Enter King Henry, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Weftmorland, and others. King HENRY. O fhaken as we are, fo wan with Care, To be commenc'd in Stronds afar remote: No more the thirfty Entrails of this Soil Shall damb her Lips with her own Childrens Blood: L3 And And furious close of civil Butchery, Whofe Soldier now, under whofe bleffed Crofs Weft. My Liege, this hafte was hot in question, K. Henry. It feems then, that the tidings of this Broil Brake off our Business for the Holy Land, Weft. This, matcht with other like; my gracious Lord, Far more uneven and unwelcome News Came from the North, and thus it did report: Young Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, As by difcharge of their Artillery And shape of likelihood the News was told: K. Henry. Here is a dear and true induftrious Friend. Betwixt the Holmedon, and this Seat of ours: Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights On Holmedon's Plains. Of Prifoners, Hot Spur took To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Athol, And is not this an Honourable Spoil? A gallant Prize? Ha, Coufin, is it not? In faith it is. K. Henry. Yea, there thou mak'ft me fad, and mak'st me fin, In envy, that my Lord Northumberland Should be the Father of fo bleft a Son; A Son, who is the Theam of Honour's Tongue: Then would I have his Harry, and he mine: But let him from my Thoughts. What think you Coz, L4 Та To his own ufe he keeps, and fends me Word Weft. This is his Uncle's teaching, this is Worcester, Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up K. Henry. But I have fent for him to answer this; Coufin, on Wednesday next, our Council we will hold But come your felf with Speed to us again; For more is to be faid, and to be done, Weft. I will, my Liege. SCENE Exeunt. II. Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falstaff. P. Henry. Thou art fo fat-witted with drinking of old Sack and unbuttoning thee after Supper, and fleeping upon Benches in the Afternoon, that thou haft forgotten to demand that truly, which thou wouldst truly know. What a Devil haft 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-Houfes, and the bleffed Sun himself a fair hot Wench in Flame-colour'd Taffata, I fee no Reafon why thou fhouldft be fo fuperfluous, to demand the time of the Day. Fal. Indeed you come rear me now, Hal. For we that take Pufes, go by the Moon and feven Stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that wandring Knight fo fair. And I pray thee, fweet Wag, when thou art King, as God fave thy Grace, Majefty I fhould fay, for Grace thou wilt have none. P. Henry. What! none? Fal. No, not fo much as will ferve to be Prologue to an Egg and Butter. P. Henry. P. Henry. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry then, fweet Wag, when thou art King, let not us that are Squires of the Night's Body, be call'd Thieves of the Day's Beauty. Let us be Diana's Foresters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moon; and let Men fay, we be Men of good Government, being governed as the Sea is, by our noble and chaft Mistress the Moon, under whofe Countenance we fteal. P. Henry. Thou fay'ft well, and it holds well too; for the Fortune of us that are the Moon's Men, doth ebb and flow like the Sea, being govern'd as the Sea is, by the Moon. As for Proof, now: A Purfe of Gold most refolutely fratch'd on Monday Night, and most diffolutely spent on Tuesday Morning; got with fwearing, Laid by; and fpent with cry ing, 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 ride of the Gallows. Fal. Thou fay'ft true, Lad: And is not my Hoftess of the Tavern a moft fweet Wench? P. Henry. As is the Honey, my old Lad of the Castle, and is not a Buff-Jerkin a moft fweet Robe of durance ? Fal. How, how? How now mad Wag? What in thy Quips and thy Quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a Buff-Jerkin? P. Henry. Why, what a Pox have I to do with my Hoftefs of the Tavern? Fal. Well, thou haft call'd her to a reckoning many a time and oft. P. Henry. Did I ever call thee to pay thy Part? Fal. No, I'll give thee thy due, thou haft paid all there: P. Henry. Yea, and elfewhere, fo far as my Coin would ftretch, and where it would not, I have us'd my Credit. Fal. Yea, and fo us'd it, that were it here apparent, that thou art Heir apparent But I prithee fweet Wag, fhall there be Gallows ftanding in England when thou art King? and Refolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rusty curb of old Father Antick the Law? Do not thou when thou art a King, hang a Thief. P. Henry. No, thou fhalt. Fal. Shall ? O rare! I'll be a brave Judge. P. Henry. Thou judgeft falfe already; I mean thou fhalt |