ACT III.

S CE N E

I.

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
Are at this hour alleep! O gentle Sleep,
Nature's soft Nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, Sleep, ly'st thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And husht with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the Great,
Under the Canopies of coftly State,
And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull God, why ly’st thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'it the kingly couch
* A watch-case to a common larum-bell?
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast

,
Seal up the thip-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,

* 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.

H

Curling

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the flip'ry shrouds,
That, with the hurley, death itself awakes ?
Can'st thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea boy in an hour so rude ?
And, in the calmest and the 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.
ANY good-morrows to your Majesty!

War. M A. Henry. Is it good-morrow, lords ?

War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
K. Henry. Why, then, good-morrow to you.

Well, my lords,
Have you read o'er the letters I sent you ?
War. We have, my Liege.

[dom,
K. Henry. Then you perceive the body of our King-
How foul'it is; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.

War. It is but as a body flight distemper'd,
Which to its former strength may be reitor d,
With good advice and little medicine ;
My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.
K. Henry. Oh heay'n, 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
Too wide for Neptune's hips: how Chances mock,
And Changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,

The

6

The happiest youth viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
Wou'd fhut the book, and fit him down and die.
'Tis not ten Years gone,
Since Richard and Northumberland, great Friends,
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

foul; Who, like a brother, toil'd in my affairs; And laid his love and life under

my

foot;
Yea, for my fake, ev'n to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by ?
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember) [TÓ War.
When Richard, with his eye

brim-full 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, Heav'n knows, I had no such intent;
But that necessity fo bow'd the State,
That I and Greatness were compellid to kiss :)
• The time shall come, (thus did he follow it,
• The time will come, that foul fin, 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 things
As yet not come to life, which in their feeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And by the necessary form of this,
King Richard might create a perfect guess,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that feed grow to a greater falseness,

Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on You.

K. Henry. Are these things then necessities?
Then let us meet them like necessities;
And that same word even now cries out on us :
They say, the Bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.

War. It cannot be:
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 Pow'rs, that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.
To comfort you ihe 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 fickness.

K. Henry. I will take your counsel:
And were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

Exeunt.
S C E N E III.

1

Changes to Justice Shallow's Seat in Gloucestershire.
Enter Shallow and Silence, Justices; with Mouldy,

Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bull-calf.
Shal. OME on, come on, come on; 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.

1

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

would