on the full power of France,
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill
Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp
Forage in blood of French nobility.
O noble English, that could entertain
With half their forces the full pride of France,
And let another half stand laughing by,
All out of work and cold for action ! [dead,
Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant
And with your puissant arm renew their feats :
You are their heir ; you sit upon their throne ;
The blood and courage that renowned them
Runs in your veins ; and my thrice -puissant liege
Is in the very May- morn of his youth,
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.
Exe. Your brother kings and monarchs of the
earth
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,
As did the former lions of your blood.
West. They know your grace hath cause and
means and might:
So hath your highness ; never king of England
Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects,
Whose hearts have left their bodies here in
England,
And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France.
Cant. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege,
With blood and sword and fire to win your right :
In aid whereof we of the spiritualty
Will raise your highness such a mighty sum
As never did the clergy at one time
Bring in to any of your ancestors. [French,
K. Hen. We must not only arm to invade the
But lay down our proportions to defend
Against the Scot, who will make road upon us
With all advantages. [reign,
Cant. They of those marches, gracious sove-
Shall be a wall sufficient to defend
Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
K. Hen. We do not mean the coursing
snatchers only,
But fear the main intendment of the Scot,
Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us ;
For you shall read that my great-grandfather
Never went with his forces into France
But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom
Came pouring, like the tide into a breach,
With ample and brim fulness of his force ;
Galling the gleaned land with hot essays,
Girding with grievous siege castles and towns ;
That England, being empty of defence,
Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbour-
hood.
Cant. She hath been then more fear'd than
harm'd, my liege;
For hear her but exampled by herself:
When all her chivalry hath been in France,
And she a mourning widow of her nobles,
She hath herself not only well defended,
But taken, and impounded as a stray,
The king of Scots ; whom she did send to France,
To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings,
And make her chronicle as rich with praise
As is the ooze and bottom of the sea
With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries.
West. But there 's a saying, very old and true,
If that you -will France win,
Then with Scotland first begin :
For once the eagle England being in prey,
To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot
Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs;
Playing the mouse in absence of the cat,
To tear and havoc more than she can eat.
Exe. It follows, then, the cat must stay at
home:
Yet that is but a curs'd necessity,
Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries,
And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves.
While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,
The advised head defends itself at home ;
For government, though high, and low, and
lower,
Put into parts, doth keep in one concent ;
Congruing in a full and natural close,
Like music.
Cant. Therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavour in continual motion ;
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience : for so work the honey bees ;
Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king, and officers of sorts :
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ;
Which pillage they with merry march bring
home
To the tent-royal of thek emperor :
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold ;
The civil citizens kneading up the honey ;
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY V.
535
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ;
The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,
That many things, having full reference
To one concent, may work contrariously :
As many arrows, loosed several ways,
Fly to one mark ;
As many several ways meet in one town ;
As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea ;
As many lines close in the dial's centre :
So may a thousand actions, once afoot,
End in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege.
Divide your happy England into four ;
Whereof take you one quarter into France,
And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.
If we, with thrice such powers left at home,
Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,
Let us be worried, and our nation lose
The name of hardiness and policy.
K. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from
the Dauphin. [Exit an Attendant.
Now are we well resolv'd t and, by God's help
And yours, the noble sinews of our power,
France being ours, we '11 bend it to our awe,
Or break it all to pieces : or there we '11 sit,
Ruling in large and ample empery
O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms,
Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn,
Tombless, with no remembrance over them :
Either our history shall with full mouth
Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave,
Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless
mouth,
Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph.
Enter Ambassadors of France.
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our fair cousin Dauphin ; for we hear
Your greeting is from him, not from the king.
i Amb. May it please your majesty to give
us leave
Freely to render what we have in charge ;
Or shall we sparingly show you far off
The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy?
K. Hen. We are no tyrant, but a Christian
king;
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject
As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons :
Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plain-
ness
Tell us the Dauphin's mind.
i Amb. Thus, then, in few.
Your highness, lately sending into France,
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right
Of your great predecessor, King Edward the
Third.
In answer of which claim, the prince our master
Says, that you savour too much of your youth ;
And bids you be advis'd there 's naught in France
That can be with a nimble galliard won ;
You cannot revel into dukedoms there.
He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
This tun of treasure ; and, in lieu of this,
Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.
K. Hen. What treasure, uncle?
Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege.
K. Hen. We are glad the Dauphin is so
pleasant with us;
His present and your pains we thank you for :
When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,
We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
Tell him he hath made a match with such a
wrangler
That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
With chases. And we understand him well,
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
Not measuring what use we made of them.
We never valu'd this poor seat of England ;
And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
To barbarous license ; as 'tis ever common
That men are merriest when they are from home.
But tell the Dauphin, I will keep my state ;
Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness,
When I do rouse me in my throne of France :
For that I have laid by my majesty,
And plodded like a man for working-days ;
But I will rise there with so full a glory
That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his
Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones ; and his soul
Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful ven-
geance [widows
That shall fly with them ; for many a thousand
Shall this his mock mock out of their dear
husbands ; [down ;
Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles
And some are yet ungotten and unborn [scorn.
That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's
But this lies all within the will of God,
To whom I do appeal ; and in whose name,
Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
So, get you hence in peace ; and tell the Dauphin
His jest will savour but of shallow wit, [it.
When thousands weep, more than did laugh at
Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
[Exeunt Ambassadors.
536
KING HENRY V.
[ACT ir.
Exe. This was a merry message.
K. Hen. We hope to make the sender blush
at it.
Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour
That may give furtherance to our expedition ;
For we have now no thought in us but France,
Save those to God, that run before our business.
Therefore let our proportions for these wars
Be soon collected, and all things thought upon
That may with reasonable swiftness add
More feathers to our wings ; for, God before,
We '11 chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
Therefore let every man now task his thought,
That this fair action may on foot be brought.
{Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
Chor. Now all the youth of England are on
fire,
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies :
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man :
They sell the pasture now to buy the horse ;
Following the mirror of all Christian kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries,
For now sits Expectation in the air ;
And hides a sword from hilts unto the point
With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets,
Promis'd to Harry and his followers.
The French, advis'd by good intelligence
Of this most dreadful preparation,
Shake in their fear ; and with pale policy
Seek to divert the English purposes.
O England ! model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart,
What mightst thou do, that honour would
thee do,
Were all thy children kind and natural ! [out
But see thy fault ! France hath in thee found
A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills
With treacherous crowns ; and three corrupted
men, [second,
One, Richard Earl of Cambridge ; and the
Henry Lord Scroop of Masham ; and the third,
Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland,
Have, for the guilt of France, Oguiltindeed!
Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France ;
And by their hands this grace of kings must
die,
If hell and treason hold their promises,
Ere he take ship for France, and in South-
ampton.
Linger your patience on ; and well digest
The abuse of distance, while we force a play.
The sum is paid ; the traitors are agreed ;
The king is set from London ; and the scene
Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton,
There is the play-house now, there must you
sit :
And thence to France shall we convey you safe,
And bring you back, charming the narrow seas
To give you gentle pass ; for, if we may,
We '11 not offend one stomach with our play.
But, till the king come forth, and not till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.
[Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. LONDON. Before the Boar's HcaoL
Tavern, Eastcheap.
Enter, severally, NYM and BARDOLPH.
Bard. Well met, Corporal Nym.
Nym. Good-morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.
Bard. What, are Ancient Pistol and you
friends yet ?
Nym. For my part, I ca/e not : I say little ;
but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles ;
but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight ;
but I will wink, and hold out mine iron : it is
a simple one ; but what though ? it will toast
cheese : and it will endure cold as another
man's sword will, and there 's the humour of it.
Bard. I will bestow a breakfast to make you
friends ; and we '11 be all three sworn brothers
to France : let it be so, good Corporal Nym.
Nym. Faith, I will live so long as I may,
that 's the certain of it ; and when I cannot live
any longer, I will do as I may : that is my rest,
that is the rendezvous of it.
Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is
married to Nell Quickly : and, certainly, she
did you wrong; for you were troth-plight to
her.
Nym. I cannot tell : things must be as they
may : men may sleep, and they may have their
throats about them at that time ; and, some
say, knives have edges. It must be as it may :
though patience be a tired mare, yet she will
plod. Th-re must be conclusions. Well, I
cannot tell.
Bard. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his
wife : good corporal, be patient here.
Enter PISTOL and Hostess.
How now, mine host Pistol !
Fist. Base tike, call'st thou me host ?
Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term ',
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
Host. No, by my troth, not long ; for we
cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen
gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of
their needles, but it will be thought we keep a
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY V.
537
bawdy-house straight. [N YM draws his sword. ]
well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn ! now
we shall see wilful adultery and murder com-
mitted.
Bard. Good lieutenant, good corporal,
offer nothing here.
Nym. Pish!
Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog ! thou
prick-ear'd cur of Iceland !
Host. Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour,
and put up your sword.
Nym. Will you shog off ? I would have you
solus. [Sheathing his sword.
Pist. Solus, egregious dog ? O viper vile !
The solus in thy most marvellous face ;
The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy ;
And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth !
1 do retort the solus in thy bowels ;
For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.
Nym, I am not Barbason ; you cannot con-
jure me. I have an humour to knock you in-
differently well. If you grow foul with me,
Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I
may, in fair terms : if you would walk off I
would prick your guts a little, in good terms,
as I may : and that 's the humour of it.
Pist. O braggart vile and damned furious
wight !
The grave doth gape and doting death is near ;
Therefore exhale. [PiSTOL and NYM draw.
Bard. Hear me, hear me what I say : he
that strikes the first stroke I '11 run him up to
the hilts, as I am a soldier. [Draws.
Pist. An oath of mickle might ; and fury
shall abate.
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give :
Thy spirits are most tall.
Nym. I will cut thy throat one time or other,
in fair terms : that is the humour of it.
Pist. Coupe la gorge! That's the word. I
thee defy again.
hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse
to get ?
No ; to the spital go,
And from the powdering tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,
Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse :
1 have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
For the only she ; and Pauca, there's enough.
Go to.
Enter the Boy.
Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to
my master, and you, hostess : he is very sick,
and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy
nose between his sheets, and do the office of a
warming-pan. Faith, he 's very ill.
Bard. Away, you rogue.
Host. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a
pudding one of these days: the king has
killed his heart. Good husband, come home
presently. [Exeunt Hostess and Boy.
Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends?
We must to France together : why the devil
should we keep knives to cut one another's
throats ?
Pist. Let floods o'erswell and fiends for
food howl on !
Nym. You '11 pay me the eight shillings I
won of you at betting ?
Pist. Base is the slave that pays.
Nym. That now I will have: that's the
humour of it.
Pist. As manhood shall compound: push
home. [PISTOL and NYM draw.
Bard. By this sword, he that makes the
first thrust I'll kill him; by this sword, I
will.
Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have
their course.
Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be
friends, be friends: an thou wilt not, why, then,
be enemies with me too. Pr'ythee, put up.
Nym. I shall have my eight shillings I won
of you at betting ?
Pist. A noble shall thou have, and present
pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall com bine, and brotherhood:
I '11 live by Nym and Nym shall live by me ;
Is not this just ? for I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.
Nym. I shall have my noble ?
Pist. In cash most justly paid.
Nym. Well, then, that 's the humour of it.
Re-enter Hostess.
Host. As ever you came of women, come in
^quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart ! he is so
shaken of a burning quotidian tertian that it is
most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come
to him.
Nym. The king hath run bad humours on the
knight ; that 's the even of it
Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right ;
His heart is fracted and corroborate.
Nym. The king is a good king : but it must
be as it may; he passes some humours and
careers.
Pist. Let us condole the knight ; for, lamb-
kins, we will live. [Exeunt.
KING HENRY V.
[ACT ii.
SCENE II. SOUTHAMPTON. A Council
Chamber.
Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORE-
LAND.
Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust
these traitors.
Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by.
West. How smooth and even they do bear
themselves !
As if allegiance in their bosom sat,
Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.
Red. The king hath note of all that they in-
tend,
By interception which they dream not of.
Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious
favours,
That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign's life to death and treachery !
Trumpet sounds. Enter'Ki^G HENRY, SCROOP,
CAMBRIDGE, GREY, Lords, and Attendants.
K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will
aboard.
My Lord of Cambridge, and" my kind Lord of
Masham, [thoughts :
And you, my gentle knight, give me your
Think you not that the powers we bear with us
Will cut their passage through the force of
France,
Doing the execution and the act
For which we have in head assembled them?
Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do
his best. [persuaded
K. Hen. I doubt not that ; since we are well
We carry not a heart with us from hence
That grows not in a fair consent with ours,
Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.
Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd and
lov'd [subject
Than is your majesty : there 's not, I think, a
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness
Under the sweet shade of your government.
Grey. True: those that were your father's
enemies [you
Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve
With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of
thankfulness ;
And shall forget the office of our hand
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
According to the weight and worthiness.
Scroop. So service shall with steel'd sinews
toil,
And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
To do your grace incessant services.
K. Hen. We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rail'd against our person : we consider
It was excess of wine that set him on ;
And on his more advice we pardon him.
Scroop. That 's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd, sovereign ; lest example
Breed, by his sufferance', more of such a kind.
K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful. [too.
Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish
Grey. Sir, you show great mercy if you give.
him life,
After the taste of much correction. [of me
K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch !
If little faults, proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch
our eye [digested,
When capital crimes, chew'd, swal.low'd, and
Appear before us? We '11 yet enlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their
dear care
And tender preservation of our person,
Would have him punish'd. And now to out
French causes :
Who are the late commissioners?
Cam. I one, my lord :
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.
Scroop. So did you me, my liege.
Grey. And me, my royal sovereign.
K. Hen. Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge,
there is yours ; [sir knight,
There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham ; and,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours :
Read them, and know I know your worthi-
ness. [eter,
My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Ex-
We will aboard to-night. Why, how now,
gentlemen '
What see you in those papers, that you lose
So much complexion? Look ye, how they
change ! [there
Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood
Out of appearance?
Cam. I do confess my fault,
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
Grey, Scroop. To which we all appeal.
K. Hen. The mercy that was quick in us
but late
By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd :
You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy ;
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
See you, my princes and my noble peers,
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY V.
539
These English monsters! My Lord of Cam-
bridge here,
You know how apt our love was to accord
To furnish him with all appertinents
Belonging to his honour ; and this man
Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd,
And sworn unto the practices of France,
To kill us here in Hampton : to the which
This knight, no less for bounty bound to us
Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn.
But, O, [cruel,
What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature!
Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold,
Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy
use,
May it be possible that foreign hire
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
That might annoy my finger ? tis so strange
That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it.
Treason and murder ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to cither's purpose,
Working so grossly in a natural cause
That admiration did not whoop at them t
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder to wait on treason and on murder:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
That wrought upon thee so preposterously
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence :
And other devils, that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle up damnation [fetch'd
With patches, colours, and with forms being
From glistering semblances of piety ;
But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up,
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do
treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus
Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tartar back,
And tell the legions, / can never win
A soul so easy as that Englishman's.
O, how hast thou with jealousy infected
The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful ?
Why, so didst thou : seem they grave and learned?
Why, so didst thou : come they of noble family?
Why, so didst thou : seem they religious?
Why, so didst thou : or are they spare in diet ;
Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger ;
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood ;
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement ;
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And but in purged judgment trusting neither?
Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem :
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
To mark the full-fraught man and best indu'd
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee ;
For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
Another fall of man. Their faults are open :
Arrest them to the answer of the law ;
And God acquit them of their practices !
Exe. I arrest thee of high treason, by the
name of Richard Earl of Cambridge.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of
Henry Lord Scroop of Masham.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of
Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland.
Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath dis-
cover'd ;
And I repent my fault more than my death ;
Which I beseech your highness to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.
Cam. For me, the gold of France did not
seduce ;
Although I did admit it as a motive
The sooner to effect what I intended :
But God be thanked for prevention ;
Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice,
Beseeching God and you to pardon me.
Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice
At the discovery of most dangerous treason
Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself,
Prevented from a damned enterprise :
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
K. Hen. God quit you in his mercy ! Hear
your sentence.
You have conspir'd against our royal person,
Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his
coffers
Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death ;
Wherein you would have sold your king to
slaughter,
His princes and his peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
And his whole kingdom into desolation.
Touching our person seek we no revenge ;
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws
We do deliver you. Get you, therefore, hence,
Poor miserable wretches, to your death :
The taste whereof God of his mercy give you
Patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence.
[Exeunt Conspirators, guarded.
Now, lords, for France ; the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war :
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous treason, lurking in our way
To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now
But every rub is smoothed on our way.
540
KING HENRY V.
[ACT n.
Then, forth, dear countrymen : let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Cheerly to sea ; the signs of war advance :
No king of England, if not king of France.
[Exeunt.
*.;. i 3SOJ53SK} liyttJ V> i.-i^rfi i:
SCENE III. LONDON. The Hostess's House
in Eastcheap.
Enter PISTOL, Hostess, NYM, BARDOLPH,
and Boy.
Host. Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me
bring thee to Staines.
Fist. No; for my manly heart doth yearn.
Bardolph, be blithe ; Nym, rouse thy vaunting
veins; [is dead,
Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he
And we must yearn therefore.
Bard. Would I were with him, wheresome'er
he is, eithe r in heaven or in hell !
Host. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in
Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's
bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away,
an it had been any christom child ; 'a parted
even just between twelve and one, even at the
turning o' the tide : for after I saw him fumble
with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile
upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one
way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a
babbled of green fields. How now, Sir John!
quoth I : what, man ! be o' good cheer. So 'a
cried out God, God, God! three or four times.
Now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not
think of God; I hoped there was no need to
trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So
'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet : I put
my hand into the bed and felt them, and they
were as cold as any stone ; then I felt to his
knees, and so upward and upward, and all was
as cold as any stone.
Nym. They say he cried out of sack.
Host. Ay, that 'a did.
Bard. And of women.
Host. Nay, that 'a did not.
Boy. Yes, that 'a did; and said they were
devils incarnate.
Host. 'A could never abide carnation ; 'twas
a colour he never liked.
Boy. 'A said once, the devil would have him
about women.
Host. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle
women ; but then he was rheumatic, and talked
of the whore of Babylon.
Boy. Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea
stick upon Bardolph's nose, and 'a said it was
a black soul burning in hell?
Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that maintained
that fire: that's all the riches I got in his
service.
Nym. Shall we shog? the king will be gone
irom Southampton. [thy lips.
Pist. Come, let 's away. My love, give me
Look to my chattels and my moveables :
Let senses rule ; the word is, Pitch and pay ;
Trust none ;
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And holdfast is the only dog, my duck :
Therefore caveto be thy counsellor.
Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms,
Let us to France ; like horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck !
Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they
say.
Pist. Touch her soft mouth and march.
Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her.
Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of
it; but, adieu.
Pist. Let housewifery appear : keep close, I
thee command.
Host. Farewell; adieu. {Exeunt.
SCENE IV. FRANCE. A Room in the
FRENCH KING'S Palace.
fli. 1 '"!- : uoffj "cil
Flourish. Enter the FRENCH KING, attended;
the DAUPHIN, the DUKE OF BURGUNDY,
the Constable, and others.
Fr. King. Thus come the English with full
power upon us ;
And more than carefully it us concerns
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Bretagne,
Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth,
And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift de-
spatch,
To line and new repair our towns of war
With men of courage and with means defendant ;
For England his approaches makes as fierce
As waters to the sucking of a gulf.
It fits us, then, to be as provident
As fear may teach us, out of late examples
Left by the fatal and neglected English
Upon our fields.
Dau. My most redoubted father,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe ;
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom,
Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in
question,
But that defences, musters, preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,
As were a war in expectation.
Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth
To view the sick and feeble parts of France :
SCENE IV.]
KING HENRY V.
And let us do it with no show of fear ;
No, with no more than if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance :
For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd,
Her sceptre so fantastically borne
By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth,
That fear attends her not.
Con. O peace, Prince Dauphin !
You are too much mistaken in this king :
Question your grace the late ambassadors,
With what great state he heard their embassy,
How well supplied with noble counsellors,
How modest in exception, and withal
How terrible in constant resolution,
And you shall find his vanities forespent
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly ;
As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
That shall first spring and be most delicate.
Dau. Well, 'tis not so, my lord high-constable;
But though we think it so, it is no matter :
In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems :
So the proportions of defence are fill'd ;
Which, of a weak and niggardly projection,
Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting
A little cloth.
Fr. King. Think we King Harry strong ;
And, princes, look you strongly arm to meet
him.
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us ;
And he is bred out of that bloody strain
That haunted us in our familiar paths :
Witness our too-much memorable shame
When Cressy battle fatally was struck,
And all our princes captiv'd by the hand
Of that black name, Edward Black Prince of
Wales; [standing,
Whiles that his mountain sire, on mountain
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,
Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him,
Mangle the work of nature, and deface
The patterns that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem
Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear
The native mightiness and fate of him.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Ambassadors from Harry King of Eng-
land
Do crave admittance to your majesty.
Fr. King. We '11 give them present audience.
Go, and bring them.
{Exeunt Mess, and certain Lords.
You see this chase is hotly follow'd, friends.
Turn head and stop pursuit ; for coward
dogs
Most spend their mouths when what they seem
to threaten
Runs far before them. Good my sovereign,
Take up the English short ; and let them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head :
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
As self-neglecting.
Re-enter Lords, -with EXETER and Train.
Fr. King. From our brother England?
Exe. From him ; and thus he greets your
majesty.
He wills you, in the name of God Almighty,
That you divest yourself, and lay apart
The borrow'd glories that by gift of heaven,
By law of nature and of nations, 'long
To him and to his heirs ; namely, the crown,
And all wide-stretched honours that pertain,
By custom and the ordinance of times,
Unto the crown of France. That you may know
'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, [days,
Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd,
He sends you this most memorable line,
{Gives a paper.
In every branch truly demonstrative ;
Willing you overlook this pedigree :
And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors,
Edward the Third, he bids you then resign
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
From him the native and true challenger.
Fr. King. Or else what follows? [crown
Exe. Bloody constraint ; for if you hide the
Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it :
Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove,
That if requiring fail, he will compel ;
And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the crown ; and to take mercy
On the poor souls for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws : and on your head
Turns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood, the pining maidens'
groans,
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow'd in this controversy.
This is his claim, his threatening, and my mes-
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here,
To whom expressly I bring greeting too.
Fr. King. For us, we will consider of this
further :
To-morrow shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother England.
Dau. For the Dauphin,
I stand here for him : what to him from England?
542
KING HENRY V.
[ACT in.
Exe. Scorn and defiance ; slight regard, con-
tempt,
And anything that may not misbecome
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus says my king : an if your father's highness
Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty,
He '11 call you to so hot an answer for it
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide your trespass and return your mock
In second accent of his ordinance.
Dau. Say, if my father render fair return,
It is against my will ; for I desire
Nothing but odds with England : to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
I did present him with the Paris balls.
Exe. He '11 make your Paris Louvre shake
for it,
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe :
And, be assur'd, you '11 find a difference,
As we, his subjects, have in wonder found,
Between the promise of his greener days
And these he masters now : now he weighs time
Even to the utmost grain : that you shall read
In your own lessees if he stay in France.
Fr. King. To-morrow shall you know our
mind at full. [king
Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our
Come here himself to question our delay ;
For he is footed in this land already.
Fr. King. You shall be soon despatch'd with
fair conditions:
A night is but small breath and little pause
To answer matters of this consequence.
\Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
Cho. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene
flies,
In motion of no less celerity [seen
Than that of thought. Suppose that you have
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fan-
ning:
Play with your fancies ; and in them behold
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing ,
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
To sounds confus'd ; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge : O, do but think
You stand upon the rivage and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing ;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow !
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy;
And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded withgrandsires, babies, and old women,
Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance ;
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to
France? [siege;
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose the ambassador from the French comes
back;
Tells Harry that the king doth offer him
Katharine his daughter ; and with her, to dowry,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not : and the nimble gunner
With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
[Alarum, and chambers go off, within.
And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind.
[Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I. FRANCE. Before Harfteur.
Alarums. Enter KING HENRY, EXETER, BED-
FORD, GLOSTER, and Soldiers, with scaling-
ladders.
K. Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear
friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead !
In peace there 's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger ;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage ;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm
it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide ;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height ! On, on, you noble English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! -
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argu-
ment :
Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you !
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war ! And you, good
yeomen,
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY V.
543
Whose limbs were made in England, show us
here
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding: which I
doubt not ;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game 's afoot :
Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge
Cry God for Harry ! England ! and Saint
George !
[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off>
within.
Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Boy.
Bard. On, on, on, on, on ! to the breach, to
the breach !
Nym. Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks
are too hot ; and, for mine own part, I have not
a case of lives : the humour of it is too hot, that
is the very plain-song of it.
Pist. The plain-song is most just; for
humours do abound:
Knocks go and come ; God's vassals drop and die *
And sword and shield
In bloody field
Doth win immortal fr me.
Boy. Would I were in an alehouse in Lon-
don ! I would give all my fame for a pot of
ale and safety.
Pist. And I :
If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with
But thither would I hie.
Boy. As duly, but not as truly,
As bird doth sing on bough.
Enter FLUELLEN.
Flu. Up to th preach, you dogs! avaunt,
you cullions! [Driving them forward.
Pist. Be merciful , great duke, to men of mould !
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage !
Abate thy rage, great duke ! [chuck !
Good bawcock, bate thy rage ! use lenity, sweet
Nym. These be good humours ! your honour
wins bad humours.
[Exeunt NYM, PISTOL, and BARDOLPH,
followed by FLUELLEN.
Boy. As young as I am, I have observed
these three swashers. I am boy to them all
three: but all they three, though they would
serve me, could not be man to me ; for, indeed,
three such antics do not amount to a man. For
Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced ;
by the means whereof 'a faces it out, but fights
not For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and
a quiet sword ; by the means whereof 'a breaks
words and keeps whole weapons. For Nym,
he hath heard that men of few words are the
best men; and therefore he scorns to say his
prayers lest 'a should be thought a coward : but
his few bad words are matched with as few
good deeds ; for 'a never broke any man's head
but his own, and that was against a post when
he was drunk. They will steal anything, and
call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case,
bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three
halfpence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn
brothers in niching ; and in Calais they stole a
fire-shovel : I knew by that piece of service the
men would carry coals. They would have me
as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves
or their handkerchers : which makes much
against my manhood, if I should take from
another's pocket to put into mine ; for it is plain
pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them,
and seek some better service : their villany goes
against my weak stomach, and therefore I must
cast it up. [Exit.
Re-enter FLUELLEN, GO\VER following.
Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come pre-
sently to the mines ; the Duke of Gloster would
speak with you.
Flu. To the mines ! tell you the duke it is
not so goot to come to the mines ; for, look
you, the mines is not according to the discip-
lines of the war : the concavities of it is not
sufficient ; for, look you, th' athversary, you
may discuss unto the duke, look you, is digt
himself four yard under the countermines ; by
Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is
not better directions.
Gow. The Duke of Gloster, to whom the
order of the siege is given, is altogether directed
by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i'
faith.
Flu. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not ?
Gow. I think it be.
Flu. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the
'orld : I will verify as much in his peard : he
has no more directions in the true disciplines
of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines,
than is a puppy-dog.
Gow. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain,
Captain Jamy, with him.
Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous
gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedi-
tion and knowledge in the ancient wars, upon
my particular knowledge of his directions : by
Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well
as any military man in the 'orld, in the discip-
lines of the pristine wars of the Romans.
544
KING HENRY V.
[ACT in.
Enter MACMORRIS and JAMY, at a distance.
Jamy. I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen.
Flu. God-den to your worship, goot Cap-
tain Jamy.
Gow. How now, Captain Macmorris ! have
you quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?
Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done : the work
ish give over, the trumpet sound the retreat.
By my hand, I swear, and by my father's soul,
the work ish ill done ; it ish give over : I
would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save
me, la, in an hour : O, tish ill done, tish ill
done ; by my hand, tish ill done !
Flu. Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now,
will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputa-
tions with you, a" partly touching or concerning
the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in
the way of argument, look you, and friendly
communication ; partly to satisfy my opinion,
and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my
mind, as touching the direction of the military
discipline ; that is the point.
Jamy. It sail be very gud, gud feith, gud
captains bath : and I sail quit you with gud
leve, as I may pick occasion ; that sail I, mary.
Mac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish
N save me : the day is hot, and the weather, and
the wars, and the king, and the dukes : it is no
time to discourse. The town is beseeched, and
the trumpet call us to the breach ; and we talk
and, by Chrish, do nothing: 'tis shame for us
all : so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still ;
it is shame, by my hand : and there is throats
to be cut, and works to be done ; and there
ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la.
Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine
take themselves to slumber, aile do gud service,
or aile lig i' the grund for it ; ay, or go to death ;
and aile pay 't as valorously as I may, that sail
I suerly do, that is the breffand the long. Mary,
I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you
tway.
Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you,
under your correction, there is not many of
your nation,
Mac. Of my nation ! What ish my nation?
what ish my nation? Who talks of my nation
ish a villain, and a basterd, and a knave, and a
rascal.
Flu. Look you, if you take the matter other-
wise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, perad-
venture I shall think you do not use me with
that affability as in discretion you ought to use
me, look you ; being as goot a man as yourself,
both in the disciplines of war and in the deriva-
tion of my birth, and in other particularities.
Mac. I do not know you so good a man as
myself: so Chrish save me, I will cut off your
head.
Gow. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each
other.
Jamy. Att! that's a foul fault.
\^A parley sounded.
Gow. The town sounds a parley.
Flu. Captain Macmorris, when there is more
petter opportunity to be required, look you, I
will be so pold as to tell you I know the dis-
ciplines of war ; and there is an end. \_Exeunt.
SCENE II. The same. Before the Gates of
Harfleur.
The Governor and some Citizens on the walls ;
the English Forces below. Enter KING
HENRY and his Train.
K. Hen. I low yet resolves the governor of
the town?
This is the latest parley we will admit :
Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves ;
Or like to men proud of destruction,
Defy us to our worst : for as I am a soldier,
A name that, in my thoughts, becomes me
best,
If I begin the battery once again,
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up ;
And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of
heart,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range
With conscience wide as hell ; mowing like grass
Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering in-
fants.
What is it then to me if impious war,
Array 'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends,
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
What is 't to me when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil,
As send precepts to the Leviathan [fleur,
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Har-
Take pity of your town and of your people
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command ;
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder, spoil, and villany.
If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
SCENE III.]
KING HENRY V.
545
Defile the locks of your shrill - shrieking
daughters ;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the
walls ;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls con-
fus'd
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's blood*y-hunting slaughtermen.
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd ?
Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end :
The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated,
Returns us that his powers are not yet ready
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great
king,
We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
Enter our gates ; dispose of us and ours ;
For we no longer are defensible. [Exeter,
K. Hen. Open your gates. Come, uncle
Go you and enter Harfleur ; there remain,
And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French :
Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncie,
The winter coming on, and sickness growing
Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest ;
; To-morrow for the march are we addrest.
' [Flourish. The KING, &r., enter the Town.
SCENE III. ROUEN. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KATHARINE and ALICE.
Kath. Alice, tu as ett en Angleterre, et tu
paries bien le langage.
Alice. Un peu, madame.
Kath. Je te prie, nfenseignez; il faut que
fapprenne a parler. Comment appelez-vous la
main en Anglais?
Alice. La main? elle est appeUe de hand.
Kath. De hand. Et les doigts?
Alice. Les doigts? ma foi, f oublie les doigts ;
mats je me souviendrai. Les doigts ? je pense
quails sont appelh de fingres ; out, de fingres.
Kath. La main, de hand; les doigts, de
fingres. Je pense que je suis le bon ecolier; fai
gagnt deux mots a" Anglais vttement. Comment
appelez-vous les angles?
Alice. Les angles ? les appelons de nails.
Kath. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi, si je
parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails.
Alice. C?est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon
Anglais.
Kath. Dites-moi F Anglais pour le bras.
Alice. De arm, madame.
Kath. Et le coude?
Alice. De elbow.
Kath. De elbow. Je m' en fat's la repetition
de tous les mots que vous nfavcz appris des a
present.
Alice. II est trap difficile, madame, comme je
pense.
Kath. Excusez-mci, Alice; ecoutez: de hand,
de fingres, de nails, de arm, de bilbow.
Alice. De elbow, madame.
Kath. Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie ! de
elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col?
Alice. De neck, madame.
Kath. De nick. Et le menton ?
Alice. De chin.
Kath. De sin. Le col, de nick ; le menton,
de sin.
Alice. Out. Sauf votre honneur, en veritt^
vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs
d 1 Angleterre.
Kath. Je ne doute point d*apprendre % par la
grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps.
Alice. N^avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que jt
vous at enseignt ?
Kath. Non,je reciterai a vous promptement :
de hand, de fingres, de mails,
Alice. De nails, madame.
Kath. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.
Alice. Sauf votre honneur, de elbow.
Kath. Ainsi dis-je ; de elbow, de nick, et
de sin. Comment appelez-vous lepied et la robe ?
Alice. De foot, madame ; et de coun.
Kath. De foot et de coun ! O Seigneur
Dieu ! ce sont mots de son mauvais, corrupt-
ible, gros, gt impudique, et non pour les dames
d? honneur duser: je ne voudrais prononcer ces
mots devant les seigtieurs de France pour tout le
monde. II faut de foot et de coun neanmoins.
Je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble :
de hand, de fingres, de nails, de arm, de
elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de coun.
Alice. Excellent, madame!
Kath. Cest assez pour une fois : allons-nous
a diner. [Exeunt.
SCENE IN. The same. Another Room in
the same.
Enter the FRENCH KING, the DAUPHIN,
DUKE OF BOURBON, the Constable of
France, and others.
Fr. King. 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the
river Somme.
Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France ; let us quit all,
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
Dau. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,
The emptying of our fathers' luxury,
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
3
546
KING HENRY V.
[ACT III.
Spurt up so suddenly into the clouds,
And overlook their grafters?
Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans,
Norman bastards !
Mort de ma vie! if they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm
In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
Con. Dieu de batailles! where have they
this mettle ?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull ;
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden
water, [broth,
A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited v/ith wine,
Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty
people [fields,
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich
Poor we may call them in their native lords !
Dau. By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us, and plainly say
Our mettle is bred out, and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth
To new-store France with bastard warriors.
Bour. They bid us to the English dancing-
schools,
And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos;
Saying our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.
Fr. King. Where is Montjoy, the herald?
speed him hence:
Let him greet England with our sharpdefiance.
Up, princes ! and, with spirit of honour edg'd
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field :
Charles De-la-bret, high-constable of France ;
You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri,
Ale^on, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpree, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix,Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and
knights, [shames.
For your great seats, now quit you of great
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our
land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur :
Rush on his host as doth the melted snow
Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon :
Go down upon him, you have power enough,
And in a captive chariot into Rouen
Bring him our prisoner,
Con. This becomes the great.
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march ;
For I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He '11 drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And for achievement offer us his ransom.
Fr. King. Therefore, lord constable, haste
on Montjoy;
And let him say to England that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
Fr. King. Be patient ; for you shall remain
with us.
Now forth, lord constable and princes all,
And quickly bring us word of England's fall.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.The English Camp in Picardy.
Enter ; severally ', GOWER and FLUELLEN.
Gow. How now, Captain Fluellen ! come
you from the bridge?
Flu. I assure you there is very excellent ser-
vices committed at the pridge.
Gow. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous
as Agamemnon; and a man that I love and
honour with my soul, and my heart, and my
duty, and my life, and my living, and my utter-
most power: he is not, God be praised and
plessed ! any hurt in the 'orld ; but keeps the
pridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline.
There is an auncient there at the pridge, I
think in my very conscience he is as valiant a
man as Mark Antony ; and he is a man oi no
estimation in the 'orld ; but I did see him do as
gallant service.
Gow. What do you call him?
Flu. He is called Auncient Pistol.
Gow. I know him not.
Flu. Here is the man.
Enter PISTOL.
Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours :
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
Fht. Ay, I praise Got ; and I have merited
some love at his hands. [heart,
Pist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of
Of buxom valour, hath by cruel fate
And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,
That stands upon the rolling restless stone,
Flu. By your patience, Auncient Pistol.
Fortune is painted plind, with a muffler afore
her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is plind :
and she is painted also with a wheel, to signify
to you, which is the moral of it, that she is
SCENE V.]
KING HENRY V.
547
turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and
variation : and her foot, look you, is fixed upon
a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls and rolls.
In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent
description of it : Fortune is an excellent moral.
Pist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns
on him ; [be,
For he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must ? a
A damned death !
Let gallows gape for dog ; let man go free,
And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate :
But Exeter hath given the doom of death
For pax of little price. [voice ;
Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach :
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee re-
quite.
Flu. Auncient Pistol, I do partly understand
your meaning.
Pist. Why, then, rejoice therefore.
Flu. Certainly, Auncient, it is not a thing to
rejoice at : for if, look you, he were my prother
I would desire the duke to use his goot pleasure,
and put him to execution ; for discipline ought
to be used. [friendship !
Pist. Die and be damn'd ! and fico for thy
Flu. It is well.
Pist. The fig of Spain ! [Exit.
Flu. Very goot.
Gow. Why, thisisan arrant counterfeit rascal ;
I remember him now; a bawd, a cutpurse.
Flu. I '11 assure you, 'a uttered as prave 'ords
at the pridge as you shall see in a summer's
day. But it is very well ; what he has spoke
to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time
is serve
Gow. Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that
now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself,
at his return into London, under the form of a
soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the
great commanders' names : and they will learn
you by rote where services were done ; at such
and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a
convoy ; who came off bravely, who was shot,
who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on ;
and this they con perfectly in the phrase of
war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths :
and what a beard of the general's cut, and a
horrid suit of the camp, will do among foaming
bottles and ale-washed wits, is wonderful to be
thought on. But you must learn to know such
slanders of the age, or else you may be marvel-
lously mistook.
Flu. I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do
perceive he is not the man that lie would gladly
make show to the 'orld he is : if I find a hole
in his coat I will tell him my mind. [Drum
within.'] Hark you, the king is coming; and
I must speak with him from the pridge.
Enter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, and Soldiers.
Got bless your majesty !
K. Hen. How now, Fluellen ! cam'st thou
from the bridge?
Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke
of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the
pridge : the French is gone off, look you ; and
there is gallant and most prave passages : marry,
th' athversary was have possession of the pridge ;
but he is enforced to retire, and the Duke of
Exeter is master of the pridge : I can tell your
majesty the duke is a prave man.
K. Hen. What men have you lost, Fluellen?
Flu. The perdition of th' athversary hath been
very great, reasonable great : marry, for my part,
I think the duke hath lost never a man, but one
that is like to be executed for robbinga church,
one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man :
his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs,
and flames of fire; and his lips plows at his
nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes
plue and sometimes red; but his nose is exe-
cuted and his fire 's out.
K. Hen. We would have all such offenders
so cut off: and we give express charge that in
our marches through the country there be no-
thing compelled from the villages, nothing taken
but paid for, none of the French upbraided or
abused in disdainful language; for when len-
ity and cruelty play for a kingdom the gentler
gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket sounds. Enter MONTJO&I
Mont. You know me by my habit.
K. Hen. Well, then, I know thee: what
shall I know of thee?
Mont. My master's mind.
K. Hen. Unfold it.
Mont. Thus says my king: Say thou to
Harry of England : Though we seemed dead
we did but sleep ; advantage is a better soldier
than rashness. Tell him we could have re-
buked him at Harfleur, but that we thought not
good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe :
now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is
imperial: England shall repent his folly, see his
weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him,
therefore, consider of his ransom ; which must
proportion the losses we have borne, the sub-
jects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested ;
which, in weight to re-answer, his pettiness
would bow under. For our losses his exchequer
is too poor ; for the effusion of our blood the
548
KING HENRY V.
[ACT in.
muster of his kingdom too faint a number ; and
for our disgrace his own person, kneeling at our
feet, but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To
this add defiance : and tell him, for conclusion,
he hath betrayed his followers, whose condem-
nation is pronounced. So far my king and
master ; so much my office. [quality.
K. Hen. What is thy name? I know thy
Mont. Montjoy. [thee back,
K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn
And tell thy king, I do not seek him now ;
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment : for, to say the sooth,
Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,
My people are with sickness much enfeebled ;
My numbers lessen'd ; and those few I have
Almost no better than so many French ;
Who, when they were in health, I tell thee,
herald,
I thought upon one pair of English legs [God,
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me,
That I do brag thus ! this your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am ;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk ;
My army but a weak and sickly guard :
Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and such another
neighbour, [Montjoy.
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour,
Go, bid thy master well advise himself:
If we may pass, we will ; if we be hinder'd,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour : and so, Montjoy, fare you well.
The sum of ail our answer is but this :
We would not seek a battle as we are ;
Nor as we are, we say, we will not shun it :
So tell your master.
Mont. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your
highness. [Exit.
Glo. I hope they will not come upon us now.
K. Hen. We are in God's hand, brother, not
in theirs. [night :
March to the bridge; it now draws toward
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves;
And on to-morrow bid them march away.
\_Exeunt.
SCENE VI. The French Camp near Agtn-
court.
Enter the Constable of France, the LORD
RAMBURES, the DUKE OF ORLEANS, the
DAUPHIN, and others.
Con. Tut ! I have the best armour of the
woild. Would it were day!
Orl. You have an excellent armour ; but let
my horse have his due.
Con. It is the best horse of Europe.
Orl. Will it never be morning?
Dau. My Lord of Orleans and my lord high-
constable, you talk of horse and armour,
Orl. You are as well provided of both as any
prince in the world.
Dau. What a long night is this ! I will not
change my horse with any that treads but on
four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from the
earth as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval
volant, the Pegasus, qui a les nannes de feu\
When I bestride him I soar, I am a hawk : he
trots the air ; the earth sings when he touches
it ; the basest horn of his hoof is more musica\
than the pipe of Hermes.
Orl. He's of the colour of the nutmeg.
Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a
beast for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; and
the dull elements of earth and water never ap-
pear in him, but only in patient stillness while
his rider mounts him : he is indeed a horse ; and
all other jades you may call beasts.
Con. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute
and excellent horse.
Dau. It is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh
is like the bidding of a monarch, and his coun-
tenance enforces homage.
Orl. No more, cousin.
Dau. Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot,
from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the
lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey : it
is a theme as fluent as the sea ; turn the sands
into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argu-
ment for them all : 'tis a subject for a sovereign
to reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign to
ride on ; and for the world, familiar to us and
unknown, to lay apart their particular func-
tions and wonder at him. I once wrt a sonnet
in his praise, and began thus: Wonder of
nature,
Orl. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's
mistress.
Dau. Then did they imitate that which i
composed to my courser: for my horse is my
mistress.
Orl. You:: mistress bears well.
Dau. Me well ; which is the prescript praise
and perfection of a good and particular mistress.
Con. Nay, for methought yesterday your
mistress shrewdly shook your back.
Dau. So, perhaps, did yours.
Con. Mine was not bridled.
Dau. O, then, belike she was old and
gentle ; and you rode like a kern of Ireland,
your French hose off arid in your strait strossers.
SCENE VI.]
KING HENRY V.
549
Con. You have good judgment in horseman-
ship.
Dau. Be warned by me, then: they that
ride so, and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs.
I had rather have my horse to my mistress.
Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade.
Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress
wears his own hair.
Con. I could make as true a boast as that if
I had a sow to my mistress.
Dau. Le chien est retourne a son propre
vomissement, et la truie lavee au boiirbier: thou
makest use of anything.
Con. Yet do I not use my horse for my mis-
tress ; or any such proverb so little kin to the
purpose.
Ram. My lord constable, the armour that I
saw in your tent to-night, are those stars or
suns upon it?
Con. Stars, my lord. [hope.
Dau. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I
Con. And yet my sky shall not wanti>ijfV
Dau. That may be, for you bear a many
superfluously, and 'twere more honour some
were away.
Con. Even as your horse bears your praises ;
who would trot as well were some of your
brags dismounted.
Dau. Would I were able to load him with
his desert! Will it never be day? I will trot,
to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved
with English faces.
Con. I will not say so, for fear I should be
faced out of my way: but I would it were
morning ; for I would fain be about the ears of
the English.
Ram. Who will go to hazard with me for
twenty prisoners?
Con. You must first go yourself to hazard
ere you have them.
Dau. "Tis midnight ; I '11 go arm myself.
[Exit.
Or I. The Dauphin longs for morning.
Ram. He longs to eat the English.
Con. I think he will eat all he kills.
Orl. By the white hand of my lady, he 's a
gallant prince.
Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread
out the oath.
Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentle-
man of France.
Con. Doing is activity; and he will still be
doing.
Orl. He never did harm that I heard of.
Con. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will
keep that good name still.
Orl. I know him to be valiant
Con. I was told that by one that knows him
better than you.
Orl. What 'she?
Con. Marry, he told me so himself; and he
said he cared not who knew it.
Orl. He needs not ; it is no hidden virtue in
him.
Con. By my faith, sir, but it is ; never any-
body saw it but his lackey : 'tis a hooded valour
and when it appears it will bate.
Orl. Ill-will never said well.
Con. I will cap that proverb with There is
flattery in friendship.
Orl. And I will take up that with Give the
devil his due.
Con. Well placed : there stands your friend
for the devil : have at the very eye of that pro-
verb with A pox of the devil.
Orl. You are the better at proverbs by how
much A fool's bolt is soon shot.
Con. You have shot over.
Orl. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord high-constable, the English
lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents.
Con. Who hath measured the ground?
Mess. The Lord Grandpree.
Con. A valiant and most expert gentleman.
Would it were day ! Alas, poor Harry of Eng-
land ! he longs not for the dawning as we do.
Orl. What a wretched and peevish fellow is
this King of England, to mope with his fat-
brained followers so far out of his knowledge !
Con. If the English had any apprehension
they would run away.
Orl. That they lack ; for if their heads had
any intellectual armour they could never wear
such heavy head-pieces.
Ram. That island of England breeds very
valiant creatures ; their mastiffs are of unmatch-
able courage.
Orl. Foolish curs, that run winking into the
mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads
crushed like rotten apples ! You may as well
say, that 's a valiant flea that dare eat his break-
fast on the lip of a lion.
Con. Just, just ; and the men do sympathize
with the mastiffs in robustious and rough com-
ing-on, leaving their wits with their wives : and
then give them great meals of beef, and iron and
steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like
devils. [of beef.
Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out
Con. Then shall we find to-morrow they have
only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now
is it time to arm : come, shall we about it?
55
KING HENRY V.
[ACT iv.
Orl. It is now two o'clock : but, let me see,
by ten
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
[Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
Chor. Now entertain conjecture of a time
When creeping murmur and the poring dark
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
From camp to camp, through the foul womb of
night
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch :
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face :
Steal threatens steed, in high and boastful
neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tents
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation :
The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers and secure in soul.
The confident and over- lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice ;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned
English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger ; and their gesture sad
Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon [hold
So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will be-
The royal captain of this ruin'd band [tent,
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to
Let him cry, Praise and glory on his head !
For forth he goes and visits all his host;
Bids them good-morrow with a modest smile,
And calls them brothers, friends, and country-
men.
