FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. SHAKSPEARE wrote this dramatic history about the year 1597, founding it upon six old plays previously published. The action commences with Hotspur's defeat of the Scots at Halidown Hill, Sep. 14, 1402; and closes with the defeat and death of that leader at Shrewsbury, July 21, 1403. None of Shakspeare's plays are perhaps so frequently read, as this and the one which succeeds it; but the want of ladies, and matter to interest females, lies so heavily upon it, that even with an excellent Falstaff, it can only enjoy occasional life upon the stage. The speeches of King Henry, though clothed in a fine, stately, and nervous diction, are much too long; and a deal of the humour, sparkling as it is, cannot be heard without a blush. The scene of the carriers is grossly indecent, and so very low, that it might be rejected without the slightest injury to the piece. The choleric Hotspur, and the mad-cap Prince of Wales, are, however, charming portraits; great, original, and just; exhibiting the nicest discernment in the character of mankind, and presenting a moral of very general application. But the subtle rognery of Falstaff---his laughable soliloquies---his whimsical investigations, --and his invincible assumption---(the richer and more ludicrous when opposed to his sneaking cowardice) are strokes of dramatic genius which reuder this fat old man' the leading attraction of the play: and though has character is vicious in every respect, he is furnished with so much wit, as to be almost too great a favourite. Which,-like the meteors of a troubled heaven, To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, HENRY IV And bootless 'tis to tell you-we will go; And many limits of the charge set down Brake off our business for the Holy Land. . But I have sent for him to answer And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same.-Another Room in Enter HENRY Prince of Wales, and Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ↑ P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou What the devil hast thou West. This, match'd with other, did, my gra- would'st truly know. cious lord; For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north, and thus it did import. At Holmedon met, Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; And shape of likelihood, the news was told ; K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of our's; news. The earl of Douglas is discomfited; took Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest gon It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. 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-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata; I see no reason why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of the day. Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as God save thy grace, (majesty I should say, for grace thou wilt have none,) P. Hen. What, none? Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. us Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let be-Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: And let men say we be men of good government; being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we-steal. P. Hen. Thou say'st 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 As for governed as the sea is, by the moon. proof now: A purse of gold most resolutely K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely mak'st me sin, In envy that my lord Northumberland A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; prov'd, That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd you coz', of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, Malevolent to you in all aspects; spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? § Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft. P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my Which makes him prunes himself, and bristle up coin would stretch; and where it would not, i The crest of youth against your dignity. Covered with dirt of different • Favourites.. Trim, as birds clean their feathers. + Stand still. More wine. apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty crub of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. P. Hen. No; thou shalt. Fal. Shall 1 O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? bear. P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor ditch? Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince,-But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, Sir; but I marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: aud yet he talked wisely, aud in the street too. cries P. Hen. Thou did'st well; for wisdom out in the streets, and no man regards it. Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration; and art indeed able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,--God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain; P' be danned for never a king's son in Christen dom. P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an Enter POINS, at a distance. P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned. Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.-What says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sackand-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on GoodFriday last, for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg? P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs, he will give the devil his due. Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil. P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil. Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshili: There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to Londen with fat purses: I have visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves; Gadshill lies to night in Rochester; I have bespoke supper tomorrow night in Eastcheap; we may do it as se cure as sleep: If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home, and be hanged. Fal. Hear me, Yedward: if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going. Poins. You will, chops? Fal. Hal, wilt thou make oue? P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. + P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days I'll be a mad-cap. Fal. Why, that's well said. P. Hen. Well, come what will, l'il tarry at home. Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. P. Hen. I care not. Poins. Sir John, I pry'thee leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shal! go. Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may for recreation sake,) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell: You shall find me in Eastcheap. P. Hen. Farewell, thon latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown. summer !! [Exit FALSTAFF. Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already way-laid; yourself and I will not be there; and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders. P. Hen. But how shall we part from Shem in setting forth? Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have no sooner achieved, bet we'll set upon them. P. Hen. Ay, but 'tis like that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves. Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrab, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to imuiask our noted outward garments. P. Hen. But I doubt they will be too hard for us. Poins. Well, for two of them, I know thei to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees The virtue of this reason, I'll forswear arms. jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, lies the jest. P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit POINS P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold KING HENRY IV The unyok'd humour of your idleness: Who doth permit the base contagions clouds come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. By how much better than my word I am, SCENE III.-The same.-Another Room in HENRY, K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and Unapt to stir at these indignities, down; And therefore lost that title of respect, Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little The scourge of greatness to be used on it; And that same greatness too which our bands Have holp to make so poorly. North. My lord, own K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see And disobedience in thine eye: O Sir, need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. You were about to speak. [nied Which Harry Percy h re at Holmedon took, Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home; • Disposition. t Forehead. it in snuff:-and still he smil'd talk'd; And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, cold, To be so pester'd with a popinjay, He should, or he should not ;-for he made me mad, To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth Whatever Harry Percy then hath said, To do him wrong, or any way impeach K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his pri Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Nor never could the noble Mortimer Receive so many, and all willingly: Then let bim" not be slander'd with revolt. And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke ? K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou No; yet time serves, wherein you may redrein dost belie him; He never did encounter with Glendower: I tell thee, He durst as well have met the devil alone, Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves To answer all the debt he owes to you, Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more: Or you shall hear in such a kind from me Hot. Speak of Mortimer? 'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him: Yea, on his part, l'il empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust, But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high i'the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad. [To WORCESTER. Ior. Who struck this beat up, after 1 was goue ? Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, By Richard that dead is, the next of blood ? From whence he, intercepted, did return Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of. Hot. But, soft, I pray you: Did king Richard then Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer North. He did; myself did bear it. Hot. Nay, then 1 cannot blame his cousin king, That wish'd him on the barren mountains starv'd. But shall it be, that you, that set the crown I'll read you matter deep and dangerous; Send danger from the east unto the west, To rouse a lion than to start a hare North. Imagination of some great exploit, Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. Hot. By heaven methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd |