SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. The time misorder'd doth, in common sense, The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the Whereon this Hydra son of war is born; Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes Hast. We have supplies to second our attempt: And though we here fall down, P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much answer them To sound the bottom of the after-times. West. Pleaseth your grace, to directly, How far forth you do like their articles. P. John. I like them all, and do allow them well; My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd; Arch. I take your princely word for these re- P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my And thereupon I drink unto your grace. This news of peace: let them have pay, and part: what pains I have bestow'd to breed this present peace, Arch. I do not doubt you. Arch. Against ill chances men are ever merry; sorrow -some good thing comes to Serves to say thus, morrow. Arch. Believe true. P. John. The word of peace is render'd: hark, how they shout! And let our army be discharged too. And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains [Exit WESTMORELAND. March by us, that we may peruse the men We should have cop'd withal. Arch. And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. Go, good lord Hastings; P. John. I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night to[Exit HASTINGS. gether. Re-enter WESTMORELAND. Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? Will not go off until they hear you speak. Re-enter HASTINGS. Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already: I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:- Of capital treason I attach Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable? Arch. Will you thus break your faith? P. John. I pawn'd thee none: I promis'd you redress of these same grievances, [Excunt. SCENE III.-Another Part of the Forest. Alarums; Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, Fal. What's your name, Sir? of what condition Cole. I am a knight, Sir; and my name is Cole- Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name, a knight 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. Exter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, and others. F. John. The heat is past; follow no farther now: Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.- 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 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 Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through Glostershire: and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good report. F. John. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Exit. 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 two-fold operation in it. It ascends 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, deliver'd 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 kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners, 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 Glostershire; and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire: I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come [Exeunt. away. SCENE IV.-WESTMINSTER. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, CLARENCE, PRINCE HUMPHREY, WARWICK, and others. K. Hen. Now, lords, if God doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields, 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. P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in presence Cla. What would my lord and father? K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother? Between his greatness and thy other brethren: Yet, notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint; And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends; Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love. Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers. 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 The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape, For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, 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, The prince will, in the perfectness of time, By which his grace must mete the lives of others, K. Hen. 'Tis seldom-when the bee doth leave her comb In the dead carrion. Who's here? Westmoreland? Enter WESTMORELAND. West, Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver! Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand: 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; Will Fortune never come with both hands full, I should rejoice now at this happy news; :- [Swoons. |