Upon his royal face there is no note
How dread an army hath enrounded him ;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night;
But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks :
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all ,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the night :
And so our scene must to the battle fly ;
Where, O for pity ! we shall much disgrace
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill-dispos'd in brawl ridiculous,
The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see ;
Minding true things by what their mockeries
be. [Exit.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. FRANCE. The English Camp at
Agincourt.
Enter KING HENRY, BEDFORD, and
GLOSTER.
K. Hen. Gloster, 'tis true that We are in
great danger;
The greater therefore should our courage be.
Good-morrow, brother Bedford. God Al-
mighty !
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out ;
For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful and good husbandry :
Besides, they are our outward consciences
And preachers to us all : admonishing
That we should dress us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
And make a moral of the devil himself.
M" \ ' ' r L 4* ff* T /r f -4 r ' i4
Enter ERPINGHAM V
Good-morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham :
A good soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turf of France.
Erp. Not so, my liege : this lodging likes me
better,
Since I may say, Now lie I like a king.
K. Hen. 'Tis good for men to love their pre-
sent pains
Upon example ; so the spirit is eas'd :
And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt
The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move
With casted slough and fresh legerity, [both,
Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers
Commend me to the princes in our camp ;
Do my good -morrow to them ; and anon
Desire them all to my pavilion.
Glo. We shall, my liege.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and BEDFORD.
Erp. Shall I attend your grace?
K. Hen. No, my good knight ;
Go with my brothers to my lords of England :
I and my bosom must debate awhile,
And then I would no other company.
Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble
Harry! [Exit.
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY V.
55'
Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart ! thou
speak'st cheerfully.
.H 3--.of
Enter PISTOL.
Pist. Quivala?
K. Hen. A friend.
Pist. Discuss unto me ; art thou officer ?
Or art thou base, common, and popular ?
K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company.
Pist. Trail'st thou the puissant pike ?
K. Hen. Even so. What are you ?
Pist. As good a gentleman as the emperor.
K. Hen. Then you are a better than the king.
Pist. The king 's a bawcock and a heart of
gold,
A lad of life, an imp of fame ;
Of parents good, of fist most valiant :
I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings
I love the lovely bully. What is thy name ?
K. Hen. Harry le Roi.
Pist. Le Roy ! a Cornish name : art thou of
Cornish crew?
K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman.
Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen ?
K. Hen. Yes. [his pate
Pist. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about
Upon Saint Davy's day.
K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in
your cap that day, lest he knock that about
yours.
Pist. Art thou his friend?
K. Hen. And his kinsman too.
Pist. The/ro for thee, then !
K. Hen. I thank you : God be with you !
Pist. My name is Pistol called. [Exit.
K. Hen. It sorts well with your fierceness.
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER, severally.
Gow. Captain Fluellen !
Flu. So! in the name of Cheshu Christ, speak
fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the uni-
versal 'orld when the true and auncient prero-
gatifs and laws of the wars is not kept : if you
would take the pains but to examine the wars
of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant
you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-
pabble in Pompey 's camp ; I warrant you, you
shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the
cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety
of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
Gow. Why, the enemy is loud ; you hear him
all night.
Flu. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and
a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that
we should also, look you, be an ass, and a
fool, and a prating coxcomb, in your own
conscience, now?
Gow. I will speak lower.
Flu. I pray you and peseech you that you will.
[Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN.
K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of
fashion,
There is much care and valour in this Welshman.
Enter BATES, COURT, wfcf WILLIAMS.
Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the
morning which breaks yonder ?
Bates. I think it be : but we have no great
cause to desire the approach of day.
Will. We see yonder the beginning of the
day, but I think we shall never see the end of
it. Who goes there?
K. Hen. A friend.
Will. Under what captain serve you ?
K. Hen. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
Will. A good old commander and a most
kind gentleman : I pray you, what thinks he
of our estate ?
K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand,
that look to be washed off the next tide.
Bates. He hath not told his thought to the
king?
K. Hen. No ; nor it is not meet he should.
For though I speak it to you, I think the king
is but a man as I am : the violet smells to him
as it doth to me ; the element shows to him as
it doth to me ; all his senses have but human
conditions : his ceremonies laid by, in his naked-
ness he appears but a man ; and though his
affections are higher mounted than ours, yet,
when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing.
Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we
do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish
as ours are : yet, in reason, no man should
possess him with any appearance of fear, lest
he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.
Bates. He may show what outward courage
he will ; but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis,
he could wish himself in the Thames up to the
neck ; and so I would he were, and I by him,
at all adventures, so we were quit here.
K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my con-
science of the king : I think he would not wish
himself anywhere but where he is.
Bates. Then I would he were here alone ; so
should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many
poor men's lives saved.
K. Hen. I dare say you love him not so ill,
to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak
this, to feel other men's minds : methinks I
could not die anywhere so contented as in the
king's company, his cause being just and his
quarrel honourable.
Will. That's more than we know.
552
KING HENRY V.
[ACT TV,
Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek
after ; for we know enough if we know we are
the king's subjects : if his cause be wrong, our
obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out
of us.
Will. But if the cause be not good, the king
himself hath a heavy reckoning to make when
all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off
in a battle, shall join together at the latter day
and cry all, We died at such a place; some
swearing; some crying for a surgeon ; some upon
their wives left poor behind them ; some upon
the debts they owe ; some upon their children
rawly left. I am afeared there are few die well
that die in a battle ; for how can they charitably
dispose of anything when blood is their argu-
ment ? Now, if these men do not die well, it
will be a black matter for the king that led
them to it ; who to disobey were against all
proportion of subjection.
K. Hen. So if a son, that is by his father
sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry
upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness,
by your rule, should be imposed upon his father
that sent him : or if a servant, under his mas-
ter's command, transporting a sum of money, be
assailed by robbers, and die in many irrecon-
ciled iniquities, vou may call the business of the
master the author of the servant's damnation :
but this is not so : the king is not bound to
answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the
father of his son, nor the master of his servant ;
for they purpose not their death when they
purpose their services. Besides, there is no
king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come
to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with
all unspotted soldiers: some perad venture have
on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived
murder ; some of beguiling virgins with the
broken seals of perjury; some making the wars
their bulwark that have before gored the gentle
bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now,
if these men have defeated the law and outrun
native punishment, though they can outstrip men
they have no wings to fly from God : war is his
beadle, war is his vengeance ; so that here men
are punished for before-breach of the king's
laws in now the king's quarrel : where they
feared the death they have borne life away ; and
where they would be safe they perish : then if
they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty
of their damnation than he was before guilty of
those impieties for the which they are now
visited. Every subject's duty is the king's ; but
every subject's soul is his own. Therefore
should every soldier in the wars do as every sick
man in his bed, wash every mote out of his
conscience : and dying so, death is to him ad-
vantage ; or not dying, the time was blessedly
lost wherein such preparation was gained : and
in him that escapes it were not sin to think that,
making God so free an offer, he let him outlive
that day to see his greatness, and to teach
others how they should prepare.
Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill,
the ill upon his own head, the king is not to
answer for it.
Bales. I do not desire he should answer for
me ; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
K. Hen. I myself heard the king say he
would not be ransomed.
Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight
cheerfully : but when our throats are cut he
may be ransomed, and we ne'er the wiser.
K. Hen. If I live to see it I will never trust
his word after.
Will. You pay him then ! That 's a perilous
shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a
private displeasure can do against a monarch !
you may as well go about to turn the sun to
ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's
feather. You '11 never trust his word after !
come, 'tis a foolish saying.
K. Hen. Your reproof is something too
round : I should be angry with you if the time
were convenient. '
Will. Let it be a quarrel between us if you
live.
K. Hen. I embrace it.
Will. How shall I know thee again ?
K. Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and I
will wear it in my bonnet : then, if ever thou
darest acknowledge it I will make it my quarrel.
Will, Here 's my glove : give me another of
thine.
K. Hen. There.
Will. This will I also wear in my cap : if
ever thou come to me and say, after to-morrow,
This is my glove, by this hand I will take thee
a box on the ear. [lenge it.
K. Hen. If ever I live to see it I will chal-
Will. Thou darest as well be hanged.
K. Hen. Well, I will do it though I take
thee in the king's company.
Will. Keep thy word : fare thee well.
Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be
friends : we have French quarrels enow, if you
could tell how to reckon.
K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty
French crowns to one they will beat us ; for they
bear them on their shoulders: but it is no English
treason to cut French crowns ; and to-morrow
the king himself will be a clipper.
\Exeunt Soldiers.
SCENE I.]
KING
V.
553
Upon the king ! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and
Our sins lay on the King ! We must bear all.
O hard condition, twin-born with greatness,
Subject to the breath of every fool, [ing !
Whose sense no more can feel but his own wring-
What infinite heart's-ease must kings neglect
That private men enjoy !
And what have kings that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony ?
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer' st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers ?
What are thy rents ? what are thy comings-in ?
ceremony, show me but thy worth !
What is thy soul of adoration ?
Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men ?
Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
Than they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage
sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great great-
ness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure !
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation ?
Will It give place to flexure and low bending ?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's
knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud
dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose :
1 am a king that find thee ; and I know
Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave
Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell ;
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium ; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse ;
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave :
And but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it ; but in gross brain little wots
What watch the king keeps to maintain the
peace
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.
Enter ERPINGHAM.
Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your
absence,
Seek through your camp to find you.
K. Hen. Good old knight.
Collect them all together at my tent :
I '11 be before thee.
Erp. I shall do 't, my lord. [Exit.
K. Hen. O God of battles 1 steel my soldiers'
hearts;
Possess them not with fear ; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them ! Not to-day, O
Lord,
O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown !
I Richard's body have interred new,
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears
Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood :
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have
built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. My liege!
K. Hen. My brother Gloster's voice ? Ay ;
I know thy errand, I will go with thee :
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
\Rxeunt.
SCENE II. The French Camp.
Enter DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and
others*
Orl. The sun doth gild our armour ; up, my
lords!
Dau. Montez a cheval! My horse ! v arlet^
laquais! ha!
Orl. O brave spirit !
Dau. Via ! les eaux et la terre^
Orl. Rienpuis ? Fair et lefeu,
Dau. Ciel! cousin Orleans.
Enter Constable.
Now, my lord constable !
Con. Hark, how our steeds for present ser-
vice neigh I
554
KING HENRY V.
[ACT IV.
Dau. Mount them, and make incision in
their hides,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And dout them with superfluous courage, ha !
Ram. What, will you have them weep our
horses' blood?
Ho\\ shall we, then, behold their natural tears?
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The English are embattled, you French
peers.
Oon. To horse, you gallant princes ! straight
to horse !
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair show shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands ;
Scarce blood enough in all their sicidy veins
To give each naked curtle-axe a stain,
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheathe for lack of sport : let, us but blow
on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them,
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants,
Who in unnecessary action swarm
About our squares of battle, were enow
To purge this field of such a hilding foe ;
Though we upon this mountain's basis by
Took stand for idle speculation,
But that our honours must not. What 's to say?
A very little little let us do,
And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound
The tucket-sonance and the note to mount :
For our approach shall so much dare the field
That England shall couch down in fear and yield.
Enter GRANDPREE.
Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords
of France?
Yond island carrions, desperate of then- bones,
Ill-favouredly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully :
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar 'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps :
The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks**
With torch-staves in their hand ; and their poor
jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and
hips,
Thegjum down-ropingfrom their pale-dead eyes,
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmel-bit
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless;
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words
To demonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
Con. They have said their prayers and they
stay for death. [fresh suits,
Dau. Shall we go send them dinners and
And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them? [field !
Con. I stay but for my guidon: to the
I will the banner from a trumpet take,
And use it for my haste. Come, come, away!
The sun is high, and we outwear the day.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. The English Camp.
Enter the English Host; GLOSTER, BEDFORD,
EXETER, SALISBURY, and WESTMORE-
LAND.
Glo. Where is the king?
Bed. The king himself is rode to view their
battle.
West. Of fighting men they have full three-
score thousand. [fresh.
Exe. There 's five to one ; besides, they all are
Sal. God's arm strike with us ! 'tis a fearful
odds.
God b' wi' you, princes all; I '11 to my charge t
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Gloster, and my good Lord
Exeter,
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu !
Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good
luck go with thee ! [day :
Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.
[Exit SALISBURY.
Bed* He is as full of valour as of kindness ;
Princely in both.
West. O that we now had here
Enter KING HENRY.
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day !
K. Hen. What 's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss ; and if to live,
The fewer men the greater share of honour.
God's will ! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold ;
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear ;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
SCENE III.]
KING HENRY V.
555
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace ! I would not lose so great an
honour, [me,
As one man more, methinks, would share from
For the best hope I have. O do not wish one
more ! [host,
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart ; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse :
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian :
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, To-morrow is Saint Crispian :
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Old men forget ; yet all shall be forgot,
But he '11 remember with advantages [names,
What feats he did that day: then shall our
Familiar in their mouths as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son ;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition :
And gentlemen in England now a-bed [here,
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not
And hold their manhoods cheap while any
speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Re-enter SALISBURY.
.-iC'l--- .W0:i-
Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself
with speed :
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
K. Hen. All things are ready if our minds
be so.
West. Perish the man whose mind is back-
ward now!
K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from
England, coz?
West. God's will ! my liege, would you and
I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle !
K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five
thousand men ;
Which likes me better than to wish us one.
You know your places : God be with you all !
Tucket. Enter MONTJOY.
Mont. Once more I come to know of thee,
King Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow :
For certainly thou art so near the gulf
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in
mercy,
The constable desires thee thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance ; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off these fields, where, wretches, their
poor bodies
Must lie and fester.
K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now?
Mont. The constable of France. [back:
K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer
Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones.
Good God ! why should they mock poor
fellows thus?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast liv'd was kill'd with hunting
him.
A many of our bodies shall no doubt
Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work :
And those that leave their valiant bones in
France, [hills,
Dying like men, though buried in your dung-
They shall be fam'd ; for there the sun shall
greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven,
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in
France.
Mark, then, abounding valour in our English,
That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality.
Let me speak proudly : tell the constable
We are but warriors for the working-day ;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field ;
There 's not a piece of feather in our host,
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly,
And time hath worn us into slovenry :
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim ;
And my poor soldiers tell me yet ere night
They '11 be in fresher robes ; or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers'
heads, [this,
And turn them out of service. If they do
KING HENRY V.
[ACT iv.
As, if God please, they shall, my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy
labour ;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald :
They shall have none, I swear, but these my
joints,
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.
Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so, fare
thee well :
Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit.
K. Hen. I fear thou wilt once more come
again for ransom.
Enter the DUKE OF YORK.
York. My Lord, most humbly on my knee
I beg
The leading of the vaward.
K. Hen. Take it, brave York. Now,
soldiers, march away :
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day !
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The Field of Battle.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter French Soldier,
PISTOL, and Boy.
Pist. Yield, cur !
Fr. Sol. Je pense que vous foes le gentil-
homme de bonne qualite.
Pist. Quality ! Callino, castore me ! art thou
a gentleman ? what is thy name ? discuss.
Fr. Sol. Seigneur Dieu !
Pist. O, Signieur Dew should be a gentle-
man:
Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and
mark ;
O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,
Except, O Signieur, thou do give to me
Egregious ransom.
Fr. Sol. prennez misericorde ! ayez pitie
de moil
Pist. Moy shall not serve ; I will have forty
moys;
Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat
In drops of crimson blood.
Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible d'echapper la force
de ton bras ?
Pist. Brass, cur !
Thou damned and luxurious mountain-goat,
Ofier'st me brass?
Fr. Sol. O pardonnez-moil [moys?
Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of
Come hither, boy : ask me this slave in French
What is his name.
Boy. Ecoutez: comment etes-vous appeU?
Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.
Boy. He says his name is Master Fer.
Pist. Master Fer ! I '11 fer him, andfirk him,
and ferret him : discuss the same in French
unto him.
Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and
ferret, and firk.
Pist. Bid him prepare; for I will cut his
throat.
Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur?
Boy. II me commande de vous dire que vous
faites vous prt; car ce soldat id est dispose tout
a cette heure de couper votre gorge.
Pist. Out, coupe la gorge, par mafoi, pesant,
Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns ;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
Fr. Sol. 0, je vous supplie, pour F amour de
Dieu, me pardonnerl Je suis gentilhomme de
bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et ie vous don-
nerai deux cents ecus.
Pist. What are his words?
Boy. He prays you to save his life : he is a
gentleman of a good house ; and for his ransom
he will give you two hundred crowns.
Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I
The crowns will take.
Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
Boy. Encore qrfil est contre sonjurement da
pardonner aucun prisonnier, neanmoins, pour
les ecus que vous Favez promts, il est content de
vous donner la liberte, le franchisement.
Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille
remercimens ; et je nfestime heureux queje suis
tomb entre les mains dun chevalier, je pense, le
plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue seigneur
a" Angleterre.
Pist. Expound unto me, boy.
Boy- He gives you, upon his knees, a thou-
sand thanks ; and he esteems himself happy that
he hath fallen into the hands of one, as he
thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-
worthy signieur of England.
Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy
show. Follow me ! [Exit.
Boy. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. [Exit
French Soldier.] I did never know so full a
voice issue from so empty a heart : but the saying
is true, the empty vessel makes the greatest
sound. Bardolph and Nym had ten times more
valour than this roaring devil i' the old play, that
every one may pare his nails with a wooden
dagger ; and they are both hanged ; and so would
this be if he durst steal anything adventurously.
I must stay with the lackeys, with the luggage
of our camp : the French might have a good prey
of us if he knew of it ; for there is none to guard
it but boys. [Exit,
SCENE V.]
KING HENRY V.
557
SCENE V. Another part of the Field of Battle.
Alarums. Enter DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, BOUR-
BON, Constable, RAMBURES, and others.
Con. O diable!
Orl. O seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est
perdu!
Dau. Mortde ma vie! all is confounded, all !
Reproach and everlasting shame \tune!
Sits mocking in our plumes. O mechante for-
Do not run away. \_A short alarum.
Con. Why, all our ranks are broke.
Dau. O perdurable shame ! let 's stab our-
selves, [for?
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice
Orl. Is this the king we sent to for his
ransom? [but shame!
Bour. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing
Let us die in honour : once more back again ;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand,
Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated. [now !
Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives
Unto these English, or else die with fame.
Orl. We are enow yet living in the field
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.
Bour. The devil take order now ! I '11 to the
throng :
Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
{Exeunt.
SCENE VI. Another part of the Field.
Alarums. Enter KING HENRY and Forces,
EXETER, and others.
K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice- valiant
countrymen : [field.
But all's not done; yet keep the French the
Exe. The Duke of York commends him to
your majesty.
K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice within
this hour
I saw him down ; thrice up again, and fighting ;
From helmet to the spur all blood he was.
Exe. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie
Larding the plain ; and by his bloody side,
Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
Suffolk first died : and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard ; kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face ;
And cries aloud, Tarry, dear cousin Suffolkl
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry i sweet sou/, for mine t thenfiy a-breast;
As in this glorious and ivell-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry!
Upon these words I came and cheer 'd him up :
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble grip, says, Dear my lord.
Commend my service to my sovereign.
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, a.id kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood be seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me which I would have
stopp'd ;
But I had not so much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.
K. Hen. iou I blame you not;
For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue txxn-'ifis.
\Alarutn,
But, hark ! what new alarum is this same?
The French have reinforc'd their scattered
men :
Then every soldier kill his prisoners ;
Give the word through. \ExtunL
.^nJ6n.Jii 302x3
SCENE Nil. Another part of the Field.
Alarums. Enter FLU ELLEN and COWER.
Flu. Kill the poys and the luggage ! 'tis ex-
pressly against the law of arms : 'tis as arrant a
piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be
offered; in your conscience, now, is it not?
Gow. 'Tis certain there 's not a boy left alive ;
and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle
have done this slaughter: besides, they have
burned and carried away all that was in the
king's tent ; wherefore the king, most worthily,
hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoners
throat. O, 'tis a gallant king !
Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain
Gower. What .call you the town's name where
Alexander the pig was porn?
Gow. Alexander the Great.
Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig great? the
pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or
the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save
the phrase is a little variations.
Gow. I think Alexander the Great was born
in Macedon: his father was called Philip of
Macedon, as I take iL
Flu. I think it is in Macedon where Alex-
ander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look
in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you shall
558
KING HENRY V.
[ACT iv.
find, in the comparisons between Macedon and
Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both
alike. There is a river in Macedon ; and there
is also moreover a river at Monmouth : it is
called Wye at Monmouth ; but it is out of my
prains what is the name of the other river ; but
'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my
fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you
mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Mon-
mouth's life is come after it indifferent well ; for
there is figures in all things. Alexander, Got
knows, and you know, in his rages, and his
furies, and his wraths, and his cholers, and his
moods, and his displeasures, and his indigna-
tions, and also being a little intoxicates in his
prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look you,
kill his pest friend, Clytus.
Gow. Our king is not like him in that : he
never killed any of his friends.
Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to
take the tales out of my mouth ere it is made
and finished. I speak but in the figures and
comparisons of it : as Alexander is kill his friend
Clytus, being in his ales and his cups ; so also
Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and
his goot judgments, turned away the fat knight
with the great pelly-doublet : he was full of jests,
and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have
forgot his name.
Gow. Sir John Falstaff.
Flu. That is he : I can tell you there is goot
men porn at Monmouth.
Gow. Here comes his majesty.
Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, with a part of
the English Forces; WARWICJC, GLOSTER,
EXETER, and others.
K. Hen. I was not angry since I came to
France
Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald;
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill :
If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
Or void the field ; they do offend our sight :
If they '11 do neither, we will come to them,
And make them skirr away as sv.ift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings :
Besides, we '11 cut the throats of those we have ;
And not a man of them that we shall take
Shall taste our mercy : go and tell them so.
Exe. Here comes the herald of the French,
my liege. [be.
Glo. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to
Enter MoNTjov.
K. Hen. How now ! what means this, herald ?
know'st thou not
That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom?
Com'st thou again for ransom?
Mont. No, great king:
I come to thee for charitable license,
That we may wander o'er this bloody field
To book our dead, and then to bury them ;
To sort our nobles from our common men ;
For many of our princes, woe the while !
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood ;
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes ; and their wounded steeds
Fret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rage
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
Of their dead bodies !
K. Hen. I tell thee truly, herald,
I know not if the day be ours or no ;
For yet a many of your horsemen peer
And gallop o'er the field.
Mont. The day is yours.
K. Hen. Praised be God, and not our strength,
for it !
What is this castle call'd that stands hard by?
Mont. They call it Agincourt. [court,
K. Hen. Then call we this the field of Agin-
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.
Flu. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't
please your majesty, and your great-uncle Ed-
ward the Plack Prince of Wales, as I have read
in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle
here in France.
K. Hen. They did, Fluellen.
Flu. Your majesty says very true: if your
majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen
did goot service in a garden where leeks did
grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps ;
which, your majesty knows, to this hour is an
honourable padge of the service ; and I do pe-
lieve your majesty takes no scorn to wear the
leek upon Saint Tavy's day.
K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable honour ;
For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.
Flu. All the water in Wye cannot wash your
majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can
tell you that : Got pless it and preserve it as long
as it pleases his grace and his majesty too !
K. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman.
Flu. By Cheshu, I am your majesty's country-
man, I care not who know it; I will confess it
to all the 'orld : I need not be ashamed of your
majesty, praised be Got, so long as your majesty
is an honest man. [with him :
K. Hen. God keep me so ! Our heralds go
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.
[Points to WILL. Exetwst MONT. andotJurs.
SCENE VII.]
KING HENRY V.
559
Exe. Soldier, you must come to the king.
K. Hen. Soldier, why wearest thou that glove
in thy cap?
Will. An 't please your majesty, 'tis the gage
of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive.
K. Hen. An Englishman?
Will. An 't please your majesty, a rascal that
swaggered with me last night ; who, if alive and
ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn
to take him a box o' the ear : or if I can see my
glove in his cap, which he swore, as he was a
soldier, he would wear if alive, I will strike it
out soundly.
K. Hen. What think you, Captain Fluellen?
is it fit this soldier keep his oath ?
Flu. He is a craven and a villain else, an 't
please your majesty, in my conscience.
K. Hen. It may be his enemy is a gentleman
of great sort, quite from the answer of his de-
gree.
Flu. Though he be as goot a gentleman as the
tevil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is
necessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow
and his oath : if he be perjured, see you now,
his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack
sauce as ever his plack shoe trod upon Got's
ground and his earth, in my conscience, la.
K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when
thou meetest the fellow.
Will. So I will, my liege, as I live.
K. Hen. Who servest thou under?
Will. Under Captain Gower, my liege.
Flu. Gower is a goot captain, and is goot
knowledge and literatured in the wars.
K. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier.
Will. I will, my liege. [Exit.
K. Hen. Here, Fluellen ; wear thou this
favour for me, and stick it in thy cap: when
Alen9on and myself were down together I
pluck'd this glove from his helm : if any man
challenge this, he is a friend to Alen9on and an
enemy to our person ; if thou encounter any such,
apprehend him, an thou dost love me.
Flu. Your grace does me as great honours as
can be desired in the hearts of his subjects: I
would fain see the man that has but two legs
that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove,
that is all ; but I would fain see it once, and
please Got of his grace that I might see it.
K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower?
Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you.
K. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring
him to my tent.
Flu. I will fetch him. [Exit.
K. Hen. My Lord of Warwick and my brother
Gloster,
Follow Fluellen closely at the heels :
The glove which I have given him for a favour
May haply purchase him a box o' the ear;
It is the soldier's; I, by bargain, should
Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick:
If that the soldier strike him, as I judge
By his blunt bearing he will keep his word,
Some sudden mischief may arise of it ;
For I do know Fluellen valiant,
And, touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder,
And quickly will return an injury: [them.
Follow, and see there be no harm between
Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. [Exeunt*
a/-. .*\ >; i
"iOI l&WcftS
SCENE VIII. Before KING HENRY'S Pavilion.
Enter GOWER and WILLIAMS.
Will. I warrant it is to knight you, captain.
Enter FLUELLEN.
Flu. Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I
peseech you now, come apace to the king : there
is more goot toward you peradventure than is in
your knowledge to dream of.
Will. Sir, know you this glove? [glove.
Flu. Know the glove ! I know the glove is a
Will. I know this; and thus I challenge it
[Strikes hint.
Flu. 'Sblood, an arrant traitor as any 's in the
universal 'orld, or in France, or in England I
Gow. How now, sir ! you villain !
Will. Do you think I *11 be forsworn?
Flu. Stand away, Captain Gower ; I will give
treason his payment into plows, I warrant you.
Will. I am no traitor.
Flu. That 's a lie in thy throat. I charge
you in his majesty's name, apprehend him : he 's
a friend of the Duke Alenon's.
Enter WARWICK and GLOSTER.
War. How now, how now! what's the
matter?
Flu. My Lord of Warwick, here is, praised
be Got for it ! a most contagious treason come
to light, look you, as you shall desire in a
summer's day. Here is his majesty.
Enter KING HENRY and EXETER.
K. Hen. I low now ! what's the matter?
Flu. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor,
that, look your grace, has struck the glove which
your majesty is takeout of the helmet of Alenc,on.
Will. My liege, this was my glove ; here is
the fellow of it ; and he that I gave it to in
change promised to wear it in his cap : I pro-
mised to strike him if he did : I met this man
5 6o
KING HENRY V.
[ACT IV.
with my glove in his cap, and I have been as
good as my word.
Flu. Your majesty hear now, saving your
majesty's manhood, what an arrant, rascally,
beggarly, lousy knave it is : I hope your majesty
is pear me testimony and witness, and will
avouchment, this is the glove of Ale^on that
your majesty is give me, in your conscience, now.
K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier: look,
here is the fellow of it.
'Twas I, indeed, thou promisedst to strike ;
And thou hast given me most bitter terms.
Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck
answer for it if there is any martial law in the
'orld. [tion?
K. Hen. How canst thou make me satisfac-
Will. All offences, my liege, come from the
heart: never came any from mine that might
offend your majesty.
K. Hen. It was ourself thou didst abuse.
Will. Your majesty came not like yourself:
you appeared to me but as a common man ;
witness the night, your garments, your lowli-
ness; and what your highness suffered under
that shape I beseech you take it for your own
fault, and not mine : for had you been as I took
you for, I made no offence ; therefore, I beseech
your highness, pardon me.
K. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove
with crowns,
And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow;
And wear it for an honour in thy cap
Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns:
And, captain, you must needs be friends with
him.
Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow
has mettle enough in his pelly : hold, there is
twelve pence for you ; and I pray you to serve
Got, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles,
and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant
you, it is the petter for you.
Will. I will none of your money.
Flu. It is with a goot will ; I can tell you it
will serve you to msnd your shoes: come,
wherefore should you be so pashful ? your shoes
is not so goot : 'tis a goot silling, I warrant you,
or I will change it.
Enter an English Herald.
K. Hen. Now, herald, are the dead num-
ber'd?
Her. Here is the number of the slaughter'd
French. [Delivers a paper.
K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are
taken, uncle? [king;
Ext. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the
John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt :
Of other lords and barons, knights and squires.
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
K. Hen. This note doth tell me of ten
thousand French [number,
That in the field lie slain : of princes, in this
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty-six : added to these,
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred ; of the which
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights :
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries ;
The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights,
squires,
And gentlemen of blood and quality.
The names of those their nobles that lie dead,
Charles De-la-bret, high-constable of France ;
Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France ;
The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures;
Great-master of France, the brave Sir Guischard
Dauphin ; [bant,
John Duke of Alen9on ; Antony Duke of Bra-
The brother to the Duke of Burgundy ;
And Edward Duke of Bar : of lusty earls,
Grandpree and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix,
Beaumont and Marie, Vaudemont and Lestrale.
Here was a royal fellowship of death !
Where is the number of our English dead?
[Herald presents another papef.
Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire :
None else of name ; and of all other men
But five-and-twenty. O God, thy arm was here;
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
Ascribe we all ! When, without stratagem,
But in plain shock and even play of battle,
Was ever known so great and little loss
On one part and on the other ? Take it, God,
For it is none but thine 1
Exe. 'Tis wonderful !
K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the
village :
And be it death proclaimed through our host
To boast of this, or take that praise from God
Which is his only.
Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty,
to tell how many is killed ?
K. Hen. Yes, captain ; but with this acknow-
ledgment,
That God fought for us,
Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot.
K. Hen. Do we all holy rites :
Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum;
The dead with charity enclos'd in clay :
We '11 then to Calais ; and to England then ;
Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy
men. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.]
KING HENRY V.
561
Enter Chorus.
Chor. Vouchsafe to those that have not read
the story,
That I may prompt t^em : and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and
boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-
mouth'd sea,
Which, like a mighty whiffler, 'fore the king
Seems to prepare his way : so let him land ;
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath ;
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword
Before him through the city : he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious
pride ;
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent,
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of
thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens !
The mayor and all his brethren, in best sort,
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,
Go forth, and fetch their conquering Csesar in :
As, by a lower but by loving likelihood,
Were now the general of our gracious em-
press,-
As in good time he may, from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit
To welcome him ! much more, and much more
cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place
him;
As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the King of England's stay at home ;
The emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them ; and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd,
Till Harry's back-return again to France :
There must we bring him; and myself have
pla/d
The interim, by remembering you 'tis past.
Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance,
After your thoughts, straight back again to
France. [Exit.
ACT V.
SCENE L FRANCE. An English Court of
Guar*.
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER.
Gow. Nay, that 's right ; but why wear
you your leek to-day? Saint Davy's day is
past.
Flu. There is occasions and causes why and
wherefore in all things : I will tell you, as my
friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, scald,
peggarly, lousy, praggmg knave, Pistol, which
you and yourself, and all the 'orld, know to be
no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no
merits, he is come to me, and prings me pread
and salt yesterday, look you, and pid me eat
my leek : it was in a place where I could not
preed no contention with him ; but I will be so
pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once
again, and then I will tell him a little piece of
my desires.
Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a
turkey-cock.
Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his
turkey-cocks.
Enter PISTOL.
Got pless you, Auncient Pistol! you scurvy,
lousy knave, Got pless you !
Pist. Ha ! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst,
base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence ! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy
knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my
petitions, to eat, look you, this leek : because,
look you, you do not love it, nor your affec-
tions, and your appetites, and your digestions,
does not agree with it, I would desire you to
eat it.
Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes
him.] Will you be so goot, scald knave, as
eat it?
Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when
Got's will is : I will desire you to live in the
meantime and eat your victuals : come, there is
sauce for it. [Striking him again.] You called
me yesterday mountain-squire ; but I will make
you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you,
fall to : if you can mock a leek you can eat a
leek.
Gow. Enough, captain : you have astonished
him.
5 62
KING HENRY V,
[ACT v.
Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of
my leek, or I will peat his pate four days. Pite,
I pray you ; it is goot for your green wound and
your ploody coxcomb.
Pist. Must I bite?
Flu. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and
out of question too, and ambiguities.
Pist. By this leek, I will most horribly re-
venge : I eat, and eke, I swear
Flu. Eat, I pray you: will you have some
more sauce to your leek? there is not enough
leek to swear by.
Pist. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I
eat.
Flu. Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily.
Nay, pray you, throw none away; the skin is
goot for your proken coxcomb. When you take
occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you,
mock at 'em ; that is all.
Pist. Good.
Flu. Ay, leeks is goot : hold you, there is a
groat to heal your pate.
Pist. Me a groat !
Flu. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take
it ; or I have another leek in my pocket which
you shall eat.
Pist. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
Flu. If I owe you anything I will pay you in
cudgels : you shall be a woodmonger, and buy
nothing of me but cudgels. God b* wi' you,
and keep you, and heal your pate. [Exit.
Pist. All hell shall stir for this.
Gow. Go, go ; you are a counterfeit cowardly
knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition,
begun upon an honourable respect, and worn
as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour,
and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your
words ? I have seen you gleeking and galling
at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought,
because he could not speak English in the
native garb, he could not therefore handle an
English cudgel: you find it otherwise; and
henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you
a good English condition. Fare ye well.
[Exit.
Pist. Doth Fortune play the huswife with
me now?
News have I that my Nell is dead i' the spital
Of malady of France ;
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax ; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd will I turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I '11 steal :
And patches will I get unto these scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.
[Exit.
SCENE II. TROVES in Champagne.
An Apartment in the FRENCH KING'S Palace.
Enter at one door, KING HENRY, BEDFORD,
GLOSTER, EXETER, WARWICK, WESTMORE-
LAND, and other Lords ; at another, the
FRENCH KING, QUEEN ISABEL, the PRIN-
CESS KATHARINE, Lords, Ladies, &c. t the
DUKE OF BURGUNDY, and his Train.
K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore
we are met !
Unto our brother France, and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day ; joy and good
wishes [ine ;
To our most fair and princely cousin Kathar-
And, as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,
We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy ;
And, princes French, and peers, health to you
all ! [your face,
Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold
Most worthy brother England ; fairly met :
So are you, princes English, every one.
Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother
England,
Of this good day and of this gracious meeting
As we are now glad to behold your eyes ;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks :
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality ; and that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.
K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
Q. Isa. YouEnglishprincesall,Idosaluteyou.
Biir. My duty to you both, on equal love.
Great Kings of France and England ! That I
have labour'd [ours,
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeav-
To bring your most imperial majesties
Unto this bar and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd
That face to face and royal eye to eye
You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub or what impediment there is
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not, in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
Alas, she hath from France too long been chas'd !
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd,
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY V.
563
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs ; her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory
Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts,
That should deracinate such savagery ;
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled coM'slip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility. [hedges,
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness,
Even so our houses and ourselves and children
Have lost, or do not learn for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country ;
But grow, like savages, as soldiers will,
That nothing do but meditate on blood,
To swearing and stern looks, diffus'd attire,
And everything that seems unnatural.
Which to reduce into our former favour
You are assembl'd : and my speech entreats
That I may know the let why gentle Peace
Should not expel these inconveniences,
And bless us with her former qualities.
K. Hen. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would
the peace
Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
With full accord to all our just demands ;
Whose tenors and particular effects
You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands.
Bur. The king hath heard them; to the
which as yet
There is no answer made.
K. Hen. Well, then, the peace
Which you before so urg'd lies in his answer.
Fr. King. I have but with a cursory eye
O'erglanc'd the articles : pleaseth your grace
To appoint some of your council presently
To sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, we will suddenly
Pass our accept and peremptory answer.
K. Hen. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle
Exeter, [Gloster,
And brother Clarence, and you, brother
Warwick, and Huntingdon, go with the king;
And take with you free power to ratify,
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our dignity,
Anything in or out of our demands ;
And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister,
Go with the princes or stay here with us?
Q. ha. Our gracious brother, I will go with
them ;
Haply a woman's voice may do some good
When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on.
K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine
here with us :
She is our capital demand, compris'd
Within the fore-rank of our articles.
Q. Isa. She hath good leave.
\_Exeunt all but K. HEN.,' KATH., and ALICE.
K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair !
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms
Such as will enter at a lady's ear,
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
Kath. Your majesty shall mock at me; I
cannot speak your England.
K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love
me soundly with your French heart, I will be
glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your
English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?
Kath. Pardonnez-moi) I cannot tell vat is
like me.
K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate, and
you are like an angel.
Kath. Que dit-il? que je suis seniblable & les
anges?
Alice. Ouiy vraiment, sauf votre grace , ainsi
dit-il.
K. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine; and I
must not blush to affirm it.
Kath. O ben Dieu! les langues dcs homnics
sont pleines de tromperies.
K. Hen. What says she, fair one? that the
tongues of men are full of deceits?
Alice. Out, dat de tongues of de mans is be
full of deceits, dat is de princess.
K. Hen. The princess is the better English-
woman. I' faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for
thy understanding : I am glad thou canst speak
no better English; for if thou couldst, thou
wouldst find me such a plain king that thou
wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my
crown. I know no ways to mince it in love,
but directly to say I love you : then, if you urge
me further than to say, Do you in faith ? I wear
out my suit. Give me your answer ; i' faith,
do ; and so clap hands and a bargain : how say
you, lady?
Kath. Saufvotrehonneur, me understand veil.
K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to
verses or to dance for your sake, Kate, why
you undid me : for the one I have neither words
nor measure, and for the other I have no
strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure
in strength. If I could win a lady at leap-frog,
or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour
on my. back, under the correction of bragging
be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife.
Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my
horse for her favours, I could lay on like a
butcher, and sit like a jack -an -apes, never off.
KING HENRY V.
[ACT v.
But, before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly,
nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cun-
ning in protestation; only downright oaths,
which I never use till urged, nor never break
for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this
temper, Kate, whose Face is not worth sun-burn-
ing, that never looks in his glass for love of any-
thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook.
I speak to thee plain soldier : if thou canst love
me for this, take me ; if not, to say to thee that
I shall die is true, but for thy love, by the
Lord, no ; yet I love thee too. And while thou
livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and un-
coined constancy ; for he perforce must do thee
right, because he hath not the gift to woo in
other places : for these fellows of infinite tongue,
that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours,
they do always reason themselves out again.
What ! a speaker is but a prater ; a rhyme is
but a ballad. A good leg will fall ; a straight
back will stoop ; a black beard will turn white ;
a curled pate will grow bald ; a fair face will
wither ; a full eye will wax hollow : but a good
heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or,
rather, the sun, and not the moon, for it
shines bright and never changes, but keeps his
course truly. If thou would have such a one,
take me : and take me, take a soldier ; take a
soldier, take a king: and what sayest thou,
then, to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I
pray thee.
Kath. Is it possible dat I should love de
enemy of France ?
K. Hen. No; it is not possible you should
love the enemy of France, Kate : but in loving
me you should love the friend of France ; for I
love France so well that I will not part with a
village of it ; I will have it all mine : and, Kate,
when France is mine and I am yours, then
yours is France and you are mine.
Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat.
K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in
French ; which I am sure will hang upon my
tongue like a new-married wife about her hus-
band's neck, hardly to be shook off. Quand
fai la possession de France, et quand vous avez
la possession de moi, let me see, what then?
Saint Denis be my speed ! done votre est France
et vous ties mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate,
to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much
more French: I shall never move thee in
French, unless it be to laugh at me.
Katk. Sauf votre honneur, le Fran$ais que
vous parlez est meilleur que I Anglais lequel je
parle.
K. Hen. No, faith, is 't not, Kate : but thy
speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly
falsely, must needs be granted to be much at
one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus
much English, Canst thou love me?
Kath. I cannot tell.
K. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell,
Kate ? I '11 ask them. Come, I know thou
lovest me : and at night, when you come into
your closet, you '11 question this gentlewoman
about me ; and I know, Kate, you will to her
dispraise those parts in me that you love with
your heart: but, good Kate, mock me merci-
fully ; the rather, gentle princess, because I love
thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st mine, Kate,
as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou
shalt, I get thee with scambling, and thou must
therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder :
shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and
Saint George, compound a boy, half French,
half English, that shall go to Constantinople
and take the Turk by the beard? shall we not?
what sayest thou, my fair flower-de-luce?
Kath. I do not know dat.
K. Hen. No ; 'tis hereafter to know, but now
to promise: do but now promise, Kate, you
will endeavour for your French part of such a
boy ; and for my English moiety take the word
of a king and a bachelor. How answer you,
la plus belle Katharine du monde, mon tres
chere et divine deesse?
Kath. Your majeste'&iQfausse French enough
to deceive de most sage damoiselle dat is en
France.
K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French!
By mine honour, in true English, I love thee,
Kate : by which honour I dare not swear thou
lovest me ; yet my blood begins to flatter me
that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and
untempering effect of my visage. Now, beshrew
my father's ambition ! he was thinking of civil
wars when he got me : therefore was I created
with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron,
that when I come to woo ladies I fright them.
But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax the better
I shall appear : my comfort is that old age, that
ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil
upon my fece : thou hast me, if thou hast me,
at the worst ; and thou shalt wear me, if thou
wear me, better and better : and therefore tell
me, most fair Katharine, will you have me?
Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the
thoughts of your heart with the looks of an em-
press; take me by the hand and say, Harry
of England, I am thine : which word thou shaft
no sooner bless mine ear withal but I will tell
thee aloud, England is thine, Ireland is thine,
France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is
thine ; who, though I speak it before his face,
SCENE II.j
KING HENRY V.
if he be not fellow with the best king, thou
shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come,
your answer in broken music, for thy voice is
music and thy English broken ; therefore, queen
of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in
broken English, wilt thou have me ?
Kath. Dat is as it sail please de roi monptre.
K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate,
it shall please him, Kate.
Kath. Den it sail also content me.
K, Hen. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I
call you my queen.
Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur ; laissez, laissez:
mafoi^je ne veux point que vous abaissez votre
grandeur en baisant la main dune votre indigne
serviteur ; excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon
tres puissant seigneur.
K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
Kath. Les dames et demoiselles pour ftre
baisees devant leur noces^ il n'est pa* le coutume
de France.
K. Hen. Madam, my interpreter, what says
she?
Alice. Dat itis not bede fashion/?wr les ladies
of France, I cannot tell vat is baiser en
Anglish.
K. Hen. To kiss.
Alice. Your majesty entendre bettre que mot.
K. Hen. It is not a fashion for the maids in
France to kiss before they are married, would
she say?
Alice. Oui, vraiment.
K. Hen. O Kate, nice customs court'sy to
great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be
confined within the weak list of a country's
fashion : we are the makers of manners, Kate ;
and the liberty that follows our places stops the
mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours for
upholding the nice fashion of your country in
denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently and
yielding. [Kissing her.] You have witchcraft
in your lips, Kate : there is more eloquence in
a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the
French council; and they should sooner per-
suade Harry of England than a general peti-
tion of monarchs. Here comes your father.
Enter the FRENCH KING and QUEEN, BUR-
GUNDY, BEDFORD, GLOSTER, EXETER,
WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and other
French and English Lords.
Bur. God save your majesty! my royal
cousin,
Teach you our princess English?
K. Hen. I would have her learn, my fair
cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is
good English.
Bur. Is she not apt ?
K. Hen. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my
condition is not smooth ; so that, having neither
the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I
cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her
that he will appear in his true likeness.
Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirth if I
answer you for that. If you would conjure in
her you must make a circle ; if conjure up love
in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked
and blind. Can you blame her, then, being a
maid yet rosed-over with the virgin crimson of
modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked
blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were,
my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign
to.
K. Hen. Yet they do wink and yield ; as love
is blind and enforces.
Bur. They are then excused, my lord, when
they see not what they do.
K. Hen. Then, good my lord, teach your
cousin to consent winking.
Bur. I will wink on her to consent, my lord,
if you will teach her to know my meaning : for
maids well summered and warm kept are like
flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they
have their eyes; and then they will endure
handling, which before would not abide look-
ing on.
K. Hen. This moral ties me over to time
and a hot summer ; and so I shall catch the fly,
your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be
blind too.
Bur. As love is, my lord, before it loves.
K. Hen. It is so : and you may, some of you,
thank love for my blindness, who cannot see
many a fair French city for one fair French
maid that stands in my way.
Fr. King. Yes, my lord, you see them per-
spectively, the cities turned into a maid; for
they are all girdled with maiden walls that war
hath never entered.
K. Hen. Shall Kate be my wife?
Fr. King. So please you.
K. Hen. I am content ; so the maiden cities
you talk of may wait on her : so the maid that
stood in the way of my wish shall show me the
way to my will.
Fr. King. We have consented to all terms
of reason.
K. Hen. Is 't so, my lords of England?
West. The king hath granted every article :
His daughter first ; and, in sequel, all,
According to their firm proposed natures.
Exe. Only, he hath not yet subscribed
this: Where your majesty demands that the
King of France, having any occasion to write
566
KING HENRY V.
[ACT v.
for matter of grant, shall name your highness in
this form and with this addition, in French,
Notre tres cher fils Henry, roi d'Angleterre,
heritierde France; and thus in Latin, Prcedaris-
simus filius noster Henricus, rex Anglice et
hares Francue.
Fr. King. Nor this I have not, brother, so
denied
But your request shall make me let it pass.
K. Hen. I pray you, then, in love and dear
alliance,
Let that one article rank with the rest ;
And thereupon give me your daughter.
Fr. King. Take her, fair son ; and from her
blood raise up
Issue to me ; that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores
look pale
With envy of each other's happiness, [tion
May cease their hatred ; and this dear conjunc-
Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair
France.
All. Amen !
K. Hen. Now, welcome, Kate : and bear
me witness all,
That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.
[Flourish.
Q. Isa. God, the best maker of all marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one !
As man and wife, being two, are one in love,
So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal
. ?A .\vvtx
That never may ill office or fell jealousy,
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,
Thrust in between thepaction of these kingdoms,
To make divorce of their incorporate league ;
That English may as French, French English.
men,
Receive each other ! God speak this Amen !
All. Amen ! [which day,
K. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage : on
My Lord of Burgundy, we '11 take your oath,
And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.
Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me ;
And may our oaths well kept and prosperous
be ! \_Exetmt.
Enter Chorus.
Chor. Thus far, with rough and all -unable pen,
Our bending author hath pursu'd the story ;
In little room confining mighty men, [glory.
