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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.

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Which,-like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,-
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engag'd to fight,)
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy ;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers'
womb

To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelve-month old,

HENRY IV

And bootless 'tis to tell you-we will go;
Therefore we meet not now :-Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
la forwarding this dear expedience. *
West. My liege, this haste was hot in ques-
tion,

And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight; when, all athwart, there came
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered;
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, re-told or spoken of.
K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings
this broil

Brake off our business for the Holy Land.

. But I have sent for him to answer
this;

And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords:
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.-Another Room in
the Palace.

Enter HENRY Prince of Wales, and
FALSTAFF.

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.
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,

At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,

And shape of likelihood, the news was told ;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious
friend,

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stiu'd with the variation of each soil

Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of our's;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome

news.

The earl of Douglas is discomfited;
Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'd in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners, Hotspur

took

Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest gon
To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,
of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,

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
Should be the father of so blest a son:

A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, aud her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Oh! that it could be
Of my young Harry.

prov'd,

That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his, Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine,
But let him from my thoughts :-What think

you coz',

of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which be in this adventure hath surpris'd,
To bis own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I ball have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
Best. This is his uncle's teaching, this is
Worcester,

Malevolent to you in all aspects;

spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing
-lay by; and spent with crying-bring in: I
now, in as low au ebb as the foot of the ladder,
and by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of
the gallows.
And
Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad.
is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet
wench ?

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.

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Covered with dirt of different
Piled up in a heap.

• Favourites..

Trim, as birds clean their feathers.

+ Stand still.
The dress of sheriff's officers.

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?
Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof
the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood,
I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged

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
I do uot, call me villain, and battle me.
P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in
thee; from praying to purse-taking.

Enter POINS, at a distance.
Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis
no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.
Poins!-Now shall we know if Gadshill hath set
a match. O if men were to be saved by me-
rit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him?
This is the most omnipotent villain, that ever
eried, Stand, to a true man.

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

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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

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KING HENRY IV

The unyok'd humour of your idleness:
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,

Who doth permit the base contagions clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for

come,

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,

By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
l'uso offend, to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time, when men think least I will.

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SCENE III.-The same.-Another Room in
the Palace.

HENRY,
Eater King
NORTHUMBERLAND,
WORCESTER, HOTSPUR, Sir WALTER BLUNT,
and others.

K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and
temperate,

Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me; for accordingly,
You tread upon my patience: but be sure
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition,
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young

down;

And therefore lost that title of respect,
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the
proud.

Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little
deserves

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
danger

And disobedience in thine eye: O Sir,
Your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier + of a servant brow.
You have good leave to leave us; when we

need

Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.
[Exit WORCESTER.
[To NORTH.
North, Yea, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your highness' name de-
manded,

You were about to speak.

[nied

Which Harry Percy h re at Holmedon took,
Where, as he says, not with such strength de-
As is deliver'd to your majesty :
Either envy, therefore, or misprison,
is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimily dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin, new
reap'd,

Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home;
He was perfumed like a milliner;
And 'twixt his finger, and his thumb he held
A peancet-box which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took't away again;-
therewith angry, when it next
there,

• Disposition.

t Forehead.

it in snuff:-and still he smil'd

talk'd;

And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unbandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He qestion'd me; among the rest demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.
my wounds being
I then, all smarting, with

cold,

To be so pester'd with a popinjay,
Out of my grief+ and my impatience,
Answer'd, neglectingly, I know not what;

He should, or he should not ;-for he made me

mad,

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,

Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save
the mark!)

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not this report
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
Blunt. The circuinstance consider'd, good my
lord,

Whatever Harry Percy then hath said,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise

To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his pri

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Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of
March

Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him staive;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom bome revolted Mortimer.
Hot. Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war: To prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue for all those

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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 ?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken,
That your are fool'd, discarded, and shook of
By him, for whom these shames ye underwen! ?

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,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art not ashamed? But, Sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer :

Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,

Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again :
Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king; who studies, day and
night,

To answer all the debt he owes to you,
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore, I say,—

Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more:
And now I will unclasp a secret book,

Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you.-My lord Northumber-And to your quick-conceiving discontents
land,

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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 when I urg'd the ransom once again
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd
pale ;

And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
Wor. I cannot blame him: Was he not pro-
claim'd,

By Richard that dead is, the next of blood ?
North. He was; I heard the proclamation:
And then it was, when the unhappy king
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition;

From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be depos'd, and shortly, murdered.
Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's
wide mouth

Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

Hot. But, soft, I pray you: Did king Richard

then

Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown?

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
Upon the head of this forgetful man;
Aud, for his sake, wear the detested blot
Of murd'rous subordination,-shall it be,
That you a world of curses undergo;
Being the agents, or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangmau rather 1-
O pardon ine, that I descend so low,
To show the line and the predicament
Wherein you range under this subtle king.
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power,
Did gage them both in an unjust behalf,-
As both of you, God pardon it! have done,-
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,

I'll read you matter deep and dangerous;
As full of peril and advent'rons spirit,
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
Hot. If he fall in, good night :-or sink or
swim:

Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple :-Oh! the blood more
stirs,

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

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