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S CE N E
The Palace in LONDON.
Enter King Henry in his Night-gown, with a Page.
K. HENRY GO 10, call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick : But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these
letters, And well consider of them : make good speed.
Exit Page. How many
thousands of my poorest Subjects
* A watch case, &c.] This alludes to the Watchmen set in Garrison-towns upon some Eminence attending upon an Alaruin. bell, which he was to ring out in case of Fire, or any approaching Danger. He had a Case or Box to shelter him from the Weather, but at his utmost Peril be was not to fleep whilst he was upon Duty. These Alarum-bells are metioned in several other places of Shakespear. VOL. V.
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
Enter Warwick and Surrey.
War. M A. Henry. Is it good-morrow, lords ?
War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
Well, my lords,
War. It is but as a body flight distemper'd,
The happiest youth viewing his progress through,
foul; Who, like a brother, toil'd in my affairs; And laid his love and life under
brim-full of tears,
Northumberland, thou ladder by the which
Shall break into corruption :' so went on,
War. There is a history in all men's lives,
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
K. Henry. Are these things then necessities?
War. It cannot be:
K. Henry. I will take your counsel:
Changes to Justice Shallow's Seat in Gloucestershire.
Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bull-calf.
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 ouzel, 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 call'd lusty Shallow then, cousin.
Shal. I was call’d any thing, and I would have done any thing, 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 Cot's-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-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at commandment. 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 fame Sir John, the very fame: I saw him break Schoggan's head at the Court-gate, when he was a crack, not thus high; and the very same day I did fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Grays-Inn. O 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 fure, very sure. Death (as the Psalmist faith) 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. Dead! fee, fee, 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 H 3