Mangling by starts the full course of their
Small time, but, in that small, most greatly liv'd
This star of England : Fortune made his
sword ;
By which the world's best garden he achiev'd,
And of it left his son imperial lord.
Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd king
Of France and England, did this king succeed;
Whose state so many had the managing
That they lost France and made his England
bleed : [sake,
Which oft our stage hath shown ; and, for theii
In your fair minds let this acceptance take.
[Exit.
rfcfK'i
FIRST PART OF
KING HENRY VI.
te'ino ihi'v 377
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.
DUKE OF GLOSTER, Uncle to the KING, and
Protector.
DUKE OF BEDFORD, Uncle to the KING, and
Regent of France.
THOMAS BEAUFORT, Duke of Exeter, Great-
Uncle to the KING.
HENRY BEAUFORT, Great-Uncle to the KING,
Bishop of Winchester, and afterwards
Cardinal.
JOHN BEAUFORT, Earl of Somerset, afterwards
Duke.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Eldest son ^RICH-
ARD, late Earl of Cambridge, afterwards
Duke of York.
EARL OF WARWICK.
EARL OF SALISBURY.
EARL OF SUFFOLK.
LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury.
JOHN TALBOT, his Son.
EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March.
MORTIMER'S Keepers.
A Lawyer.
SIR JOHN FASTOLFE.
SIR WILLIAM LUCY.
SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE.
SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE.
Mayor of London.
WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower.
VERNON, of the White-rose or York faction.
BASSET, of the Red-rose or Lancaster faction.
CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King of
France.
REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and Titular King
of Naples.
DUKE OF BURGUNDY.
DUKE OF ALENCON.
BASTARD OF ORLEANS.
Governor of Paris.
Master-Gunner of Orleans, and his Son.
General of the French Forces in Bordeaux.
A French Sergeant.
A Porter.
An Old Shepherd, Father to JOAN LA PUCELLE.
MARGARET, Daughter to REIGNIER, afterwards
married to KING HENRY.
COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE.
JOAN LA PUCELLE, commonly called JOAN OF
ARC.
Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers,
Soldiers, Messengers, and several Atten-
dants both on the English and French.
Fiends appearing to LA PUCELLE.
SCENE, Partly in ENGLAND, and partly in FRANCE.
ACT L
SCENE I. Westminster Abbey.
Dead March. Corpse of KING HENRY THE
FIFTH, in state, is brought in, attended on
by the DUKES OF BEDFORD, GLOSTER,
and EXETER, the EARL OF WARWICK, the
BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, Heralds, &c.
Bed. Hung be the heavens with black, yield
day to night !
Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
That have consented unto Henry's death !
Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long i
England ne'er lost a king of so mch worth.
Glo. England ne'er had a king until his time.
Virtue he had, deserving to command :
His brandish'd sword did blind men with his
beams;
His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings ;
His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies
Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces.
What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech :
He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered.
Exe. We mourn in black : why mourn we
not in blood ?
Henry is dead, and never shall revive :
Upon a wooden coffin we attend ;
5 68
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT I.
And death's dishonourable victory
We with our stately presence glorify,
Like captives bound to a triumphant car.
What ! shall we curse the planets of mishap,
That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ?
Or shall we think the subtle- witted French
Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him,
By magic verses have contriv'd his end ?
Win. He was a king bless'd of the King of
kings,
Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day
So dreadful will not be as was his sight.
The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought :
The church's prayers made him so prosperous.
Glo. The church ! where is it ? Had not
church-men pray'd,
His thread of life had not so soon decayed :
None do you like but an effeminate prince,
Whom, like a school-boy, you may overawe.
Win. Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art
protector,
And lookest to command the prince and realm.
Thy wife is proud ; she hoideth thee in awe
More than God or religious churchmen may.
Glo. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the
flesh ; [go'st,
And ne'er throughout the year to church thou
Except it be to pray against thy foes.
Bed. Cease, cease these jars and rest your
minds in peace !
Let 's to the altar : heralds, wait on us :
Instead of gold, we '11 offer up our arms ;
Since arms avail not, now that Henry 's dead.
Posterity, await for wretched years,
When at their mother's moisten'd eyes babes
shall suck ;
Our isle be made a marish of salt tears,
And none but women left to wail the dead.
Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I invocate ;
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils !
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens !
A far more glorious star thy soul will make
Than Julius Caesar or bright
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My honourable lords, health to you all !
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of loss, of !
:er, and discomfiture :
Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans,
Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.
Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead
Henry's corse?
Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns
Will make him burst his lead and rise from
death.
Glo. Is Paris lost ? is Rouen yielded up ?
If Henry were recall'd to life again,
These news would cause him once more yield
the ghost. [us'd ?
Exe. How were they lost ? what treachery was
Mess. No treachery but want of men and
money.
Among the soldiers this is muttered,
That here you maintain several factions ;
And whilst a field should be despatch'd and
fought,
You are disputing of your generals :
One would have ling'ring wars, with little cost ;
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings ;
A third man thinks, without expense at all,
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.
Awake, awake, English nobility !
Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot :
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ;
Of England's coat one half is cut away.
Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
These tidings would call forth her flowing tides.
Bed. Me they concern ; regent I am of
France. [France.
Give me my steeled coat ! I '11 fight for
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes !
Wounds will I lend the French, instead of eyes,
To weep their intermissive miseries.
Enter a second Messenger.
2 Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of bad
mischance.
France is revolted from the English quite,
Except seme petty towns of no import :
The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims;
The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd ;
Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part;
The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side.
Exe. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to
him!
O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?
Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies'
throats :
Bedford, if thou be slack I '11 fight it out.
Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my for-
wardness?
An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,
Wherewith already France is overrun.
Enter a third Messenger.
3 Mess. My gracious lords, to add to your
laments, [hearse,
Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's
I must inform you of a dismal fight
Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.
Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't
so? [thrown :
3 Mess. O, no ; wherein Lord Talbot was o'er-
The circumstance I '11 tell you more at large.
SCRNE I.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
569
The tenth of August last this dreadful lord,
Retiring from the siege of Orleans,
Having full scarce six thousand in his troop,
By three-and-twenty thousand of the French
Was round encompassed and set upon.
No leisure had he to enrank his men ;
He wanted pikes to set before his archers ;
Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of
hedges,
They pitched in the ground confusedly,
To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.
More than three hours the fight continued ;
Where valiant Talbot, above human thought,
Enacted wonders with his sword and lance :
Hundreds he 'sent to hell, and none durst stand
him ;
Here, there, and everywhere, enrag'd he flew :
The French exclaim'd the devil was in arms ;
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him :
His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,
A Talbot ! a Talbot ! cried out amain,
And rush'd into the bowels of the battle.
Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up
If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward :
He, being in the vaward, plac'd behind,
With purpose to relieve and follow them,
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
Hence grew the general wreck and massacre ;
Enclosed were they with their enemies :
A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back ;
Whom all France, with their chief assembled
strength,
Durst not presume to look once in the face.
Bed. Is Talbot slain? then I will slay myself,
For living idly here in pomp and ease,
Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid,
Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd.
3 Mess. O no, he lives ; but is took prisoner,
And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hunger-
ford:
Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise.
Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall pay :
I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne,
His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ;
Four of their lords I '11 change for one of ou^s.
Farewell, my masters ; to my task will I ;
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,
To keep our great Saint George's feast withal :
Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take,
Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe
quake. [sieg'd ;
3 Mess. So you had need ; for Orleans is be-
The English army is grown weak and feint :
The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply,
And hardly keeps his men from mutiny,
Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.
Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry
sworn,
Either to quell the Dauphin utterly,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.
Bed. I do remember it ; and here take my
leave,
To go about my preparation. \Exit.
Glo. I'll to the Tower, with all the haste
I can,
To view the artillery and munition ;
And then I will proclaim young Henry king.
[Exit.
Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young
king is,
Being ordain'd his special governor ;
And for his safety there I '11 best devise.
[Exit.
Win. Each hath his place and function to
attend :
I am left out ; for me nothing remains.
But long I will not be Jack-out-of-orBce :
The king from Eltham I intend to steal,
And sit at chiefest stern of public weal.
[Exit. Scene closes.
; u-iorfJ wpfi-'M h.folp
SCENE II. FRANCE. Before Orleans.
Enter CHARLES, with his Forces ; ALENC.ON,
REIGNIER, and others.
,::, : >
Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the
heavens,
So in the earth, to this day is not known :
Late did he shine upon the English side ;
Now we are victors, upon rs he smiles.
What towns of any moment but we have ?
At pleasure here we lie near Orleans ;
Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale
ghosts,
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.
Alen. They want their porridge and their
fat bull-beeves :
Either they must be dieted like mules,
And have their provender tied to their mouths,
Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.
Reig. Let 's raise the siege : why live we
idly here ?
Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear :
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury ;
And he may well in fretting spend his gall,
Nor men nor money hath he to make war.
Char. Sound, sound alarum ! we will rush
on them.
Now for the honour of the forlorn French !
Him I forgive my death that killeth me,
When he sees me go back one foot or flee.
[Exeunt.
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT I.
Alarums; excursions ; afterwards a retreat
Re-enter CHARLES, ALEN^ON, REIGNIER,
and others.
Char. Who ever saw the like? what men
have I !
Dogs ! cowards ! dastards ! I would ne'er have
fled
But that they left me midst my enemies.
Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide ;
He fighteth as one weary of his life.
The other lords, like lions wanting food,
Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.
Alen. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records,
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred
During the time Edward the Third did reign.
More truly now may this be verified ;
For none but Samsons and Goliasses
It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten !
Lean raw-bon'd rascals ! who would e'er suppose
They had such courage and audacity ?
Char. Let 's leave this town ; for they are
hair-brain'd slaves,
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager :
Of old I know them ; rather with their teeth
The walls they '11 tear down than forsake the
siege.
Reig. I think, by some odd gimmers or device,
Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on ;
Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do.
By my consent, we '11 even let them alone.
Alen. Be it so.
Enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS.
Bast. Where 's the Prince Dauphin ? I have
news for him. [us.
Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to
Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your
cheer appall'd :
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence ?
Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand :
A holy maid hither with me I bring,
Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven,
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege,
And drive the English forth the bounds of France.
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,
Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome :
What 's past and what 's to come she can descry.
Speak, shall I call her in ? Believe my words,
For they are certain and infallible.
Char. Go, call her in. [Exit BASTARD.]
But first, to try her skill,
Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place :
Question her proudly ; let thy looks be stern :
By this means shall we sound what skill she
hath. [Retires.
Re-enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, with LA
PUCELLE.
Reig. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these won-
drous feats ?
Puc. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to be-
guile me ? [behind ;
Where is the Dauphin ? Come, come from
I know thee well, though never seen before.
Be not amaz'd, there 's nothing hid from me :
In private will I talk with thee apart.
Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile.
Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first
dash. [daughter,
Puc. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
To shine on my contemptible estate :
Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs,
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks,
God's mother deigned to appear to me,
And in a vision full of majesty
Will'd me to leave my base vocation,
And free my country from calamity :
Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success :
In complete glory she reveal'd herself ;
And whereas I was black and swart before,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me,
That beauty am I bless'd with which you see.
Ask me what question thou canst possible,
And I will answer unpremeditated :
My courage try by combat if thou dar'st,
And thou shall find that I exceed my sex.
Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.
Char. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy
high terms :
Only this proof I'll of thy valour make,
In single combat thou shalt buckle with me ;
And if thou vanquishes!, thy words are true :
Otherwise I renounce all confidence.
Puc. I am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd
sword,
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ;
The which at Touraine, in Saint Katherine's
churchyard,
Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.
Char. Then come, o' God's name ; I fear
no woman.
Puc. And while I live I '11 ne'er fly from a
man. [They fight.
Char. Stay, stay thy hands ! thou art an
Amazon,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah.
Puc. Christ's mother helps me, else I were
too weak. [help me :
Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must
SCENE II.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
Impatiently I burn with thy desire ;
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd.
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant and not sovereign be :
; Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.
PMC. I must not yield to any rites of love,
For my profession 's sacred from above :
When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompense.
Char. Meantime look gracious on thy pro-
strate thrall.
Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.
Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to
her smock ;
Else ne'er could he so long protract his
speech.
Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps
no mean ?
Alen. He may mean more than we poor men
do know :
These women are shrewd tempters with their
tongues.
Reig. My lord, where are you ? what devise
you on ?
Shall we give over Orleans, or no ?
Puc. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants!
Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard.
Char. What she says I 'il confirm : we '11
fight it out.
Puc. Assign'd am I to be the English
scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I '11 raise :
Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.
Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,
Till by broad spreading it disperse to naught.
With Henry's death the English circle ends ;
Dispersed are the glories it included.
Now am I like that proud insulting ship
Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once.
Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove ?
Thou with an eagle art inspired, then.
Helen, the mother of great Constantine,
Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters, were like
thee.
Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,
How may I reverently worship thee enough ?
Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise the
siege.
Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save our
honours ;
Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd.
Char. Presently we '11 try : come, let 's
away about it ;
No prophet will I trust if she prove false.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. LONDON. Before the Gates of
the Tower.
Enter the DUKE OF GLOSTER, with his
Serving-men in blue coats.
Glo. I am come to survey the Tower this
day : [ance.
Since Henry's death, I fear, there is convey-
Where be these warders, that they wait not here ?
Open the gates : Gloster it is that calls.
[Servants knock.
I Ward. [Within.} Who's there that knocks
so imperiously ?
1 Serv. It is the noble Duke of Gloster.
2 Ward. [Within.] Whoe'er he be, you may
not be let in. [tector ?
i Serv. Villains, answer you so the lord pro-
i Ward. [Within.] The Lord protect him !
so we answer him :
We do no otherwise than we are will'd.
Glo. Who willed you ? or whose will stands
but mine ?
There 's none protector of the realm but I.
Break up the gates, I '11 be your warrantize :
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms ?
[GLOSTER'S Servants rush at the
Tower-gates.
Wood. [Within.] What noise is this? what
traitors have we here ?
Glo. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear?
Open the gates; here's Gloster that would
enter.
Wood. [Within.] Have patience, noble Duke j
I may not open ;
The Cardinal of Winchester forbids :
From him I have express commandment
That thou nor none of thine shall be let in.
Glo. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him
'fore me,
Arrogant Winchester ? that haughty prelate
Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could
brook?
Thou art no friend to God or to the king :
Open the gates, or I '11 shut thee out shortly,
i Serv. Open the gates unto the lord pro-
tector, [quickly.
Or we '11 burst them open if that you come not
[GLOSTER's Servants rush again at the
Tower-gates.
Enter WINCHESTER, with his Serving-men in
tawny coats.
Win. How now, ambitious Humphry ! what
means this ?
Glo. Peel'd priest, dost thou command me
to be shut out?
572
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT i.
Win. I do, thou most usurping proditor,
And not protector of the king or realm.
Glo. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator,
Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord ;
Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin :
I '11 canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat,
If thou proceed in this thy insolence.
Win. Nay, stand thou back ; I will not
budge a foot :
This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,
To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt, [back :
Glo. I will not slay thee, but I '11 drive thee
Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth
I '11 use to carry thee out of this place.
Win. Do what thou dar'st ; I beard thee to
thy face. [face ?
Glo. What ! am I dar'd, and bearded to my
Draw, men, for all this privileged place ;
Blue-coats to tawny-coats. Priest, beware your
beard ;
I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly :
Under my feet I '11 stamp thy cardinal's hat ;
In spite of pope or dignities of church,
Here by the cheeks I '11 drag thee up and down.
Win. Gloster, thou wilt answer this before
the pope. [rope !
Glo. Winchester goose! I cry, a rope! a
Now beat them hence, why do you let them
stay?
Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's
array.
Out, tawny-coats ! Out, scarlet hypocrite !
GLOSTER and his Servants attack the other
Party. In the tumult, enter the Mayor of
London and Officers.
May. Fie, lords ! that you, being supreme
magistrates,
Thus contumeliously should break the peace!
Glo. Peace, mayor! thou know'st little of my
wrongs :
Here 's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king,
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use.
Win. Here 's Gloster, too, a foe to citizens ;
One that still motions war, and never peace',
O'ercharging your free purses with large fines ;
That seeks to overthrow religion,
Because he is protector of the realm ;
And would have armour here out of the Tower,
To crown himself king and suppress the prince.
Glo. I will not answer thee with words, but
blows. [Here they skirmish again.
May. Naught rests for me, in this tumultu-
ous strife,
But to make open proclamation :
Come, officer, as loud as e'er thou canst.
Off. [Reads. ~\ All manner of men assembled
here in arms this day against God's peace and
the king's, we charge and command you, in his
highness^ name, to repair to your several dwell-
ing-places ; and not to wear, handle, or use any
sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon
pain of death
Glo. Cardinal, I '11 be no breaker of the law :
But we shall meet and break our minds at large.
Win. Gloster, we '11 meet, to thy dear cost,
be sure:
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work.
May. I '11 call for clubs if you will not away:
This cardinal 's more haughty than the devil.
Glo. Mayor, farewell : thou dost but what
thou mayst.
Win. Abominable Gloster ! guard thy head ;
For I intend to have it ere long.
[Exeunt severally, GLO. and WIN. ,
with their Servants.
May. See the coast clear'd, and then we will
depart.
Good God, these nobles should such stomachs
bear!
I myself fight not once in forty year. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. FRANCE. Before Orleans.
Enter, on the walls, the Master- Gunner and
his Son.
M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans
is besieg'd,
And how the English have the suburbs won.
Son. Father, I know; and oft have shot at
them,
Howe'er, unfortunate, I missed my aim.
M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thou
rul'd by me :
Chief master-gunner am I of this town ;
Something I must do to procure me grace.
The prince's espials have informed me
How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,
Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars
In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,
And thence discover how with most advantage
They may vex us with shot or with assault.
To intercept this inconvenience,
A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd ;
And even these three days have I watch'd if I
Could see them.
Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer.
If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word ;
And thou shalt find me at the governor's.
[Exit.
Son. Father, I warrant you ; take you no care ;
I '11 never trouble you if I may spy them.
SCENE I V.I
FIRST PART OF KINO HENRY VI.
573
Enter, in an upper Chamber of a Tower, the
LORDS SALISBURY and TALBOT, SIR
WILLIAM GLANSDALE, SIR THOMAS GAR-
GRAVE, and others.
Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd !
How wert thou handled being prisoner?
Or by what means gott'st thou to be releas'd?
Discourse, I pr'ythee, on this turret's top.
Tal. The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner
Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles ;
For him I was exchang'd and ransomed.
But with a baser man of arms by far
Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me:
Which I, disdaining, scorn'd ; and craved death
Rather than I would be so vile-esteem'd.
In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd. [heart !
But, O ! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my
Whom with my bare fists I would execute
If I now had him brought into my power.
Sal. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert en-
tertain'd. [taunts.
Tal. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious
In open market-place produc'd they me,
To be a public spectacle to all :
Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
The scarecrow that affrights our children so.
Then broke I from the officers that led me,
And with my nails digg'd stones out of the
ground
To hurl at the beholders of my shame :
My grisly countenance made others fly ;
None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
In iron walls they deem'd me not secure ;
So great fear of my name 'mongst them was
spread
That they suppps'd I could rend bars of steel,
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant :
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,
That walk'd about me every minute- whil e ;
And if I did but stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you en-
dur'd;
But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.
Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
Here, through this grate, I can count each one,
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify :
Let us look in; the sight will much delight
thee.
Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale,
Let me have your express opinions
Where is best plare to make our battery next.
Gar. I think at the north gate; for there
stand lords.
Glan. And I here, at the bulwark of the
bridge.
Tal. For aught I see, this city must be
famish'd,
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.
\Shotfrom the town. SAL. and SIR
THOMAS GARGRAVE fall.
Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched
sinners !
Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man !
Tal. What chance is this that suddenly hath
cross'd us?
Speak, Salisbury ; at least, if thou canst speak :
How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men?
One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck
off!
Accursed tower ! accursed fatal hand
That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy !
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame ;
Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars;
Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up,
His sword did ne ?r leave striking in the field.
Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? though thy speech
doth fail,
One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace :
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands !
Bear hence his body ; I will help to bury it.
Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life ?
Speak unto Talbot ; nay, look up to him.
Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort ;
Thou shalt not die whiles
He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me,
As who should say, When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.
Plantagenet, I will ; and like thee, Nero,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn :
Wretched shall France be only in my name.
{Thunder heard ; afterwards an alarum.
What stir is this? What tumult's in the
heavens ?
Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise ?
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have
gather'd head :
The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,
A holy prophetess new risen up,
Is come with a great power to raise the siege.
[SAL. lifts himself and groans.
Tal. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth
groan!
It irks his heart he cannot be revengM.
Frenchmen, I '11 be a Salisbury to you :
Pucelle or puzzle, dolphin or dogfish,
Your hearts I '11 stamp out with my horse's heels,
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.
574
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT I.
Convey me Salisbury into his tent,
And then we '11 try what these dastard French-
men dare.
[Exeunt, bearing out the bodies.
SCENE V. The same. Before one of the
Gates.
Alarum , skirmishings. Enter TALBOT, ptir-
suing the DAUPHIN, drives him z, and
exit : then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, driving
Englishmen before her, and exit after them :
then re-enter TALBOT.
Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and
my force?
Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them ;
A woman clad in armour chaseth them.
Here, here she comes.
Enter LA PUCELLE.
I '11 have a bout with thee ;
Devil or devil's dam, I '11 conjure thee :
Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
And straightway give thy soul to him thouserv'st.
Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must dis-
grace thee. [They fight.
Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to pre-
vail?
My breast I '11 burst with straining of my
courage,
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,
But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.
[ They fight again.
Puc. [Retiring.] Talbot, farewell : thy hour
is not yet come :
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
O'ertake.me if thou canst ; I scorn thy strength.
Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men ;
Help Salisbury to make his testament :
This day is ours, as many more shall be.
[LA Puc. enters the town -with Soldiers.
Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's
wheel ;
I know not where I am nor what I do :
A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal
Drives back our troops, and conquers as she
?* o lists :
So bees with smoke and doves with noisome
stench
Are from their hives and houses driven away.
They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs ;
Now like to whelps we crying run away.
[A short alarum.
Hark, countrymen ! either renew the fight
Or tear the lions out of England's coat ;
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:
Sheep run not half so timorous from the wolf,
Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.
[Alarum. Another skirmish.
It will not be : retire into your trenches :
You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,
In spite of us or aught that we could do.
O, would I were to die with Salisbury !
The shame hereof will make me hide my head !
[Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT
and Forces, &>c.
Flourish. Enter on the walls, LA PUCELLE,
CHARLES, REIGN IER, ALENCON, and
Soldiers.
Fuc. Advance our waving colours on the
walls ;
Rescu'd is Orleans from the English :
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.
Char. Divinest creature, Astisea's daughter,
How shall I honour thee for this success ?
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens,
That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the
next.
France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess .'
Recover'd is the town of Orleans :
More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.
Reig. Why ring not out the bells aloud
throughout the town ?
Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires,
And feast and banquet in the open streets,
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.
Alen. All France will be replete with mirth
and joy
When they shall hear how we have play'd the
men.
Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is
won ;
For which I will divide my crown with her ;
And all the priests and friars in my realm
Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
A statelier pyramis to her i '11 rear
Than Rhodope's of Memphis ever was :
In memory of her when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich jewell'd coffer of Darius,
Transported shall be at high festivals
Before the kings and queens of France.
No longer on Saint Denis will we cry,
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.
Come in, and let us banquet royally,
After this golden day of victory.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE I. ]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
575
ACT II.
SCENE I. Before Orleans.
Enter to the Gate a French Sergeant and two
Sentinels.
Serg, Sirs, take your places and be vigilant :
If any noise or soldier you perceive
Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.
i Sent. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit Sergeant.]
Thus are poor servitors,
When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and
Forces, with scaling-ladders ; their drums
beating a dead march.
Tal. Lord regent and redoubted Burgundy,
By whose approach the regions of Artois,
Walloon, and Picardy are friends to us,
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day carous'd and banqueted :
Embrace we, then, this opportunity,
As fitting best to quittance their deceit,
Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery,.
Bed. Coward of France ! how much he
wrongs his fame,
Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,
To join with witches and the help of hell.
Bur. Traitors have never other company.
But what's that Pucelle whom they term so
pure?
Tal. A maid, they say.
Bed. A maid ! and be so martial !
ur. Pray God she prove not masculine ere
If underneath the standard of the French
She carry armour, as she hath begun.
Tal. Well, let them practise and converse
with spirits :
God is our fortress, in whose conquering
name
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.
Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot ; we will follow
thee.
Tal. Not all together : better far, I guess,
That we do make our entrance several ways ;
That, if it chance the one of us do fail,
The other yet may rise against their force.
Bed. Agreed : I '11 to yon corner.
Btir. And I to this.
Tal. And here will Talbot mount or make
his grave*-*- -
Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right
Of English Henry, shall this night appear
How much in duty I am bound to both.
[ The English scale the walls, crying St. George !
a Talbot ! and all enter the Town.
Sent. Arm ! arm ! the enemy doth make
assault !
The French leap over the walls tn theif shirts.
Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALE^ON,
REIGNIER, half ready and half unready.
Alen. How now, my lords? what, all un-
ready so ? [well.
Bast. Unready ! ay, and glad we 'scap'd so
Reig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave
our beds,
Hearing alarums at our chamber -doors.
Alen. Of all exploitssince first I follow'd arms,
Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise
More venturous or desperate than this.
Bast. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.
Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure,
favour him. [he sped.
Alen. Here cometh Charles : I marvel how
Bast. Tut ! holy Joan was his defensive guard.
Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE.
Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful
dame? ;A^
Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,
Make us partakers of a little gain,
That now our loss might be ten times so much ?
Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with
his friend ?
At all times will you have my power alike ?
Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail,
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ?
Improvident soldiers ! had your watch been good
This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.
Char. Duke of Alencon, this was your default,
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.
Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely
kept
As that whereof I had the government,
We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd.
Bast. Mine was secure.
Reig. And so was mine, my lord.
Char. And, for myself, most part of all this
night,
Within her quarter and mine own precinct
I was employ 'd in passing to and fro,
About relieving of the sentinels :
Then how or which way should they first break
in ? [case,
Puc, Question, my lords, no further of the
How or which way ; 'tis sure they found some
place
576
JL
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT II.
But weakly guarded, where the breach was
made.
And now there rests no other shift but this,
To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd,
And lay new platforms to endamage them.
Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying a
Talbot ! a Talbot ! They fly, leaving their
clothes behind.
Sold. I '11 be so bold to take what they have
left.
The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword ;
For I have loaden me with many spoils,
Using no other weapon but his name. [Exit.
.^r?I!
SCENE II. ORLEANS. Within the Town.
Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a
Captain, and others.
,siu^ i ion 11 ."^ViJv
Bed. The day begins to break, and night is
fled,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.
Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.
[Retreat sounded.
T'al. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury,
And here advance it in the market-place,
The middle centre of this cursed town.
Now have I paid my vow unto his soul ;
For every drop of blood was drawn from him,
There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night.
And that hereafter ages may behold
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,
Within their chiefest temple I '11 erect
A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd :
Upon the which, that every one may read,
Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans,
The treacherous manner of his mournful death,
And what a terror he had been to France.
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,
I muse we meet not with the Dauphin's grace,
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
Nor any of his false confederates.
Bed. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the
fight began,
Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
They did, amongst the troops of armed men,
Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.
Bttr. Myself, as far as I could well discern
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,
Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull,
When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves,
That could not live asunder day or night.
After that things are set in order here,
We '11 follow them with all the power we have.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. All hail, my lords ! Which of this
princely train
Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
So much applauded through the realm of France?
Tal. Here is the Talbot : who would speak
with him ? [Auvergne,
Mess. The virtuous lady, Countess of
With modesty admiring thy renown, [safe
By me entreats, great Icrd, thou wouldst vouch-
To visit her poor castle where she lies,
That she may boast she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fiJls the world with loud report.
Bur. Is it even so ? Nay, then, I see our
wars
Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.
You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.
Tal. Ne'er trust me then ; for when a world
of men
Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Yet hath a woman's kindness overrul'd :
And therefore tell her I return great thanks,
And in submission will attend on her.
Will not your honours bear me company ?
Bed. No, truly ; it is more than manners will :
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.
Tal. Well then, alone, since there's no
remedy,
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.
Come hither, captain. [Whispers.} You per-
ceive my mind ?
Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. AUVERGNE. Court of the Castle.
Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter.
Count. Porter, remember what I gave in
charge ; [me.
And when you have done so, bring the keys to
Port. Madam, I will. [Exit.
Count. The plot is laid : if all things fall out
right,
I shall as famous be by this exploit
As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus death.
Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight,
And his achievements of no less account :
Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ear$
To give their censure of these rare reports.
Enter Messenger and TALBOT.
Mess. Madam,
According as your ladyship desir'd,
By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come.
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
577
Count. And he is welcome. What ! is this
the man ?
Mess. Madam, it is.
Count. Is this the scourge of France ?
Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad
That with his name the mothers still their babes?
I see report is fabulous and false :
I thought I should have seen some Hercules,
A second Hector, for his grim aspect,
And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf !
It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp
Should strike such terror to his enemies.
Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you ;
But since your ladyship is not at leisure,
I '11 sort some other time to visit you. [Going.
Count. What means he now ? Go ask him
whither he goes.
Mess. Stay, my Lord Talbot ; for my kdy
craves
To know the cause of your abrupt departure.
Tal. Marry, for that she 's in a wrong belief,
I go to certify her Talbot 's here.
Re-enter Porter with keys.
Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner
Tal. Prisoner ! to whom ?
Count. To me, blood-thirsty lord ;
And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.
Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs :
But now the substance shall endure the like ;
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
That hast by tyranny these many years
Wasted our country, slain our citizens,
And sent our sons and husbands captivate.
Tal. Ha, ha, ha !
Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth
shall turn to moan.
Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond
To think that you have aught but Talbot's
shadow
Whereon to practise your severity.
Count. Why, art not thou the man ?
Tal. I am indeed.
Count. Then have I substance too.
Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself :
You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here ;
For what you see is but the smallest part
And least proportion of humanity :
I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here,
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,
Your roof were not sufficient to contain 't.
Count. This is a riddling merchant for the
nonce ;
He will be here, and yet he is not here :
How can these contrarieties ap
Tal. That will I show you presently.
\_He winds a Horn. Drums heard ; then
a Peal of Ordnance. The Gates being
forced, enter Soldiers.
How say you, madam ? are you now persuaded
That Talbot is but shadow of himself?
These are his substance, sinews, arms, and
strength,
With which he yoketh your rebellious necks,
Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns,
And in a moment makes them desolate.
Count. Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse :
I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited,
And more than may be gather'd by thy shape.
Let my presumption net provoke thy wrath ;
For I am sorry that with reverence
I did not entertain thee as thou art.
Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady ; nor mis-
construe
The mind of Talbot as you did mistake
The outward composition of his body.
What you have done hath not offended me :
No other satisfaction do I crave
But only with your patience that we may
Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have ;
For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.
Count. With all my heart, and think me
honoured
To feast so great a warrior in my house.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. The Temple Garden.
Enter the EARLS OF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK,
and WARWICK ; RICHARD PLANTAGENET,
VERNON. and another Lawyer.
Plan. Great lords and gentlemen, what
means this silence ?
Dare no man answer in a case of truth ?
Suf. Within the Temple-hall we were too
loud;
The garden here is more convenient. [truth ;
Plan. Then say at once if I maintain'd the
Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error?
Suf. Faith, I have been a truant in the law,
And never yet could frame my will to it ;
And therefore frame the law unto my will.
Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then,
between us. [higher pitch ;
War. Between two hawks, which flies the
Between two dogs, which hath the deeper
mouth ; [temper ;
Between two blades, which bears the better
Between two horses, which doth bear him best ;
Between two girls, which hath the merriest
eye;
578
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT ii.
I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judg-
ment ;
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. [ance :
Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbear-
The truth appears so naked on my side
That any purblind eye may find it out.
Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd,
So clear, so shining, and so evident,
That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.
Plan. Since you are tongue-tied and so loth
to speak,
In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts :
Let him that is a true-born gentleman,
And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.
Som. Let him that is no coward nor no
flatterer,
But dare maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.
War. I love no colours; and, without all
colour
Of base insinuating flattery,
I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. [set ;
Suf. I pluck this red rose with young Somer-
And say withal, I think he held the right.
Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck
no more
Till you conclude that he upon whose side
The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree
Shall yield the other in the right opinion.
Som. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected:
If I have fewest I subscribe in silence.
Plan. And I. [case,
Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the
I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here,
Giving my verdict on the white rose side.
Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,
Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red,
And fall on my side so, against your will.
Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,
Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt,
And keep me on the side where still I am.
Som. Well, well, come on ; who else ?
Law. Unless my study and my books be false,
The argument you held was wrong in you ;
\To SOMERSET.
In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.
Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argu-
ment?
Som. Here in my scabbard ; meditating that
Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.
Plan. Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit
our roses ;
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.
Som. No, Plantagenet,
'Tis not for fear, but anger that thy cheeks
Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses,
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.
Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ?
Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?
Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain
his truth ;
Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.
Som. Well, I '11 find friends to wear my
bleeding roses,
That shall maintain what I have said is true,
Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.
Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my
hand,
I scorn thee and thy faction, peevish boy.
Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Planta-
genet.
Plan. Proud Poole, I will ; and scorn both him
and thee.
Suf. I '11 turn my part thereof into thy throat.
Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole!
We grace the yeoman by conversing with him.
War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st
him, Somerset ;
His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence,
Third son to the third Edward King of England:
Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root ?
Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege,
Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.
Som. By him that made me, I '11 maintain
my words
On any plot of ground in Christendom.
Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge,
For treason executed in our late king's days?
And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted,
Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry ?
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ;
And till thou be restor'd thou art a yeoman.
Plan. My father was attach'd, not attainted ;
Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor ;
And that I '11 prove on better men than Somerset,
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
For your partaker Poole, and you yourself,
I '11 note you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension :
Look to it well, and say you are well warn'd.
Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee
still ;
And know us by these colours for thy foes,
For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear.
Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry
rose,
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
Will I for ever, and my faction, wear,
Until it wither with me to my grave,
Or flourish to the height of my degree.
SCENE V.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
579
Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy
ambition !
And so, farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit.
Sont. Have with thee, Poole. Farewell, am-
bitious Richard. [Exit.
Plan. Flow I am brav'd, and must perforce
endure it ! [house,
War. This blot, that they object against your
Shall be wip'd out in the next Parliament,
Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster :
And if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Meantime, in signal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerset and William Poole,
Will I upon thy party wear this rose :
And here I prophesy, This brawl to-day,
Grown to this faction, in the Temple-garden,
Shall send, between the red rose and the white,
A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
Plan. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to
you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same.
Law. And so will I.
Plan. Thanks, gentle sir.
Come, let us four to dinner : I dare say
This quarrel will drink blood another day.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. The same. A Room in the Tower.
Enter MORTIMER, brought in in a chair by
two Keepers.
Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.
Even like a man new-haled from the rack,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment ;
And these gray locks, the pursuivants of death,
Nestor- like aged, in an age of care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer, [spent,
These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent : [grief;
Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine
That droops his sapless branches to the ground :
Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is
numb,
Unable to support this lump of clay,
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,
As witting I no other comfort have.
But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come ?
I Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will
come :
We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber ;
And answer was return'd that he will come.
. Mor. Enough : my soul shall then be satis-
fied.
Poor gentleman ! his wrong dotn equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
Before whose glory I was great in arms,
This loathsome sequestration have I had j
And even since then hath Richard been ob-
scurM,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance.
But now the arbitrator of despairs,
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence .
I would his troubles likewise were expir'd
That so he might recover what was lost.
Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET.
i Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now
is come. [come ?
Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he
Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd,
Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes.
Mor. Direct mine arms I may embrace his
neck,
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp :
O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.
And now declare, sweet stem from York's
great stock,
Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd ?
Plan. First, lean thine aged back against
mine arm ;
And, in that ease, I '11 tell thee my disease.
This day, in argument upon a case,
Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me ;
Among which terms he us'd his lavish tongue,
And did upbraid me with my father's death :
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,
Else with the like I had requited him.
Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake,
In honour of a true Plantagenet,
And for alliance sake, declare the cause
My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head.
Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that im-
prison'd me,
And hath detain'd me all my flowering youth
Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,
Was cursed instrument of his decease. [was ;
Plan. Discover more at large what cause that
For I am ignorant, and cannot guess.
Mor. I will, if that my fading breath permit,
And death approach not ere my tale be done.
Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,
Depos'd his nephew Richard, Edward's son,
The first-begotten, and the lawful heir
Of Edward king, the third of that descent :
During whose reign the Percies of the north,
Finding his usurpation most unjust,
Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne :
The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this
5 8o
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT III.
Was, for that, young King Richard thus re-
mov'd,
Leaving no heir begotten of his body,
I was the next by birth and parentage ;
For by my mother I derived am
From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son
To King Edward the Third ; whereas he
From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree,
Being but fourth of that heroic line.
But mark : as in this haughty great attempt
They laboured to plant the rightful heir,
I lost my liberty, and they their lives.
Long after this, when Henry the Fifth,
Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign,
Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then deriv'd
From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York,
Marrying my sister, that thy mother was,
Again, in pity of my hard distress,
Levied an army, weening to redeem
And have install'd me in the diadem :
But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl,
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
In whom the title rested, were suppress'd.
Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is
the last.
Mor. True ; and thou see'st that I no issue
have,
And that my feinting words do warrant death :
Thou art my heir ; the rest I wish thee gather :
But yet be wary in thy studious care.
Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with
me :
But yet methinks my father's execution
Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.
Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic ;
Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster,
And, like a mountain, not to be remov'd.
But now thy uncle is removing hence ;
As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd
With long continuance in a settled place.
Plan. O uncle, would some part of my
young years
Might but redeem the passage of your age !
Mor. Thou dost then wrong me, as the
slaughterer doth
Which giveth many wounds when one will kill.
Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good ;
Only, give order for my funeral :
And so, farewell ; and fair be all thy hopes,
And prosperous be thy life in peace and war !
[Dies.
Plan. And peace, no war, befall thy parting
soul !
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage,
And like a hermit overpass'd thy days.
Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast ;
And what I do imagine, let that rest.
Keepers, convey him hence ; and I myself
Will see his burial better than his life.
[Exeimt Keepers, bearing out the body
of MOR.
Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,
Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort :
And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries,
Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house,
I doubt not but with honour to redress ;
And therefore haste I to the Parliament,
Either to be restored to my blood,
Or make my ill the advantage of my good.
[Exit,
ACT III.
SCENE I. LONDON. The Parliament House.
Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, EXETER,
GLOSTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUF-
FOLK ; the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICH-
ARD PLANTAGENET, and others. GLOSTER
offers to put up a bill ; WINCHESTER
snatches it, and tears it.
Win. Com'st thou with deep premeditated
lines,
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd, ,
Humphrey of Gloster ? if thou canst accuse,
Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,
Do it without invention, suddenly :
As I with sudden and extemporal speech
Purpose to answer what thou canst object.
Glo. Presumptuous priest ! this place com-
mands my patience,
Or thou should^t find thou hast dishonour'd me.
Think not, although in writing I preferr'd
The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes,
That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able
Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen :
No, prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness.
Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks,
As very infants prattle of thy pride.
Thou art a most pernicious usurer ;
Froward by nature, enemy to peace ;
Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems
A man of thy profession and degree ;
And for thy treachery, what 's more manifest,
In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life,
As well at London bridge as at the Tower ?
Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,
The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
From envious malice of thy swelling heart.
Win. Gloster, I do defy thee. Lords,
vouchsafe
To give me hearing what I shall reply.
If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse,
SCENE I.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
581
As he will have me, how am I so poor ?
Or how haps it I seek not to advance
Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling ?
And for dissension, who preferreth peace
More than I do, except I be provok'd ?
No, my good lords, it is not that offends ;
It is not that that hath incens'd the duke :
It is because no one should sway but he ;
No one but he should be about the king ;
And that engenders thunder in his breast,
And makes him roar these accusations forth.
But he shall know I am as good
Glo. As good !
Thou bastard of my grandfather !
Win. Ay, lordly sir ; for what are you, I pray,
But one imperious in another's throne ?
Glo. Am I not protector, saucy priest ?
Win. And am not I a prelate of the church ?
Glo. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps,
And useth it to patronage his theft.
Win. Unreverent Gloster !
Glo. Thou art reverent
Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.
Win. Rome shall remedy this.
War. Roam thither then.
Som. My lord, it were your duty to forbear.
War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.
Som. Methinks my lord should be religious,
And know the office that belongs to such.
War. Methinks his lordship should be
humbler ;
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.
Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so
near.
War. State holy or unhallow'd, what of that?
Is not his grace protector to the king?
Plan. Plantagenet, I see, must hold his
tongue,
Lest it be said, Speak, sirrah, when you should ;
Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords ?
Else would I have a fling at Winchester.
[Aside.
K. Hen. Uncles of Gloster and of Winchester,
The special watchmen of our English weal,
I would prevail, if prayers might prevail,
To join your hearts in love and amity.
O, what a scandal is it to our crown
That two such noble peers as ye should jar !
Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell
Civil dissension is a viperous worm
That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.
[A noise within, " Down with the tawny
coats."
What tumult 's this ?
War. An uproar, I dare warrant,
Begun through malice of the bishop's men !
[A noise again, " Stones ! Stones ! "
Enter thi Mayor of London, attended.
May. O, my good lords, and virtuous
Henry,
Pity the city of London, pity us !
The bishop and the Duke of Gloster's men,
Forbidden late to carry any weapon,
Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones,
And, banding themselves in contrary parts,
Do pelt so fast at one another's pate, [out :
That many have their giddy brains knock'd
Our windows are broke down in every street,
And we, for fear, compell'd to shut our shops.
Enter, skirmishing, the Retainers of GLOSTER
and WINCHESTER, with bloody pates.
K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to
ourself, [peace.
To hold your slaught'ring hands, and keep the
Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife.
1 Serv. Nay, if we be
Forbidden stones, we '11 fall to it with our teeth.
2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.
[Skirmish again.
Glo. You of my household, leave this peevish
broil,
And set this unaccustom'd fight aside. [man
3 Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a
Just and upright ; and for your royal birth
Inferior to none but to his majesty :
And ere that we will suffer such a prince,
So kind a father of the commonweal,
To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,
We, and our wives and children, all will fight,
And have our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes.
I Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails
Shall pitch a field when we are dead.
[Skirmish again.
Glo. Stay, stay, I say !
And if you love me, as you say you do,
Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.
K. Hen. O, how this discord doth afflict my
Soul!
Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold
My sighs and tears, and will not once relent ?
Who should be pitiful if you be not ?
Or who should study to prefer a peace,
If holy churchmen take delight in broils ?
War. Yield, my lord protector ; yield,
Winchester ;
Except you mean, with obstinate repulse,
To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm.
You see what mischief, and what murder too,
I lath been enacted through your enmity ;
Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.
Win. He shall submit, or I will never yield
58*
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT in.
Glo. Compassion on the king commands me
stoop;
Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest
Should ever get that privilege of me. [duke
War. Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the
Hath banish'd moody discontented fury,
As by his smoothed brows it doth appear :
Why look you still so stern and tragical?
Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.
K. Hen. Fie, uncle Beaufort ! I have heard
you preach
That malice was a great and grievous sin ;
And will not you maintain the thing you teach,
But prove a chief offender in the same ?
War. Sweet king ! the bishop hath a kindly
gird.
For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent !
What, shall a child instruct you what to do ?
Win. Well, Duke of Gloster, I will yield to
thee;
Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.
Glo. Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.
See here, my friends and loving countrymen ;
This token serveth for a flag of truce
Betwixt ourselves and all our followers :
So help me God, as I dissemble not !
Win. So help me God, as I intend it not !
[Aside.
K. Hen. O loving uncle, kind Duke of
Gloster,
How joyful am I made by this contract !
Away, my masters ! trouble us no more ;
But join in friendship, as your lords have done.
1 Serv. Content : I '11 to the surgeon's.
2 Serv. And so will I.
3 Serv. And I will see what physic the
tavern affords.
[Exeunt Servants, Mayor, Srv.
War. Accept this scroll, most gracious
sovereign ;
Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
We do exhibit to your majesty.
Glo. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick ; for,
sweet prince,
An if your grace mark every circumstance,
You have great reason to do Richard right ;
Especially for those occasions
At Eltham Place I told your majesty, [force ?
K. Hen. And those occasions, uncle, were of
Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is
That Richard be restored to his blood.
War. Let Richard be restored to his blood ;
So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd.
Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.
K. Hen. If Richard will be true, not that
alone,
But all the whole inheritance I give
That doth belong unto the house of York,
From whence you spring by lineal descent.
Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience
And humble service till the point of death.
K. Hen. Stoop, then, and set your knee
against my foot ;
And in reguerdon of that duty done
I girt thee with the valiant sword of York :
Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
And rise created princely Duke of York, [fall !
Plan. And so thrive Richard as thy foes may
And as my duty springs, so perish they
That grudge one thought against your majesty !
All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke
of York!
Som. Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of
/ork ! [Aside.
Glc. Now will it best avail your majesty
To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France :
The presence of a king engenders love
Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends,
As it disanimates his enemies.
K. Hen. When Gloster says the word, King
Henry goes ;
For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
Glo. Your ships already are in readiness.
[Flourish. Exeunt all but EXETER.
Exe. Ay, we may march in England or in
France,
Not seeing what is likely to ensue.
This late dissension grown betwixt the peers
Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love,
And will at last break out into a flame :
As fester'd members rot but by degree,
Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away,
So will this base and envious discord breed.
And now I fear that fatal prophecy
Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth
Was in the mouth of every sucking babe,
That Henry born at Monmouth should win all,
And Henry born at Windsor should lose all :
Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish
His days may finish ere that hapless time.
[Exit.
SCENE II. FRANCE. Before Rouen.
Enter LA PUCELLE disguised^ and Soldiers
dressed like Countrymen, -with sacks upon
their backs.
Puc. These are the city-gates, the gates of
Rouen,
Through which our policy must make a breach :
Take heed, be wary how you place your words ;
Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men
That come to gather money for their corn.
SCENE II.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
583
If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,
And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
I '11 by a sign give notice to our friends,
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.
I Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack
the city,
And we be lords and rulers over Rouen ;
Therefore we '11 knock. \Khocks.
Guard. {Within.} Qtiiestla?
Puc. Pay sans, pauvres gens de France,
Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn.
Guard. {Opening the gates.] Enter, go in; the
market-bell is rung.
Puc. Now, Rouen, I '11 shake thy bulwarks
to the ground.
[LA PUCELLE, 5rV., enter the Town.
Enter CHARLES, BASTARD OF ORLEANS,
ALENCON, and Forces.
Char. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem !
And once again we '11 sleep secure in Rouen.
Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle and her practis-
ants ;
Now she is there, how will she specify
Where is the best and safest passage in ?
Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonder
tower ; [is,
Which, once discern 'd, shows that her meaning
No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd.
Enter LA PUCELLE, on a battlement, holding
out a torch burning.
Puc. Behold, this is the happy wedding-torch
That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,
But burning fatal to the Talbotites.
Bast. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our
friend ;
The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
A prophet to the fall of all our foes !
Alen. Defer no time, delays have dangerous
ends ;
Enter, and cry The Dauphin ! presently,
And then do execution on the watch.
