the which

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;
Heaven, and not we, have 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.-Another part of the Forest.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and
COLEVILE, meeting.

Fal. What's your name, Sir? of what condition are you; and of what place, I pray?

check was the reward of valour. Do you think

me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? have 1, 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, traveltainted 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 over

came.

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 twopences 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, azu P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount. Fal. Let it shine then.

let desert mount.

P. John. Thine's too thick to shin

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,

Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name; a knight is your degree; and your place, the dale: Colevile shall still be your name; a traitor your degree; and the dungeon your place, a place deep enough; so shall you still be

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 1 do sweat, they are 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.

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; 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 confederates, To York, to present execution :Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. [Exeunt some with COLEVILE. And now despatch we toward the court, my lords;

him;

And we with sober speed will follow you.

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.

P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition, t

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 + Stand my good friend In my present temper

+ Cæsar

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 infiammation. A good sherris-sack had 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 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 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, steril, 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 addict themselves to sack.

Enter King HENRY, CLARENCE, Prince HUMPHREY, WARWICK, and others.

K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give successful 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.

ur navy is address'd, our power collected, Our substitutes in absence well invested, And every thing 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 may'st effect
Of mediation, after I am dead, [thren :--
Between his greatness and thy other bre-
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: [flint;
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's
As humourous 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?

Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London.

K. Hen. And how accompanied? can'st thou tell that?

Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers.

K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to And he, the noble image of my youth, weeds; Stretches itself beyond the hour of death; Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief 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 to-

Your highness knows, comes to no further use, But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms,

Has an attention shown him.

+ Wolf's bane, a poisonous herb.

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
Turning past evils to advantages.

[others; K. Hen. "Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her comb [land? In the dead carrion.-Who's here? Westmore

Enter 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 unsheath'd, But peace puts forth her olive every where. 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 ma jesty; [fall And, when they stand against you, may they As those that I am come to tell you of! The earl of Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph,

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?

Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between:*

And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say, it did so, a little time before

That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.

War. Speak lower, princes, for the king re

covers.

P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.

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.

prince, speak low;

dy:

O me! come near me, now I am much ill.

[Sicoons.

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'll 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

That keeps the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night!-sleep with it now!

Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, As he, whose brow, with homely bigginş 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 duc, from thee, is this imperial crown;
Which, as immediate from thy place and
blood,

he noble change that I have purposed! oming to look on you, thinking you dead, (And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,)

I spake unto the crown as having sense,
And thus upbraided it: The care on thee de-
Hath fed upon the body of my father; [pending,
Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold;
Other, less fine in curat, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable:† [nown'd,
But thou, most fine, most honour'd, 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!

Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, That thou might'st 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. Heaven 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
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,

[hand;

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,
[green;
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are
And all thy friends, which thou must make
thy friends,
[out;
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose power I well night lodge a
To be again displac'd: which to avoid, [fear
1 cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land;

est rest, and lying still, might make them look

Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence
borne out,

May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,

* Weight.
Spot, dirt. Frights.
Purchase, in Shakspeare,

+ To be taken.

State of things. frequently means stolen

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.

Enter Prince JOHN of Lancaster, WARWICK, Lords, and others.

K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.

P. John. Health, peace, and happiness, to my royal father!

K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness and

peace, son Jolin;

[flown But health, alack, with youthful wings is 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 called Jerusalem, my noble lord. K. Hen. Laud be to God!-even there my life must end.

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'll lie:
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENEI.-Glostershire.-A Hallin SHALLOW'S

House.

Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and PAGE.

Shal. By cock and pye, 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.

Dury. 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.

Dary. Marry, Sir, thus;-those precepts cannot 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? Dary. 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.

Dary. 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 it:- -Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tel William cook.

Dary. Doth the man of war stay all night, Sir?