{They enter. Exit LA PUCELLE above.
Alarum. Enter , from the Town, TALBOT and
English Soldiers.
TaT. France, thou shalt rue this treason with
thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escap'd the pride of France.
[Exeunt into the Town.
Alarum : excursions. Enter, from the Town,
BEDFORD, brought in sick in a chair, with
TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the English Forces.
Then enter on the walls LA PUCELLE.
CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON, and others.
Puc. Good-morrow, gallants ! want ye corn
for bread ?
I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast
Before he '11 buy again at such a rate :
'Twas full of darnel ; do you like the taste ?
Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless cour-
tezan !
I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own,
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.
Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before
that time. [treason !
Bed. O let no words, but deeds, revenge this
Puc. WTiat will you do, good gray- beard ?
break a lance,
And run a tilt at death within a chair ? [spite,
Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all de-
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours !
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age,
And twit with cowardice a man half dead ?
Damsel, I '11 have a bout with you again,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.
Puc. Are you so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle^
hold thy peace ;
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.
[TALBOT and the rest consult together.
God speed the parliament ! who shall be the
speaker? [field?
Tal. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the
Puc. Belike your lordship takes us then for
fools,
To try if that our own be ours or no.
Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate,
But unto thee, Alen9on, and the rest ;
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out ?
Alen. Signior, no. [France !
Tal. Signior, hang ! base muleteers of
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls,
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
Puc. Away, captains ! let 's get us from the
walls ;
For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks.
God b' wi' you, my lord ! we came but to tell you
That we are here.
[Exeunt LA Puc., &c.,from the walls.
Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long,
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame !
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,
Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in
France,
Either to get the town again or die ;
And I, as sure as English Henry lives,
5*4
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT ni.
And as his father here was conqueror ;
As sure as in this late -betrayed town
Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried,
So sure I swear to get the town or die. [vows.
Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy
Tal. But ere we go, regard this dying prince,
The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord,
We will bestow you in some better place,
Fitter for sickness and for crazy age.
Bed, Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me :
Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen,
And will be partner of your weal or woe. [you.
Btir. Courageous Bedford, letusnowpersuade
Bed. Not to be gone from hence ; for once I
read
That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick
Came to the field, and vanquished his foes :
Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts,
Because I ever found them as myself.
Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast !
Thenbeitso : heavens keep old Bedford safe !
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,
And set upon our boasting enemy.
[Exeunt into the Town, BUR., TAL., and
Forces, leaving BED. and others.
Alarum : excursions. Enter SIR JOHN
FASTOLFE, and a Captain.
Cap. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in
such haste ? [flight :
Fast. Whither away ! to save myself by
We are like to have the overthrow again, [bot ?
Cap. What ! will you fly, and leave Lord Tal-
Fast. Ay,
All the Talbots in the world, to save my life.
[Exit.
Cap. Cowardly knight ! ill fortune follow
thee ! [Exit into the Town.
Retreat: excursions. Re-enter, from the town ,
LA PUCELLE, ALENCON, CHARLES, drv.,
and exeunt flying.
Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven
please,
For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
What is the trust or strength of foolish man ?
They that of late were daring with their scoffs
Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.
[Dies, and is carried off in his chair.
Alarum. Re-enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and
others.
Tal. Lost and recover'd in a day again !
This is a double honour, Burgundy :
Yet heavens have glory for this victory!
Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
Enshrines thee in his heart ; and there erects
Thy noble deeds, as valour's monuments.
Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is
Pucelle now ?
I think her old familiar is asleep :
Now where 's the Bastard's braves, and Charles
his gleeks ? [grief
What, all a-mort? Rouen hangs her head for
That such a valiant company are fled.
Now will we take some order in the town,
Placing therein some expert officers;
And then depart to Paris to the king,
For there young Harry with his nobles lie.
Bur. What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Bur-
gundy.
Tal. But yet, before we go, let 's not forget
The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen :
A braver soldier never couched lance,
A gentler heart did never sway in court ;
But kings and mightiest potentates must die,
For that 's the end of human misery. [Exeunt.
: ?Jfl
SCENE III. The Plains near Rouen.
Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD, ALEN9ON, LA
PUCELLE, and Forces.
Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident,
Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered :
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
For things that are not to be remedied.
Let frantic Talbot triumph for awhile,
And like a peacock sweep along his tail ;
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd.
Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence :
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.
Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies,
And we will make thee famous through the world.
Alen. We '11 set thy statue in some holy place,
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint :
Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good.
Puc. Then thus it must be ; this doth Joan
devise :
By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words,
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy
To leave the Talbot and to follow us. [that,
Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do
France were no place for Henry's warriors ;
Nor should that nation boast it so with us,
But be extirped from our provinces.
Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd from
France,
And not have title of an earldom here.
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
585
Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will
work
To bring this matter to the wished end.
[Drums heard.
Hark ! by the sound of drum you may perceive
Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.
An English March. Enter, and pass over at a
distance, TALBOT and his Forces.
There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread,
And all the troops of English after him.
A French March. Enter the DUKE OF
BURGUNDY and his Forces.
Now in the rearward comes the duke and his :
Fortune in favour makes him lag behind.
Summon a parley ; we will talk with him.
[A parley sounded.
Char. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy !
Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?
Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy
countryman.
Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am
marching hence.
Char. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with
thy words. [France !
Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
Bur. Speak on ; but be not over-tedious.
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile
France,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe !
As looks the mother on her lovely babe
When death doth close his tender dying eyes,
See, see the pining malady of France ;
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast !
O, turn thy edged sword another way ;
Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that
help ! [bosom
One drop of blood drawn from thy country's
Should grieve thee more than streams of
foreign gore :
Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country's stained spots.
Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her
words,
Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
Puc. Besides, all French and France ex-
claims on thee,
Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation
That will not trust thee but for profit's sake ?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
Who then but English Henry will be lord,
And thou be thrust out like a fugitive ?
Call we to mind, and mark but this for
proof,
Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe ?
And was he not in England prisoner ?
But when they heard he was thine enemy,
They set him free, without his ransom paid,
In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.
See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen,
And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men.
Come, come, return ; return, thou wand'ring
lord ;
Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.
Bur. I am vanquished ; these haughty words
of hers
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
And made me almost yield upon my knees.
Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen !
And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace :
My forces and my power of men are yours :
So, farewell, Talbot ; I '11 no longer trust thee.
Puc. Done like a Frenchman, turn, and
turn again !
Char. Welcome, brave duke ! thy friendship
makes us fresh. [breasts.
Bast. And doth beget new courage in our
Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part
in this,
And doth deserve a coronet of gold.
Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our
powers ;
And seek how we may prejudice the foe.
\_Exeunt.
SCENE IV. PARIS. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, and other
Lords, VERNON, BASSET, &c. To them
TALBOT and some of his Officers.
Tal. My gracious prince, and honourable
peers,
Hearing of your arrival in this realm,
I have awhile given truce unto my wars,
To do my duty to my sovereign :
In sign whereof, this arm, that hath reclaim'd
To your obedience fifty fortresses,
Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,
Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,
Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet,
And with submissive loyalty of heart
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got
First to my God and next unto your grace.
K. Hen. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle
Gloster,
That hath so long been resident in France ?
5 86
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT IV.
Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege.
K. Hen. Welcome, brave captain and vic-
torious lord !
When I was young, as yet I am not old,
I do remember how my father said
A stouter champion never handled sword.
Long since we were resolved of your truth,
Your faithful service, and your toil in war ;
Yet never have you tasted our reward,
Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks,
Because till now we never saw your face :
Therefore, stand up ; and for these good deserts
We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury ;
And in our coronation take your place.
{Exeunt K. HEN., GLO., TAL., and Nobles.
Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at
sea,
Disgracing of these colours that I wear
In honour of my noble Lord of York,
Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou
spak'st ?
Bas. Yes, sir ; as well as you dare patronage
The envious barking of your saucy tongue
Against my lord the Duke of Somerset.
Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.
Bas. Why, what is he? as good a man as
York.
Ver. Hark ye ; not so : in witness, take ye
that. [Strikes him.
Bas. Villain, thou know'st the law of arms
is such
That whoso draws a sword 'tis present death,
Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood.
But I '11 unto his majesty, and crave
I may have liberty to venge this wrong ;
When thou shalt see I '11 meet thee to thy cost.
Ver. Well, miscreant, I '11 be there as soon
as you ;
And, after, meet you sooner than you would.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. PARIS. A Room of State.
Enter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, EXETER,
YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WINCHES-
TER, WARWICK, TALBOT, the Governor of
Paris, and others.
Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his
head. [sixth !
Win. God save King Henry, of that name the
Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your
oath, [Governor kneels.
That you elect no other king but him ;
Esteem none friends but such as are his friends,
And none your foes but such as shall pretend
Malicious practices against his state :
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God !
[Exeunt Gov. and his Train.
Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE.
Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from
Calais,
To haste unto your coronation,
A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
Writ to your grace from the Duke of Burgundy.
Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and
thee ! [next,
I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee
To tear the garter from thy craven's leg,
[Plucking it off.
Which I have done, because unworthily
Thou wast installed in that high degree.
Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest :
This dastard, at the battle of Patay,
When but in all I was six thousand strong,
And that the French were almost ten to one,
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty squire, did run away :
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men ;
Myself, and divers gentlemen beside,
Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners.
Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss ;
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
This ornament of knighthood, yea or no.
Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous,
And ill beseeming any common man,
Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.
Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my
lords,
Knights of the garter were of noble birth,
Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage,
Such as were grown to credit by the wars ;
Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.
He, then, that is not furnish'd in this sort
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
Profaning this most honourable order,
And should, if I were worthy to be judge,
Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.
K. Hen. Stain to thy countrymen, thou
hear'st thy doom !
Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight :
Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.
[Exit FASTOLFE.
And now, my lord protector, view the letter
Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.
Glo. What means his grace, that he hath
chang'd his style?
[ Viewing the superscription-,
No more but, plain and bluntly, To the King\
SCENE I.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VL
587
Hath he forgot he is his sovereign ?
Or doth this churlish superscription
Pretend some alteration in good-will ?
What's here? [Reads.'} I have ', upon especial
cause,
Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck ,
Together with the pitifiil complaints
Of such as your oppression feeds upon,
Forsaken your pernicious faction, [France.
And joined with Charles, the rightful King of
monstrous treachery ! Can this be so,
That in alliance, amity, and oaths,
There should be found such false dissembling
guile ? [revolt ?
K. Hen. What ! doth my uncle Burgundy
Glo. He doth, my loid ; and is become your
foe. [contain ?
K. Hen. Is that the worst this letter doth
Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.
K. Hen. Why, then, Lord Talbot there shall
talk with him,
And give him chastisement for this abuse :
How say you, my lord, are you not content ?
Tal. Content, my liege ! yes ; but that I am
prevented, [ploy'd.
1 should have begg'd I might have been em-
K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march
unto him straight :
Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason,
And what offence it is to flout his friends.
Tal. I go, my lord ; in heart desiring still
You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exit.
Enter VERNON and BASSET.
Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sove-
reign ! [too !
Bas. And me, my lord, grant me the combat
York. This is my servant : hear him, noble
prince ! [him !
Som. And this is mine : sweet Henry, favour
K. Hen. Be patient, lords ; and give them
leave to speak.
Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim?
And wherefore crave you combat ? or with
whom ? [wrong.
Ver. With him, my lord ; for he hath done me
Bas. And I with him ; for he hath done me
wrong. [complain ?
K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both
First let me know, and then I '11 answer you.
Bas. Crossing the sea from England into
France,
This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear ;
Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks
When stubbornly he did repugn the truth
About a certain question in the law
Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him ;
With other vile and ignominious terms :
In confutation of which rude reproach,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
I crave the benefit of law of arms.
Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord :
For though he seem with forged quaint conceit
To set a gloss upon his bold intent,
Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him ;
And he first took exceptions at this badge,
Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower
Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.
York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?
Som. Your private grudge, my Lord of York,
will out,
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.
K. Hen. Good Lord, what madness rules in
brainsick men,
When for so slight and frivolous a cause
Such factious emulations shall arise !
Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.
York. Let this dissension first be tried by fight,
And then your highness shall command a peace.
Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone ;
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. [set.
York. There is my pledge ; accept it, Somer-
Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first.
Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.
Glo. Confirm it so ! Confounded be your strife!
And perish ye, with your audacious prate !
Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd
With this immodest clamorous outrage
To trouble and disturb the king and us?
And you, my lords, methinks you do not well
To bear with their perverse objections ;
Much less to take occasion from their mouths
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves :
Let me persuade you take a better course.
Exe. It grieves his highness : good my lords,
be friends. [combatants :
K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be
Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.
And you, my lords, remember where we are ;
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation :
If they perceive dissension in our looks,
And that within ourselves we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
To wilful disobedience, and rebel I
Beside, what infamy will there arise,
When foreign princes shall be certified
That for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henry's peers and chief nobility [France !
Destroy'd themselves and lost the realm of
O, think upon the conquest of my father ;
5 88
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
My tender years ; and let us not forego
That for a trifle that was bought with blood !
Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
I see no reason, if I wear this rose,
[Putting on a red rose.
That any one should therefore be suspicious
I more incline to Somerset than York :
Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both :
As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown'd.
But your discretions better can persuade
Than I am able to instruct or teach :
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.
Cousin of York, we institute your grace
To be our regent in these parts of France :
And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of
foot;
And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
Go cheerfully together, and digest
Your angry choler on your enemies.
Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest,
After some respite, will return to Calais ;
From thence to England ; where I hope ere long
To be presented, by your victories,
With Charles, Alen9on, and that traitorous rout.
[Flourish. Exeunt K. HEN., GLO.,
SOM., WIN., SUF., a;zdfBAS.
War* My Lord of York, I promise you, the
king
Prettily, methought, did play the orator.
York. And so he did ; but yet I like it not,
In that he wears the badge of Somerset.
War. Tush, that was but his fancy, blame him
not;
I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no
harm.
York. An if I wist he did, but let it rest ;
Other affairs must now be managed.
[Exeunt YORK, WAR., andVER.
Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress
thy voice :
For had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear we should have seen decipher'd there
More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
This jarring discord of nobility,
This shouldering of each other in the court,
This factious bandying of their favourites,
But that it doth presage some ill event.
'Tis much when sceptres are in children's
hands ;
But more when envy breeds unkind division ;
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.
{Exit.
SCENE II. FRANCE. Before Bourdeaux.
Enter TALBOT, with his Forces.
Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter:
Summon their general unto the wall.
Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, on the walls ^
the General of the French Forces, and
others.
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry King of England ;
And thus he would, Open your city gates;
Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects ;
And I '11 withdraw me and my bloody power :
But if you frown upon this proffer'd peace
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire ;
Who, in a moment, even with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
If you forsake the offer of their love.
Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge !
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us thou canst not enter but by death ;
For, I protest, we are well fortified,
And strong enough to issue out and fight :
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee :
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd,
To wall thee from the liberty of flight ;
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament,
To rive their dangerous artillery
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit !
This is the latest glory of thy praise
That I, thy enemy, due thee withal ;
For ere the glass that now begins to run
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These eyes, that see thee now well coloured,
Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.
[Drum afar off.
Hark ! hark ! the Dauphin's drum, a warning
bell,
Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul ;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.
[Exeunt General, &c. from the Walls
Tal. He fables not ; I hear the enemy :
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their
wings.
O, negligent and heedless discipline !
How are we park'd and bounded in a pale,
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
589
A little herd of England's timorous deer,
Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs !
If we be English deer, be, then, in blood ;
Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch,
But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel,
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay :
Sell every man his life as dear as mine,
And they shall find dear deer of us, my
friends. [right,
God and Saint George, Talbot and England's
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight !
SCENE III. Plains in Cascony.
Enter YORK, with Forces ; to him a Messenger.
York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd
again,
That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?
Mess. They are return'd, my lord ; and give
it out
That he is march 'd to Bourdeaux with his power,
To fight with Talbot : as he march'd along,
By your espials were discovered
Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led,
Which join'd with him, and made their march
for Bourdeaux.
York. A plague upon that villain Somerset,
That thus delays my promised supply
Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege !
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid ;
And I am louted by a traitor villain,
And cannot help the noble chevalier:
God comfort him in this necessity !
If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.
Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY.
Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English
strength,
Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction :
To Bourdeaux, warlike duke ! to Bourdeaux,
York ! [honour.
Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's
York. O God, that Somerset, who in proud
heart
Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place !
So should we save a valiant gentleman
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep,
That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.
Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd
lord!
York. He dies, we lose ; I break my warlike
word ;
We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily
get;
All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.
Lucy. Then God take mercy on brave Tal-
bot's soul ; [since
And on his son, young John, who two hours
I met in travel toward his warlike father !
This seven years did not Talbot see his son;
And now they meet where both their lives are
done.
York. Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have
To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
Away ! vexation almost stops my breath,
That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of
death.
Lucy, farewell : no more my fortune can,
But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.
Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours are won away,
'Long all of Somerset and his delay.
[Exit, -with Forces.
Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror,
That ever-living man of memory,
Henry the Fifth : whiles they each other cross,
Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.Oiher Plains of Gascon? .
Enter SOMERSET, with his Forces ; an Officer
of TALBOT'S -with him.
Som. It is too late ; I cannot send them now :
This expedition was by York and Talbot
Too rashly plotted ; all our general force
Might with a sally of the very town
Be buckled with : the over-daring Talbot
Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour
By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:
York set him on to fight and die in shame,
That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the
name.
Off. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me
Set from our o'er-matched forces forth for aid.
Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY.
Som. How now, Sir William ! whither were
you sent?
Lucy. Whither, my lord ! from bought and
sold Lord Talbot ;
Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions;
And whiles the honourable captain there
590
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
Drops bloody sweat from his war- wearied limbs,
And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue,
You, his false hopes, the trust of England's
honour,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succours that should lend him aid,
While he, renowned noble gentleman,
Yields up his life unto a world of odds :
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,
Alen9on, Reignier, compass him about,
And Talbot perisheth by your default.
Som. York set him on, York should have
sent him aid. [claims ;
Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace ex-
Swearing that you withhold his levied horse,
Collected for this expedition. [the horse :
Som. York lies ; he might have sent and had
I owe him little duty and less love ;
And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.
Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force
of France,
Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot :
Never to England shall he bear his life ;
But dies betray'd to fortune by your strife.
Som. Come, go ; I will despatch the horse-
men straight :
Within six hours they will be at his aid.
Lucy. Too late comes rescue ; he is ta'en or
slain :
For fly he could not, if he would have fled ;
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
Som. Ifhe be dead, brave Talbot, then, adieu !
Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame
in you. \_Exeunt,
SCENE V. The English Camp nearBourdeaux.
Enter TALBOT and JOHN his Son.
Tal. O young John Talbot ! I did send for
thee
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd
When sapless age and weak unable limbs
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, O malignant and ill-boding stars !
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger : [horse ;
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest
And I '11 direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight : come, dally not, begone.
John. Is my name Talbot ? and am I your
son?
And shall I fly ? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard and a slave of me !
The world will say, he is not Talbot's blood
That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.
Tal. Fly to revenge my death, if I be slain.
John. He that flies so will ne'er return again.
TaL If we both stay we both are sure to die.
John. Then let me stay ; and, father, do you
fly:
Your loss is great, so your regard should be ;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast ;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done ;
You fled for vantage, every one will swear ;
But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If the first hour I shrink and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one
tomb ? [womb.
John. Ay, rather than I '11 shame my mother's
Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
TaL Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.
John. No part of him but will be shame in
me. [lose it.
Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not
John. Yes, your renowned name : shall
flight abuse it ?
Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee
from that stain.
John. You cannot witness for me, being slain.
If death be so apparent, then both fly.
Tal. And leave my followers here to fight
and die ?
My age was never tainted with such shame.
John. And shall my youth be guilty of such
blame ?
No more can I be sever'd from your side
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide :
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ;
For live I will not if my father die. [son,
Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
Come, side by side together live and die ;
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. A Field of Battle.
Alarum : excursions wherein TALBOT'S Son is
hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him.
Tal. Saint George and victory ! fight,
soldiers, fight :
The regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
SCENE VI.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
591
And left us to the rage of France his sword.
Where is John Talbot ? pause, and take thy
breath ;
I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death.
John. O, twice my father, twice am I thy son !
The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done,
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.
Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy
sword struck fire,
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alenc,on, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee.
The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood ; and, in disgrace,
Bespoke him thus, Contaminated ', base,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine ,
Mean and right poor , for that pure blood of mine
Which thou didst force from Talbot ', my brave
boy :
Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, [care,
Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's
Art thou not weary, John? how dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead :
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat !
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age :
By me they nothing gain an if I stay,
'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day :
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's
fame :
All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay ;
All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away.
John. The sword of Orleans hath not made
me smart ; [heart :
These words of yours draw life-blood from my
On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse that bears me fall and die !
And like me to the peasant boys of France ;
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance !
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son :
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot ;
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. [Crete,
Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of
Thou Icarus ; thy life to me is sweet :
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side ;
And, commendable prov'd, let 's die in pride.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII. Another part of the same.
Alarum : excursions. Enter TALBOT wounded,
supported by a Servant.
Tal. Where is my other life ? mine own is
gone ; [John ?
O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:
When he perceiv'd me shrink and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
And like a hungry lion did commence
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience ;
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tendering my ruin, and assail'd of none,
Dizzy-e/d fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clustering battle of the French ;
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting spirit ; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride, [borne!
Serv. O my dear lord ! lo where your son is
Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN
TALBOT.
Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us
here to scorn,
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds ot perpetuity,
Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality.
O thou whose wounds become hard-favour'd
death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath !
Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no j
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.
Poor boy ! he smiles, methinks, as who
should say, [to-day.
Had death been French, then death had died
Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms :
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu ! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young Talbot's grave.
\_Dies.
Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leav*
ing the two bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALEN-
90N, BURGUNDY, BASTARD, LA PUCELLB,
and P orces.
Char. Had York and Somerset brought
rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
592
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[AC
Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's,
raging- wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood !
Puc. Once I encounter 'd him, and thus I said,
Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid:
But, with a proud majestical high scorn,
He answer'd thus, Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench: .
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
Bur. Doubtless he would have made a
noble knight :
See where he lies inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms !
Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones
asunder,
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
Char. O, no ; forbear ! for that which we
have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY, attended; a
French Herald preceding.
Lucy. Herald,
Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, to know
Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day,
Char. On what submissive message art thou
sent?
Lucy. Submission, Dauphin! 'tis a mere
French word;
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
Char. For prisoners aslc'st thou? hell our
prison is.
But tell me whom thou seek'st. [field,
Lucy. But where 's the great Alcides of the
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Createc, for his rare success in arms, [ence ;
Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Val-
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of
Alton, [Sheffield,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge ;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece;
Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
Puc. Here is a silly-stately style indeed !
The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath.
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifies! with all these titles,
Stinking and fly-blown, lies here at our feet.
Lucy. Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen's
only scourge,
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
O were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces'.
O that I could but call these dead to life !
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left among you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies, that I may bear themhence,
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
Puc. I think this upstart is old Talbot's
ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding
spirit. [here,
For God's sake, let him have 'em ; to keep them
They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.
Lucy. I '11 bear them hence :
But from their ashes shall be rear'd
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em
what thou wilt.
And now to Paris in this conquering vein :
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.
{Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, and
EXETER.
K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from
the pope,
The emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac?
Glo. I have, my lord: and their intent is
this,
They humbly sue unto your excellence
To have a godly peace concluded of
Between the realms of England and of France.
K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their
motion? [means
Glo. Well, my good lord ; and as the only
To stop effusion of our Christian blood,
And stablish quietness on every side, [thought
K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always
It was both impious and unnatural
That such immanity and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.
Glo. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect
And surer bind this knot of amity,
The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
K. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas, my years
are young ;
And fitter is my study and my books
SCENE I.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
593
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet, call the ambassadors ; and as you please,
So let them have their answers every one :
I shall be well content with any choice
Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.
Enter a Legate and two Ambassadors, with
WINCHESTER, now CARDINAL BEAUFORT,
in a Cardinal^ habit.
Exe. What ! is my Lord of Winchester in-
stall'd,
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
Then I perceive that will be verified
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,
If once he come to be a cardinal ',
He '// make his cap co-equal with the crown.
K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several
suits
Have been consider'd and debated on.
Your purpose is both good and reasonable ;
And therefore are we certainly resolv'd
To draw conditions of a friendly peace ;
Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.
Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your
master,
I have inform'd his highness so at large,
/ s, liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty, and the value of her dower,
He doth intend she shall be England's
queen.
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which
contract.
Bear her this jewel [to the Amb.], pledge of my
affection.
And so, my lord protector, see them guarded
And safely brought to Dover ; where, inshipp'd,
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
[Exeunt K. HEN., GLO., EXE., and
Ambassadors.
Win. Stay, my lord legate: you shall first
receive
The sum of money which I promised
Should be delivered to his holiness
For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's
leisure. [Exit.
Win. Now Winchester will not submit, I
trow,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive
That neither in birth or for authority
The bishop will be overborne by thee :
I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy
knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny. [Exit.
SCENE II. FRANCE. Plains in Anjou.
Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENON, LA
PUCELLE, and Forces, marching.
Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our
drooping spirits:
'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt,
And turn again unto the warlike French.
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of
France,
And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
Puc. Peace be amongst them if they turn to
us;
Else ruin combat with their palaces !
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Success unto our valiant general,
And happiness to his accomplices !
Char. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'y-
thee, speak.
Mess. The English army, that divided was
Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one,
And means to give you battle presently. [is ;
Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning
But we will presently provide for them.
Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there :
Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.
Puc. Of all base passions fear is most
accurs'd : [thine ;
Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be
Let Henry fret and all the world repine.
Char. Then on, my lords; and France be
fortunate ! [Exeunt.
SCENE III. The same. Before Angiers.
Alarums: excursions. Entef LA PUCELLE.
Puc. The regent conquers and the French-
men fly,
Now help, ye charming spells and periapts ;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me,
And give me signs of future accidents,
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,
Appear, and aid me in this enterprise !
[ Thunder.
Enter Fiends.
This speedy and quick appearance argues pro ->f
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye familiar spirits that are cull'd
Out of the powerful legions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.
[They walk about and speak not,
O, hold me not with silence over-long !
594
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT v.
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood
I '11 lop a member off and give it you,
In earnest of a further benefit,
So you do condescend to help me now.
[They hang their heads.
No hope to have redress? My body shall
Pay recompense if you will grant my suit.
[ They shake their heads.
Cannot my body nor blood sacrifice
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
Then take my soul, my body, soul, and all,
Before that England give the French the foil.
[They depart.
See ! they forsake me. Now the time is come
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest,
And let her head fall into England's lap.
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle v/ith :
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.
[Exit.
Alarums. Enter French and English, fight-
ing. LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand
to hand: LA PUCELLE is taken. The French
fly.
York. Damsel of France, I think I have you
fast :
Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,
And try if they can gain your liberty.
A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace !
See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape !
Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst
not be. [man ;
York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper
No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles
and thee !
And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds !
York. Fell, banning hag ; enchantress, hold
thy tongue ! [while.
Puc. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a-
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest
to the stake.
[Exeunt.
Alarums. Enter SUFFOLK, leading in LADY
MARGARET.
Suf. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
[Gazes on her.
fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly !
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.
1 kiss these fingers for eternal peace.
[Kissing her hand.
Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.
Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a
king,
The King of Naples whosoe'er thou art.
Suf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.
Be not offended, nature's miracle,
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings.
Yet, if this servile usage once offend,
Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend.
[She turns away as going.
O, stay ! I have no power to let her pass ;
My hand would free her, but my heart says no.
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
So seeni3 this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak :
I '11 call for pen and ink, and write my mind :
Fie, De-la- Poole ! disable not thyself;
Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such, [rough.
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses
Mar. Say, Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be
so,
What ransom must I pay before I pass?
For I perceive I am thy prisoner. [suit
Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy
Before thou make a trial of her love? [Aside.
Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom
must I pay ? [woo'd ;
Suf. She's beautiful, and therefore to be
She is a woman, therefore to be won. [Aside.
Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom yea or no?
Suf. Fond man, remember that thou hast a
wife;
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
[Aside.
Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not
hear.
Suf. There all is marr'd ; there lies a cooling
card. [Aside.
Mar. He talks at random ; sure, the man is
mad.
Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had.
[Aside.
Mar. And yet I would that you would an-
swer me.
Suf. I '11 win this Lady Margaret. For
whom?
Why, for my king: tush, that's a wooden
thing ! [Aside.
Mar. He talks of wood : it is some carpenter.
Suf. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied,
And peace established between these realms.
But there remains a scruple in that too;
For though her father be the King of Naples,
SCENE III.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
595
Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,
And our nobility will scorn the match. [Aside.
Mar. Hear ye, captain, are ye not at
leisure? [much:
Suf. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so
Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.
[Aside.
Madam, I have a secret to reveal. [a knight,
Mar. What though I be enthrall'd? he seems
And will not any way dishonour me. [Aside.
Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescued by the
French ;
And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside.
Suf. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a
cause
Mar. Tush ! women have been captivate ere
now. [Aside.
Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so?
Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.
Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not
suppose
Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?
Mar. To be a queen in bondage is more vile
Than is a slave in base servility ;
For princes should be free.
Suf. And so shall you,
If happy England's royal king be free. [me ?
Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto
Suf. I '11 undertake to make thee Henry's
queen ;
To put a golden sceptre in thy hand,
And set a precious crown upon thy head,
If thou wilt condescend to be my
Mar. What?
Sttf. His love.
Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
Suf. No, gentle madam ; I unworthy am
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife,
And have no portion in the choice myself.
How say you, madam, are you so content?
Mar. An if my father please, I am content.
Suf. Then call our captains and our colours
forth ! [Troops come forward.
And, madam, at your father's castle- walls
We '11 crave a parley, to confer with him.
A Parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER on the
Walls,
Suf. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner !
Reig. To whom?
Suf. To me.
Reig. Suffolk, what remedy?
I am a soldier, and unapt to weep
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.
Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord :
Consent, and for thy honour give consent,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king;
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto ;
And this her easy-held imprisonment
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.
Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
Suf. Fair Margaret knows
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.
Reig. Upon thy princely warrant I descend,
To give thee answer of thy just demand.
[Exit REIGN IER/TWW the Walls.
Suf. And here I will expect thy coming.
Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER below.
Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our terri-
tories ;
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
Suf. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a
child,
Fit to be made companion with a king:
What answer makes your grace unto my suit?
Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little
worth
To be the princely bride of such a lord,
Upon condition I may quietly
Enjoy mine own, the county Maine and Anjou,
Free from oppression or the stroke of war,
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.
Suf. That is her ransom, I deliver her;
And those two counties I will undertake
Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
Reig. And I again, in Henry s royal name,
As deputy unto that gracious king,
Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.
Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly
thanks,
Because this is in traffic of a king :
And yet, methinks, I could be well content
To be mine own attorney in this case.
[Aside.
I '11 over, then, to England with this news,
And make this marriage to be solemniz'd.
So, farewell, Reignier : set this diamond safe
In golden palaces, as it becomes.
Reig. I do embrace thee as I would embrace
The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.
Mar. Farewell, my lord: good wishes,
praise, and prayers
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going.
Suf. Farewell, sweet madam : but hark you,
Margaret,
No princely commendations to my king?
Mar. Such commendations as become a
maid,
A virgin, and his servant, say to him.
Suf. Words sweetly plac'd and modestly
directed.
59 6
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT v.
But, madam, I must trouble you again,
No loving token to his majesty? [heart,
Mar. Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted
Never yet taint with love, I send the king.
Suf. And this withal. [Kisses her.
Alar. Thatfor thyself: I will not so presume
To send such peevish tokens to a king.
[Exeunt REIG. and MAR.
Suf. O, wert thou for myself ! But, Suffolk,
stay;
Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth :
There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.
Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise :
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,
And natural graces that extinguish art;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
That when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet
Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with
wonder. [Exit.
SCENE IV. Camp of the DUKE OF YORK in
Anjou.
Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others.
York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd
to burn.
Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd.
Shep. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart
outright !
Have I sought every country far and near,
And now it is my chance to find thee out
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I '11 die with
thee !
Puc. Decrepit miser ! base ignoble wretch !
I am descended of a gentler blood ;
Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.
Shep. Out, out ! My lords, an please you,
'tis not so ;
I did beget her, all the parish knows:
Her mother liveth yet, can testify
She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.
War. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy paren-
tage? [been,
York. This argues what her kind of life hath
Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes.
Shep. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so ob-
stacle !
God knows thou art a collop of my flesh ;
And for thy sake have I shed many a tear :
Deny me not, I pr'ythee, gentle Joan.
Puc. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd
this man,
Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.
Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest
The morn that I was wedded to her mother.
Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.
Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time
Of thy nativity ! I would the milk [breast
Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her
Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake !
Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee !
Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?
O, burn her, burn her ! hanging is too good.
[Exit.
York. Take her away ; for she hath liv'd too
long,
To fill the world with vicious qualities.
Puc. First let me tell you whom you have
condemn'd :
Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
But issu'd from the progeny of kings ;
Virtuous and holy ; chosen from above,
By inspiration of celestial grace,
To work exceeding miracles on earth.
I never had to do with wicked spirits :
But you, that are polluted with your lusts,
Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,
Because you want the grace that others have,
You judge it straight a thing impossible
To compass wonders but by help of devils.
No, misconceived ! Joan of Arc hath been
A virgin from her tender infancy,
Chaste and immaculate in very thought ;
Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
York. Ay, ay : away with her to execution !
War. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a
maid,
Spare for no fagots, let there be enow :
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
That so her torture may be shortened.
Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting
hearts?
Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity,
That warranteth by law to be thy privilege.
I am with child, ye bloody homicides :
Murder not, then, the fruit within my womb 5
Although ye hale me to a violent death.
York. Now heaven forfend! the holy maid
with child ! [wrought :
War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye
Is all your strict preciseness come to this ?
York. She and the Dauphin have been
juggling:
I did imagine what would be her refuge, [live ;
War. Well, go to ; we will have no bastards
Especially since Charles must father it. [his :
Puc. You are deceiv'd ; my child is none of
It was Alengon that enjoy'd my love.
SCENE IV.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
597
York. Alenon ! that notorious Machiavel !
It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.
Puc, O, give me leave, I have deluded you :
'Twas neither Charles nor yet the duke I nam'd,
But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail'd.
War. A married man ! that 's most intoler-
able.
York. Why, here's a girl! I think she
knows not well
There were so many whom she may accuse.
War. It 's sign she hath been liberal and
free.
York. And yet, forsooth, she isa virgin pure.
Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee :
Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
Puc. Then lead me hence; with whom I
leave my curse :
May never glorious sun reflex his beams
Upon the country where you make abode ;
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
Environ you, till mischief and despair
Drive you to break your necks or hang your-
selves ! [Exit, guarded.
York. Break thou in pieces and consume to
ashes,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell !
Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, attended.
Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence
With letters of commission from the king.
For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,
Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils,
Have earnestly implor'd a general peace
Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French ;
And here at hand the Dauphin and his train
Approacheth, to confer about some matter.
York. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?
After the slaughter of so many peers,
So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers,
That in this quarrel have been overthrown,
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?
Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered?
O Warwick, Warwick ! I foresee with grief
The utter loss of all the realm of France.
War. Be patient, York : if we conclude a
peace, [nants
It shall be with such strict and severe cove-
As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.
Enter CHARLES, attended; ALENCON,
BASTARD, REIGNIER, and others.
Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus
agreed [France,
That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in
We come to be informed by yourselves
What the conditions of that league must be.
York. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler
chokes
The hollow passage of my prison'd voice,
By sight of these our baleful enemies.
Car. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus :
That in regard King Henry gives consent,
Of mere compassion and of lenity,
To ease your country of distressful war,
And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,
You shall become true liegemen to his crown :
And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
To pay him tribute and submit thyself,
Thou shall be plac'd as viceroy under him,
And still enjoy thy regal dignity. [self?
Alen. Must he be, then, as shadow of hirr.-
Adorn his temples with a coronet,
And yet, in substance and authority,
Retain but privilege of a private man ?
This proffer is absurd and reasonless. [sess'd
Char. 'Tis known already that I am pos-
With more than half the Gallian territories,
And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king :
Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd,
Detract so much from that prerogative
As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?
No, lord ambassador; I'll rather keep
That which I have than, coveting for more,
Be cast from possibility of all.
York. Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret
means
Us'd intercession to obtain a league,
And now the matter grows to compromise
Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison?
Either accept the title thou usurp'st,
Of benefit proceeding from our king,
And not of any challenge of desert,
Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.
Reig. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy
To cavil in the course of this contract :
If once it be neglected, ten to one
We shall not find like opportunity.
Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy
To save your subjects from such massacre
And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen
By our proceeding in hostility ;
And therefore take this compact of a truce,
Although you break it when your pleasure
serves. [Aside to CHARLES.
War. How say'st thou, Charles? shall our
condition stand?
Char. It shall;
Only reserv'd, y,u claim no interest
In any of our towns of garrison.
York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty,
As thou art knight, never to disobey
59 8
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT v.
Nor be rebellious to the crown of England,
Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.
[CHARLES and the rest give tokens of fealty.
So, now dismiss your army when ye please ;
Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still,
For here we entertain a solemn peace.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING HENRY, in conference with
SUFFOLK ; GLOSTER and EXETER follow-
ing.
K* Hen. Your wondrous rare description,
noble earl,
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me :
Her virtues, graced with external gifts,
Do breed love's settled passions in my heart :
And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts
Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,
So am I driven, by breath of her renown,
Eitfrer to suffer shipwreck or arrive
Where I may have fruition of her love. [tale
Suf. Tush, my good lord, this superficial
Is but a preface of her worthy praise :
The chief perfections of that lovely dame,
Had I sufficient skill to utter them,
Would make a volume of enticing lines,
Able to ravish any dull conceit :
And, which is more, she is not so divine,
So full-replete with choice of all delights,
But, with as humble lowliness of mind,
She is content to be at your command ;
Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents,
To love and honour Henry as her lord.
K. Hen. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pre-
sume.
Therefore, my lord protector, give consent
That Margaret may be England's royal queen.
Glo. So should I give consent to flatter sin.
You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd
Unto another lady of esteem : [tract,
How shall we, then, dispense with that con-
And not deface your honour with reproach?
Suf. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths ;
Or one that, at a triumph having vow'd
To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists
By reason of his adversary's odds :
A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds,
And therefore may be broke without offence.
Glo. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more
than that?
Her father is no better than ar earl,
Although in glorious titles he excel.
Suf. Yes, my lord, her father is a king,
The King of Naples and Jerusalem ;
And of such great authority in France
As his alliance will confirm our pe?ce,
And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.
Glo. And so. the Earl of Armagnac may do,
Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.
Exe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal
dower ;
While Reignier sooner will receive than give.
Suf. A dower, my lords ! disgrace not so
your king,
That he should be so abject, base, and poor,
To choose for wealth, and not for perfect love.
Henry is able to enrich his queen,
And not to seek a queen to make him rich :
So worthless peasants bargain for their wives,
As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse.
Marriage is a matter of more worth
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship ;
Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects,
Must be companion of his nuptial bed :
And therefore, lords, since he affects her most,
It most of all these reasons bindeth us
In our opinions she should be preferr'd.
For what is wedlock forced but a hell,
An age of discord and continual strife?
Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss,
And is a pattern of celestial peace.
Whom should we match with Henry, being a
king,
But Margaret, that is daughter to a king?
Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,
Approves her fit for none but for a king :
Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit,
More than in women commonly is seen,
Will answer our hope in issue of a king ;
For Henry, son unto a conqueror,
Is likely to beget more conquerors,
If with a lady of so high resolve
As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love. [me
Then yield, my lords ; and here conclude with
That Margaret shall be queen, and none but
she.
K. Hen. Whether it be through force of your
report,
My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that
My tender youth was never yet attaint
With any passion of inflaming love,
I cannot tell ; but this I am assur'd,
I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,
Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,
As I am sick with working of my thoughts.
Take therefore shipping; post, my lord, to
France ;
Agree to any covenants ; and procure
That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd
King Henry's faithful and anointed queen :
SCENE V.]
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
599
For your expenses and sufficient charge,
Among the people gather up a tenth.
Be gone, I say; for, till you do return,
I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.
And you, good uncle, banish all offence :
If you do censure me by what you were,
Not what you are, I know it will excuse
This sudden execution of my will.
And so, conduct me where, from company,
I may revolve and ruminate my grief. {Exit.
Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and EXETER.
Suf. Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd ; and thus
he goes,
As did the youthful Paris once to Greece,
With hope to find the like event in love,
But prosper better than the Trojan did.
Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king;
But I will rule both her, the king, and realm.
[Exif.
ben 1
/tiA
SECOND PART OF
KING HENRY VL
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.
HUMPHREY, Duke of Gloster, his Uncle.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT, Bishop of Winchester
Great- Uncle to the KING.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York.
EDWARD and RICHARD, his Sons.
DUKE OF SOMERSET, -\
DUKE OF SUFFOLK, - ,
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, I f **
LORD CLIFFORD,
YOUNG CLIFFORD, his Son,]
EARL OF SALISBURY, \ , ,
EARL OF WARWICK, }f the
LORD SCALES, Governor of the Tower.
LORD SAY.
SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD.
WILLIAM STAFFORD, his Brother.
SIR JOHN STANLEY,
A Sea Captain, Master, and Master's Mate
and WALTER WHITMORE.
Two Gentlemen, Prisoners with SUFFOLK.
VAUX.
A Herald.
HUME and SOUTHWELL, two Priests*
BOLINGBROKE, a Conjuror.
A Spirit raised by him.
THOMAS HORNER, an Armourer.
PETER, his Man.
Clerk of Chatham.
Mayor of Saint Alban's.
SIMPCOX, an Impostor.
Two Murderers.
JACK CADE, a Rebel.
GEORGE, JOHN, DICK, SMITH the Weaver^
MICHAEL, &c., his followers.
ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish Gentleman.
MARGARET, Queen to KING HENRY.
ELEANOR, Duchess of Gloster.
MARGERY JOURDAIN, a Witch.
Wife to SIMPCOX.
Lords, Ladies, and Attendants; Petitioners,
Aldermen, a Beadle, Sheriff, and Officers,*
Citizens, Prentices, Falconers, Guards,
Soldiers, Messengers, &c.
SCENE, Dispersedly in variotis parts 0/ ENGLAND.
ACT I.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Room of State in the
Castle.
Flourish of trumpets : then hautboys. Enter,
on one side, KING HENRY, DUKE OF
GLOSTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and
CARDINAL BEAUFORT; on the other, QUEEN
MARGARET, led in by SUFFOLK; YORK,
SOMERSET, BUCKINGHAM, and others,
following.
Suf. As by your high imperial majesty
I had in charge at my depart for France,
As procurator to your excellence,
To marry Princess Margaret for your grace ;
So, in the famous ancient city Tours,
In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil,
The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne, and
Alencon,
Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend
bishops,
I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd:
And humbly now, upon my bended knee,
In sight of England and her lordly peers,
Deliver up my title in the queen [stance
To your most gracious hands, that are the sub-
Of that great shadow I did represent ;
The happiest gift that ever marquis gave,
The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd.
K. Hen. Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen
Margaret :
I can express no kinder sign of love [life,
Than this kind kiss. O Lord, that lends me
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness !
For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face,
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
Q. Mar. Great King of England, and my
gracious lord,
The mutual conference that my mind hath had,
SCENE I.I
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
601
By day, by night, waking and in my dreams,
In courtly company or at my beads,
With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign,
Makes me the bolder to salute my king
With ruder terms, such as my wit affords
And over-joy of heart doth minister, [speech,
K. Hen. Her sight did ravish ; but her grace in
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys ;
Such is the fulness of my heart's content.
Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my
love.
AIL [Kneeling.'} Long live Queen Margaret,
England's happiness !
Q. Mar. We thank you all. [Flourish.
Suf. My lord protector, so it please your grace,
Here are the articles of contracted peace
Between our sovereign and the French King
Charles,
For eighteen months concluded by consent.
Glo. [Reads.] Imprimis ~, It is agreed between
the French King Charles and William De-la-
Poole, Marqtiess of Suffolk, ambassador for
Henry King of England, thai the said Henry
shall espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter unto
Reignier King of Naples , Sicilia, and Jerusalem ;
and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth
of May next ensuing. Item, That the duchy of
Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released
and delivered to the king her father,
K. Hen. Uncle, how now !
Glo. Pardon me, gracious lord ;
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart,
And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no
further.
K. Hen. Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on.
Car. [Reads. ~\ Item, It is further agreed be-
tween them that the duchies of Anjou and Maine
shall be released and delivered over to the king
her father; and she sent over of the King of
England's own proper cost and charges, without
having any dowry.
K. Hen. They please us well. Lord mar-
quess, kneel down :
We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk,
A.nd girt thee with the sword. Cousin of York,
We here discharge your grace from being regent
I' the parts of France, till term of eighteen
months
Be full expir'd. Thanks, uncle Winchester,
Gloster, York, Buckingham, Somerset,
Salisbury, and Warwick ;
We thank you all for this great favour done,
In entertainment to my princely queen.
Come, let us in ; and with all speed provide
To see her coronation be perform'd.
[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, and SUFFOLK.
Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the
state,
To you Duke Humphrey must unload hisgrief,
Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
What ! did my brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, coin, and people in the wars?
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits
To keep by policy what Henry got?
Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy?
Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself,
With all the learned council of the realm,
Studied so long, sat in the council-house
Early and late, debating to and fro [a\vei
How France and Frenchmen might be ktpt ir
And hath his highness in his infancy
Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes?
And shall these labours and these honours die?
Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,
Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die?
O peers of England, shameful is this league I
Fatal this marriage ! cancelling your farce,
Blotting your names from books of memory,
Razing the characters of your renown.
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France,
Undoing all, as all had never been !
Car. Nephew, what means this passionate
discourse,
This peroration with such circumstance?
For France, 'tis ours ; and we will keep it still
Glo. Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can ;
But now it is impossible we should :
Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast,
Hath given the cuchy of Anjou and Maine
Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.
Sal. Now, by the death of Him that died for
all,
These counties were the keys of Normandy :
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?
War. For grief that they are past recovery :
For were there hope to conquer them again
My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes
no tears.
Anjou and Maine ! myself did win them both ;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer:
And are the cities that I got with wounds
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words?
Mart Dieu ! [cate
York. For Suffolk 's duke, may he be sufib-
That dims the honour of this warlike isle !
France should have torn and rent my very heart
Before I would have yielded to this league.
6O2
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT i.
I never read but England's kings have had
Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives ;
And our King Henry gives away his own,
To match with her that brings no vantages.
Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before,
That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth
For costs and charges in transporting her !
She should have stay'd in France, and starv'd
in France,
Before [hot :
Car. My Lord of Gloster, now you grow too
It was the pleasure of my lord the king.
Glo. My Lord of Winchester, I know your
mind;
'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike,
But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye.
Rancour will out : proud prelate, in thy face
I see thy fury : if I longer stay
We shall begin our ancient bickerings.
Lordings, farewell ; and say, when I am gone,
I prophesied France will be lost ere long.
[Exit.
Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage.
'Tis known to you he is mine enemy ;
Nay, more, an enemy unto you all,
And no great friend, I fear me, to the king.
Consider, lords, he is the next of blood,
And heir-apparent to the English crown :
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage,
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west,
There 's reason he should be displeas'd at it.
Look to it, lords ; let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts ; be wise and circumspect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him Humphrey, the good Duke of
Gloster; [voice,
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud
fesu maintain your royal excellence!
With God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!
I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
He will be found a dangerous protector.
Buck. Why should he then protect our sove-
reign,
He being of age to govern of himself?
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
And altogether, with the Duke of Suffolk,
We '11 quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his
seat. [delay ;
Car. This weighty business will not brook
I '11 to the Duke of Suffolk presently. [Exit.
Som. Cousin of Buckingham, though Hum-
phrey's pride
And greatness of his place be grief to us,
Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal :
His insolence is more intolerable
Than all the princes in the land beside :
If Gloster be displac'd, he '11 be protector.
Buck. Or thou or I, Somerset, will be pro-
tector,
Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal.
{Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET.
Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows him.
Whiles these do labour for their own preferment,
Behoves it us to labour for the realm.
I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloster
Did bear him like a noble gentleman.
Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal,
More like a soldier than a man o' the church,
As stout and proud as he were lord of all,
Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself
Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.
Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age !
Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping,
Hath won the greatest favour of the commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey :
And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to civil discipline ;
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
When thou wert regent for our sovereign,
Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the
people :
Join we together for the public good
In what we can, to bridle and suppress
The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal,
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition;
And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's
deeds
While they do tend the profit of the land.
War. So God help Warwick, as he loves the
land
And common profit of his country ! [cause.
York. And so says York, for he hath greatest
Sal. Then let 's make haste away and look
unto the main. [lost,
War. Unto the main! O father, Maine is
That Maine which by main force Warwick did
win, [last !
And would have kept so long as breath did
Main chance, father, you meant ; but I meant
Maine,
Which I will win from France, or else be slain.
{Exeunt WARWICK, and SALISBURY.
York. Anjou and Maine are given to the
French ;
Paris is lost ; the state of Normandy
Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone :
Suffolk concluded on the articles ;
The peers agreed ; and Henry was well pleas'd
To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair
daughter.
I cannot blame them all: what is't to them?
'Tis thine they give away, and not their own.
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their
pillage,
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY Vi.
603
And purchase friends, and give to courtezans,
Still revelling like lords till all be gone ;
While as the silly owner of thf goods
Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands,
And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof,
While all is shar'd, and all is borne away,
Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own :
So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold.
Methinks the realms of England, France, and
Ireland
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood
As did the fatal brand Althaea burn'd
Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.
Anjou and Maine both given unto the French !
Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France,
Even as I have of fertile England's soil.
A day will come when York shall claim his own ;
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts,
And make a show of love to proud Duke
Humphrey,
And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown,
For that 's the golden mark I seek to hit :
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown.
Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve:
Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep,
To pry into the secrets of the state ;
Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love
With his new bride and England's dear-bought
queen,
And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars :
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air shall beperfum'd;
And in my standard bear the arms of York,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster ;
And, force perforce, I '11 make him yield the
crown,
Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England
down. [Exit.
SCENE II. LONDON. A Room in the DUKE
OF GLOSTER'S House.
Enter GLOSTER and the DUCHESS.
Duch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd
corn
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?
Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his
brows,
As frowning at the favours of the world?
Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth,
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?
What see'st thou there? Kiiig Henry's diadem,
Enchas'd with all the honours of the world ?
If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face
Until thy head be circled with the same.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold :
What, is 't too short? I '11 lengthen it with mine ;
And, having both together heav'd it up,
We '11 both together lift our heads to heaven ;
And never more abase our sight so low
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.
Glo. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love
thy lord,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts !
And may that thought, when I imagine ill
Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortal world !
My troublous dream this night doth make me
sad.
Duch. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and
I '11 requite it
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.
Glo. Methought this staff, mine office-badge
in court,
Was broke in twain ; by whom I have forgot,
But, as I think, it was by the cardinal ;
And on the pieces of the broken wand
Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of
Somerset,
And William De-la-Poole, first Duke of Suffolk.
This was my dream; what it doth bode God
knows.
Duch. Tut, this was nothing but an argument
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove
Shall lose his head for his presumption.
But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke :
Methought I sat in seat of majesty
In the cathedral church of Westminster,
And in that chair where kings and queens are
crown'd ;
Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'dtome,
And on my head did set the diadem. [right :
Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide out-
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor !
Art thou not second woman in the realm,
And the protector's wife, belov'd of him ?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
Above the reach or compass of thy thought ?
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery,
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of honour to disgrace's feet ?
Away from me, and let me hear no more !
Duch. What, what, my lord ! are you so
choleric
With Eleanor for telling but her dream ?
Next time I '11 keep my dreams unto myself,
And not be check'd.
Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again.
6o 4
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT i.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord protector, 'tis his highness'
pleasure
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.
Glo. I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with
us ? [sently.
Diich. Yes, my good lord, I '11 follow pre-
[Exeunt GLOSTER and Messenger.
Follow I must ; I cannot go before
While Gloster bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,
And smooth my way upcn their headless necks :
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in fortune's pageant.
Where are you there, Sir John ? nay, fear not,
man,
We are alone ; here 's none but thee and I.
Enter HUME.
Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty !
Duck. What say'st thou ? majesty ! I am but
grace. [advice,
Hume. But, by the grace of God and Hume's
Your grace's title shall be multiplied.
Duck. What say'st thou, man ? hast thou as
yet conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,
With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
And will they undertake to do me good ?
Hume. This they have promised, to show
your highness
A spirit rais'd from depth of under-ground,
That shall make answer to such questions
As by your grace shall be propounded him.
Ditch. It is enough ; I '11 think upon the
questions :
When from Saint Albans we do make return
We '11 see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry,
man.
With thy confederates in this weighty cause.
{Exit.
Hume. Hume must make merry with the
duchess' gold ;
Marry, and shall. But, how now, Sir John
Hume !
Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum :
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch :
Gold cannot come amiss were she a devil.
Yet have I gold flies from another coast :
I dare not say from the rich cardinal,
And from the great and new-made Duke of
Suffolk ;
Yet I do find it so : for, to be plain,
They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring hum-
our,
Have hired me to undermine the duchess,
And buzz these conjurations in her brain.
They say, A crafty knave does need no broker ;
Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.
Well, so it stands; and thus, I fear, at last
Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wreck,
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall :
Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.
A
SCENE III. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter PETER and other Petitioners.
1 Pet. My masters, let 's stand close : my lord
protector will co^ie this way by and by, and then
we may deliver our supplications in the quill.
2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he 's
a good man ! Jesu bless him !
1 Pet. Here 'a comes, methinks, and the
queen with him. I '11 be the first, sure.
Enter SUFFOLK and QUEEN MARGARET.
2 Pet. Come back, fool ; this is the Duke of
Suffolk, and not my lord protector.
Suf. How now, fellow ! wouldst anything
with me?
I Pet. I pray, my lord, pardon me ; I took
ye for my lord protector.
Q. Mar. [ Glancing at the superscriptions. ] To
my Lord Protector ! Are your supplications to
his lordship? Let me see them : what is thine ?
1 Pet. Mine is, an 't please your grace, against
John Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keep-
ing my house, and lands, and wife and all, from
me.
Suf. Thy wife too ! that is some wrong in-
deed. What 's yours ? What 's here ! [Reads. ]
Against the Duke of Siiffolk, for enclosing the
commons of Melford. How now, sir knave !
2 Pet. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of
our whole township.
Peter. [Presenting his petition.] Against my
master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the Duke
of York was rightful heir to the crown.
Q. Afar. What say'st thou? did the Duke of
York say he was rightful heir to the crown?
Peter. That my master was? no, forsooth:
my master said that he was ; and that the king
was an usurper.
Suf. Who is there ? [Enter Servants. ] Take
this fellow in, and send for his master with a
SCENE III.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
605
pursuivant presently : we '11 hear more of your
matter before the king.
[Exeunt Servants with PETER.
Q. Mar. And as for you, that love to be pro-
tected
Under the wings of our protector's grace,
Begin your suits anew, and sue to him.
[ Tears the petitions.
Away, base cullions ! Suffolk, let them go.
All. Come, let 's be gone.
[Exeunt Petitioners.
Q. Mar. My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the
guise,
Is this the fashion in the court of England ?
Is this the government of Britain's isle,
And this the royalty of Albion's king ?
What, shall King Henry be a pupil still,
Under the surly Gloster's governance ?
Am I a queen in title and in style,
And must be made a subject to a duke ?
I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours
Thou rann'st a tilt in honour of my love,
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France,
I thought King Henry had resembled thee
In courage, courtship, and proportion :
But all his mind is bent to holiness,
To number Ave-Maries on his beads :
His champions are, the prophets and apostles ;
His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ ;
His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves
Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints.
I would the college of the cardinals
Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome,
And set the triple crown upon his head :
That were a state fit for his holiness.
Suf. Madam, be patient: as I was cause
Your highness came to England, so will I
In England work your grace's full content.
Q. Mar. Beside the haughty protector, have
we Beaufort [ham,
The imperious churchman, Somerset, Bucking-
And grumbling York ; and not the least of these
But can do more in England than the king.
Suf. And he of these that can do most of all
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils :
Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.
Q. Mar. Not all these lords do vex me half
so much
As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife.
She sweeps it through the court with troops of
ladies, [wife :
More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's
Strangers in court do take her for the queen :
She bears a duke's revenues on her back,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty :
Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her ?
Contemptuous base-born callet as she is,
She vaunted 'mongst her minions t' other day
The very train of her worst wearing gown
Was better worth than all my father's lands,
Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter.
Suf. Madam, myself have lim'dabushforher,
And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds
That she will light to listen to the lays,
And never mount to trouble you again.
So, let her rest : and, madam, list to me ;
For I am bold to counsel you in this.
Although we fancy not the cardinal,
Yet must we join with him and with the lords,
Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in dis-
grace.
As for the Duke of York, this late complaint
Will make but little for his benefit.
So, one by one, we '11 weed them all at last,
And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.
Enter KING HENRY, YORK, and SOMERSET ;
DUKE and DUCHESS OF GLOSTER, CAR-
DINAL BEAUFORT, BUCKINGHAM, SALIS-
BURY, and WARWICK.
K. Hen. For my part, noble lords, I care
not which ;
Or Somerset or York, all 's one to me.
York. If York have ill demean'd himself in
France,
Then let him be denay'd the regentship.
Som. If Somerset be unworthy of the place,
Let York be regent ; I will yield to him. [no,
War. Whether your grace be worthy, yea or
Dispute not that : York is the worthier.
Car. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters
speak.
War. The cardinal's not my better in the
field.
Buck. All in this presence are thy betters,
Warwick.
War. Warwick may live to be the best of all.
Sal. Peace, son ! and show some reason,
Buckingham,
Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this.
Q. Mar. Because the king, forsooth, will
have it so.
Glo. Madam, the king is old enough himself
To give his censure: these are no women's
matters. [grace
Q. Mar. If he be old enough, what needs your
To be protector of his excellence ?
Glo. Madam, I am protector of the realm ;
And, at his pleasure, will resign my place.
Sitf. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence.
Since thou wert king, as who is king but
thou?
The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck ;
The Danphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ;
6o6
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VL
[ACT I.
And all the peers and nobles of the realm
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.
Car. The commons hast thou rack'd; the
clergy's bags
Are lank and lean with thy extortions.
Sont. Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's
attire
Have cost a mass of public treasury.
Buck. Thy cruelty in execution
Upon offenders hath exceeded law,
And left thee to the mercy of the law.
Q. Mar. Thy sale of offices and towns in
France,
If they were known, as the suspect is great,
Would make thee quickly hop without thy
head.
[Exit GLOSTER. The QUEEN drops
her fan.
Give me my fan: what, minion! can you not?
[Gives the DUCHESS a box on the ear.
I cry you mercy, madam ; was it you?
Duck. Was 't I? yea, I it was, proud French-
woman :
Could I come near your beauty with my nails,
I 'd set my ten commandments in your face.
K. Hen. Sweet aunt, be quiet ; 'twas against
her will. [in time ;
Duch. Against her will ! good king, look to 't
She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a
baby : [breeches,
Though in this place most master wear no
She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unreveng'd.
[Exit.
Suck. Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor,
And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds :
She 's tickled now ; her fume needs no spurs,
She '11 gallop fast enough to her destruction.
[Exit.
Re-enter GLOSTER.
Glo. Now, lords, my choler being over-blown
With walking once about the quadrangle,
I come to talk of commonwealth affairs.
As for your spiteful false objections,
Prove them, and I lie open to the law:
But God in mercy so deal with my soul
As I in duty love my king and country !
But to the matter that we have in hand :
I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man
To be your regent in the realm of France.
Suf. Before we make election, give me leave
To show some reason, of no little force,
That York is most unmeet of any man.
York. I '11 tell thee, Suffolk, why I am un-
meet:
First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride ;
Next, if I be appointed for the place,
My Lord of Somerset will keep me here,
Without discharge, money, or furniture,
Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands:
Last time, I danc'd attendance on his will
Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost.
War. That can I witness ; and a fouler fact
Did never traitor in the land commit.
Suf. Peace, headstrong Warwick ! [peace ?
War. Image of pride, why should I hold my
Enter Servants of SUFFOLK, bringing in
HORNER and PETER.
Suf. Because here is a man accus'd of treason:
Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself!
York. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor ?
K. Hen. What mean'st thou, Suffolk? tell
me, what are these ?
Suf. Please it your majesty, this is the man
That doth accuse his master of high treason :
His words were these, that Richard Duke of
York
Was rightful heir unto the English crown,
And that your majesty was an usurper.
K. Hen. Say, man, were these thy words?
Hor. An 't shall please your majesty, I never
said nor thought any such matter: God is my
witness, I am falsely accused by the villain.
Pet. By these ten bones, my lords [holding
up his hands ,] he did speak them to me in the
garret one night, as we were scouring my Lord
of York's armour.
York. Base dunghill villain and mechanical,
I '11 have thy head for this thy traitor's speech.
I do beseech your royal majesty,
Let him have all the rigour of the law.
Hor. Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake
the words. My accuser is my prentice; and
when I did correct him for his fault the other
day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even
with me : I have good witness of this ; there-
fore I beseech your majesty, do not cast away
an honest man for a villain's accusation.
K. Hen. Uncle, what shall we say to this in
law?
Glo. This doom, my lord, if I may judge :
Let Somerset be regent o'er the French,
Because in York this breeds suspicion ;
And let these have a day appointed them
For single combat in convenient place,
For he hath witness of his servant's malice:
This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's
doom.
K. Hen. Then be it so. My Lord .of
Somerset,
We make your grace regent over the French.
Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty.
Hor. And I accept the combat willingly.
SCENE IV.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
607
Pet. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight ; for God's
sake, pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth
against me. O Lord, have mercy upon me !
I shall never be able to fight a blow : O Lord,
my heart ! [hang'd.
Glo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else lie
K. Hen. Away with them to prison ; and the
day [month.
Of combat shall be the last of the next
Come, Somerset, we '11 see thee sent away.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The same. The DUKE OF
GLOSTER'S Garden.
Enter MARGERY JOURDAIN, HUME, SOUTH-
WELL, and BOLINGBROKE.
Hume. Come, my masters; the duchess, I
tell you, expects performance of your promises.
Baling. Master Hume, we are therefore pro-
vided : will her ladyship behold and hear our
exorcisms?
Hume. Ay, what else? fear you not her
courage.
Baling. I have heard her reported to be a
woman of an invincible spirit : but it shall be
convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her
aloft, while we be busy below ; and so, I pray
you, go in God's name, and leave us. [Exit
HUME.] Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate,
and grovel on the earth ; John Southwell, read
yor.; and let us to our work.
Enter DUCHESS above, and presently HUME.
Duck. Well said, my masters ; and welcome
all.
To this gear, the sooner the better.
Baling. Patience, good lady; wizards know
their times:
Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire ;
The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs
howl,
And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their
graves,
That time best fits the work we have in hand.
Madam, sit you, and fear not : whom we raise
We will make fast wiftiin a hallow'd verge.
[Here they perform the ceremonies appertain-
ing, and make the circle; BOLINGBROKE
or SOUTHWELL reads, "Conjuro te," &c.
It thunders and lightens terribly ; then
the Spirit riseth.
Spir. Adsum.
M. Jourd. Asmath,
By the eternal God, whose name and power
Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask ;
For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from
hence. [and done !
Spir. Ask what thou wilt : that I had said
Baling. First of the king: what shall of him
become ? [Reading out of a paper.
Spir. The duke yet lives that Henry shall
depose ;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.
[As the Spirit speaks, SOUTHWELL
writes the answers.
Baling. What fates await the Duke of Suffolk ?
Spir. By water shall he die and take his end.
Baling. What shall befall the Duke of Somer-
set?
Spir. Let him shun castles ;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
Than where castles mounted stand.
Have done, for more I hardly can endure.
Baling. Descend to darkness and the bum-
ing lake !
False fiend, avoid !
[Thunder and lightning. Spirit descends.
Enter YORK and BUCKINGHAM hastily, with
their Guards and others.
York. Lay hands upon these traitors and
their trash.
Beldam, I think we watch'd you at an inch.
What, madam, are you there? the king and
commonweal
Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains :
My lord protector will, I doubt it not,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.
Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's
king,
Injurious duke, that threatest where 's no cause.
Buck. True, madam, none at all : what call
you this? [Showing her the papers.
Away with them ! let them be clapp'd up close,
And kept asunder. You, madam, shall with
us.
Stafford, take her to thee.
We '11 s?e your trinkets here all forthcoming.
All, away!
[Exeunt, above, DUCHESS and HUME,
guarded; below, SOUTH., BOLING.,
&c., guarded.
York. Lord Buckingham, methinks you
watch'd her well :
A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon !
Now, pray, my lord, let 's see the devil's writ.
What have we here? [Reads.
The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.
Why, this is just,
Aio te, &acida, Romanes vincere posse.
6o8
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT ii.
Well, to the rest :
Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?
By water shall he die and take his end.
What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?
Let him shun castles;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
Than where castles moiinted stand.
Come, come, my lords ;
These oracles are hardly attain'd,
And hardly understood. [Albans,
The king is now in progress toward Saint
With him the husband of this lovely lady :
Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry
them,
A sorry breakfast for my lord protector.
Buck. Your grace shall give me leave, my
Lord of York,
To be the post, in hope of his reward.
York. At your pleasure, my good lord.
Who 's within there, ho !
Enter a Servant.
Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick
To sup with me to-morrow night. Away !
[Exeunt.
ACTIL
SCENE I. Saint Albans.
Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET,
GLOSTER, CARDINAL, and SUFFOLK, with
Falconers hollaing.
Q. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at the
brook,
I saw not better sport these seven years' day :
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high ;
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your
falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest !
To see how God in all his creatures works !
Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector's hawks do tower so well ;
They know their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.
Glo. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
Car. I thought as much ; he would be above
the clouds. [that?
Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal, how think you by
Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?
K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy !
Car. Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and
thoughts
Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart ;
Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, [weali
That smooth'st it so with king and common-
Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown
peremptory?
Tantcene animis ccdestibus irce? [malice;
Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such
With such holiness can you do it? [comes
Suf. No malice, sir; no more than well be-
So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.
Glo. As who, my lord?
Suf. W T hy, as you, my lord,
An 't like your lordly lord-protectorship.
Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine
insolence.
Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster.
K. Hen. I pr'ythee, peace,
Good queen, and whet not on these furious peers;
For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.
Car. Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
Against this proud protector, with my sword !
Glo. Faith, holy uncle, would 'twere come
to that ! [Aside to CAR.
Car. Marry, when thou dar'st.
[Aside to GLO.
Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the
matter ;
In thine own person answer thy abuse.
[Aside to CAR.
Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an if
thou dar'st,
This evening on the east side of the grove.
[Aside to GLO.
K. Hen. How now, my lords !
Car. Believe me, cousin Gloster,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
We had had more sport. Come with thy two-
hand sword. [Aside to GLO.
Glo. True, uncle.
Car. Are ye advis'd? the east side of the
grove? [Aside to GLO.
Glo. Cardinal, I am with you.
[Aside to CAR.
K. Hen. Why, how now, uncle Gloster !
Glo. Talking of hawking ; nothing else, my
lord.
Now, by God's mother, priest, I '11 shave your
crown for this,
Or all my fence shall fail. [Aside to CAR.
Car. Medice teipsum;
Protector, see to 't well, protect yourself.
[Aside to GLO.
K. Hen. The winds grow high ; so do your
stomachs, lords.
How irksome is this music to my heart !
When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?
I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.
SCENE I.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
609
Enter a Townsman of Saint Albans, crying
"A Miracle!"
Glo. What me^ns this noise ?
Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?
Towns. A miracle ! a miracle !
Suf. Come to the king, and tell him what
miracle. [shrine,
Towns. Forsooth, a blind man at St. Albans'
Within this half hour hath receiv'd his sight ;
A. man that ne'er saw in his life before.
K. Hen. Now, God be prais : d that to believ-
ing souls
Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair !
Enter the Mayor of St. Albans and his
brethren ; and SiMPCOX, borne between two
persons in a chair , his Wife and a multitiide
following.
Car. Here come the townsmen on procession,
To present your highness with the man.
K. Hen. Great is his comfort in this earthly
vale,
Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.
Glo. Stand by, my masters : bring him near
the king ;
His highness' pleasure is to talk with h?m.
K. Hen. Good fellow, tell us here the cir-
cumstance,
That we for thee may glorify the Lord.
What, hast thou been long blind and now re-
stor'd ?
Simp. Born blind, an 't please your grace.
Wife. Ay, indeed, was he.
Suf. What woman is this ?
Wife. His wife, an 't like your worship,
Glo. Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst
have better told.
K. Hen. Where wert thou born ?
Simp. At Berwick in the north, an 't like your
grace.
K. Hen. Poor soul, God's goodness hath been
great to thee :
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.
Q. Mar. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou
here by chance,
Or of devotion, to this holy shrine ? [call'd
Simp. God knows, of pure devotion ; being
A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep,
By good Saint Alban ; who said, Simpcox,
come,
Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.
Wife. Most true, forsooth ; and many time
and oft
Myself have heard a voice to call him so.
Car. What, art thou lame ?
Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me !
Suf. How cam'st thou so ?
Simp. A fall off a tree.
Wife. A plum-tree, master.
Glo. How long hast thou been blind ?
Simp. O, born so, master.
Glo. What, and wouldst climb a tree ?
Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a
youth. [very dear.
Wife. Too true ; and bought his climbing
Glo. Mass, thou lov'dst plums well that
wouldst venture so.
Simp. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd
some damsons,
And made me climb, with danger of my life.
Glo. A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not
serve. [them:
Let me see thine eyes : wink now ; now open
In my opinion yet thou see'st not well.
Simp. Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God
and Saint Alban.
Glo. Say'st thou me so? What colour is this
cloak of?
Simp. Red, master ; red as blood.
Glo. Why, that 's well said. What colour is
my gown of?
Simp. Black, forsooth ; coal-black as jet
K. Hen. Why, then, thou know'st what colour
jet is of?
Suf. And yet, I think, jet did he never see.
Glo. But cloaks and gowns, before this day,
a many.
Wife. Never, before this day, in all his life.
Glo. Tell me, sirrah, what 's my name?
Simp. Alas, master, I know not.
Glo. What 3 s his name?
Simp. I know not.
Glo. Nor his?
Simp. No, indeed, master.
Glo. What's thine own name? [master.
Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you,
Glo. Then, Saunder, sit there, the lyingest
knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been born
blind, thou mightst as well have known all our
names as thus to name the several colours we
do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours ; but
suddenly to nominate them all, it is impossible.
My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle ;
and would ye not think his cunning to be great
that could restore this cripple to his legs again ?
Simp. O master, that ye could !
Glo. My masters of Saint Albans, have you not
beadles in your town, and things called whips?
May. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.
Glo. Then send for one presently.
May. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither
straight. {Exit an Attendant
U
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT n.
Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by.
[A stool brought out.] Now, sirrah, if you mean
to save yourself from whipping, leap me over
this stool and run away. [alone :
Simp. Alas, master, I am not able to stand
You go about to torture me in vain.
Re-enter Attendant, with the Beadle.
Glo. Well, sir, we must have you find your
legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over
that same stool.
Bead. I will, my lord. Come on, sirrah ; off
with your doublet quickly.
Simp. Alas, master, what shall I do? I am
not able to stand.
[After the Beadle has hit him once t he leaps
over the stool and runs away; and the
people follow and cry "A Miracle!"
A". Hen. O God, seest thou this, and bear'st
so long? [run.
Q. Mar. It made me laugh to see the villain
Glo. Follow the knave ; and take this drab
away.
Wife. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.
Glo. Let them be whipped through every
market town, till they come to Berwick, whence
they came. [Exeunt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, 6rV.
Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle
to-day.
Suf. True; made the lame to leap and flyaway.
Glo. But you have done more miracles than I ;
You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.
Enter BUCKINGHAM.
K. Hen. What tidings with our cousin Buck-
ingham? [fold.
Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to un-
A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent,
Under the countenance and confederacy
Of Lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, '
The ringleader and head of all this rout,
Have practis'd dangerously against your state,
Dealing with witches and with conjurers:
Whom we have apprehended in the fact ;
Raising up wicked spirits from under ground,
Demanding of King Henry's life and death,
And other of your highness' privy council,
As more at large your grace shall understand.
Car. And so, my lord protector, by this means
Your lady is forthcoming yet at London.
This news, I think, hath turn'd your we
edge;
'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.
[Aside to GLOSTER.
Glo. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict
my heart:
your weapon s
Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers;
And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to tnee,
Or to the meanest groom. [wicked ones,
K. Hen. O God, what mischiefs work the
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby !
Q. Mar. Gloster, see here the tainture of thy
nest;
And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.
Glo. Madam, for myself to heaven I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my king and commonweal :
And for my wife I know not how it stands ;
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard :
Noble she is ; but if she have forgot
Honour and virtue, and convers'd with such
As, like to pitch, defile nobility,
I banish her my bed and company,
And give her, as a prey, to law and shame,
That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name.
K. Hen. Well, for this night we will repose
us here :
To-morrow toward London back again,
To look into this business thoroughly,
And call these foul offenders to their answers ;
And poise the cause in justice' equal scales,
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause
prevails. [Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE II. LONDON. Tht DUKE OF YORK'S
Garden.
Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK.
York. Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and
Warwick,
Our simple supper ended, give me leave,
In this close walk, to satisfy myself,
In craving your opinion of my title,
Which is infallible, to England's crown.
Sal. My lord, I long to hear it at full.
War. Sweet York, begin : and if thy claim
be good,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command.
York. Then thus:
Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons ;
The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of
Wales;
The second, William of Hatfield ; and the third,
Lionel Duke of Clarence ; next to whom
Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster;
The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York ;
The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of
Gloster ;
William of Windsor was the seventh and last.
Edward the Black Prince died before his father ,
And left behind him Richard, his only son,
Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd
as king,
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
611
Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster,
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth,
Seiz'd on the realm, depos'd the rightful king,
Sent his poor queen to France, from whence
she came,
And him to Pomfret, where, as all you know,
Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously.
War. Father, the duke hath told the truth ;
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.
York. Which now they hold by force, and not
by right ;
For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead,
The issue of the next son should have reign'd.
Sal. But William of Hatfield died without an
heir.
York. The third son, Duke of Clarence,
from whose line
I claim the crown, had issue Philippe, a
daughter, [March :
Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of
Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March ;
Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.
Sal. This Edmund, in the reign of Boling-
broke,
As I have read, laid claim unto the crown ;
And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
Who kept him in captivity till he died.
But, to the rest.
York. PI is eldest sister, Anne,
My mother, being heir unto the crown,
Married Richard Earl of Cambridge ; who was
son [son.
To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth
By her I claim the kingdom : she was heir
To Roger Earl of March ; who was the son
Of Edmund Mortimer ; who married Philippe,
Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence :
So, if the issue of the elder son
Succeed before the younger, I am king.
War. What plain proceeding is more plain
than this ?
Henry doth claim thecrown from Johnof Gaunt,
The fourth son ; York claims it from the third.
Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign :
It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee,
And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.
Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together j
And in this private plot be we the first
That shall salute our rightful sovereign
With honour of his birthright to the crown.
Both. Long live our sovereign Richard,
England's king !
York. We thank you, lords. But I am not
your king fstain'd
Till I be crown'd, and that my sword be
With heart blood of the house of Lancaster ;
And that 's not suddenly to be perform'd,
But with advice and silent secrecy.
Do you as I do in these dangerous days :
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence,
At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the crew of them,
Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock,
That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey :
'Tis that they seek ; and they, in seeking that,
Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.
Sal. My lord, break we off; we know your
mind at full. [Warwick
War. My heart assures me that the Earl of
Shall one day make the Duke of York a king.
York. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself,
Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
The greatest man in England but the king.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. LONDON. A Hall of Justice.
Trumpets sounded. Enter KING HENRY,
QUEEN MARGARET, GLOSTER, YORK, SUF-
FOLK, and SALISBURY; the DUCHESS OF
GLOSTER, MARGERY JOURDAIN, SOUTH-
WELL, HUME, and BOLINGBROKE, under
guard.
K. Hen. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cob-
ham, Gloster's wife :
In sight of God and us, your guilt is great :
Receive the sentence of the law, for sins
Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death.
You four, from hence to prison back again ;
[To JOURDAIN, &c.
From thence unto the place of execution :
The witch In Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes,
And you three shall bestrangledon thegallows.
You, madam, for you are more nobly born,
Despoiled of your honour in your life,
Shall, after three days' open penance done,
Live in your country here, in banishment,
With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man.
Duch. Welcome is banisnment; welcome
were my death. [thee:
Glo. Eleanor, the law, thouseest, hath judged
I cannot justify whom the law condemns.
[Exeunt the DUCHESS and the other
Prisoners, guarded.
Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!
I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go ;
Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.
K. Hen. Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloster:
ere thou go,
Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself
612
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT il.
Protector be ; and God shall be my hope,
My stay, my guide, and lantern to my leet :
And go in peace, Humphrey, no less uelov'd
Than when thou wert protector tc thy king.
Q. Mar. I see no reason why a king of years
Should be tc be protected like a child.
God and King Hanry govern England's helm!
Give up your staff, sir, and ;he king his realm.
Glo. My staff! here, noble Henry, is my staff:
As willingly do I the same resign
As ere thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewell, good king : when I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne \
{Exit.
Q. Mar. W^y, now is Henry king, and
Margaret queen ;
And Humphrey Duke of Gloster scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a main; two pulls at
once,
His lady banish'd and a limb lopp'd off:
This staff of honour raught, there let it stand
Where it best fits tc be, in Henry's hand.
Suf. Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs
his sprays ;
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.
York. Lords, let him go. Please it your
majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat ;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your highness to behold the fight.
Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord; for purposely
therefore
Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.
K. Hen. O' God's name, see the lists and all
things fit :
Here let them end it ; and God defend the right !
York. I never saw a fellow worse bested,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
The servant of this armourer, my lords.
Enter ; on one side, HORNER and fits Neighbours,
drinking to him so much that he is drunk ; and
he enters bearing, his staff with a sand-bag
fastened to it ; a drum before him : at the other
side, PETER, with a drum and a similar staff ;
accompanied by Prentices drinking to him.
1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Homer, I drink
to you in a cup of sack ; and fear not, neighbour,
you shall do well enough.
2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here 's a cup
of charneco.
3 Neigh. And here 's a pot of good double
beer, neighbour : drink, and fear not your man.
Hor. Let fc come, i' faith, and I '11 pledge you
a'l ; and a fig for Peter !
1 Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee : and be
not afraid.
2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy
master : fight for credit of the prentices.
Peter. I thank you all : drink, and pray for
me, I pra> you ; for I think I have taken my last
draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die,
1 give thee my apron : and, Will, thou shalt
have my hammer : and here, Tom, take all the
money that I have. O Lord bless me, I pray
God ! for I am never able to deal with my master,
he hath learnt sc much fence already.
Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to
blows. Sirrah, what's thy name?
Peter. Peter, forsooth.
Sal. Peter ! what more?
Peter. Thump.
Sal. Thump J then see thou thump thy master
well.
Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were,
upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave
and myself an honest man: and touching the
Duke of York, I will take my death, I never
meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen:
and therefore, Peter, have at thee with a down-
right blow 1
York. Despatch : this knave's tongue begins
to double.
Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants !
[Alarum. They fight ', and PETER strikes
down HORNER.
Hor. Hold, Peter, hold ! I confess, I confess
treason. [Dies.
York. Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank
God, and the good wine in thy master's way.
Peter. O God, have I overcome mine enemy
in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevailed
in right ! [sight ;
K. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our
For by his death we do perceive his guilt :
And God in justice hath reveai'd to us
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
Which he had thought to have murder 5 d wrong-
fully.
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Street.
Enter GLOSTER and Servants, in mou'niing
cloaks.
Glo. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day
a cloud j
And after summer evermore succeeds
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold:
SCENE IV.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
Sirs, what's o'clock?
Serv. Ten, my lord.
Glo. Ten is the hour that w^s appointed me
To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess:
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook
The abject people gazing on thy face,
With envious looks, laughing at thy shame,
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels
When thou didst ride in triumph through the
streets.
But, soft ! I think she comes ; and I '11 prepare
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.
Enter the DUCHESS OF GLOSTER in a white
sheet, with papers pinned upon her back, her
feet bare^ and a taper burning in her hand ;
SIR JOHN STANLEY, a Sheriff, and Officers.
Serv. So please your grace, we'll take her
from the sheriff. [by.
Glo. No, stir not for your lives ; let her pass
Duck. Come you, my lord, to see my open
shame? [gaze!
Now thou dost penance too. Look how they
See how the giddy multitude do point,
And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on me !
Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks,
And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame
And ban mine enemies, both mine and thine!
Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell ; forget this grief.
Duch. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget my-
self!
For, whilst I think I am thy married wife
And thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back,
And follow'd with a rabble that rejoice
To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ;
And when I start the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke ?
Trow'st thou that e'er I '11 look upon the world,
Or count them happy that enjoy the sun? '
No; dark shall be my light and night my day;
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.
Sometime I '11 say, I am Duke Humphrey's wife,
And he a prince, and ruler of the land :
Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,
As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess,
Was made a wonder and a pointing- stock
To every idle rascal follower.
But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame;
Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death
Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will ;
For Suffolk, he that can do all in all
With her that hateth thee and hates us all,
And York, and impious Beaufort, that falsa
priest,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,
And, fly thou how thou canst, they '11 tangle
thee:
But fear not thou, unti 1 thy foot be snar'd,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes, [awry ;
Glo. Ah, Nell, forbear ! thou aimest all
I must offend before I be attainted :
And had I twenty times so many foes,
And each of them had twenty times their power,
All these could not procure me any scathe,
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
But I in danger for the breach of law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell :
I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience ;
These few days' wonder will be quickly worn.
Enter a Herald.
Her. I summon your grace to his majesty's
Parliament, holden at Bury the first of this
next month. [before !
Glo. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there,
[Exit Herald.
My Nell, I take my leave : and, master sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the king's commis-
sion, [mission stays;
Sher. An 't please your grace, here my com-
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now
To take her with hi m to the Isle of Man. [here ?
Glo. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady
Stan. So am I given in charge, may 't please
your grace.
Glo. Entreat her not the worse in that I pray
You use her well : the world may laugh again ;
And I may live to do you kindness, if
You do it her: and so, Sir John, farewell.
Duch. What, gone, my lord, and bid me not
farewell !
Glo. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and Servants.
Duch. Art thon gone too? all comfort go
with thee !
For none abides with me : my joy is death,
Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.
Stanley, I pr'ythee go, and take me hence ;
I care not whither, for I beg no favour,
Only convey me where thou art commanded.
Stan. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of
Man;
There to be us'd according to your state.
014
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT III.
Duch. That 's bad enough, for I am but re-
proach,
And shall I, then, be us'd reproachfully?
Stan. Like to a duchess and Duke Hum-
phrey's lady ;
According to that state you shall be us'd.
Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I
fare,
Although thou hast been conduct of my sham.t.
Sher. It is my office ; and, madam, pardon me.
Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is dis-
charg'd.
Come, Stanley, shall we go? [this sheet,
Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off
And go we to attire you for our journey.
Duch. My shame will not be shifted with my
sheet :
No, it will hang upon my richest robes,
And show itself attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way ; I long to see my prison.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. The Abbey at Bury.
Flourish. Enter to the Parliament KING
HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, CARDINAL
BEAUFORT, SUFFOLK, YORK, BUCKING-
HAM, and others.
K. Hen. I muse my Lord of Gloster is not
come :
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.
Q. Mar. Can you not see ? or will you not
observe
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance ?
With what a majesty he bears himself;
How insolent of late he is become, [self?
How proud, how peremptory, and unlike him-
We know the time since he was mild and affable ;
And if we did but glance a far-off look
Immediately he was upon his knee,
That all the court admir'd him for submission :
But meet him now, and be it in the morn,
When every one will give the time of day,
He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye,
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
Small curs are not regarded when they grin ;
But great men tremble when the lion roars,
And Humphrey is no little man in England.
First note that he is near you in descent ;
And should you fall he as the next will mount.
Me seemeth, then, it is no policy,
Respecting what a rancorous irrnd he bears,
And his advantage following your decease,
That he should come about your royal person,
Or be admitted to your highness' council.
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts ;
And when he please to make commotion,
'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.
Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-
rooted ; [garden,
Suffer them now, and they '11 o'ergrow the
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
The reverent care I bear unto my lord
Made me collect these dangers in the duke.
If it be fond, call it a woman'r. fear ;
Which fear, if better reasons can supplant,
I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the duke.
My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and
York,
Reprove my allegation if you can ;
Or else conclude my words effectual. [duke ;
Suf. Well hath your highness seen into this
And had I first been put to speak my mind,
I think I should have told your grace's tale.
The duchess, by his subornation,
Upon my life, began her devilish practices :
Or, if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet, by reputing of his high descent,
As, next the king, he was successive heir,
And such high vaunts of his nobility,
Did instigate the bedlam brainsick duchess
By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ;
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign ; Gloster is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done ?
York. And did he not, in his protectorship,
Levy great sums of money through the realm
For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it?
By means whereof the towns each day revolted.
Buck. Tut, these are petty faults to faults
unknown, [Humphrey.
Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke
K. Hen. My lords, at once: the care you
have ot us,
To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
Is worthy praise: but shall I speak my con-
science?
Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent
From meaning treason to our royal person
As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove :
The duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given
To dream on evil or to work my downfall,
Q. Mar. Ah, what's more dangerous than
this fond affiance?
Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd.
SCENE I.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
615
"For he 's disposed as the hateful raven :
Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
For he 's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit ?
Take heed, my lord ; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.
Enter SOMERSET.
Som. All health unto my gracious sovereign !
K. Hen. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What
news from France?
Som. That all your interest in those territories
Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost.
K. Hen. Cold news, Lord Somerset: but
God's will be done ! . [France
York. Cold news for me ; for I had hope of
As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away :
But I will remedy this gear ere long,
Or sell my title for a glorious grave. \_Aside.
Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. All happiness unto my lord the king !
Pardon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long.
Suf. Nay, Gloster, know that thou art come
too soon,
Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art :
I do arrest thee of high treason here. [blush
Glo. Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me
Nor change my countenance for this arrest :
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
The purest spring is not so free from mud
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign :
Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty?
York. 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took
bribes of France,
And, being protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay ;
By means whereof his highness hath lost France.
Glo. Is it but thought so? what are they that
think it?
I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay,
Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,
Ay, night by night, in studying good for Eng-
land!
That doit that e'er I wrested from the king,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,
Be brought against me at my trial-day !
No ; many a pound of mine own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I dispursed to the garrisons,
And never ask'd for restitution. [much.
Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say so
Glo. I say no more than truth, so help me
God!
York. In your protectorship you did devise
Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,
That England was defam'd by tyranny.
Glo. Why, 'tis well known that, whiles I was
protector,
Pity was all the fault that was in me;
For I should melt at an offender's tears,
And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
Unless it were a bloody murderer, [gers,
Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passen-
I never gave them condign punishment :
Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
Above the felon or what trespass else.
Suf. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly
answer'd :
But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his highness' name ;
And here commit you to my lord cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial, [hope
K. Hen. My Lord of Gloster, 'tis my special
That you will clear yourself from all suspect :
My conscience tells me you are innocent, [ous !
Glo. Ah, gracious lord, these days are danger-
Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,
And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ;
Foul subornation is predominant,
And equity exil'd your highness' land.
I know their complot is to have my life ;
And if my death might make this island happy,
And prove the period of their tyranny,
I would expend it with all willingness:
But mine is made the prologue to their play ;
For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's
malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart ;
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back,
By false accuse doth level at my life :
And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head,
And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up
My liefest liege to be mine enemy:
Ay, all of you have laid your heads together,
Myself had notice of your conventicles,
And all to make away my guiltless life.
I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt:
The ancient proverb will be well effected,
A staft is quickly found to beat a dog.
Car. My liege, his railing is intolerable :
If those that care to keep your royal person
From treason's secret knife and traitors' rage
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
6i6
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT in.
And the offender granted scope of speech,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
Suf. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady
here
With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd,
As if she had suborned some to swear
False allegations to o'erti row his state?
Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave to
chide. [deed ;
Glo. Far truer spoke than meant : I lose, in-
Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false !
And well such losers may have leave to speak.
Buck. He '11 wrest the sense, and hold us here
all day :
Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner, [him sure.
Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard
Glo. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his
crutch
Before his legs be firm to bear his body !
Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
And wolves are gnafling who shall gnaw thee
first.
Ah, that my fear were false ! ah, that it were !
For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.
[Exeunt Attendants with GLOSTER.
K. Hen. My lords, what to your wisdoms
seemeth best
Do or undo, as if ourself were here.
Q. Mar. What, will your highness leave the
Parliament ? [with grief,
K. Hen. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ;
My body round engirt with misery,
For what 's more miserable than discontent ?
Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see
The map of honour, truth, aiid loyalty !
And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come
That e'er I prov'd thee false or fear'd thy faith.
What lowering star now envies thy estate,
That these great lords, and Margaret our queen,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life ?
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man
wrong :
And as the butcher takes away the calf,
And binds the wretch, and beats it when itstrays,
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ;
Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence :
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
And can do nought but wail her darling's loss ;
Even so myself bewails good Gloster's case
With sad unhelpful tears ; and with dimm'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good,
So mighty are his vowed enemies.
His fortunes I will weep ; and 'twixt each groan,
Say, Who's a traitor? Gloster he is none.
[Exit.
Q. Mar. Free lords, cold snow melts with
the sun's hot beams.
Henry my lo'-d is cold in great affairs,
Too full of foolish pity : and Gloster's show
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passenger? ;
Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bavik,
With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a
child,
That for the beauty thinks it excellent.
Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I, -
And yet herein I judge my own wit good,
This Gloster should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.
Car. That he should die is worthy policy;
But yet we want a colour for his death :
'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law.
Suf. But, in my mind, that were no policy :
The king will labour still to save his life ;
The commons haply rise to save his life ;
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than mistrust, thatshows him worthy death.
York. So that, by this, you would not have
him die.
Suf. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I !
York. ; Tis York that hath more reason for his
death. [Suffolk,
But, my lord cardinal, and you, my Lord of
Say as you think, anu speak it from your souls,
Wer 't not all one an empty eagle were set
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
As place Duke Humphrey for the king's pro-
tector ? [death.
Q. Mar. So the poor chick en should be sure of
Suf. Madam, 'tis true; and wer't not mad-
ness, then,
To make the fox surveyor of the fold ?
Who, being accus'd a crafty murderer,
His guilt should be but idly posted over
Because his purpose is not executed.
No ; let him die, in that he is a fox,
By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock,
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood,
As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege.
And do not stand on quillets how to slay him :
Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety,
Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how,
So he be dead ; for that is good deceit
Which mates him first that first intends deceit.
Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely
spoke.
Suf. Not resolute, except so much were done ;
For things are often spoke and seldom meant :
But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
Seeing the deed is meritorious,
And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,
Say but the word, and I will be his priest.
SCENE I.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
617
Car. But I would have him dead, my Lord
of Suffolk,
Ere you can take due orders for a priest :
Say you consent, and censure well the deed,
And I '11 provide his executioner,
I tender so the safety of my liege.
Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy
doing.
Q. Mar. And so say I. [it,
York. And I : and now we three have spoke
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come
amain,
To signify that rebels there are up,
And put the Englishmen unto the sword :
Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime,
Before the wound do grow uncurable ;
For, being green, there is great hope of help.
Car. A breach that craves a quick expedient
stop !
What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither :
'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd ;
Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
Sow. If York, with all his far-fet policy,
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have stay'd in France so long.
York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done :
I rather would have lost my life betimes
Than bring a burden of dishonour home,
By staying there so long till all were lost.
Show me one scar character'd on thy skin :
Men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win.
Q. Mar. Nay, then, this spark will prove a
raging fire
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with :
No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be
still :
Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
Might happi'y have prov'd far worse than his.
York. What, worse than naught? nay, then,
a shame take all!
Som. And in the number, thee that wishest
shame !
Car. My Lord of York, try what your for-
tune is.
The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms,
And temper clay with blood of Englishmen :
To Ireland will you lead a band of men,
Collected choicely, from each county some,
And try your hap against the Irishmen?
York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty.
Suf. Why, our authority is his consent ;
And what we do establish he confirms :
Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.
York. I am content: provide me soldiers,
lords,
Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.
Sttf. A charge, Lord York, that I will see
perform'd. [phrey.
But now return we to the false Duke Hum-
Car. No more of him ; for I will deal with
him,
That henceforth he shall trouble us no more.
And so break off; the day is almost spent:
Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.
York. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen
days
At Bristol I expect my soldiers ;
For there I '11 ship them all for Ireland.
Stif. I '11 see it truly done, my Lord of York.
[Exeunt all but YORK.
York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fear-
ful thoughts,
And change misdoubt to resolution :
Be that thou hop'st to be ; or what thou art
Resign to death, it is not worth the enjoying:
Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born
man,
And find no harbour in a royal heart.
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought
on thought;
And not a thought but thinks on dignity.
My brain, more busy than the labouring spider,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done,
To send me packing with an host of men :
I fear me you but warm the starved snake,
Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your
hearts.
'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me :
I take it kindly ; yet be well assur'd
You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will stir up in England some black storm
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell j
And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
And for a minister of my intent
I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman,
John Cade of Ashford,
To make commotion, as full well he can,
Under the title of John Mortimer.
In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade
Oppose himself against a troop of kerns,
And fought so long till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine ;
And in the end being rescu'd, I have seen him
Caper upright like a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.
6i8
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT III.
Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern,
Hath he conversed with the enemy,
And, undiscovered, come to me again,
And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my substitute ;
For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble :
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,
How they affect the house and claim of Yoik.
Say he be taken, rack'd, and tortured,
I know no pain they can inflict upon him
Will make him say I mov'd him to those arms.
Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will,
Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd ;
For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Exit.
SCENE II. BURY. A Room in the Palace.
Enter certain Murderers, hastily.
1 Mur. Run to my Lord of Suffolk ; let him
know
We havedespatch'd the duke, as he commanded.
2 Mur. O that it were to do ! What have
we done?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent?
I Mur. Here comes my lord.
Enter SUFFOLK.
Suf. Now, sirs, have you despatch'd this thing?
I Mur. Ay, my good lord, he 's dead.
Suf. Why, that 's well said. Go, get you to
my house ;
I will reward you for this venturous deed.
The king and all the peers are here at hand :
Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well,
According as I gave directions?
I Mur. 'Tis, my good lord.
Stif. Away ! be gone. [Exeunt Murderers.
Trumpets sounded. Enter KING HENRY,
QUEEN MARGARET, CARDINAL BEAUFORT,
SOMERSET, Lords, and others.
K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence
straight ;
Say we intend to try his grace to-day,
If he be guilty, as 'tis published.
Suf. I '11 call him presently, my noble lord.
[Exit.
K. Hen. Lords, take your places; and, I
pray you all,
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable.
Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should prevail
That faultless may condemn a nobleman !
Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion !
K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret ; these words
content me much.
Re-enter SUFFOLK.
How now! why look'st thou pale? why trem-
blest thou? [Suffolk?
Where is our uncle? what's the matter,
Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord ; Gloster is
dead.
Q. Mar. Marry, God forfend ! [to-night
Car. God's secret judgment: I did dream
The duke was dumb, and could not speak a
word. [The KING swoons,
Q. Mar. How fares my lord? Help, lords !
the king is dead. [nose.
Som. Rear up his body ; wring him by the
Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help! O Henry,
ope thine eyes ! [patient.
Suf. He doth revive again: madam, be
K. Hen. O heavenly God !
Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord ?
Suf. Comfort, my sovereign ! gracious Henry,
comfort ! [fort me ?
K. Hen. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk corn-
Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ;
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first conceived sound ?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd word?
Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear, I say ;
Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting.
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight !
Upon thy eye -balls murderous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wound-
ing:
Yet do not go away : come, basilisk,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight ;
For in the shade of death I shall find joy,
In life but double death, now Gloster 's dead.
Q. Mar. Why do you rate my Lord of Suf-
folk thus?
Although the duke was enemy to him,
Yet he, most Christian-like laments his death :
And for myself, foe as he was to me,
Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,
I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs.
And all to have the noble duke alive.
What know I how the world may deem of me ?
For it is known we were but hollow friends :
It may be judg'd I made the duke away ;
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
619
So shall my name with slander's tongue be
wounded,
And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach.
This get I by his death : ah me, unhappy !
To be a queen and crown'd with infamy !
K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched
man I [he is.
Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than
What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face?
I am no loathsome leper, look on me.
What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?
Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen.
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb?
Why, then, Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy :
Erect his statua, and worship it,
And make my image but an alehouse sign.
Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea,
And twice by awkward wind from England's
bank
Drove back again unto my native clime ?
What boded this but well-forewarning wind
Did seem tc say, Seek not a scorpion's nest,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?
What did I then but curs'd the gentle gusts,
And he that loos'd them forth their brazen
caves : [shore,
And bid them blow towards England's blessed
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ?
Yet ^Eolus would not be a murderer,
But left that hateful office unto thee :
The pretty-vaulting sea refus'd to drown me ;
Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd
on shore, [ness :
With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkind-
The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides ;
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy palace perish Margaret.
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from the shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm;
And when the dusky sky began to robe
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,
A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,
And threw it towards thy land: the sea re-
ceiv'd it ;
And so I wish'd thy body might my heart :
And even with this I lost fair England's view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart,
And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles,
For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue,
The agent of thy foul inconstancy,
To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy !
Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false
like him ?
Ah me, I can no more ! die, Margaret !
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long.
Noise within. Enter WARWICK and SALIS-
BURY. The Commons press to the door.
War. It is reported, mighty sovereign.,
That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is
murder'd
By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means.
The commons, like an angry hive of bees
That want their leader, scatter up and down,
And care not who they sting in his revenge.
Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny
Until they hear the order of his death.
K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis
too true ;
But how he died God knows, not Henry :
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
And comment then upon his sudden death.
War. That I shall do, my liege. Stay, Salis-
bury,
With the rude multitude till I return.
[WAR. goes into an inner room ; SAL. retires
to the Commons at the door.
K. Hen. O Thou that judgest all things, stay
my thoughts,
My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul
Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's
life!
If my suspect be false, forgive me, God ;
For judgment only doth belong to thee.
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears ;
To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk,
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling :
But all in vain are these mean obsequies ;
And to survey his dead and earthly image,
What were it but to make my sorrow greater ?
\The folding doors of OM inner Chamber are
thrown open, and GLOSTER is discovered
dead in his bed; WARWICK and others
standing by it.
War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view
this body.
K. Hen. That is to see how deep my grave is
made;
For with his soul fled all my worldly solace ;
For seeing him, I see my life in death.
War. As surely as my soul intends to live
With that dread King that took our state upon
him
To free us from his Father's wrathful curse,
I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.
620
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT in.
Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn
tongue !
What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
War. See how the blood is settled in his face !
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,
Being all descended to the labouring heart ;
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart thjere cools, and ne'er re-
turneth
To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But see, his face is black and full of blood ;
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man :
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with
struggling;
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd:
Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking ;
His well-proportioned beard made rough and
rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here ;
The least of al I these signs were probable.
Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke
to death?
Myself and Beaufort had him in protection ;
And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.
War. But both of you were vow'd Duke
Humphrey's foes;
And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep :
'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend ;
And 'tis well seen he found an enemy.
Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these
noblemen
As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death.
War. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding
fresh,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk?
where 's your knife ?
Is Beaufort termed a kite? where are his talons?
Suf. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men;
But here 's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge :
Say, if thou dar'st, proud Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death.
[Exeunt CAR. , SOM. , and others.
War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suf-
folk dare him?
Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious
spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
War. Madam, be still, with reverence may
I say;
For every word you speak in his behalf
Is slander to your royal dignity.
Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour!
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed
Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock
Was graft with crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou
art.
And never of the Nevils' noble race. [thee,
War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st,
That thou thyself was born in bastardy ;
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men !
Suf. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy
blood,
If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.
War. Away even now, or I will drag thee
hence :
Unworthy though thou art, I '11 cope with thee,
And dosome service to Duke Humphrey's ghost.
[Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK.
K. Hen. What stronger breastplate than a
heart untainted !
Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just ;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
[A noise -within.
Q. Mar. What noise is this?
Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their
weapons drawn.
K. Hen. Why, how now, lords ! your wrath-
ful weapons drawn
Here in our presence ! dare you be so bold?
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men
of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.
Sal. [To the Commons at the door.'} Sirs,
stand apart ; the king shall know your
mind. \_He comes forward.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
621
They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous lingering death.
They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey
died;
They say, in him they fear your highness' death ;
And mere instinct of love and loyalty,
Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,
That if your highness should intend to sleep,
And charge that no man should disturb your
rest,
In pain of your dislike, or pain of death ;
Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty,
It were but necessary you were wak'd ;
Lest, being suffered in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal :
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'r you will or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life.
Commons. [Within, ~\ An answer from the
king, my Lord of Salisbury !
Suf. 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd
hinds,
Could send such message to their sovereign:
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To show how quaint an orator you are :
But all the honour Salisbury hath won
Is, that he was the lord ambassador
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.
Commons, [Within.'] An answer from the
king, or we will all break in !
K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all
from me,
I thank them for their tender loving care ;
And had I not been cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat ;
For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means :
And therefore, by His majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.
[Exit SALISBURY.
Q. Mar. O Henry, let me plead for gentle
Suffolk ! [Suffolk !
K. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle
No more, I say : if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word ;
But when I swear, it is irrevocable.
If after three days' space thou here be'st found
On any ground that I am ruler of,
The world shall not be ransom for thy life.
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with
me ;
I ha\ T e great matters to impart to thee.
[Exeunt K. HEN., WAR., Lords, 5rv.
Q. Mar. Mischance and sorrow go along with
you !
Heart's discontent and sour affliction
Be playfellows to keep you company !
There 's two of you ; the devil make a third !
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps }
Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.
Q.Mar. Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted
wretch !
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies ?
Suf. A plague upon them ! wherefore should
I curse them ?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave :
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest
words ;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint \
Mine hair be fix'd on end, as one distract ;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban :
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not arse them. Poison be their drink !
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they
taste !
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees !
Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks !
Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings !
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss ;
And boding screech-owls make the concert full 1
All the foul terrors in dark -seated hell
Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou tcr-
ment'st thyself; [glass?
And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst
Or like an overcharged gun, recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyself.
Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me
leave ?
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Though standing naked en a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.
Q. Mar. O, let me entreat thee, cease ! Give
me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears ;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
622
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT in.
To wash away my woeful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
[Kisses his hand.
That thou mightst think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd
for thee !
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself:
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go; speak not to me; even now be gone.
O, go not yet! Even thus two friends con-
demn'd [leaves,
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand
Leather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now, farewell ; and farewell life with thee !
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times ban-
ished,
Once by the king and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence ;
A wilderness is populous enough,
so Suffolk had thy heavenly company :
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world ;
And where thou art not, desolation.
I can no more : live thou to joy thy life ;
Myself to joy in naught but that thou liv'st.
Enter VAUX.
Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux so fast? what
news, I pr'ythee?
Vaux. To signify unto his majesty
That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death;
For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,
That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the
air,
Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth.
Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost
Were by his side ; sometime he calls the king,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his overcharged soul :
And I am sent to tell his majesty
That even now he cries aloud for him. [king.
Q. Mar. Go tell this heavy message to the
[Exit VAUX.
Ah me ! what is this world ! what news are
these !
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's ex ;i e, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the souihern clouds contend in tears,
Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my
sorrows? [coming;
Now get thee hence: the king, thou know'st, is
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
Suf. If I depart from thee I cannot live :
And in thy sight to die, what were it else
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe
Dying with mother's dug between its lips :
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth ;
So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.
To die by thee were but to die in jest ;
From thee to die were torture more than death :
O, let me stay, befall what may befall !
Q. Mar. Away ! though parting be a fretful
corrosive,
It is applied to a deathful wound. [thee ;
To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe
I '11 have an Iris that shall find thee out.
Suf. I go.
Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee.
Suf. A jewel, lock'd into the woefull'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we;
This way fall I to death.
Q. Mar. This way for me. [Exeunt severally*
SCENE III. LONDON. CARDINAL BEAU-
FORT'S Bedchamber.
Enter KING HENRY, SALISBURY, WARWICK,
and others. The CARDINAL in bed; Attend-
ants with him.
K. Hen. How fares my lord? speak, Beau-
fort, to thy sovereign.
Car. If thou be'st death Til give thee
England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life
Where death's approach is seen so terrible !
War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to
thee.
Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no?
O, torture me no more ! I will confess.
Alive again ? then snow me where he is :
I '11 give a thousand pound to look upon him.
He hath no eyes, the dusi hath blinded them.
Comb down his hair ; look, look ! it stands up-
right,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul !
SCENE III.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
623
Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch !
O, beat away the busy meddling fiend
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair !
War. See how the pangs of death do make
him grin !
Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.
K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good
pleasure be !
Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.
He dies, and makes no sign : O God, forgive
him !
War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sin-
ners all.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close ;
And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. KENT. The Sea-shore near Dover.
Firing heard at sea. Then enter , from a boat,
a Captain, a Master, a Master's Mate,
WALTER WHITMORE, and others; -with
them SUFFOLK, disguised, and other Gentle-
men, prisoners.
Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful
day-
Is crept into the bosom of the sea ;
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades
That drag the tragic melancholy night ;
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty
jaws
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize ;
For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,
Orwith their bloodstain th is discolour'd shore.
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee ;
And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ;
The other [pointing to SUFFOLK], Walter
Whitmore is thy share. [know.
I Gent. What is my ransom, master? let me
Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down
your head. [yours.
Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes
Cap. What, think you much to pay two
thousand crowns,
And bear the name and port of gentlemen?
Cut both the villains' throats; for die /ou
shall:
The lives of those which we have lost in fight
Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum.
I Gent. I '11 give it, sir ; and therefore spare
my life. [straight.
2. Gent. And so will I, and write home for it
Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize a-
board,
And therefore, to revenge it, shall thou die;
[To SUFFOLK.
And so should these, if I might have my will.
Cap. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him
live
Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman:
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shait be paid.
Whit. And so am I; my name is Walter
Whitmore. [affright?
How now ! why start'st thou? what, doth death
Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound
is death.
A cunning man did calculate my birth,
And told me that by Water I should die :
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded ;
Thy name is Gaultier^ being rightly sounded.
Whit. Gaultier or Walter, which it is I care
not:
Never yet did base dishonour blur our name
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot ;
Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world 1
[Lays hold on SUFFOLK.
Suf. Stay, Whitmore ; for thy prisoner is a
prince,
The Duke of Suffolk, William De-la-Poole.
Whit. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags !
Suf. Ay, but these rags are no part of the
duke:
Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?
Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt
be. [blood,
Suf. Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's
The honourable blood of Lancaster,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my
stirrup ?
Bareheaded plodded by my foot-cloth mule,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head?
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the
board,
When I have feasted with Queen Margaret ?
Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall'n ;
Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride :
How in our voiding-lobby hast thou stood.
And duly waited for my coming forth ?
624
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.
Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the for-
lorn swain ? [me.
Cap. First let my words stab him, as he hath
Suf. Base slave, thy words are blunt, and so
art thou. [boat's side
Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-
Strike off his head.
Suf. Thou dar'st not, for thy own.
Cap. Yes, Poole.
Suf. Poole !
Cap. Poole ! Sir Poole ! lord !
Ay, kennel, puddle, sink ; whose filth and dirt
Troubles thesilver spring where England drinks.
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth
For swallowing the treasure of the realm :
Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the
ground ; [phrey's death,
And thou, that smil'dst at good Duke Hum-
Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain,
Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again :
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,
For daring to affy a mighty lord
Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem.
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd
With goblets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France;
The false revolting Normans thorough thee
Disdain to call us lord ; and Picardy
Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts,
And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,
Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in
vain,
As hating thee, are rising up in arms : [crown
And now the house of York, thrust from the
By shameful murder of a guiltless king
And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,
Burns with revenging fire ; whose hopeful
colours
Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine,
Under the which is writ Invitis nubibus.
The commons here in Kent are up in arms :
And, to conclude, reproach and beggary
Is crept into the palace of our king,
And all by thee. Away! convey him hence.
Suf. O that I were a god, to shoot forth
thunder
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges !
Small things make base men proud ; this villain
here,
Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate.
Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives:
It is impossible that I should die
By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
Thy words move rage and not remorse in me :
I go of message from the queen to France ;
I charge thee, waft me safely cross the Channel.
Cap. Walter,
Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to
thy death. [I fear.
Suf. Gelidus timor occupat artits: 'tis thee
Wkit. Thou shalt have cause to fear before
I leave thee.
What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?
I Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak
him fair. [rough,
Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and
Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour.
Far be it we should honour such as these
With humble suit : no, rather let my head
Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any,
Save to the God of heaven and to my king ;
And sooner dance upon a bloody pole
Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.
True nobility is exempt from fear :
More can I bear than you dare execute.
Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no
more. [can,
Suf. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye
That this my death may never be forgot !
Great men oft die by vile bezonians :
A Roman sworder and banditto slave
Murder'd sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard hand
Stabb'd Julius Csesar ; savage islanders
Pompey the Great ; and Suffolk dies by pirates.
[Exit SUF., with WHIT, and others.
Cap. And as for these, whose ransom we
have set,
It is our pleasure one of them depart :
Therefore come you with us, and let him go.
[Exeunt all but the first Gentleman.
Re-enter WHITMORE with SUFFOLK'S body.
Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie,
Until the queen his mistress bury it. [Exit.
I Gent. O barbarous and bloody spectacle !
His body will I bear unto the king :
If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;
So will the queen, that, living, held him dear,
[Exit with the body*
SCENE \\.-r-Blackheath.
Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND.
Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though
made of a lath ; they have been up these two days.
John. They have the more need to sleep nowj
then.
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
625
Well
Geo. I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means
to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and
set a new nap upon it.
John. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare.
Tell, I say it was never merry world in Eng-
land since gentlemen came up.
Geo, O miserable age ! Virtue is not regarded
in handicraftsmen.
John. The nobility think scorn to go in
leather aprons.
Geo. Nay, more, the king's council are no
good workmen.
John. True ; and yet it is said, Labour in thy
vocation ; which is as much to say as, Let the
magistrates be labouring men ; and therefore
should we be magistrates.
Geo. Thou hast hit it ; for there 's no better
sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
John. I see them ! I see them ! There 's
Best's son, the tanner of Wingham,
Geo. He shall have the skins of our enemies
to make dog's leather of.
John. And Dick the butcher,
Geo. There is sin struck down like an ox,
and iniquity's throat cut like a calf.
John. And Smith the weaver,
Geo. Argo, their thread of life is spun.
John. Come, come, let 's fall in with them.
Drum. Enter CADE, DICK the Butcher,
SMITH the Weaver > and others in great
number.
Cade. We John Cade, so termed of our sup-
posed father,
Dick. Or, rather, of stealing a cade of her-
rings. [Aside.
Cade. For our enemies shall fall before us,
inspired with the spirit of putting down kings
and princes. Command silence.
Dick. Silence!
Cade. My father was a Mortimer,
Dick. He was an honest man and a good
bricklayer. [Aside.
Cade. My mother a Plantagenet,
Dick. I knew her well ; she was a midwife.
[Aside.
Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies,
Dick. She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter,
and sold many laces. [Aside.
Smith. But now of late, not able to travel
with her furred pack, she washes bucks here at
home. [Aside.
Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house.
Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honour-
able ; and there was he born under a hedge,
for his father had never a house but the cage.
[Aside.
Cade. Valiant I am.
Smith. 'A must needs ; for beggary is valiant
[Aside.
Cade. I am able to endure much.
Dick. No question of that ; for I have seen
him whipped three market days together.
[Aside.
Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire.
Smith. He need not fear the sword ; for his
coat is of proof. [Aside.
Dick. But methinks he should stand in fear
of fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of
sheep. [Aside.
Cade. Be brave, then ; for your captain is
brave, and vows reformation. There shall be
in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a
penny: the three-hooped pot shall have ten
hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink small
beer : all the realm shall be in common ; and
in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass : and
when I am king, as king I will be,-
All. God save your majesty I
Cade. I thank you, good people : there shall
be no money ; all shall eat and drink on my
score ; and I will apparel them all in one
livery, that they may agree like brothers, and
worship me their lord.
Dick. The first thing we do, let 's kill all the
lawyers.
Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a
lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent
lamb should be made parchment? that parch-
ment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man ?
Some say the bee stings ; but I say 'tis the bee's
wax ; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I
was never mine own man since. How now !
who 's there ?
Enter some, bringing in the Clerk of Chatham.
Smith. The clerk of Chatham : he can write
and read and cast accompt.
Cade. O monstrous I
Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies.
Cade. Here 's a villain !
Smith. Has a book in his pocket with red
letters in 't.
Cade. Nay, then, he is a conjurer,
Dick. Nay, he can make obligations and
write court -hand.
Cade. I am sorry for 't : the man is a proper
man, on mine honour : unless I find him guilty,
he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah, I must
examine thee : what is thy name ?
Clerk. Emmanuel.
Dick. They use to write it on the top of
letters : 'twill go hard with you.
Cade. Let me alone. Dost thotz use to write
626
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
thy name ? or hast thou a mark to thyself, like
an honest plain-dealing man ?
Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well
brought up that I can write my name.
All. He hath confessed : away with him ! he's
a villain and a traitor.
Cade. Away with him, I say ! hang him with
his pen and inkhorn about his neck.
[Exeunt some with the Clerk.
Enter MICHAEL.
Mich. Where 's our general ?
Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow.
Mich. Fly, fly, fly ! Sir Humphrey Stafford
and his brother are hard by, with the king's
forces.
Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I '11 fell thee
down. He shall be encountered with a man as
good as himself : he is but a knight, is 'a ?
Mich. No.
Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a
knight presently. [Kneels."] Rise up. Sir John
Mortimer. [Rises.] Now have at him !
Enter SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD and
WILLIAM his Brother, with drum and Forces.
Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of
Kent,
Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down ;
Home to your cottages, forsake this groom :
The king is merciful if you revolt. [blood
W. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to
If you go forward : therefore yield or die.
Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves,! pass
not :
It is to you, good people, that I speak,
O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign ;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
Staf. Villain, thy father was a plasterer ;
And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not ?
Cade. And Adam was a gardener.
W. Staf. And what of that?
Cade. Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl
of March, [he not ?
Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did
Staf. Ay, sir.
Cade. By her he had two children at one birth.
W. Staf. That 's false. ['tis true :
Cade. Ay, there 's the question ; but I say
The elder of them being put to nurse,
Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away ;
And, ignorant of his tirth and parentage,
Became a bricklayer when he came to age :
His son am I ; deny it if you can.
Dick. Nay, 'tis too true ; therefore he shall
be king.
Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's
house, an' I the bricks are alive at this day to
testify it ; therefore deny it not. [words,
Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's
That speaks he knows not what? [gone.
All. Ay, marry, will we ; therefore get ye
W. Staf. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath
taught you this.
Cade. He lies, for I invented it myself
[Aside.] Go to, sirrah, tell the king from me,
that, for his father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in
whose time boys wentto span-counter for French
crowns, I am content he shall reign ; but I '11
be protector over him.
Dick. And furthermore, we '11 have the Lord
Say's head, for selling the dukedom of Maine.
Cade. And good reason ; for thereby is Eng-
land mained, and fain to go with a staff, but that
my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell
you that that Lord Say hath gelded the common-
wealth, and made it an eunuch : and more than
that, he can speak P'rench ; and therefore he is
a traitor.
Staf. O gross and miserable ignorance !
Cade. Nay, answer if you can : "he French-
men are our enemies ; go to, then, I ask but this,
can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy
be a good counsellor, or no? [head.
All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his
W. Staf. Well, seeing gentle words will not
prevail,
Assail them with the army of the king, [town
Staf. Herald, away ; and throughout every
Proclaim them traitors ihat are up with Cade ;
That those which fly before the battle ends
May, even in their wives' and children's sight,
Be hang'd up for example at their doors :
And you that be the king's friends, follow me.
[Exeunt the two STAFFORDS and Forces.
Cade. And you that love the commons follow
me.
Now show yourselves men ; 'tis for liberty.
We will not leave one lord, one gentleman :
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon ;
For they are thrifty honest men, and such
As would but that they dare not take our
parts. [wards us.
Dick. They are all in order, and march to-
Cade. But then are we in order when we are
most out of order. Come, march forward.
\Exezmt-.
SCENE III. Another part of Blackheath.
Alarums. The two parties enter and fight, and
both the STAFFORDS are slain.
Cade. Where 's Dick, the butcher of Ashford ?
Dick. Here, sir.
SCENE IV.j
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
627
Cade. They fell before thee like sheepand oxen,
and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been
in thine own slaughter-house : therefore thus will
I reward thee, the Lent shall be as long again
as it is ; and thou shalt have a license to kill for
a hundred lacking one, a week.
Dick. I desire no more.
Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest
no less. This monument of the victory will I
bear {putting on pent of Sm H. STAFFORD'S
armour]; and the bodies shall be dragged at
my horse's heels till I do come to London,
where we will have the mayor's sword borne
before us.
Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good,
break open the gaols, and let out the prisoners.
Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come,
let 's march towards London. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING HENRY, reading a supplication;
the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM and LORD SAY
with him: at a distance, QUEEN MARGARET
mourning aver SUFFOLK'S head.
Q. Mar. Oft have I heard that grief softens
the mind,
And makes it fearful and degenerate ;
Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep.
But who can cease to weep, and look on this?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast:
But where's the body that I should embrace?
BUCK. What answer makes your grace to the
rebels' supplication?
K. Hen. I '11 send some holy bishop to en-
treat ;
For God forbid so many simple souls
Should perish by the sword ! And I myself,
Rather than bloody war shall cut them short,
Will parley with Jack Cade their general :
But stay, I '11 read it over once again.
Q. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains' hath this
lovely face
Rul'd, like a wandering planet, over me,
And could it not enforce them to relent
That were unworthy to behold the same?
K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to
have thy head. [his.
Say. Ay, but I hope your highness shall have
K* Ken. How now, madam !
Still lamentingand mourning for Suffolk's death?
I fear, my love, if that I had oeen dead, [me.
Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for
Q. Afar. No, my love, I should not mourn,
but die for thee.
Enter a Messenger.
K. Hen. How now! what news? whycom'st
thou in such haste? [lord ;
Mess. The rebels are in Southwark ; fly, my
Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house ;
And calls your grace usurper cpenly,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
His army is a ragged multitude
Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless :
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed :
All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
They call false caterpillars, and intend their death.
K. Hen. O graceless menl they know not
what they do, [worth
Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Killing-
Until a power be rais'd to put them down.
Q. Mar. Ah ! were the Duke of Suffolk now
alive,
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd.
K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee ;
Therefore away with us to Killingworth.
Say. So might your grace's person be in
danger ;
The sight of me is odious in their eyes :
And therefore in this city will I stay,
And live alone as secret as I may.
Enter a second Messenger.
2 Mess. Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge:
The citizens fly and forsake their houses ;
The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
Join witn the traitor ; and they jointly swear
To spoil the city and your royal court.
Buck. Then linger not, my lord ; away, take
horse.
K. Hen. Come, Margaret; God, our hope,
will succour us. [deceas'd.
Q. Mar. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is
K. Hen. Farewell, my lord [to LORD SAY]:
trust not the Kentish rebels.
Buck. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd.
Say. The crust I have is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. LONDON. The Tower.
Enter LORD SCALES and others, on the Walls.
Then enter certain Citizens, below.
Scales. How now ! is Jack Cade slain?
I Cit. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain ; for
they have won the bridge, killing all those that
withstand them : the lord mayor craves aid of
628
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
your honour from the Tower, to defend the city
from the rebels.
Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall com-
mand ;
But I am troubled here with them myself,
The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower.
But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither I will send you Matthew Gough ;
Fight for your king, your country, and your lives;
And so, farewell, for I must hence again.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. LONDON. Cannon Street.
Enter JACK CADE and his Followers. He
strikes his staff on London stone.
Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city.
And here, sitting upon London stone, I charge
and command that, of the city's cost, the pissing-
conduit run nothing but claret wine this first
year of our reign. And now henceforward it
shall be treason for any that calls me other than
Lord Mortimer.
Enter a Soldier, winning.
Sold. Jack Cade ! Jack Cade !
Cade. Knock him down there.
'{They kill him.
Smith. If this fellow be wise, he'll never
call you Jack Cade more ; I think he hath a
very fair warning.
Dick. My lord, there 's an army gathered to-
gether in Smithfield.
Cade. Come, then, let 's go fight with them :
but first, go and set London Bridge on fire ; and,
if you can, burn down the Tower too. Come,
let 's away. {Exeunt.
SCENE VII. LONDON. Smithfield.
Alarums. Enter, on one side, CADE and his
Company; on the other. Citizens, and the
KING'S Forces, headed by MATTHEW GOUGH.
They fight ; the Citizens are rcntted, and
MATTHEW GOUGH is slain.
Cade. So, sirs : now go some and pull down
the Savoy ; others to the inns of court ; down
with them all.
Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship.
Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for
that word.
Dick. Only, that the laws of England may
come out of your mouth.
John. Mass, 'twill be sore law then ; for he
was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis
not whole yet. {Aside.
Smith. Nay, John, it will be stinking law ;
for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.
{Aside.
Cade. I have thought upon it, it shall be so.
Away, burn all the records of the realm : my
mouth shall be the Parliament of England.
John. Then we are like to have biting statutes,
unless his teeth be pulled out. {Aside.
Cade. And henceforward all things shall be
in common.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize ! here 's the
Lord Say, which sold the towns in France ; he
that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens, and
one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy.
Enter GEORGE BEVIS, with the LORD SAY.
_ Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten
times. Ah, thou say, thou serge, nay, thou
buckram lord ! now art thou within point blank
of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou
answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy
unto Monsieur Basimecu, the Dauphin of
France? Be it known unto thee by these pre-
sence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that
I am the besom that must sweep the court clean
of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitor-
ously corrupted the youth of the realm in erect-
ing a grammar school : and whereas, before, our
forefathers had no other books but the score and
the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used ;
and, contrary to the king, his crown, and dignity,
thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved
to thy face that thou hast men about thee that
usually talk of a noun and a verb, and such
abominable words as no Christian ear can endure
to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace,
to call poor men before them about matters they
were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast
put them in prison ; and because they could not
read, thou hast hanged them ; when, indeed,
only for that cause they have been most worthy
to live. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost
thou not?
Say. What of that?
Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy
horse wear a cloak, when honester men than thou
go in their hose and doublets.
Dick. And work in their shirt too ; as my-
self, for example, that am a butcher.
Say. You men of Kent,
Dick. What say you of Kent?
Say. Nothing but this, 'tis bona terra> mala
gens.
SCENE VII.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
Cade. Away with him, away with him ! he
speaks Latin.
Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me where
you will.
Kent, in the Commentaries Cresar writ,
Is term'd the civill'st place of all this isle :
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy ;
Which makes me hope you are not void of pity.
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy;
Yet, to recover them, would lose my life.
Justice with favour have I always done;
Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could
never.
When have I aught exacted at your hands,
But to maintain the king, the realm, and you?
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks,
Because my book preferr'd me to the king,
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits,
You cannot but forbear to murder me :
This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings
For your behoof, [the field?
Cade. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in
Say. Great men have reaching hands: oft
have I struck
Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
Geo. O monstrous coward ! what, to come be-
hind folks? [your good.
Say. These cheeks are pale for watching for
Cade. Give him a box o' the ear, and that
will make 'em red again. [causes
Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.
Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then,
and the help of hatchet.
Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man?
Say. The palsy, and not fear, provokes me.
Cade. Nay, he nods at us, as who should say,
I '11 be even with you : I '11 see if his head will
stand steadier on a pole, or no. Take him
away, and behead him.
Say. Tell me wherein have I offended most?
Have I affected wealth or honour, speak?
Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold?
Is my apparel sumptuous to behold?
Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death?
These hands are free from guiltless blood-shed-
ding, [thoughts.
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful
O let me live !
Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words ;
but I '11 bridle it: he shall die, an it be but for
pleading so well for his life. [Aside.'] Away
with him ! he has a familiar under his tongue ;
he speaks not o' God's name. Go, take him
away, I say, and strike off his head presently ;
and then break into his son-in-law's house, Sir
James Cromer, and strike off his head, and
bring them both upon two poles hither.
All. It shall be done. [prayers,
Say. Ah, countrymen ! if when you make your
God should be so obdurate as yourselves,
How would it fare with your departed souls?
And therefore yet relent, and save my life.
Cade. Away with him, and do as I command
ye. {Exeunt some with LORD SAY.
The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear
a head on his shoulders, unless he pay me
tribute ; there shall not a maid be married, but
she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they
have it: men shall hold of me in capite; and
we charge and command that their wives be as
free as heart can wish or tongue can tell.
Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheap-
side, and take up commodities upon our bills ?
Cade. Marry, presently.
All. O brave !
Re-enter Rebels, with the heads 0/"LoRD SAY
and his Son-in-law.
Cade. But is not this braver? Let them kiss
one another, for they loved well when they were
alive. Now, part them again, lest they consult
about the giving up of some more towns inFrance.
Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night :
for with these borne before us, instead of maces,
will we ride through the streets j and at every
corner have them kiss. Away! \Excunt*
SCENE \\\l. Southward
Alarum. Enter CADE and all his Rabblement.
Cade. Up Fish Street ! down Saint Magnus'
corner ! kill and knock down ! throw them into
Thames! [A parley sounded, then a retreat.]
What noise is this I hear ? Dare any be so bold
to sound retreat or parley, when I command them
km?
Enter BUCKINGHAM and LORD CLIFFORD,
with Forces.
Biick. Ay, here they be that dare and will
disturb thee : [king
Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the
Unto the commons whom thou hast misled ;
And here pronounce free pardon to them all
That will forsake thee and go home in peace.
Cltf. What say ye, countrymen? willyerelent,
And yield to mercy whilst 'tis offer'd you ;
Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths ?
Who loves the king, and will embracehis pardon,
630
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT IV.
Fling up his cap, and say God save his majesty !
Who hateth him, and honours not his father,
Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at us and pass by.
All. God save the king ! God save the king !
Cade. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are
ye so brave ? And you, base peasants, do ye
believe him? will you needs be hanged with your
pardons about your necks? Hath my sword
therefore broke through London gates, that you
should leave me at the White Hart in South-
wark? I thought ye would never have given
out these arms till you had recovered your
ancient freedom : but you are all recreants and
dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the
nobility. Let them break your backs with
burdens, take your houses over your heads,
ravish your wives and daughters before your
faces : for me, I will make shift for one ; and
so, God's curse light upon you all !
. All. We '11 follow Cade, we '11 follow Cade !
Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth,
That thus you do exclaim you '11 go with him ?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to ;
Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil,
Unless by robbing of your friends and us.
Were 't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar,
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you?
Methinks already in this civil broil
I see them lording it in London streets,
Crying Viliaco! unto all they meet.
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's
mercy. [lost ;
To France, to France, and get what you have
Spare England, for it is your native coast :
Henry hath money, you are strong and manly ;
God on our side, doubt not of victory.
All. A Clifford! a Clifford! we '11 follow the
king and Clifford.
Cade. Was ever feather so lightly blown to
and fro as this multitude? The name of Henry
the Fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs,
and makes them leave me desolate. I see them
lay their heads together to surprise me: my
sword make way for me, for here is no staying.
[Aside.'] In despite of the devils and hell, have
through the very middest of you ! and heavens
and honour be witness that no want of resolu-
tion in me, but only my followers' base and
ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to
my heels. [Exit.
Buck. What ! is he fled? go some and follow
him;
And he that brings his head unto the king
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. i
[Exeunt some of them.
Follow me, soldiers : we '11 devise a mean
To reconcile you all unto the king. [Exeunt.
SCENE IX. Killingworth Castle.
Trumpets sounded. Enter KING HENRY.
QUEEN MARGARET, and SOMERSET, on ths
terrace of the Castle.
K. Hen. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly
throne,
And could command no more content than I ?
No sooner was I crept out of my cradle
But I was made a king, at nine months old :
Was never subject long'd to be a king
As I do long and wish to be a subject.
Enter BUCKINGHAM and LORD CLIFFORD.
Buck. Health andglad tidingsto yourmajesty !
K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor
Cade surpris'd?
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?
Enter y below, a number of CADE'S Followers,
with halters about their necks.
Clif. He is fled, my lord, and all his powers
do yield ;
And humbly thus, with halters on their necks,
Expect your highness' doom of life or death.
K. Hen. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlast-
ing gates,
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise !
Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives,
And show'd how well you love your prince and
country :
Continue still in this so good a mind,
And Henry, though he be infortunate,
Assure yourselves, will never be unkind :
And so, with thanks and pardon to you all,
I do dismiss you to your several countries.
All. God save the king 1 God save the king !
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Please it your grace to be advertised
The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland ;
And with a puissant and a mighty power
Of Gallowglasses and stout kerns
Is marching hitherward in proud array :
And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
His arms are only to remove from thee
The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor.
K. Hen. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade
and York distress'd ;
Like to a ship that, having 'scap'd a tempest,
SCENE X.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
631
Is straightway calm'd, and boarded with a pirate :
But now is Cade driven baclc, hio men dispers'd ;
And now is York in arms to second him.
I pray thee, Buckingnam, go thou and meet him;
And ask him what 's the reason of these arms.
Tell him I '11 send Duke Edmund to the Tower;
And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither,
Until his army be dismiss'd from him.
Sotn My lord,
I '11 yield myself to prison willingly,
Or unto death, to do my country good.
K. Hen. In any case be not too rough in
terms ; [guage.
For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard lan-
Buck. I will, my lord ; and doubt not so to
deal
As all things snail redound unto your good.
K. Hen. Come, wife, let 's in, and learn to
govern better;
For yet may England curse my wretched reign.
[Exeunt.
SCENE X. KENT. IDEN'S Garden.
Enter CADE.
Cade. Fie on ambition ! fie on myself, that
have a sword, and yet am ready to famish !
These five days have I hid me in these woods,
and durst not peep out, for all the country is
laid for me ; but now am I so hungry that if I
might have a lease of my life for a thousand
years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on
a brick wall have I climbed into this garden,
to see if I can eat grass or pick a sallet another
while, which is not amiss to cool a man's
stomach this hot weather. And I think this
word sallet was born to do me good : for many
a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan had been
cleft with a brown bill ; and many a time, when
I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath
served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in ;
and now the word sallet must serve me to feed
on.
Enter IDEN, with Servants behind.
Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the
court,
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these?
This small inheritance my father left me
Contenteth me, and 's worth a monarchy.
I seek not to wax great by others' waning,
Or gather wealth I care not with what envy:
Sufficeth that I have maintains my state,
And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.
Cade. Here 's the lord of the soil come to
seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple
without leave. [Aside.} Ah, vilUJn, thou .vilt
betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the
king by carrying my head to him 1 but I '11 make
thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow my
sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.
Iden. Why, rude companion, whatso'er thou
be, [thee?
I know thee not; why, then, should I betray
Is 't not enough to break into my garden,
And like a thief to come to rob my grounds,
Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner,
But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ?
Cade. Brave thee ! ay, by the best blood that
ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look
on me well : I have eat no meat these five days ;
yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not
leave you all as dead as a door nail, I pray God
I may never eat grass more.
Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England
stands,
That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent,
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man.
Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canst outface me with thy looks :
Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser ;
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ;
Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon ;
My foot shall fight with all the strength thou
hast ;
And if mine arm be heaved in the air,
Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.
As for words, whose greatness answers words,
Let this my sword report what speech forbears.
Cade. By my valour, the most complete
champion that ever I heard. Steel, if thou
turn the edge, or cut not out the burley-boned
clown in chines of beet ere thou sleep in thy
sheath, I beseech Jove, on my knees, thou
mayest be turned to hobnails. [ They fight,
CADE falls. ] O, I am slain ! famine and no
other hath slain me : let ten thousand devils
come against me, and give me but the ten meals
I have lost, and I 'd defy them all. Wither,
garden ; and be henceforth a burying-place to
all that do dwell in this house, because the un-
conquered soul of Cade is fled.
Iden. Is 't Cade that I have slain, that mon-
strous traitor ?
Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed,
And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead %
Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point ;
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
To emblaze the honour that thy master got.
Cade. Iden, farewell ; and be proud of thy
victory. Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her
best man ; and exhort all the world to be
cowards, for I, that never feared any, am
vanquished by famine, not by valour, {Dies.
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT v.
Iden. How much thou wrongst me, heaven be
my judge. [thee !
Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare
And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,
So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave,
And there cut off thy most ungracious head ;
Which I will bear in triumph to the king,
Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.
[Exeunt i dragging out the body.
ACT V.
SCENE I. Fields between Dart ford and Black-
heath.
The KING'S Camp on one side. On the other,
enter YORK attended, with drum and colours:
his Forces at some distance.
York. From Ireland thus comes York to claim
his right,
And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head :
Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and
bright;
To entertain great England's lawful king.
Ah, sancta itiajestasl who would not buy thee
dear?
Let them obey that know not how to rule ;
This hand was made to handle naught but gold.
I cannot give due action to my words
Except a sword or sceptre balance it :
A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul,
On which I '11 toss the flower-de-luce of France.
Enter BUCKINGHAM.
Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb
me?
The king hath sent him, sure : I must dissemble.
[Aside.
Buck* York, if thou meanest well, I greet
thee well. [greeting.
York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy
Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?
Buck. A messenger from Henry, our dread
liege,
To know the reason of these arms in peace ;
Or why thou, being a subject as I am,
Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn,
Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave,
Or dare to bring thy force so near the court.
York. Scarce can I speak, my choler is so
great:
O, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint,
I am so angry at these abject terms;
And now, like Ajax Telamonius,
On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury !
I am far better born than is the king;
More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts :
But I must make fair weather yet awhile,
Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.
[Aside.
Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me,
That I have given no answer all this while;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The cause why I have brought this army hither
Is to remove proud Somerset from the king,
Seditious to his grace and to the state, [part :
Buck. That is too much presumption on thy
But if thy arms be to no other end,
The king hath yielded unto thy demand ;
The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.
York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner?
Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.
York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my
powers.
Soldiers, I thank you all ; disperse yourselves ;
Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field,
You shall have pay and everything you wish.
And let my sc /ereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons,
As pledges of my fealty and love ;
I '11 send them all as willing as I live :
Lands, goods, horse, armour, anything I have,
Is his to use, so Somerset may die.
Buck. York, I commend this kind submission:
We twain will go into his highness' tent.
Enter KING HENRY, attended.
K. Hen. Buckingham, doth York intend no
harm to us,
That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm ?
York. In all submission and humility
York doth present himself unto your highness.
K. Hen. Then what intend these forces thou
dost bring ? [hence,
York. To heave the traitor Somerset from
And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade,
Who since I heard to be discomfited.
Enter IDEN, with CADE'S head.
Iden. If one so rude and of so mean condition
May pass into the presence of a king,
Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head,
The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.
K. Hen. The head of Cade ! Great God,
how just art thou !
O, let me view his visage, being dead,
That living wrought me such exceeding
trouble. [him ?
Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew
SCENE I.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
633
Iden. I was, an't like your majesty.
K. Hen. How art thou call'd ? and what is
thy degree ?
Iden. Alexander Iden, that 's my name ;
A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king.
Buck. So please it you, my lord, 'twere not
amiss
He were created knight for his good service.
K. Hen. Iden, kneel down, [He kneels.}
Rise up a knight.
We give thee for reward a thousand marks ;
And will that thou henceforth attend on us.
Iden.. May Iden live to merit such a bounty,
And never live but true unto his liege !
K. Hen. See, Buckingham ! Somerset conies
with the queen :
Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.
Enter QUEEN MA?GARET and SOMERSET.
Q. Mar. For thousand Yorks he shall not
hide his head,
But boldly stand and front him to his face.
York. How now J is Somerset at liberty ?
Then, York, unloose thy long - imprison'd
thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset ? [me,
False king 1 why hast thou broken faith with
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse ?
King did I call thee? no, thou art not king ;
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a
traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown ;
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely sceptre.
That gold must round engirt these brows of mine,
Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear,
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up,
And with the same to act controlling laws.
Give place : by heaven, thou shalt rule no
more
O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler.
Som. O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee,
York,
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown :
Obey, audacious traitor ; kneel for grace.
York. Wouldst have me kneel? first let me
ask of these,
If they can brook I bow a knee to man.
Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail :
[Exit Atten.
I know, ere they will have me go to ward,
They '11 pawn their swords for my enfranchise-
ment, [amain,
Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford ; bid him come
To say if that the bastard boys of York
Shall be the surety for their traitor father.
[Exit an Attendant.
York. O blood-bespotted Neapolitan,
Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge !
The sons of York, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their father's bail ; and bane to those
That for my surety will refuse the boys !
See where they come : I '11 warrant they '11 make
it good. [bail.
Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford to deny their
Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANT AGEIJET,
with Forces, at one side ; at the other, with
Forces also, LORD CLIFFORD and his Son.
Clif. Health and all happiness to my lord the
king ! [Kneels.
York. I thank thee, Clifford : say, what news
with thee ?
Nay, do not fright us with an angry look :
We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again ;
For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. [take ;
Clif. This is my king, York, I do not mis-
B-*. thou mistak'st me much to think I do :
To Bedlam with him ! is the man grown mad?
K. Hen. Ay, Clifford ; a bedlam and ambi-
tious humour
Makes him oppose himself against his king.
Clif. He is a traitor ; let him to the Tower,
And chop away that factious pate of his.
Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey ;
His sons, he says, shall give their words forhim.
York. Will you not, sons?
Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.
Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons
shall. [here I
Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we
York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so :
I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor.
Call hither to the stake my two brave bears,
That with the very shaking of their chains
They may astonish these fell-lurking curs :
Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me.
Drums. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY,
with Forces.
Clif. Are these thy bears ? we '11 bait thy bears
to death,
And manacle the bear-ward in their chains,
If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place.
Rich. Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur
Run back and bite, because he was withheld ;
Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs and cried :
And such a piece of service will you do,
If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick.
634
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT V,
Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested
lump,
As crooked in thy manners as thy shape !
York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly
anon.
Clif. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn
yourselves. [to bow ?
K. Hen. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot
Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair,
Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son !
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the
ruffian,
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ?
O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty?
If it be banish'd from the frosty head,
Where shall it find a harbour in the earth ?
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And shame thine honourable age with blood ?
Why art thou old, and want'st experience ?
Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it?
For shame ! in duty bend thy knee to me,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age.
Sal. My lord, I have consider'd with myself
The title of this most renowned duke ;
And in my conscience do repute his grace
The rightful heir to England's royal seat.
K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto
me?
Sal. I have.
K. Hen. Canst thou dispense with heaven
for such an oath?
Sal. It is great sin to swear unto a sin ;
But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.
Who can be bound by any solemn vow
To do a murderous deed, to rob a man,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony,
To wring the widow from her custom'd right;
And have no other reason for this wrong
But that he was bound by a solemn oath?
Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm
himself. [thou hast,
York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends
I am resolv'd for death or dignity. [true.
Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove
War. You were best to go to bed and dream
again,
To keep thee from the tempest of the field.
Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm
Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;
And that I '11 write upon thy burgonet,
Might I but know thee by thy household badge.
War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's
crest,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff,
This day 1*11 wear aloft my burgonet,
As on a mountain-top the cedar shows,
That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,-
Even to affright thee with the view thereof.
Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy
bear,
And tread it under foot with all contempt,
Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear.
Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father,
To quell the rebels and their complices.
Rich. Fie ! charity, for shame ! speak not in
spite,
For you shall sup vi\\hjesu Christ to-night.
Y. Clif. Foul stigmatic, that 's more than thou
canst tell.
Rich. If not in heaven, you '11 surely sup in
hell. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE II. Saint Albans.
Alarums: excursions. Enter WARWICK.
War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick
calls !
And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum,
And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,
Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me !
Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.
Enter YORK.
How now, my noble lord ! what, all a-foot?
York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my
steed ;
But match to match I have encounter'd him,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.
Enter LORD CLIFFORD.
War. Of one or both of us the time is come.
York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some
other chase,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death.
War. Then, nobly, York ; "'tis for a crown
thou fight'st.
As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.
[Exit.
Clif. What see'st thou in me, York? why
dost thou pause? [love,
York. With thy brave bearing should I be in
But that thou art so fast mine enemy.
Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise
and esteem,
But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason.
York. So let it help me now against thy
sword,
As I in justice and true right express it I
SCENE II.]
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
635
Clif. My soul and body on the action both !
York. A dreadful lay ! address thee instantly.
Clif. La Jin couronne Ics ceuvres.
[ They fight, and CLIFFORD falls and dies.
York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for
thou art still.
Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will !
[Exit.
Enter YOUNG CLIFFORD.
Y. Clif. Shame and confusion ! all is on the
rout ;
Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds
Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell,
Whom angry heavens do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
Hot coals of vengeance ! Let no soldier fly :
He that is truly dedicate to war
Hath no self-love ; nor he that loves himself
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance,
The name of valour. O, let the vile world end.
{Seeing his father's body.
And the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heaven together !
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds
To cease ! Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve
The silver livery of advised age,
And in thy reverence and thy chair-days thus
To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight
My heart is turn'd to stone : and while 'tis mine
It shall be stony. York not our old men spares ;
No more will I their babes: tears virginal
Shall be to me even as the dew to fire;
And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims,
Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.
Henceforth I will not have to do with pity :
Meet I an infant of the house of York,
Into as many gobbets will I cut it
As wild Medea young Absyrtus did :
In cruelty will I seek out my fame.
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house :
[ Taking up the body.
As did ^Eneas old Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders ;
But then ^Eneas bare a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit.
Enter RICHARD PLANT AGENET and SOMER-
SET, fighting, and SOMERSET is killed.
Rich. So, lie thou there ;
For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,
The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset
Hath made the wizard famous in his death.
Sword, hold thy temper ; heart, be wrathful still:
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit.
Alarums: excursions. Enter KING HENRY,
QUEEN MARGARET, and others ; retreating.
Q. Mar. Away, my lord ! you are slow ; for
shame, away !
K. Hen. Can we outrun the heavens? good
Margaret, stay.
Q. Mar. What are you made of? you '11 nor
fight nor fly:
Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence,
To give the enemy way ; and to secure us
By what we can, which can no more but fly.
[Alarum afar off.
If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom
Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape,
As well we may, if not through your neglect,
We shall to London get : where you are lov'd ;
A nd where this breach, now in our fortunes made,
May readily be stopp'd.
Re-enter YOUNG CLIFFORD.
Y. Clif. But that my heart 's on future mis
chief set,
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly :
But fly you must ; uncurable discomfit
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.
Away, for your relief! and we will live
To see their day, and them our fortune give :
Away, my lord, away ! \Exeunt.
SCENE III. Fields near Saint Albans.
Alarum: retreat. Flourish; then enter YORK,
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, WARWICK, and
Soldiers, with drum and colours.
York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him,
That winter lion, who in rage forgets
Aged contusions and all brush of time,
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,
Repairs him with occasion? This happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.
Rich. My noble father,
Three times to-day I holp him to his horse,
Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off,
Persuaded him from any further act : [him ;
But still, where danger was, still there I met
And like rich hangings in a homely house,
So was his will in his old feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look where he comes.
Enter SALISBURY.
Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou
fought to-day;
By the mass, so did we all. I thank you,
Richard :
636
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT v.
God knows how long it is I have to live ;
\nd it hath pleas'd him that three times to-day
^ou have defended me from imminent death.
Well, lords, we have not got that which we
have:
Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
Being opposites of such repairing nature.
York. I know our safety is to follow them ;
For, as I hear, the king is fled to London,
To call a present court of Parliament.
Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth :
What says Lord Warwick? shall we after them?
War. After them ! nay, before them, if we
can.
Now, by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day:
Saint Albans battle, won by famous York,
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come. [all :
Sound drums and trumpets ; and to London
And more such days as these to us befall !
{Exeunt.
THIRD PART OF
KING HENRY VI.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE SIXTH.
EDWARD, Prince of Wales, his Son.
LOUIS XL, King of France.
DUKE OF SOMERSET,
DUKE OF EXETER,
EARL OF OXFORD, I Lordson KING
EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, | HENRY'S side.
EARL OF WESTMORELAND,
LORD CLIFFORD,
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York.
EDWARD, Earl of March, afterwards'"
KING EDWARD IV.,
EDMUND, Earl of Rutland,
GE.ORGE,afterwards)ue of Clarence,
his Sons.
DUKE OF NORFOLK,
MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE,
EARL OF WARWICK, of the DUKE OF
EARL OF PEMBROKE,
LORD HASTINGS,
LORD STAFFORD,
SIR JOHN MORTIMER, ) Uncles to the DUKE
SIR HUGH MORTIMER, / OF YORK.
HENRY, Earl of Richmond, & youth.
LORD RIVERS, Brother to LADY GREY
SIR WILLIAM STANLEY.
SIR JOHN MONTGOMERY.
SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE.
Tutor to RUTLAND.
Mayor of York.
Lieutenant of the Tower.
A Nobleman.
Two Keepers.
A Huntsman.
A Son that has killed his Father.
A Father that has killed his Son,
QUEEN MARGARET.
LADY GREY, afterwards Queen to EDWARD IV.
BONA, Sister to the French Queen.
Soldiers, and other Attendants on KING HENRY
and KING EDWARD, Messengers, Watch-
men, &c.
SCENE, During part of the Third Act in FRANCE; during the rest of the Play in ENGLAND.
Edw. Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buck-
ACT I. . ingham,
Is either slain or wounded dangerous ;
SCENE I. LONDON. The Parliament House. I cleft his beaver with a downright blow :
That this is true, father, behold his blood.
[Showing his bloody sword.
Mont. And. brother, here's the Earl of
Wiltshire's blood,
[To YORK, showing his.
Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.
Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what
I did.
[Throwing down SOMERSET'S head.
York. Richard hath best deserv'd of all my
sons.
But, is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?
Norf. Such hope have all the line of John of
Gaunt.
Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's
head.
Drums. Some Soldiers of YORK'S Party break
in. Then enter the DUKE OF YORK, ED-
WARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE,
WARWICK, and others > with white roses in
their hats.
War. I wonder how the king escap'd our
hands. [north,
York. While we pursu'd the horsemen of the
He slily stole away, and left his men :
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheer'd up the drooping army ; and himself,
Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all a-breast,
Charg'dour main battle's front, and, breaking in,
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
638
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
tACT
War. And so do I. Victorious Prince of
York,
Before I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
This is the palace of the fearful king,
And this the regal seat : possess it, York ;
For this is thine, and not King Henry's heirs'.
York. Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and
I will ;
For hither we have broken in by force. [die.
Norf. We '11 all assist you ; he that flies shall
York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk : stay by me,
my lords ;
And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night.
War. And when the king comes, offer him
no violence,
Unless he seek to thrust you out per force.
[The Soldiers retire.
York. The queen this day here holds her par-
liament,
But little thinks we shall be of her council :
By words or blows here let us win our right.
Rich. Arm'd as we are, let 's stay within this
house. [call'd,
War. The bloody parliament shall this be
Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king,
And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice
Hath made us by- words to our enemies.
York. Then leave me not, my lords ; be re-
solute ;
I mean to take possession of my right.
War. Neither the king, nor he that loves
him best,
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells.
I '11 plant Plan tagenet, root him up who dares:
Resolve thee, Richard ; claim the English crown.
[WARWICK leads YORK to the throne,
who seats himself.
Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, CLIFFORD,
NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EX-
ETER, and others, with red roses in their
hats.
K. Hen. My lords, look where the sturdy
rebel sits,
Even in the chair of state ! belike he means,
Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false
peer,
To aspire unto the crown, and reign asking.
Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father ;
And thine, Lord Clifford ; and you both have
vow'd revenge
On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.
North. If I be not, heavens be reveng'd on
me 1
Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn
in steel.
West. What, shall we suffer this ? let's pluck
him down :
My heart for anger burns ; I cannot brook it.
K. Hen. Be patient, gentle Earl of West-
moreland.
Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and such as he :
He durs'c not sit there had your father liv'd.
My gracious lord, here in the parliament
Let us assail the family of York. [so.
North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin : be it
K. Hen. Ah, know you not the city favours
them,
And they have trnops of soldiers at their beck ?
Exe. But when the duke is slain they '11
quickly fly.
K. Hen. Far be the thought of this from
Henry's heart,
To make a shambles of the parliament house !
Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats
Snail be the war that Henry means to use.
[They advance to the DUKE.
Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne,
And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet ;
I am thy sovereign.
York. I am thine.
Exe. For shame, come down : he made thee
Duke of York. [was.
York. It was my inheritance, as the earldom
Exe. Thy father was a traitor to the crown.
War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown
In following this usurping Henry.
Clif. Whom should he follow but his natural
king?
War. True, Clifford; and that's Richard
Duke of York.
K. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my
throne?
York. It must and shall be so : content thyself.
War. Be Duke of Lancaster ; let him be king.
West. He is both king and Duke of Lancaster;
And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall main-
tain, [target
War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You
That we are those which chas'd you from the field,
And slew your fathers, and with colours spread
March'd through the city to the palace-gates.
North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my
grief ;
And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
West. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons,
Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I '11 have more
lives
Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.
Clif. Urge it no more: lest that, instead of
words.
SCENE I.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
639
I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger
As shall revenge his death before I stir.
War. Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worth-
less threats ! [crown?
York. Will you we show our title to the
If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.
K. Hen. What title hast thou, traitor, to the
crown?
Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York ;
Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of
March :
I am the son of Henry the Fifth,
Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop,
And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces.
War. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost
it all.
K. Hen. The lord protector lost it, and not I :
When I was crown'd I was but nine months old.
Rich. You are old enough now, and yet, me-
thinks, you lose.
Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head.
Edw. Sweet father, do so ; set it on your head.
Mont. Good brother [to YORK], as thou lov'st
and honour st arms,
Let 's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus.
Rich. Sound drums and trumpets and the
king will fly.
York. Sons, peace !
K. Hen. Peace thou ! and give King Henry
leave to speak. [lords ;
Wc.r. Plantagenet shall speak first : hear him,
And be you silent and attentive too,
For he that interrupts him shall not live.
K. Hen. Think'st thou that I will leave my
kingly throne,
Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?
No : first shall war unpeople this my realm ;
Ay, and their colours, often borne in France,
And now in England to our heart's great
sorrow, [lords?
Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you,
My title's good, and better far than his.
War. But prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be
king.
K. Hen. Henry the Fourth by conquest got
the crown.
York. 'Twas by rebellion against his king.
K. Hen. I know not what to say ; my title 's
weak. [Aside.
Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?
York. What then?
K. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful king ;
For Richard, in the view of many lords,
Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth,
Whose heir my father was, and I am his.
York. He rose against him, being his sovereign,
And made him to resign his crown perforce.
War. Suppose, iny lords, he did it uncon-
strain'd,
Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown?
Exe. No ; for he could not so resign his crown
But that the next heir should succeed and
reign.
K. Hen. Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?
Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon me.
York. Why whisper you, my lords, and
answer not ?
Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful king.
K. Hen. All will revolt from me, and turn
to him. [Aside.
North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou
lay'st,
Think not that Henry shall be so depos'd.
War. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all.
North. Thou art deceiv'd: ; tis not thy southern
power,
Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and
proud,
Can set the duke up in despite of me.
Clif. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence :
May that ground gape, and swallow me alive,
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father!
K. Hen. O Clifford, how thy words revive
my heart ! [crown.
York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
War. Do right unto this princely Duke of
York;
Or I will fill the house with armed men,
And o'er the chair of state, where now he sits,
Write up his title with usurping blood.
[He stamps ', and the Soldiers show themselves.
K. Hen. My Lord of Warwick, hear me but
one word :
Let me for this my life-time reign as king.
York. Confirm the crown to me and to mine
heirs.
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st.
K. Hen. I am content : Richard Plantagenet,
Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. ^ [son !
Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince your
War. What good is this to England and him-
self!
West. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry!
Clif. How hast thou injur'd both thyself and
us!
West. I cannot stay to hear these articles.
North. Nor I.
Clif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these
news. [king,
West. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate
In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.
640
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT i.
North. Be thou a prey unto the house of York,
And die in bands, for this unmanly deed !
Clif. In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,
Or live in peace, abandon'd and despis'd !
{Exeunt NORTH., CLIP., and WEST.
War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard
them not. [not yield.
Exe. They seek revenge, and therefore will
K. Hen. Ah, Exeter !
War. Why should you sigh, my lord !
K. Hen. Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but
my son,
Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
But be it as it may : I here entail
The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever ;
Conditionally, that here thou take an oath
To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live,
To honour me as thy king and sovereign,
And neither by treason nor hostility
To seek to put me down and reign thyself.
York. This oath I willingly take, and will per-
form. {Coming from the throne.
War. Long live King Henry 1 Plantagenet,
embrace him.
K. Hen. And long live thou, and these thy
forward sons !
York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd.
Exe. Accurs'd be he that seeks to make them
foes!
{Sennet. The Lords come forward.
York. Farewell, my gracious lord ; I '11 to
my castle.
War. And I '11 keep London with my soldiers.
Norf. And I to Norfolk with my followers.
Mont. And I unto the sea, from whence I
came.
{Exeunt YORK and his Sons, WAR. , NORF. ,
MONT., Soldiers, and Attendants.
K. Hen. And I, with grief and sorrow to the
court.
xe. Here comes the queen, whose looks
bewray her anger :
I'll steal away. [Going 1 .
K. Hen. Exeter, so will I. [Going.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET and the PRINCE OF
WALES.
Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me ; I will follow
thee. [stay.
K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will
Q. Mar. Who can be patient in such ex-
tremes ?
Ah, wretched man ! would I had died a maid,
And never seen thee, never born thee son,
Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father !
Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ?
Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I,
Or felt that pain which I did for him once,
Or nourish'a him as I did with my blood,
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood
there,
Rather than made that savage duke thine heir,
And disinherited thine only son.
Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me :
If you be king, why should not I succeed ?
K. Hen. Pardon me, Margaret ; pardon me,
sweet son :
The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforc'd me.
Q. Mar. Enforc'd thee ! art thou king, and
wilt be forc'd ? [wretch !
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me ;
And given unto the house of York such head
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre,
And creep into it far before thy time ?
Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais ;
Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas ;
The duke is made protector of the realm ;
And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds
The trembling lamb environed with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have toss'd meon their pikes
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour :
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of parliament be repealed,
Whereby my son is disinherited. [colours
The northern lords that have forsworn thy
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread :
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace,
And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let 's away ;
Our army is ready ; come, we '11 after them.
K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me
speak.
Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already :
get thee gone. [with me?
K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay
Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies.
Prince. When I return with victory from the
field
I '11 see your grace : till then I '11 follow her.
Q. Mar. Come, son, away; we may not linger
thus. [Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET
and the PRINCE.
K. Hen. Poor queen ! how love to me and
to her son
Hath made her break out into terms of rage !
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke,
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle
SCENE II.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VL
641
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son !
The loss of those three lords torments my heart:
I '11 write unto them, and entreat them fair :
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
Exe. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
\Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room in Sandal Castle , near
Wakefield, in Yorkshire.
Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE.
Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give
me leave.
Edw. No, I can better play the orator.
Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible.
Enter YORK.
York. Why, how now, sons and brother ! at
a strife?
What is your quarrel? how began it first?
Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention.
York. About what?
RuA. About that which concerns your grace
and us,
The crown of England, father, which is yours.
York. Mine, boy? not till King Henry be
dead. [death.
Rich. Your right depends not on his life or
Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it
now : [breathe,
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to
It will outrun you, father, in the end. [reign.
York. I took an oath that he should quietly
Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be
broken : [year.
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one
Rich. No ; God forbid your grace should be
forsworn.
York. I shall be, if I claim by open war.
Rich. I '11 prove the contrary, if you '11 hear
me speak.
York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.
Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not
took
Before a true and lawful magistrate,
That hath authority over him that swears:
Henry had none, but did usurp the place ;
Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Within whose circuit is Elysium,
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest
Until the white rose that I wear be dy'd
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.
York. Richard, enough; I will be king, ot
die
Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.
Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk,
And tell him privily of our intent,
You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise ;
In them I trust ; for they are soldiers,
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more,
But that I seek occasion how to rise,
And yet the king not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster?
Enter a Messenger.
But, stay: what news? Why com'st thou in
such post? [and lords
Mess. The qUeen with all the northern earls
Intend here to besiege you in your castle :
She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
York. Ay, with my sword. What ! think'st
thou that we fear them?
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me ;
My brother Montague shall post to London:
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we have left protectors of the king,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it
not:
And thus most humbly I do take my leave.
{Exit.
Enter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMER.
York. Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer,
mine uncles !
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour ;
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.
Sir John. She shall not need, we '11 meet her
in the field.
York. What, with five thousand men ?
Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need:
A woman's general; what should we fear?
[A march afar off.
Edw. I hear their drums: let's set our men
in order,
And issue forth, and bid them battle straight.
York. Five men to twenty ! though the odds
be great,
I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France,
Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one:
Why should I not now have the like success.?
{Exeunt.
642
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT L
SCENE III. Plains near Sandal Castle.
Alarum. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor.
Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their
hands?
Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes !
Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers.
Clif. Chaplain, away ! thy priesthood saves
thy life.
As for the brat of this accursed duke,
Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company.
Clif. Soldiers, away with him ! [child,
Tut. Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent
Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
[Exit, forced off by Soldiers.
Clif. How now ! is he dead already? or is it
fear
That makes him close his eyes? I '11 open them.
Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
That trembles under his devouring paws ;
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey,
And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, .
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look !
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die !
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath :
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.
Clif. In vain thou speak' st, poor boy; my
father's blood [enter.
Hath stopp'd the passage where thy wordsshould
Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again:
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and
thine
Were not revenge sufficient for me ;
No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul ;
And till I root out their accursed line
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore, [Lifting his hand.
Rut. O let me pray before I take my death !
To thee I pray ; sweet Clifford, pity me !
Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.
Rut. I never did thee harm: why wilt thou
slay me?
Clif. Thy father hath.
Rut. But 'twas ere I was born.
Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me ;
Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
H 2 be as miserably slain as I.
Ah, let me live in prison all my days ;
And when I give occasion of offence
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Clif. No cause!
Thy father slew my father ; therefore, die.
[CLIFFORD stabs him.
Rut. Dii faciant^ laudis summa sit ista tu&i
[Dies.
Clif. Plantagenet ! I come, Plantagenet !
And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.
[Exit.
SCENE IV. Another part oftke Plains near
Sandal Castle.
Alarum. Enter YORK.
York. The army of the queen hath got the
field:
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind,
Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons, God knows what hath bechanced
them : [selves
But this I know, they have demean'd them-
Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me ;
And thrice cried, Courage, ] at her! fight it out*
And full as oft came Edward to
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encountered him :
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried, Charge! and give no foot of
ground!
And cried, A croivn> or else a glorious tomb !
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!
With this we charg'd again : but, out, alas !
We bodg'd again ; as I have seen a swan
With bootless labour swim against the tide,
And spend her strength with over-matching
waves. [A short alarum within.
Ah, hark ! the fatal followers do pursue ;
And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury :
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
The sands are number'd that make up my life;
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NOR-
THUMBERLAND, and Soldiers.
Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumber-
land,
I dare your quenchless fur}' to more rage :
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
Clif. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm,
SCENE IV.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
643
With downright payment, show'd unto my father.
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.
York. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring
forth
A bird that will revenge upon you all :
And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.
Why come you not ? what ! multitudes, and fear ?
Clif. So cowards fight when they can fly no
further ;
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons ;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.
York. O Clifford, but bethink thee once again,
And in thy thought o'errun my former time ;
And, if thou canst, for blushing, view this face,
And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with
cowardice [this !
Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere
Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for
word,
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.
[Draws.
Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thou-
sand causes
I would prolong awhile the traitor's life.
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Nor-
thumberland, [much
North. Hold, Clifford ! do not honour him so
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart :
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn him with his foot away?
It is war's prize to take all 'vantages;
And ten to one is no impeach of valour.
[They lay hands on YORK, who struggles.
Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with
the gin.
North. So doth the cony struggle in the net.
[YORK is taken prisoner.
York. So triumph thieves upon their con-
quer'd booty;
So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd.
North. What would your grace have done
unto him now? [thumberland,
Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Nor-
Come, make him stand upon this molehi.l here,
That raught at mountains with outstretched
arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
What, was it you that would be England's king?
Was 't you that revell'd in our parliament,
And made a preachment of your high descent ?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
Tht wanton Edward and the lusty George t
And Where's that valiant crook-back prodigy,
Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ?
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York : I stain'd this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point,
Made issue from the bosom of the boy ;
And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas, poor York ! but that I hate thee deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state.
I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine
entrails
That not a tear can fall for Rutland'? death ?
Why art thou patient, man ? thou shouldst be
mad ;
And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sinp and
dance.
Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport ;
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown.
A crown for York ! and, lords, bow low to
him ;
Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on.
[Putting a paper crown on his head.
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king !
Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair ;
And this is he was his adopted heir.
But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath ?
As I bethink me, you should not be king
Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.
And will you pale your head in Henry's glory,
And rob his temples of the diadem
Now in his life, against your holy oath ?
O, 'tis a fault too, too unpardonable !
Off with the crown ; and, with the crown, his
head ;
And whilst we breathe take time to do him dead.
Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake.
Q. Mar. Nay, stay ; let 's hear the orisons he
makes.
York. She-wolf of France, but worse than
wolves of France, [tooth !
Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's
How ill-seeming is it in thy sex
To triumph, like an Amazonian trull,
Upon their woes whom fortune captivates !
But that thy face is, visard-like, unchanging,
Made impudent with use of evil deeds,
I would assay, proud queen, to make thee "blush:
To tell thee whence thou cam'st* of whom
deriv'd,
Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou
not shameless.
Thy father bears the type of King of Naples,
Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem ;
644
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT ii.
Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ?
It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen ;
Unless the adage must be verified,
That beggars mounted run their horse to death.
'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ;
But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small :
'Tis virtue that doth make them most admir'd ;
The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at :
'Tis government that makes them seem divine ;
The want thereof makes thee abominable :
Thou art as opposite to every good
As the antipodes are unto us, (
Or as the south to the septentrion.
tiger's heart wrapp'd in a woman's hide !
How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the
child,
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ;
Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
Bidd'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy
wish : [will :
Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy
For raging wind blows up incessant showers,
And when the rage allays, the rain begins.
These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ;
And every drop cries vengeance for his death
'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false French-
woman, [me so
North. Beshrew me, but his passions move
That hardly can I check my eyes from tears.
York. That face of his the hungry cannibals
Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd
with blood:
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,
O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania.
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears :
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet
boy,
And I with tears do wash the blood away.
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this:
[He gives back the handkerchief.
And if thou tell'st the heavy story right,
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed t^ars ;
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears,
And say, Alas, it was a piteous deed!
There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my
curse ; [ Giving back the paper crown.
And in thy need such comfort come to thee
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand !
Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world :
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads !
North. Had he been slaughter-man to all my
kin,
1 should not for my life but weep with him,
To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.
Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my Lord
Northumberland ?
Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.
Clif. Here s s for my oath, here 's for my father's
death. [Stabbing him.
Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-
hearted king. {Stabbing him.
York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God !
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out
thee. [Dies.
Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on
York gates ;
So York may overlook the town of York.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. A plain near Mortimer's Cross in
Herefordsh ire.
Drums. Enter EDWARD and RICHARD, with
their Forces, marching.
Edw. I wonder how our princely father
'scap'd,
Or whether he be 'scap'd away or no
From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit :
Had he been ta'en we should have heard the
news ; [news ;
Had he been slain we should have heard the
Or had he 'scap'd, methinks we should have
heard
The happy tidings of his good escape.
How fares my brother? why is he so sad?
Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd
Where our right valiant father is become.
I saw him in the battle range about ;
And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth.
Methought he bore him in the thickest troop
As doth a lion in a herd of neat ;
Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,
Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof and bark at him.
So far'd our father with his enemies ;
So fled his enemies my warlike father:
Methinks 'tis prize enough to be his son.
See how the morning ope's her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun !
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love !
Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?
Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect
Not separated with the racking clouds,
But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
See, see ! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
SCENE I.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
645
As if they vow'd some league inviolable :
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
In this the heaven figures some event.
Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet
never heard of.
I think it cites us, brother, to the field,
That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
Each one already blazing by our meeds,
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights to-
gether,
And overshine the earth, as this the world.
Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
Upon my target three fair shining suns.
Rich. Nay, bear three daughters : by your
leave I speak it,
You love the breeder better than the male.
Enter a Messenger.
But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
Mess. Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on
Whenas the noble Duke of York was slain,
Your princely father and my loving lord !
Edw. O, speak no more ! for I have heard
too much.
Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all.
Mess. Environed he was with many foes ;
And stood against them as the hope of Troy
Against the Greeks that would have enter'd
Troy.
But Hercules himself must yield to odds ;
And many strokes, though with a little axe,
Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
By many hands your father was subdu'd ;
But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen,
Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite,
Laugh'd in his face ; and when with grief he
wept,
The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks
A napkin steeped in the harmless blood
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain:
And after many scorns, many foul taunts.
They took his head, and on the gates of York
They set the same ; and there it doth remain,
The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.
Edw. Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean
upon,
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay !
O Clifford, boisterous Clifford, thou hast slain
The flower of Europe for his chivalry ;
And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him,
For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd
thee !
Now my soul's palace is become a prison :
Ah, would she break from hence, that this my
body
Might in the ground be closed up in rest 1
For never henceforth shall I joy again,
Never, O never shall I see more joy.
Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's
moisture [heart :
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning
Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great
burden ;
For self-same wind that I should speak withal
Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast,
And burn me up with flames, that tears would
quench.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief :
Tears, then, for babes ; blows and revenge for
me!
Richard, I bear thy name ; I '11 venge thy death,
Or die renowned by attempting it.
Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left
with thee ;
His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's
bird,
Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun :
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom
say:
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.
March. Enter WARWICK and MONTAGUE,
"with Forces.
War. How now, fair lords! What fare?
what news abroad ? [recount
Rich. Great Lord of Warwick, if we should
Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,
The words would add more anguish than the
wounds.
valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain !
Edw. O Warwick, Warwick! that Plan-
tagenet
Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in
tears ;
And now, to add more measure to your woes,
1 come to tell you things since then befall'n.
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp,
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
Were brought me of your loss and his depart.
I, then in London, keeper of the king,
Muster'd my scldiers, gather'd flocks of friends,
And very well appointed, as I thought,
March'd towards Saint Albans to intercept the
queen,
Bearing the king in my behalf along ;
For by my scouts I was advertised
That she was coming with a full intent
646
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT ii.
To dash our late decree in parliament
Touching King Henry's oath and your suc-
cession.
Short tale to make, we at St. Albans met,
Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought :
But whether 'twas the coldness of the king,
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen,
That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen ;
Or whether 'twas report of her success ;
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,
Who thunders to his captives, Blood and death,
I cannot judge : but, to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightning came and
went;
Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight,
Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail,
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay and great rewards :
But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight,
And we in them no hope to win the day;
So that we fled ; the king unto the queen ;
Lord George, your brother, Norfolk, and myself,
In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you ;
For in the marches here we heard you were
Making another head to fight again.
Edw. Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle
Warwick? [land?
And when came George from Burgundy to Eng-
War. Some six miles off the duke is with the
soldiers ;
And for your brother, he was lately sent
From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy,
With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant War-
wick fled :
Oft Lave I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne'er till now his scandal of retire.
War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost
thou hear ; [mine
For thou shalt know this strong right hand of
Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head,
And wring the awful sceptre from his fist,
Were he as famous and as bold in war
As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer.
Rich. I know it well, Lord Warwick ; blame
me not :
'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak.
But in this troublous time what's to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
And wrap our bodies in black mourning-gowns,
Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads ?
Or shall we on the helmets of our foe?
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms ?
If for the last, say Ay, and to it, lords.
War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek
you out;
And therefore comes my brother Montague.
Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen,
With Clifford and the haught Northumber-
land,
And of their feather many more proud birds,
Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax.
He swore consent to your succession,
His oath enrolled in the parliament ;
And now to London all the crew are gone,
To frustrate both his oath and what beside
May make against the house of Lancaster.
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong:
Now if the help of Norfolk and myself,
With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of
March,
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,
Will but amount to five-and-twenty thousand,
Why, Via ! to London will we march amain ;
And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
And once again cry, Charge upon our foes !
But never once again turn back and fly.
Rich. Ay, now methinks I hear great War-
wick speak :
Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day
That cries Retire, if Warwick bid him stay.
Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I
lean ;
And when thou fail'st, as God forbid the
hour !
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend !
War. No longer Earl of March, but Duke of
York:
The next degree is England's royal throne ;
For King of England shall thou be proclaim'd
In every borough as we pass along ;
And he that throws not up his cap for joy,
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
King Edward, valiant Richard, Mon-
tague,
Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown,
But sound the trumpets and about our task.
Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard
as steel,
As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,
I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.
Edw. Then strike up drums : God and Saint
George for us !
Enter a Messenger.
War. How now ! what news ?
Mess. The Duke of Norfolk sends you word
by me,
The queen is coming with a puissant host ;
And craves your company for speedy counsel.
War. Why, then it sorts, brave warriors:
let 's away. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
647
SCENE l\.~~Before York.
Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MAR-
CARET, the PRINCE OF WALES, CLIFFORD,
and NORTHUMBERLAND, with Forces.
Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave
town of York.
Yonder 's the head of that arch-enemy
That sought to be encompass'd with your crown :
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?
K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that
fear their wreck :
To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
Withhold revenge, dear God ! 'tis not my fault,
Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow.
Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity
And harmful pity must be laid aside.
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ?
Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick ?
Not his that spoils her young before her face.
Who scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting?
Not he that sets his foot upon her back.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on,
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows :
He, but a duke, would have his son a king,
And raise his issue, like a loving sire ;
Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
Which argu'd thee a most unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young ;
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes,
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them, even with those wings
Which sometime they have us'd with fearful
flight, [nest,
Make war with him that climb'd unto their
Offering their own lives in their young's defence ?
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent !
Were it not pity that this goodly boy
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault,
And long hereafter say unto his child,
What my great-grandfather and grandsire got
My careless father fondly gave away ?
Ah, what a shame were this ! Look on the boy ;
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart
To hold thine cwn, and leave thine own with
him. [orator,
K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the
Inferring arguments of mighty force.
But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear
That things ill got had ever bad success ?
And happy always was it for that son
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ?
I '11 leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ;
And would my father had left me no more I
For all the rest is held at such a rate
As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep
Than in possession any jot of pleasure.
Ah, cousin York ! would thy best friends did
know
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here !
Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits : our
foes are nigh,
And fhis soft courage makes your followers'faint.
You promis'd knighthood to our forward son :
Unsheathe your sword, anddub him presently.
Edward, kneel down.
K. Hen. Edward Plantagent, arise a knight ;
And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right.
Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly
leave,
I '11 draw it as apparent to the crown,
And in that quarrel use it to the death.
Clif. Why, that is spoken like a towardprinee.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness :
For with a band of thirty thousand men
Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York ;
And in the towns, as they do march along,
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him :
Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
Clif. I would your highness would depart the
field : [absent.
The queen hath best success when you are
Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to
our fortune.
K. Hen. Why, that 's my fortune too ;
therefore I '11 stay.
North. Be it with resolution, then, to fight.
Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble
lords,
And hearten those that fight in your defence .
Unsheathe your sword, good father ; cry, Saint
George /
March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD,
WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and
Soldiers.
Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry ! wilt thou kneel
for grace,
And set thy diadem upon my head ;
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?
Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insult-
ing boy !
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his
knee;
648
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT ii.
I was adopted heir by his consent :
Since when, his oath is broke ; for, as I hear,
You, that are king, though he do wear the crown,
Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament,
To blot out me and put his own son in.
Clif. And reason too :
Who should succeed the father but the son?
Rich. Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot
speak ! [thee,
Clif. Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland,
was it not?
Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to
the fight. [the crown?
War. Whatsay'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield
Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd War-
wick ! dare you speak ?
When you and I met at Saint Albans last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.
War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now
'tis thine. [fled.
Clif. You said so much before, and yet you
War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove
me thence. [you stay.
North. No, nor your manhood that durst make
Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee rever-
ently.
Break off the parley ; for scarce I can refrain
The execution of my big-swoln heart
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child -killer.
Clif. I slew thy father, call'st thou him a
child? ' [coward,
Rich. Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ;
But ere sunset I '11 make thee curse the deed.
K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords,
and hear me speak. [thy lips.
Q. Mar. Defy them, then, or else hold close
K. Hen. I pr'ythee give no limits to my
tongue :
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.
Clif. My liege, the wound that bred this
meeting here
Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy
sword :
By him that made us all, I am resolv'd
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.
Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or
no?
A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day
That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the
crown. [head ;
War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy
For York in justice puts his armour on.
Prince. If that be right which Warwick says
is right,
There is no wrong, but everything is right.
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother
stands ;
For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.
Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire
nor dam ;
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
As venom toads or lizards' dreadful stings.
Rich. Iron of Naples hid with English gilt,
Whose father bears the title of a king,
As if a channel should be call'd the sea,
Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art
extraught,
To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?
Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand
crowns,
To make this shameless callet know herself.
Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,
Although thy husband may be Menelaus ;
And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd
By that false woman as this king by thee.
His father revell'd in the heart of France,
And tam'd the king, and made the dauphin stoop;
And had he match'd according to his state,
He might have kept that glory to this day;
But when he took a beggar to his bed,
And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal-day,
Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,
And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.
For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy
pride?
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept ;
And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipp'd our claim until another age.
Geo. But when we saw our sunshine made
thy spring,
And that thy summer bred us no increase,
We set the axe to thy usurping root ; [selves,
And though the edge hath something hit our-
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down,
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.
Edw. And in this resolution I defy thee ;
Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak.
Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours
wave !
And either victory or else a grave.
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.
Edw. No, wrangling woman, we '11 no longer
stay :
These words will cost ten thousand lives this
day. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
649
SCENE III. A Field of Battle between Tow-
ton and Saxton, in Yorkshire.
Alarums: excursions. Enter WARWICK.
War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a
race,
I lay me down a little while to breathe ;
For strokes receiv'd and many blows repaid
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their
strength,
And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.
Enter EDWARD, running.
Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, un-
gentle death! [clouded.
For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is
War. How now, my lord! what hap? what
hope of good?
Enter GEORGE.
Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair;
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us :
What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?
Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with
wings ;
And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
Enter RICHARD.
Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou with-
drawn thyself?
Thj brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance;
And in the very pangs of death he cried,
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,
Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!
So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.
War. Then let the earth be drunken with
our blood :
I '11 kill my horse, because I will not fly.
Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage ;
And look upon, as if the tragedy
Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
Here on my knee I vow to God above
I '11 never pause again, never stand still,
Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with
thine ;
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine !
And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
Thou setter-up and plucker-down of kings,
Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands
That to my foes this body must be prey,
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul !
Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth.
'Rich. Brother, give me thy hand; and,
gentle Warwick,
Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
I, that did never weep, now melt with woe
That winter should cut off our spring-time so.
War. Away, away ! Once more, sweet lords,
farewell.
Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops,
And give them leave to fly that will not stay ;
And call them pillars that will stand to us;
And if we thrive, promise them such rewards
As victors wear at the Olympian games :
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ;
For yet is hope of life and victory.
Forslow no longer, make we hence amain.
\_Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Another part of the Field.
Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD.
Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone:
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York,
And this for Rutland ; both bound to revenge,
Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.
Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone:
This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ;
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland;
And here's the heart that triumphs intheirdeath,
And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and
brother
To execute the like upon thyself;
And so, have at thee !
[They fight. WAR. enters; CLIF. flies.
Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other
chase;
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. Another part of the Field.
Alarum. Enter KING HENRY.
K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morn-
ing's war,
When dying clouds contend with growing light,
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind :
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind ;
6 5 o
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT IT.
Now one the better, then another best ;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror nor conquered :
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory !
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so ;
For what is in this world but grief and woe ?
O God ! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain ;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
How many make the hour full complete ;
How many hours bring about the day ;
How many days will finish up the year ;
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times,
So many hours must I tend my flock ;
So many hours must I take my rest ;
So many hours must I contemplate ;
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young ;
So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ;
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece :
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how
lovely !
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery?
O, yes, it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,
When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his
Father , bringing in the dead body.
Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
May be possessed with some store of crowns ;
And I, that haply take them from him now,
May yet ere night yield both my life and them
To some man else, as this dead man doth me.
Who 's this ? O God ! it is my father's face,
Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd.
O heavy times, begetting such events !
From London by the king was I press'd forth :
My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man,
Came on the part of York, press'd by his
master ;
And I, who at his hands receiv'd my .life,
Have by my hands of life bereaved him.
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did !
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee !
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks ;
And no more words till they have flow'd their fill.
K. Hen. O piteous spectacle ! O bloody times !
Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens,
Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.
Weep, wretched man, I '11 aid thee tear for tear ;
And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,
Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with
grief.
Enter a Father that has killed his Son, -with
the body in his arms.
Path. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me,
Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold ;
For I have bought it with an hundred blows.
But let me see : is this our foeman's face ?
Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son !
Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, [arise,
Throw up thine eye ! see, see what showers
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,
Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and
heart !
O pity, God, this miserable age !
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget !
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late J
K. Hen. Woe above woe ! grief more than
common grief ! [deeds!
O that my death would stay these ruthful
O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity !
The red rose and the white are on his face,
The fatal colours of our striving houses :
The one his purple blood right well resembles ;
The other his pale cheeks, methinks, pre-
senteth:
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish ;
If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
Son. How will my mother for a father's death
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ! [son
Path. How will my wife for slaughter of my
Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied !
K. Hen. How will the country for these woe-
ful chances
Misthink the king, and not be satisfied !
Son. Was ever son so rued a father's death?
Path. Was ever father so bemoan'd his son?
SCENE VI.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
6 5 i
K. Hen. Was ever king so griev'd for sub-
jects' woe?
Much is your sorrow ; mine ten times so much.
Son. I '11 bear thee hence, where I may weep
my fill. [Exit with the body.
Path. These arms of mine shall be thy wind-
ing-sheet ;
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go ;
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ;
And so obsequious will thy father be,
E'en for the loss of thee, having no more,
As Priam was for all his valiant sons. [will,
I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that
For I have murdered where I should not kill.
{Exit with the body.
K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone
with care,
Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
Alarums : excursions. Enter QUEEN MAR-
GARET, PRINCE OF WALES, and EXETER.
Prince. Fly, father, fly ! for all your friends
are fled,
And Warwick rages like a chafed bull :
Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit.
Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord ; towards Ber-
wick post amain :
Edwardand Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs ; and therefore hence amain.
Exe. Away ! for vengeance comes along with
them:
Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed ;
Or else come after : I '11 away before.
K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet
Exeter :
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
Whither the queen intends. Forward ; away !
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. Another part of the Field.
A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded.
Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it
dies,
Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light.
O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow
More than my body's parting with my soul !
My love and fear glu'd many friends to thee ;
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.
Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York,
The common people swarm like summer flies ;
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies ?
Phcebus, hadst thou never given consent
That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth !
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'das kings should
do,
Or as thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies ;
1 and ten thousand in this luckless realm
Had left no mourning widows for our death ;
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
For what doth cherish weeds bat gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold but too much
lenity ?
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds ;
No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight :
The foe is merciless, and v/ill not pity ;
For at their hands I have deserv'd no pity.
The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint.
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest ;
I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.
[He faints.
Alarum and retreat. Enter EDWARD,
GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WAR-
WICK, and Soldiers.
Edw. Now breathe we, lords : good fortune
bids us pause, [looks.
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen,
That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Command an argosy to stem the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape ;
For, though before his face I speak the words,
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave :
And, whereso'er he is, he 's surely dead.
[CLIFFORD groans, and dies.
Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her
heavy leave ? [parting.
Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death'sde-
Edw. See who it is ; and, now the battle 's
ended,
If friend or foe, let him be gently us'd.
Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis
Clifford ;
Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his murdering knife unto the root
From whence that tender spray did sweetly
spring,
I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
War. From off the gates of York fetch down
the head,
652
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT in.
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there ;
Instead whereof let this supply the room :
Measure for measure must be answered.
Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to
our house,
That nothing sung but death to us and ours :
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening
sound.
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
[Soldiers bring the body forward.
War. I think his understanding is bereft.
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to
thee?
Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,
And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.
Rich. O, would he did ! and so, perhaps, he
doth:
'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
Which in the time of death he gave our father.
Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager
words.
Rich. Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy
faults. [York.
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to
Edw. Thou pitiedst Rutland, I will pity thee.
Geo. Where 's Captain Margaret, to fence you
now?
War. They mock thee, Clifford: swear as
thou wast wont. [goes hard
Rick. What, not an oath? nay, then the world
When Clifford cannot spare his friends an
oath.
I know by that he 's dead ; and, by my soul,
If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
That I in all despite might rail at him,
This hand should chop it off, and with the
issuing blood
Stifle the villain whose unstaunched thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
War. Ay, but he 's dead : off with the traitor's
head,
And rear it in the place your father's stands.
And now to London with triumphant march,
There to be crowned England's royal king.
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to
France,
And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen :
So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ;
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not
dread
The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again ;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears.
First will I see the coronation ;
And then to Brittany I '11 cross the sea,
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let
it be;
For in thy shoulder do I build my seat,
And never will I undertake the thing
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.
Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloster ;
And George, of Clarence ; Warwick, as ourself,
Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.
Rick. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George
of Gloster ;
For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.
War. Tut, that 's a foolish observation :
Richard, be Duke of Gloster. Now to London,
To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Chase in the North of England.
Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their
hands.
1 Keep. Under this thick -grown brake we '11
shroud ourselves;
For through this laund anon the deer will come j
And in this covert will we make our stand,
Culling the principal of all the deer. [shoot.
2 Keep. I '11 stay above the hill, so both may
1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy
cross-bow
Will scare the herd, and so my shot is lost.
Here stand we both, and aim we at the best :
And, for the time shall not seem tedious,
I '11 tell thee what befell me on a day
In this self-place where now we mean to stand.
2 Keep. Here comes a man, let 's stay till he
be past.
Enter KING HENRY, disguised, with a prayer-
book.
K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of
pure love,
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ;
Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast
anointed :
No bending knee will call thee Caesar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right,
No, not a man comes for redress of thee ;
s a
For how can I help them, and not myself?
I Keep. Ay, here 's a deer whose skin ';
keeper's fee :
This is the quondam king ; let 's seize upon him.
SCENE I.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
653
K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adver-
sities :
For wise men say it is the wisest course.
2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands
upon him. [more.
1 Keep. Forbear awhile ; we '11 hear a little
K. Hen. My queen and son are gone to
France for aid ;
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister
To wife for Edward : if this news be true,
Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost;
For Warwick is a subtle orator,
And Louis a prince soon won with moving words.
By this account, then, Margaret may win him ;
For she 's a woman to be pitied much :
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast ;
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart ;
The tiger will be mild while she doth mourn ;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears.
Ay, but she 's come to beg ; Warwick, to give :
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry ;
He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
She weeps, and says her Henry is depos'd ;
He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd ;
That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no
more ; [wrong,
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
And in conclusion wins the king from her,
Wiih promise of his sister, and what else,
To strengthenand support King Ed ward's place.
O Margaret, thus 'twill be ; and thou, poor soul,
Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn !
2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of
kings and queens?
K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I
was born to :
A man at least, for less I should not be ;
And men may talk of kings, and why not I ?
2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert
a king. [enough.
K. Hen. Why, so I am in mind ; and that's
2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy
crown ? [head ;
K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my
Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content,
A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with
content,
Your crown content and you must be contented
To go along with us ; for, as we think,
You are the king King Edward hath depos'd ;
And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
Will apprehend you as his enemy.
K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break
an oath ? [now.
2 Keep. No, never such an oath ; nor will not
K. Hen. Where did you dwell when I was
King of England ? [remain.
2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now
A'. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months
old;
My father and my grandfather were kings ;
And you were sworn true subjects unto me :
And tell me, then, have you not broke your
oaths ?
i Keep. No ;
For we were subjects but while you were king.
K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe
a man?
Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear !
Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust ;
Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oaths ; for of that sin
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the king shall be com-
manded ;
And be you kings ; command, and I '11 obey.
I Keep. We are true subjects to the king,
King Edward.
K. Hen. So would you be .gain tp Henry,
If he were seated as King Edward is.
i Keep. We charge you, in God's name and
in the king's,
To go with us unto the officers.
K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's
name be obey'd :
And wliat God will, that let your king perform ;
And what he will, I humbly yield unto.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE,
and LADY GREY.
K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans'
field
This lady's husband, Sir John Grey, was slain,
His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror :
Her suit is now to repossess those lands;
Wnich we in justice cannot well deny,
Because in quarrel of the house of York
The worthy gentleman did lose his life, [suit ;
Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant her
It were dishonour to deny it her. [a pause.
K. Edw. It were no less ; but yet I '11 make
654
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT in.
Glo. Yea, is it so?
I see the lady hath a thing to grant,
Before the king will grant her humble suit.
[Aside to CLARENCE.
Clar. He knows the game : how true he keeps
the wind ! [Aside to GLOSTER.
Glo. Silence ! [Aside to CLARENCE.
K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit;
And come some other time to know our mind.
L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook
delay :
May it please your highness to resolve me now ;
And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me.
Glo. Ay, widow? then I warrant you all your
lands,
An if what pleases him shall pleasure you.
Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow.
[Aside.
Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.
[Aside to GLOSTER.
Glo. God forbid that ! for he '11 take vantages.
[Aside to CLARENCE.
K. Edw. How many children hast thou,
widow? tell me.
Clar. I think he means to beg a child of her.
[Aside to GLOSTER.
Glo. Nay, whip me, then ; he '11 rather give
her two. [Aside to CLARENCE.
L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord.
Glo. You shall have four if you '11 be ruled
by him. [Aside.
K. Edw. 'Twere pity they should lose their
father's lands. [then.
L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it,
K. Edw. Lords, give us leave : I '11 try this
widow's wit. [have leave,
Glo. Ay, good leave have you ; for you \vill
Till youth take leave, and leave you to the
crutch.
[Aside, and retires with CLARENCE.
K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love
your children?
L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
K. Edw. And wou d you not do much to do
them good ? [some harm.
L. Grey. To do them good I would sustain
K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to
do them good.
L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty.
K. Edw. I '11 tell you how these lands are to
be got. [ness 5 service.
L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your high-
K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me if I
give them? ft do.
L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me
K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my
boon.
L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot
do it.
K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean
to ask. [commands.
L. Grey. Why, then, I will do what your grace
Glo, He plies her hard ; and much rain wears
the marble. [Aside to CLARENCE.
Clar. As red as fire ! nay, then her wax must
melt. [Aside to GLOSTER.
L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not
hear my task?
K. Edw. An easy task ; 'tis but to love a king.
L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I
am a subject.
K. Edw. Why, then, thy husband's lands I
freely give thee. [thanks.
L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand
Glo. The match is made ; she seals it with a
curtsy. [Aside.
K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of
love I mean. [liege.
L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving
K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
What love, thinkst thou, I sue so much to get ?
L. Grey. My love till death, my humble
thanks, my prayers ;
That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean
such love.
L. Grey. Why, then, you mean not as I
thought you did. [my mind.
K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive
L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I
perceive
Your highness aims at, if I aim aright, [thee.
K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with
L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie
in prison.
K. Edw. Why, then, thou shalt not have thy
husband's lands. [my dower ;
L. Grey. Why, then, mine honesty shall be
For by that loss I will not purchase them.
K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children
mightily.
L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both
them and me.
But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness of my suit:
Please you dismiss me, either with ay or no.
K. Edw. Ay, if thou wilt say ay to my request;
No, if thou dost say no to my demand.
L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at
an end.
Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her
brows. [Aside to CLARENCE.
Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christen-
dom. [Aside to GLOSTER.
SCENE II.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
655
K. Edw. Her looks do argue her replete with
modesty ;
Her words do show her wit incomparable ;
All her perfections challenge sovereignty :
One way or other, she is for a king ;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.
[Aside.
Say that King Edward take thee for his queen ?
L. Grey. ; Tis better said than done, my
gracious lord :
I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a sovereign.
K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear
to thee
I speak no more than what my soul intends ;
And that is to enjoy thee for my love.
L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield
unto :
I know I am too mean to be your queen,
And yet too good to be your concubine.
K. Edw. \ ou cavil, widow : I did mean my
queen.
L. Grey. 'Twill grieve your grace my sons
should call you father.
K. Edw. No more than when my daughters
call thee mother.
Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children ;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
Have other some : why, 'tis a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his
shrift. [Aside to CLARENCE.
Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for
shift. [Aside to GLOSTER.
K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we
two have had. [sad.
Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks very
K. Edw. You 'd think it strange if I should
marry her.
Clar. To whom, my lord?
K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself.
Glo. That would be ten days' wonder at the
least.
Clar. That 's a day longer than a wonder lasts.
Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes.
K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers : I can tell
you both
Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.
Enter a Nobleman.
Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is
taken,
And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.
K. Edw. See that he be convey'd unto the
Tower :
And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To question of his apprehension.
Widow, go you along : lords, use her honour-
able.
[Exeunt KING EDWARD, LADY GREY,
CLARENCE, and Nobleman.
Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honour-
ably.
Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,
That fromhis loins no nopeful branch may spring,
To cross me from the golden time I look for !
And yet, between my soul's desire and me,
The lustful Edward's title buried,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,
And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies,
To take their rooms, ere I can place myself:
A cold premeditation for my purpose !
Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty ;
Like one that rtands upon a promontory,
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye ;
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence
Saying he '11 lade it dry to have his way :
So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
And so I chide the means that keep me from it j
And so I say I '11 cut the causes off,
Flattering me with impossibilities. [much,
My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too
Unless my hand and strength could equal them.
Well, say there is no kingdom, then, for
Richard ;
What other pleasure can the world afford ?
I '11 make my heaven in a lady's lap,
And deck my body in gay ornaments,
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks,
O miserable thought ! and more unlikely
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns !
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb :
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe,
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body ;
To shape my legs of an unequal size ;
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I, then, a man to be belov'd ?
monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought !
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me
But to command, to check, to o'er bear such
As are of better person than myself,
1 '11 make my heaven to dream upon the crown,
And whiles I live to account this world but hell,
Until my misshap'd trunk that bears this head
Be round empaled with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home :
656
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT m.
And I, like one lost in a thorny wood,
That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns,
Seeking a way, and straying from the way ;
Not knowing how to find the open air,
But toiling desperately to find it out,
Torment myself to catch the English crown:
And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile ;
And cry content to that which grieves my heart ;
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occasions.
I '11 drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ;
I '11 slay more gazers than the basilisk ;
I '11 play the orator as well as Nestor ;
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could ;
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy :
I can add colours to the cameleon ;
Change shapes with Proteus for advantages ;
And set the murderous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown ?
Tut, were it further off, I'll pluck it down!
{Exit.
SCENE III. FRANCE. A Room in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter Louis, the French King,
and LADY BONA, attended; the KING takes
his state. Then enter QUEEN MARGARET,
PRINCE EDWARD herSon t and the EARL OF
OXFORD.
K. Lou. Fair Queen of England, worthy
Margaret, [Rising.
Sit down with us: it ill befits thy state
And birth, that thou shouldst stand while
Louis doth sit. [Margaret
Q. Mar. No, mighty King of France : now
Must strike her sail, and learn awhile to serve
Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
Great Albion's queen in former golden days :
But now mischance hath trod my title down,
And with dishonour laid me on the ground ;
Where I must take like seat unto my fortune,
And to my humble seat conform myself.
K. Lou. Why, say, fair queen, whence
springs this deep despair ?
Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes
with tears, [in cares.
And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd
K. Lou. Whatever it be, be thou still like
thyself,
And sit thee by our side : yield not thy neck
[Seats her by him.
To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind
Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief;
It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief.
Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my
drooping thoughts,
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
Now, therefore, be it known to noble Louis
That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
Is, of a king, become a banish'd man,
And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn;
While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York
Usurps the regal title and the seat
Of England's true-anointed lawful king.
This is the cause that I, poor Margaret,
With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's
heir,
Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ;
And if thou fail us, all our hope is done :
Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help ;
Our people and our peers are both misled,
Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight,
And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight.
K. Lou. Renowned queen, with patience
calm the storm,
While we bethink a means to break it off.
Q. Mar. The more we stay the stronger
grows our foa. [cour thee.
K. Lou. The more I stay the more I '11 suc-
Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on true
sorrow :
And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow !
Enter WARWICK, attended.
K. Lou. What's he approacheth boldly to
our presence?
Q. Mar. Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's
greatest friend.
K. Lou. Welcome, brave Warwick ! What
brings thee to France?
[Descending from his state. Q. MAR. rises.
Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to
rise;
For this is he that moves both wind and tide.
War. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend,
I come, in kindness and unfeigned love,
First, to do greetings to thy royal person ;
And then to crave a league of amity;
And lastly, to confirm that amity
With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister,
To England's king in lawful marriage, [done.
Q. Mar. If that go forward, Henry's hope is
War. And, gracious madam [to BONA], in
our king's behalf,
I am commanded, with your leave and favour,
Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue
To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart ;
Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears,
Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy virtue.
SCENE III.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
657
Q. Mar. King Louis, -and Lady Bona, -
hear me speak,
Before you answer Warwick. His demand
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest
love,
But from deceit bred by necessity ;
For how can tyrants safely govern home
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?
To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice,
That Henry liveth still ; but were he dead,
Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's
son. [marriage
Look therefore, Louis, that by 'this league and
Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour ;
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth
wrongs.
War. Injurious Margaret !
Prince. And why not queen?
War. Because thy father Henry did usurp ;
And thou no more art prince than she is queen.
Oxf. Then Warwick disannuls great John of
Gaunt,
Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain ;
And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest ;
And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth,
Who by his prowess conquered all France :
From these our Henry lineally descends.
War. Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth
discourse,
You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost
All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten?
Methinks these peers of France should smile at
that.
But for the rest, you tell a pedigree
Of threescore and two years ; a silly time
To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.
Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against
thy liege,
Whom thou obey'dst thirty and six years,
And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the
right,
Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree?
For shame ! leave Henry, and call Edward king.
Oxf. Call him my king by whose injurious
doom
My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere,
Was done to death? and more than so, my father,
Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years,
When nature brought him to the door of death?
No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm,
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
War. And I the house of York.
K. Lou. Queen Margaret, Prince Edward,
and Oxford,
Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside
While 1 use further conference with Warwick.
Q. Mar. Heavens grant that Warwick's words
bewitch him not !
[Retiring with the PRINCE and OXF.
K. Lou. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon
thy conscience,
Is Edward your true king? for I were loth
To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
War. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine
honour. [eye ?
K. Lou. But is he gracious in the people's
War. The more that Henry was unfortunate.
K. Lou. Then further, all dissembling set
aside,
Tell me for truth the measure of his love
Unto our sister Bona.
War. Such it seems
As may beseem a monarch like himself.
Myself have often heard him say, and swear,
That this love was an eternal plant,
Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground,
The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's
sun;
Exempt from envy, but not from disdain,
Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain. [solve,
K. Lou. Now, sister, let us hear your firm re-
Bona. Your grant or your denial shall be
mine :
Yet I confess [to WAR.] that often ere this day,
When I have heard your king's desert recounted,
Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire.
K. Lou. Then, Warwick, thus, Our sister
shall be Edward's ;
And now forthwith shall articles be drawn
Touching the jointure that your king must make,
Which with her dowry shall be counter pois'd.
Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness
That Bona shall be wife to the English king.
Prince. To Edward, but not to the English
king.
Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick ! it was thy device
By this alliance to make void my suit :
Before thy coming, Louis was Henry's friend.
K. Lou. And still is friend to him and
Margaret :
But if your title to the crown be weak,
As may appear by Edward's good success,
Then 'tis but reason tliat I be releas'd
From giving aid which late I promised.
Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand
That your estate requires and mine can yield.
War. Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease,
Where having nothing, nothing can he lose.
And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,
You have a father able to maintain you ;
And better 'twere you troubled him than France.
658
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT III.
Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless
Warwick,
Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings !
I will not hence till, with my talk and tears,
Both full of truth, I make King Louis behold
Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love ;
For both of you are birds of self-same feather.
[A horn sounded within.
K. Lou. Warwick, this is some post to us or
thee.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord ambassador, these letters are
for you,
Sent from your brother, Marquis Montague :
These from our king unto your majesty :
And, madam, these for you ; from whom I know
not.
[ To MAR. They all read their letters.
Oxf. I like it well that our fair queen and
mistress [his.
Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at
Prince. Nay, mark how Louis stamps, as he
were nettled:
I hope all 's for the best.
K. Lou. Warwick, what are thy news? and
yours, fair queen? [hop'djoys.
t Q. Mar. Mine, such as fill my heart with un-
War. Mine, full of sorrow and heart's dis-
content. [Lady Grey?
K. Lou. What, has your king married the
And now, to soothe your forgery and his,
Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
Is this the alliance that he seeks with France?
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?
Q. Mar. I told your majesty as much before :
This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's
honesty. [heaven,
War. King Louis, I here protest, in sight of
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,
That I am clear from this misdeed of Ed-
ward's,
No more my king, for he dishonours me,
But most himself, if he could see his shame.
Did I forget that by the house of York
My father came untimely to his death?
Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece?
Did I impale him with the regal crown?
Did I put Henry from his native right?
And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame?
Shame on himself! for my desert is honour:
And, to repair my honour lost for him,
I here renounce him, and return to Henry.
My noble queen, let former grudges pass,
And henceforth I am thy true senator :
I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona y
And replant Henry in his former state.
Q. Mar. Warwick, these words have turn'd
my hate to love ;
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend.
War. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned
friend,
That if King Louis vouchsafe to furnish us
With some few bands of chosen soldiers,
I '11 undertake to laud them on our coast,
And force the tyrant from his seat by war.
'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him :
And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me,
He 's very likely now to fall from him,
For matching more for wanton lust than honour,
Or than for strength and safety of our country.
Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be re-
veng'd
But by thy help to this distressed queen?
Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how shall poor
Henry live,
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
Bona. My quarrel and this English queen's
are one. [yours.
War. And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with
K. Lou. And mine with hers, and thine, and
Margaret's.
Therefore, at last, I firmly am resolv'd
You shall have aid.
Q. Mar. Let me give humble thanks for all
at once. [in post,
K. Lou. Then, England's messenger, return
And tell false Edward, thy supposed king,
That Louis of France is sending over masquers
To revel it with him and his new bride :
Thpusee'st what 'spast, go fear thy king withal.
Bona. Tell him, in hope he '11 prove a
widower shortly,
I '11 wear the willow-garland for his sake.
Q. Mar. Tell him, my mourning-weeds are
laid aside,
And I am ready to put armour on.
War. Tell him from me, that he hath done
me wrong ;
And therefore I '11 uncrown him ere 't be long.
There 's thy reward : be gone. [Exit Mess.
K. Lou. But, Warwick,
Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men,
Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward
battle ;
And, as occasion serves, this noble queen
And prince shall follow with a fresh supply.
Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt,
What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty ?
War. This shall assure my constant loyalty,
That if our queen and this young prince agree,
I '11 join mine eldest daughter, and my joy,
To him forthwith in holy wedlock-bands.
SCENE III.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
659
Q. Mar. Yes, I agree, and thank you for your
motion.
Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous,
Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick ;
A.nd, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.
Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well de-
serves it ;
And here to pledge my vow, I give my hand.
[Me gives his hand to WARWICK.
K. Lou. Why stay we now ? These soldiers
shall be levied,
And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high-admiral,
Shalt waft them over with our royal fleet.
I long till Edward fall by war's mischance,
For mocking marriage with a dame of France.
[Exeunt all but WARWICK.
War. I come from Edward as ambassador,
But I return his sworn and mortal foe :
Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me,
But dreadful war shall answer his demand.
Had he none else to make a stale but me ?
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.
I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown,
And I'll be chief to bring him down again :
Not that I pity Henry's misery,
But seek revenge on Edward's mockery.
[Exit.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter GLOSTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET,
MONTAGUE, and others.
Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what
think you
Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey ?
Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ?
Clar. Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to
France ;
How could he stay till Warwick made return?
Som. My lords, forbear this talk ; here comes
the king.
Glo. And his well-chosen bride,
Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I think.
Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, attended ;
LADY GREY, as Queen ; PEMBROKE, STAF-
FORD, HASTINGS, and others.
K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like
you our choice,
That you stand pensive, as half malcontent ?
Clar. As well as Louis of France or the Earl
of Warwick ;
Which are so weak of courage and in judgment
That they '11 take no offence at our abuse.
K. Edw. Suppose they take offence without
a cause,
They are but Louis and Warwick : I am Edward,
Your king and Warwick's, and must have my
will. [king :
Glo. And shall have your will, because our
Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
K. Edw. Yea, brother Richard, are you
offended too ?
Glo. Not I :
No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd
Whom God hath join'd together ; ay, and
'twere pity
To sunder them that yoke so well together.
A'. Edw. Setting your scorns and your mis-
like aside,
Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey
Should not become my wife and England's
queen :
And you too, Somerset and Montague,
Speak freely what you think. [Louis
Clar. Then this is mine opinion, that King
Becomes your enemy for mocking him
About the marriage of the Lady Bona.
Glo. And Warwick, doing what you gave in
charge,
Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.
K. Edw. What if both Louis and Warwick
be appeas'd
By such invention as I can devise ?
Mont. Yet to have join'd with France in such
alliance [wealth
Would more have strengthen'd this our common-
'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred
marriage.
Hast. Why, knows not Montague that of itself
England is safe, if true within itself?
Mont. But the safer when 'tis back'd with
France.
Hast. 'Tis better using France than trusting
France :
Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas
Which he hath given for fence impregnable,
And with their helps only defend ourselves ;
In them and in ourselves our safety lies.
Clar. For this one speech Lord Hastings
well deserves
To have the heir of die Lord Hungerford.
K Edw. Ay, what of that? it was my will
and grant ;
And for this once my will shall stand for law.
670. And yet methinks your grace hath not
done well,
To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
Unto the brother of your loving bride ;
She better would have fitted me or Clarence:
But in your bride you bury brotherhood.
66o
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
Clar. Or else you would not have bestow'd
the heir
Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son,
And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.
K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wife
That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.
Clar. In choosing for yourself you show'd
your judgment,
Which being shallow, you shall give me leave
To play the broker in mine own behalf ;
And to that end I shortly mind to leave you.
K. Edw. Leave me or tarry, Edward will be
king,
And not be tied unto his brother's will.
Q. Eliz. My lords, before it pleas'd his
majesty
To raise my state to title of a queen,
Do me but right, and you must all confess
That I was not ignoble of descent ;
And meaner than myself have had like fortune.
But as this title honours me and mine,
So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,
Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.
K. Edw. My love, forbear to fawn upon their
frowns :
What danger or what sorrow can befall thee,
So long as Edward is thy constant friend
And their true sovereign, whom they must obey?
Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too,
Unless they seek for hatred at my hands ;
Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe,
And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.
Glo. I hear, yet say not much, but think the
more. [Aside.
Enter a Messenger.
K. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters or
what news
From France? [words
Mess. My sovereign liege, no letters ; and few
But such as I, without your special pardon,
Dare not relate.
K. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee : therefore,
in brief, [them.
Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess
What answer makes King Louis unto our letters?
Mess. Atmy depart, these were his very words:
Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king,
That Louis of France is sending over masquers
To revel it with him and his new bride.
K. Edw. Is Lou is so brave? belike he thinks
me Henry.
But what said Lady Bona to my marriage ?
Mess. These were her words, utter'd with
mild disdain :
Tell him, in hope he 'II prove a widower shortly,
1 '// wear the willow-garland for his sake.
K. Edw. I blame not her, she could say little
less ; [queen ?
She had the wrong. But what said Henry's
For I have heard that she was there in place.
Mess. Tell him, quoth she, my mourning'
weeds are done,
And I am ready to put armour on. [zon.
K. Edw. Belike she minds to play the Ama-
But what said Warwick to these injuries?
Mess. He, more incens'd against your majesty
Thanall the rest, discharged me with these words :
Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong;
And therefore I '// uncrown him ere '/ be long.
K. Edw. Ha ! durst the traitor breathe out
so proud words?
Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd :
They shall have wars, and pay for their pre-
sumption.
But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?
Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so
link'd in friendship
That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's
daughter.
Clar. Belike the elder; Clarence will have
the younger.
Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast,
For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter ;
That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage
I may not prove inferior to yourself.
You that love me and Warwick, follow me.
[Exit, and SOMERSET follows.
Glo. Not I:
My thoughts aim at a further matter ; I
Stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.
[Aside.
K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both gone
to Warwick \
Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen ;
And haste is needful in this desperate case.
Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf
Go levy men, and make prepare for war ;
They are already, or quickly will be landed :
Myself in person will straight follow you.
[Exeunt FEM. and STAF.
But ere I go, Hastings and Montague,
Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest,
Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance :
Tell me if you love Warwick more than me?
If it be so, then both depart to him ;
I rather wish you foes than hollow friends:
But if you mind to hold your true obedience,
Give me assurance with some friendly vow,
That I may never have you in suspect, [true !
Mont. So God help Montague as he proves
Hast. And Hastings as he favours Edward's
cause! [by us?
K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you stand
SCENE li.j
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
661
Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand
you.
K. Ediv. Why, so ! then am I sure of victory.
Now therefore let us hence ; and lose no hour
Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Plain in Warwickshire.
Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French
and other Forces.
War. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes
well;
The common people by numbers swarm to us.
But see where Somerset and Clarence come !
Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET.
Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends?
Clar. Fear not that, my lord. [Warwick;
War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto
And welcome, Somerset. I hold it cowardice
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love ;
Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's
brother,
Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings :
But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter
shall be thine.
And now, what rests but, in night's coverture,
Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd,
His soldiers lurking in the towns about,
And but attended by a simple guard,
We may surprise and take him at our pleasure?
Our scouts have found the adventure very easy :
That as Ulysses and stout Diomede
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal
steeds, [mantle,
So we, well cover'd with the night's black
At unawares may beat down Edward's guard
And seize himself; I say not, slaughter him,
For I intend but only to surprise him.
You that will follow me to this attempt,
Applaud the name of Henry with your leader.
[ TV;*? a// ^p/" Henry!"
Why, then, let 's on our way in silent sort :
For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint
George ! {Exeunt.
SCENE II I. EDWARD'S Camp, near Warwick.
Enter certain Watchmen, before the KING'S
tent.
1 Watch. Come on, my masters, each man
take his stand :
The king by this has set him down to sleep.
2 Watck. What, will he not to bed?
I Watch. Why, no : for he hath made a solemn
Never to lie and take his natural rest
Till Warwick or l.imself be quite suppress'd.
2 Watch. To-morrow then, belike, shall be
the day,
If Warwick be so near as men report.
3 Watch. But say, I pray, what nobleman is
that
That with the king here resteth in his tent?
1 Watch. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the king's
chiefest friend. [the king
3 Watch. O, is it so? But why commands
That his chief followers lodge in towns about
him,
While he himself keeps in the cold field?
2 Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more
dangerous. [ness ;
3 Watch. Ay, but give me worship and quiet-
I like it better than a dangerous honour.
If Warwick knew in what estate he stands,
'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.
1 Watch. Unless our halberds did shut up
his passage. [tent,
2 Watch. Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal
But to defend his person from night-foes?
Enter WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD,
SOMERSET, and Forces.
War. This is his tent ; and see where stand
his guard.
Courage, my masters ! honour now or never !
But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
1 Watch. Who goes there?
2 Watch. Stay, or thou diest
[WARWICK and the rest cry all* 1 Warwick I
Warwick !" and set upon the Guard, who
fly, crying "Arm ! Arm !" WARWICK and
the rest following them.
The drum beating and trumpets sounding, re-
enter WARWICK and the rest, bringing the
KING out in his gown, sitting in a chair:
GLOSTER and HASTINGS are seen flying.
Som. What are they that fly there?
War. Richard and Hastings: let them go;
here is the duke.
K. Edw. The duke ! Why, Warwick, when
we parted last
Thou call'dst me king?
War. Ay, but the case is alter'd :
When you disgrac'd me in my embassade,
Then I degraded you from being king,
And come now to create you Duke of York.
Alas, how should you govern any kingdom,
That know not how to use ambassadors;
Nor how to be contented with one wife ;
662
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
Nor how to use your brothers brotherly ;
Nor how to study for the people's, welfare ;
Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies ?
K. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou
here too?
Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down.
Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance,
Of thee thyself and all thy complices,
Edward will always bear himself as king :
Though fortune's malice overthrow my state,
My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.
War. Then, for his mind, be Edward Eng-
land's king : [ Takes off his crown.
But Henry now shall wear the English crown
And be true king indeed; thou but the sha-
dow.
My Lord of Somerset, at my request,
See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey' d
Unto my brother, Archbishop of York.
When I have fought with Pembroke and his
fellows,
I '11 follow you, and tell what answer
Louis and the Lady Bona send to him.
Now, for awhile farewell, good Duke of York.
K. Edw. What fates impose, that men must
needs abide ;
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
[Exit, led out; SOM. with him.
Oxf. What now remains, my lords, for us to
do,
But march to London with our soldiers?
War. Ay, that 's the first thing that we have
to do;
To free King Henry from imprisonment,
And see him seated in the regal throne.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERS.
Riv. Madam, what makes you in this sudden
change? [learn
Q. Eliz. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to
What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward?
Riv. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against
Warwick? [person.
Q. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royal
Riv. Then, is my sovereign slain?
Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken
prisoner ;
Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard,
Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares :
And, as I further have to understand,
Is new committed to the Bishop of York,
Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe.
Riv. These news, I must confess, are full of
grief;
Yet. gracious madam, bear it as you may :
Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day.
Q. Eliz. Till then, fair hope must hinder life's
decay.
And I the rather wean me from despair,
For love of Edward's offspring in my womb :
This is it that makes me bridle passion,
And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross:
Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear,
And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs,
Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown
King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English
crown. [become?
Riv. But, madam, where is Warwick, then,
Q. Eliz. I am inform'd that he comes to-
wards London,
To set the crown once more on Henry's head :
Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends
must down.
But to prevent the tyrant's violence,
For trust not him that hath once broken faith,
I '11 hence forthwith unto the sanctuary,
To save at least the heir of Edward's right :
There shall I rest secure from force and fraud.
Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly :
If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. A Park near Middleham Castle in
Yorkshire.
Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, SIR WILLIAM
STANLEY, and others.
Glo. Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir
William Stanley,
Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither
Into this chiefest thicket of the park, [brother,
Thus stands the case : you know our king, my
Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands
He hath good usage and great liberty ;
And often, but attended with weak guard,
Comes hunting this way, to disport himself.
I have advertis'd him by secret means
That if about this hour he make this way,
Under the colour of his usual game, [men,
He shall here find his friends, with horse and
To set him free from his captivity.
Enter KING EDWARD and a Huntsman.
Hunt. This way, my lord ; for this way lies
the game. [huntsmen stand.
K. Edw. Nay, this way, man : see where the
Now, brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and
the rest,
Stand you thus close to steal the bishop's deer?
Glo. Brother, the time and case requireth
haste:
Your horse stands ready at the park-corner.
SCENE VI.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
663
K. Edw. But whither shall we then?
Hast. To Lynn, my lord; and ship from
thence to Flanders. [my meaning.
Glo. Well guess'd, believe me ; for that was
K. Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy forward-
ness, [talk.
Glo. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to
K. Edw. Huntsmen, what say'st thou? wilt
thou go along?
Hunt. Better do so than tarry and be hang'd.
Glo. Come then, away; let 's ha' no more ado.
K. Edw. Bishop, farewell : shield thee from
Warwick's frown ;
And pray that I may repossess the crown.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. A Room in the Tower.
Enter KING HENRY, CLARENCE, WARWICK,
SOMERSET, YOUNG RICHMOND, OXFORD,
MONTAGUE, Lieutenant of the Tower, and
Attendants.
K. Hen. Master lieutenant, now that God
and friends
Have shaken Edward from the regal seat,
And turn'd my captive state to liberty,
My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys,
At our enlargement what are thy due fees?
Lieut. Subjects may challenge nothing of their
sovereigns ;
But if an humble prayer may prevail,
I then crave pardon of your majesty.
K. Hen. For what, lieutenant? for well-
using me?
Nay, be thou sure I '11 well requite thy kindness,
For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure ;
Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds
Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts,
At last, by notes of household harmony,
They quite forget their loss of liberty.
But, Warwick, after God, thou sett'st me free,
And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee ;
He was the author, thou the instrument.
Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite,
By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this blessed land
May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars,
Warwick, although my head still wear thecrown,
I here resign my government to thee,
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
War. Your grace hath still been fam'd for
virtuous ;
And now may seem as wise as virtuous
By spying and avoiding fortune's malice,
For few men rightly temper with the stars:
Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace
For choosing me when Clarence is in place.
Clar. No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the
sway,
To whom the heavens, in thy nativity,
Adjudg'd an olive-branch and laurel-crown,
As likely to be blest in peace and war ;
And therefore I yield thee my free consent.
War. And I choose Clarence only for pro-
tector.
K. Hen. Warwick and Clarence, give me
both your hands:
Now join your hands, and with your hands your
hearts,
That no dissension hinder government :
I make you both protectors of this land;
While I myself will lead a private life,
And in devotion spend my latter days,
To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise.
War. What answers Clarence to his sov-
ereign's will? [sent ;
Clar. That he consents if Warwick yield con-
For on thy fortune I repose myself.
War. Why, then, though loth, yet must I be
content:
We '11 yoke together, like a double shadow
To Henry's body, and supply his place ;
I mean, in bearing weight of government,
While he enjoys the honour and his ease.
And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor,
And all his lands and goods be confiscate.
Clar. What else? and that succession be
determin'd. [part.
War. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his
K. Hen. But, with the first of all your chief
affairs,
Let me entreat, for I command no more,
That Margaret your queen, and my son Edward,
Be sent for, to return from France with speed ;
For till I see them here, by doubtful fear
My joy of liberty is half eclips'd.
Clar. It shall be done, my sovereign, with
all speed. [is that,
K. Hen. My Lord of Somerset, what youth
Of whom you seem to have so tender care ?
Sotn. My liege, it is young Henry, Earl of
Richmond.
K. Hen. Come hither, England's hope. If
secret powers
[Lays his hand on his head.
Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts.
This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss.
His looks are full of peaceful majesty ;
His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown,
His hand to wield a sceptre ; and himself
Likely in time to bless a regal throne.
Make much of him, my lords ; for this is he
Must help you more than you are hurt by me.
66 4
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT iv.
Enter a Messenger.
War. What news, my friend ? [brother,
Mess. That Edward is escaped from your
And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.
War. Unsavoury news ! but how made he
escape ? [Gloster
Mess. He was convey'd by Richard Duke of
And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
In secret ambush on the forest-side,
And from the bishop's huntsmen rescu'd him ;
For hunting was his daily exercise.
War. My brother was too careless of his
charge.
But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide
A salve for any sore that may betide.
[Exeunt KING HENRY, WAR., CLAR.,
Lieut., and Attendants.
Som. My lord, I like not of this flight of
Edward's :
For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help,
And we shall have more wars before 't be long.
As Henry's late presaging prophecy
Did glad my heart with hope of this young
Richmond,
So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts,
What may befall him, to his harm and ours :
Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst,
Forthwith we '11 send him hence to Brittany,
Till storms be pasc of civil enmity.
Oxf. Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown,
'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down.
Som. It shall be so ; he shall to Brittany.
Come, therefore, let 's about it speedily.
[Exeunt.
SCENE \\l. Before York.
Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, HASTINGS,
and Forces.
K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, Lord Hast-
ings, and the rest,
Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends,
And says that once more I shall interchange
My waned state for Henry's regal crown.
Well have we pass d, and now repass'd the seas,
And brought desired help from Burgundy *
What, then, remains, we being thus arriv'd
From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of
York,
But that we enter, as into our dukedom ?
Glo. The gates made fast J Brother, I like
not this ;
For many men that stumble at the threshold
Are well foretold that danger lurks within.
K. Edw. Tush, man, abodements must not
now affright us :
By fair or foul means we must enter in,
For hither will our friends repair to us.
Hast. My liege, I '11 knock once more to
summon them.
Enter, on the Walls, the Mayor of York ana
Aldermen.
May. My lords, we were forewarned of your
coming,
And shut the gates for safety of ourselves ;
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.
K. Edw. But, master mayor, if Henry be
your king,
Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York.
May. True, my good lord ; I know you for
no less.
K. Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but
my dukedom,
As being well content with that alone, [nose,
Glo. But when the fox hath once got in his
He'll soon find means to make the body
follow. [Aside.
Hast. Why, master mayor, why stand you
in a doubt?
Open the gates, we are King Henry's friends.
May. Ay, say you so? the gates shall then
be open'd. [Exeunt from above.
Glo. A wise stout captain, and soon per-
suaded ! [were well,
Hast. The good old man would fain that all
So 'twere not 'long of him ; but being enter'd,
I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade
Both him and all his brothers unto reason.
Re-enter the Mayor and Aldermen, below.
K. Edw. So, master mayor: these gates must
not be shut
But in the night or in the time of war.
What 1 fear not, man, but yield me up the keys ;
[Takes his keys.
For Edward will defend the town and thee.
And all those friends that deign to follow me.
Drum. Enter MONTGOMERY and Forces,
marching.
Glo. Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery.
Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd.
K. Edw. Welcome, Sir John ! But why come
you in arms? [storm,
Mont. To help King Edward in his time of
As every loyal subject ought to do.
K. Edw. Thanks, good Montgomery; but
we now forget
Our title to the crown, and only claim
Our dukedom till God please to send the rest.
Mont. Then fare you well, for I will hence
again:
SCENE VII.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
665
1 came to serve a king, and not a duke.
Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.
[A march begun.
K. Edw. Nay, stay, Sir John, awhile; and
we '11 debate
By what safe means the crown may be recover' d.
Mont. What talk you of debating? in few
words,
If you '11 not here proclaim yourself our king,
I '11 leave you to your fortune, and be gone
To keep them back that come to succour you :
Why should we fight, if you pretend no title ?
Glo. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on
nice points?
K. Edw. When we grow stronger, then we '11
make our claim :
Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
Hast. Away with scrupulous wit J now arms
must rale.
Glo. And fearless minds climb soonest unto
crowns.
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand ;
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
K. Edw. Then be it as you will ; for 'tis my
right,
And Henry but usurps the diadem.
Mont. Ay, new my sovereign speaketh like
himself;
And now will I be Edward's champion.
Hast. Sound trumpet ; Edward shall be here
proclaim'd :
Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation.
[Gives him a paper. Flourish.
Sold. [Reads.'] Edward the Fourth^ by the
grace of God^ King of England and France , and
Lord of Ireland ', &c.
Mont. And whoso'er gainsays King Edward's
right,
By this I challenge him to single fight.
[ Throws down his gauntlet.
All. Long live Edward the Fourth !
K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery ; and
thanks unto you all ;
If fortune serve me, I '11 requite this kindness.
Now, for this night, let 's harbour here in York ;
And when the morning sun shall raise his car
Above the border of this horizon,
We '11 forward towards Warwick and his mates ;
For well I wot that Henry is no soldier.
Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems
thee
To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother !
Yet, as we may, we '11 meet both thee and War-
wick.
Come on, brave soldiers : doubt not of the day ;
And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.
SCENE VIII. LONDON. A Room in the
Palace.
Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, WARWICK,
MONTAGUE, CLARENCE, EXETER, and OX-
FORD.
War. What counsel, lords? Edward from
Belgia,
With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas,
And with his troops doth march amain to
London ;
And many giddy people flock to him.
Oxf. Let's levy men,and beat him back again.
Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out ;
Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.
War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted
friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war ;
Those will I musterup: and thou, son Clarence,
Shalt stir up, in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find
Men well inclin'd to hear what thou com-
mand'st :
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.
My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
Shall rest in London till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.
Farewell, rny sovereign.
K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my
Troy's true hope. [hand.
Clar. In sign of truth, I kiss your highness'
K. Hen. Well-minded Clarence, be thou
fortunate ! [leave.
Mont. Comfort, my lord ; and so I take my
Oxf. And thus {kissing HEN RY'S hand] I seal
my truth, and bid adieu. [tague,
K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Mon-
And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
War. Farewell, sweet lords: let's meet at
Coventry.
{Exeunt WAR., CLAR., OXF., CW^MONT.
K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest awhile.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship ?
Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
Should not be able to encounter mine. [rest.
Exe. The doubt is, that he will seduce the
fC. Hen. That 's not my fear ; rny meed hath
got me fame :
I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays ;
666
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT V.
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears ;
I have not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies,
Nor forward of revenge, though they much
err'd : [me ?
Then why should they love Edward more than
No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace :
And, when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
The lamb will never cease to follow him.
[Shout within, "A Lancaster! A Lancaster!"
Exe. Hark, hark, my lord ! what shouts are
these ?
Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, and Soldiers.
Edw. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear
him hence :
And once again proclaim us king of England.
You are the fount that makes small brooks to
flow : [dry,
Now stops thy spring ; my sea shall suck them
And swell so much the higher by their ebb.
Hence with him to the Tower ; let him not speak.
\_Exeunt some with KING HENRY.
And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our
course,
Where peremptory Warwick now remains :
The sun shines hot ; and, if we use delay,
Cold biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay.
Glo. Away betimes, before his forces join,
And take the great-grown traitor unawares :
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
\Exetint.
ACT V.
SCENE I. Coventry.
Enter upon the Walls, WARWICK, the Mayor
of Coventry, two Messengers, and others.
War. Where is the post that came from
valiant Oxford?
How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
1 Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching
hitherward.
War. How far off is our brother Montague ?
Where is the post that came from Montague?
2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant
troop.
Enter SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE.
War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving
son?
And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now ?
Som. At Southam I did leave him with his
forces,
And do expect him here some two hours hence.
[Drum heard.
War. Then Clarence is at hand ; I hear his
drum. [lies ;
Som. It is not his, my lord ; here Southam
The drum your honour hears marcheth from
Warwick. [friends.
War. Whoshould that be? belike unlook'd-for
Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly
know.
March. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD,
GLOSTER, and Forces.
K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and
sound a parle. [wall !
Glo. See how the surly Warwick mans the
War. O unbid spite ! is sportful Edward
come? [duc'd,
Where slept our scouts, or how are they se-
That we could hear no news of his repair?
K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the
city gates,
Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee,
Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy?
And he shall pardon thee these outrages.
War. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces
hence,
Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down,
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent?
And thou shall still remain the Duke of York.
Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said
the king ;
Or did he make the jest against his will?
War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?
Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give:
I '11 do thee service for so good a gift.
War. 'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy
brother.
K. Edw. Why, then, 'tis mine, if but by
Warwick's gift.
War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight :
And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again ;
And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
K. Edw. But Warwick's king is Edward's
prisoner :
And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this,
What is the body when the head is off?
Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast,
But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
The king was slily finger'd from the deck 1
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace,
And, ten to one, you '11 meet him in the Tower.
K. Edw. 'Tis even so ; yet you are Warwick
still
SCENE I.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
667
Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel
down, kneel down :
Nay, when ? strike now, or else the iron cools.
War. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,
And with the other fling it at thy face,
Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.
K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind
and tide thy friend ;
This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,
Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off,
Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,
Wind-changing Warwick now can change no
Enter OXFORD, -with Forces, drum, and colours.
War. O cheerful colours J see where Oxford
comes !
Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster !
[He and his Forces enter the city.
Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.
K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our
backs.
Stand we in good array ; for they no doubt
Will issue out again and bid us battle :
If not, the city being but of small defence,
We '11 quickly rouse the traitors in the same.
War. O, welcome, Oxford ! for we want thy
help.
Enter MONTAGUE, with Forces, drum, and
colours.
Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster !
[He and his Forces enter the city.
Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this
treason
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater
victory :
My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.
Enter SOMERSET, with Forces, drum, and
colours.
Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster !
[He and his Forces enter the city.
Glo. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somer-
set, ^
Have sold their lives unto the house of York ;
And thou shalt^be the third, if this sword hold.
Enter CLARENCE, with Forces, drum, and
colours.
War. And lo, where George of Clarence
sweeps along,
Of force enough to bid his brother battle ;
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails
More than the nature of a brother's love !
Come, Clarence, come ; thou wilt, if Warwick
call
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what
this means ?
[Taking the red rose out of his hat.
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee :
I will not ruinate my father's house,
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,
And set up Lancaster. Why, trowst thou,
Warwick,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother and his lawful king ?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath :
To keep that oath were more impiety
Than Jephtha's, when he sacrific'd his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass made,
That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe ;
With resolution wheresoe'er I meet thee,
As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends ;
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times
more belov'd,
Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.
Glo. Welcome, good Clarence ; this is brother-
like.
War. O passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust !
K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the
town and fight ?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears ?
War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence !
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.
K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and
leads the way.
Lords, to the field : Saint George and victory.
[March. Exeunt.
SCENE 11.^ field of Battle near Bttrnct.
Alarums and excursions. Enter KING ED-
WARD, bringing in WARWICK wounded.
K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and
die our fear ;
For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.-
Now, Montague, sit fast ; I seek for thee,
That Warwick's bones may keep thine com-
pany. [Exit.
668
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT V.
War. Ah, who is nigh ? come to me, friend
or foe,
And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick ?
Why ask I that ? my mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart
shows,
That I must yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading
tree,
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful
wind.
These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's
black vail,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
To search the secret treasons of the world :
The wrinkles in my brows, nowfill'd with blood,
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ;
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile when Warwick bant his
brow?
Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood !
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and of all my lands
Is nothing left me but my body's length !
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and
dust !
And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET.
Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick ! wert thou as
we are,
We might recover all our loss again:
The queen from France hath brought a puissant
power ; [fly !
Even now we heard the news : ah, couldst thou
War. Why, then, I would not fly. Ah,
Montague,
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile !
Thou lov'st me not ; for, brother, if thou didst,
Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood
That glues my lips and will not let me speak.
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
Som. Ah, Warwick ! Montague hath breath'd
his last ;
And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,
And said, Commend me to my valiant brother.
And more he would have said; and more he
spoke,
Which sounded like a cannon in a vault,
That might not be distinguish'd ; but at last,
I well might hear, deliver'd with a groan,
6>, farewell \ Wanvickl
War. Sweet rest his soul! fly, lords, and
save yourselves ;
For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in
heav'n. [Dies.
Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great
power !
\_Exeunt, bearing off " W AR.'S body.
SCENE III. Another part of 'the Field.
Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD in triumph;
with CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and the rest.
K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an up-
ward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.
But in the midst of this bright-shining day
I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun
Ere he attain his easeful western bed :
I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that
cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came :
Thy very beams will dry those vapours up;
For every cloud engenders not a storm, [strong,
Glo. The queen is valu'd thirty thousand
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her :
If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd,
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving
friends [bury;
That they do hold their course toward Tewks-
We, having now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way ;
And as we march, our strength will be aug-
mented
In every county as we go along.
Strike up the drum ; cry, Courage ! and away.
{Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Plains near Tewksbury.
March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE
EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers.
Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and
wail their loss,
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown overboard,
The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost.
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood ;
Yet lives our pilot still : is 't meet that he
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad,
With tearful eyes add water to the sea, [much ;
And give more strength to that which hath too
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits 011 the rock.
SCENE IV.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
669
Which industry and courage might have sav'd ?
Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this !
Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?
And Montague our top-mast; what of him?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of
these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor ?
And Somerset another goodly mast ? [lings?
The friends of France our shrouds and tack-
And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?
We will not from the helm to sit and weep ;
But keep our course, though the rough wind
say no, [wreck.
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with
As ^ood to chide the waves as speak them fair.
And what is Edward but a ruthless sea ?
What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?
And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?
All thesj the enemies to our poor bark.
Say you can swim ; ulas, 'tis but a while !
Tread on the sand ; why, there you quickly sink:
Bestride the rock ; the tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that 's a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
If case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the
brothers, [rocks.
More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and
Why, courage, then ! what cannot be avoided,
'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
Prince. Methinks a woman of this valiant
spirit
Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity,
And make him naked foil a man-at-arms.
I speak not this as doubting any here ;
For did I but suspect a fearful man,
He should have leave to go away betimes ;
Lest in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid !
Let him depart before we need his help.
Oxf. Women and children of so high a
courage,
And warriors faint ! why, 'twere perpetual
shame.
O brave young prince ! thy famous grandfather
Doth live again in thee : long mayst thou live
To bear his image and renew his glories!
Som. And he that will not fight for such a
hope,
Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.
Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet
Oxford, thanks. [thing else.
Prfitre. And take his thanks that yet hath no-
Entcr a Messenger.
Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at
hand,
Ready to fight ; therefore be resolute.
Oxf. I thought no less : it is his policy
To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.
Som. But he 's deceiv'd ; we are in readiness.
O_. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your
forwardness. [budge.
Oxf. Here pitch our battle ; hence we will not
Flourish and march. Enter, at a distance, KING
EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.
K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the
thorny wood, [strength,
Which, by the heavens' assistance and your
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
I need not add more fuel to your fire ;
For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out:
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.
O_. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen,
what I should say-
My tears gainsay ; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your
sovereign,
Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice : then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.
[Exeunt both armies.
SCENE V. Another part of the Plains.
Alarums; excursions: and afterwards a re-
treat. Then enter KING EDWARD, CLAR-
ENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces, with QUEEN
MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET,
prisoners.
K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous
broils.
Away with Oxford to Hammes' Castle straight ;
For Somerset, off with his guilty head, [speak.
Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them
Oxf. For my part, I '11 not trouble thee with
words. [fortune.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my
[Exeunt OXF. and SOM. , guarded.
Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous
world,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
K. Edw. Is proclamation made that who
finds Edward
Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
670
THIRD PART OF KINO HENRY VI.
[ACT V.
Glo. It is; and lo, where youthful Edward
comes.
Enter Soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD.
K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear
him speak.
What, can so young a thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious
York !
Suppose that I am now my father's mouth ;
Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou,
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so re-
solv'd !
Glo. That you might still have worn the
petticoat,
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let ^Esop fable in a winter's night;
His currish riddles -sort not with this place.
Glo. By heaven, brat, I '11 plague you for that
word. [to men.
Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague
Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive
scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-
back rather.
K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm
your tongue.
Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.
Prince. I know my duty; you are all unduti-
ful: [George,
Lascivious Edward, and thou, perjur'd
And thou, misshapen Dick, I tell ye all
I am your better, traitors as ye are ;
And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.
K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer
here. [Stabs him.
Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy
agony. [Stabs him.
Clar. And there 's for twitting me with per-
jury. [Stabs him.
Q. Mar. O, kill me too !
Glo. Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her.
K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold ; for we have
done too much.
Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world
with words?
K. Edw. What, doth she swoon? use means
for her recovery.
Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my
brother ;
I '11 hence to London on a serious matter :
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Clar. What? what?
Glo. The Tower ! the Tower ! \Exit.
Q. Mar. O Ned, sweet Ned ! speak to thy
mother, boy! [ers!
Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murder-
They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it :
He was a man; this, in respect, a child,
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child, [it?
What 's worse than murderer, that I may name
No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak :
And I will speak, that so my heart may
burst.
Butchers and villains ! bloody cannibals !
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd !
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stiri'd up re-
morse:.
But if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young
prince !
K. Edw. Away with her ; go, bear her hence
perforce.
Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch
me here ; [death :
Here sheathe thy sword, I '11 pardon thee my
What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it
thou. [ease.
Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much
Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do ; sweet Clarence,
do thou do it.
Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear I would
not do it?
Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thy-
self:
'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
What! wilt thou not? Where is that devil's
butcher, [thou?
Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where ait
Thou art not here : murder is thy alms-deed ;
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back.
K. Edw. Away, I say ; I charge ye, bear her
hence.
Q. Mar. So come to you and yours as to this
prince ! [Exit, led out forcibly.
K. Edw. Where's Richard gone?
Clar. To London, all in post ; and, as I guess,
To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
K. Edw. He 's sudden, if a thing comes in
his head. [sort
Now march we hence : discharge the common
With pay and thanks, and let 's away to London,
And see our gentle queen how well she fares, *-"
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.
[Extunt.
SCENE VI.]
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
671
SCENE VI. LONDON. A Room in the Tower.
KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in
his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter
GLOSTER.
Glo. Good-day, my lord. What, at your
book so hard?
K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: my lord, I
should say rather;
'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better :
Good Gloster and good devil were alike,
And both preposterous: therefore, not good
lord.
Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves : we must
confer. [Exit Lieutenant.
K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from
the wolf;
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a
bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush ;
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye [kill'd.
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and
Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of
Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl !
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.
K. Hen. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus ;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course ;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward ; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words !
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
Than can my ears that tragic history.
But wherefore dost thou come? is 't for my life?
Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art :
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.
Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd when first
thou didst presume,
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
And many an old man's sigh, and many a
widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ;
Dogs howTd, and hideous tempest shook down
trees ;
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,
To wit,
An indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast
bom,
To signify thou cam'st to bite the world :
And if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st
Glo. I '11 hear no more : die, prophet, in thy
speech : \Stabs him.
For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter
after this.
God forgive my sins and pardon thee !
[Dies.
Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have
mounted. [death !
See how my sword weeps for the poor king's
0, may such purple tears be alway shed
From those that wish the downfall of our
house !
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee
thither,. [Stabs him again.
1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say
1 came into the world with my legs forward :
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right :
The midwife wonder'd ; and the women cried,
(9, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth !
And so I was, which plainly signified
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'dmy body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother ;
And this word love, which greybeards call
divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me : I am myself alone.
Clarence, beware ; thou keep'st me from the light:
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee ;
For I will buzz abroad such prophecies
That Edward shall be fearful of his life :
And then, to purge his fear, I '11 be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone :
THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.
[ACT v.
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest ;
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I '11 throw thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
[Exit with the body.
SCENE VII. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Flourish. KING EDWARD is discovered sitting-
on his throne ; QUEEN ELIZABETH with the
infant PRINCE, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, HAST-
INGS, and others ; near him.
K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's
royal throne,
Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn, ^
Have we mow'd down in tops of all their
pride !
Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions ;
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son ;
And two Northumberlands, two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's
sound ;
With them the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night ;
Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace :
And of our labours thou shall reap the gain.
Glo. I '11 blast his harvest if your head were
laid;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave ;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my
back :
Work thou the way, and that shalt execute.
[Aside.
K. Edw. Clarence and Gloster, love my
lovely queen ;
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
Clar. The duty that I owe unto your majesty
I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.
K. Edw. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy
brother, thanks.
Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence
thou sprang'st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master,
And cried, all hail ! when as he meant all
harm. [Aside.
K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul
delights,
Having my country's peace and brothers' loves.
Clar. What will your grace have done with
Margaret ?
Reignier, her father, to the King of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
K. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence
to France.
And now what rests but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befit the pleasure of the court ?
Sounddrumsand trumpets ! farewell, sourannoyi
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
[Exeunt.
oi&h^Jns oT
srrft*3it)f> n.r. I
