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When it shines feldom in admiring eyes;
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd fuch afpect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries,
Being with his prefence glutted, gorg'd and full.
And in that very line, Harry, ftand'ft thou;
For thou haft loft thy Princely privilege
With vile participation. Not an eye,
But is a-weary of thy common fight,

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Save mine, which hath defir'd to fee thee more:
Which now doth, what I would not have it do, -
Make blind itfelf with foolish tenderness.

P. Henry. I shall hearafter, my thrice-gracious lord, Be more myfelf.

K. Henry. For all the world,

As thou art at this hour was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And ev'n as I was then, is Percy now."
Now by my fceptre, and my foul to boot,
He hath more worthy intereft to the State,
Than thou, the fhadow of fucceffion!
For, of no Right, nor colour like to Right,
He doth fill fields with harness; in the Realm
Turns head against the Lion's armed jaws;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and rev'rend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruifing arms.
What never dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Dowglas, whofe high deeds,
Whofe hot excurfions, and great name in arms,
Holds from all foldiers chief majority,.

And military Title capital,

Through all the Kingdoms that acknowledge Chrift
Thrice hath this Hot-fpur, Mars in fwathing-clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises,
Difcomfited great Dowglas, ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fil the mouth of deep defiance up,

And

And shake the peace and fafety of our Throne.
And what fay you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
Th' Archbishop's Grace of York, Dowglas, and Mortimer,
Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell this news to thee ?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'ft and deareft enemy:
?
Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
Bafe inclination, and the start of spleen,
To fight againft me under Percy's pay;
To dog his heels, ad curtly at his frowns,
To fhow how much thou art degenerate.

P. Henry. Do not think fo, you shall not find it fo:
And heav'n forgive them, that fo much have fway'd
Your Majefty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head.
And in the clofing of fome glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your fon.
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And ftain my favour in a bloody mask,

Which, wash'd away, shall scowr my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, when e'er it lights,
That this fame child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hot-fpur, this all-praised Knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet.
For every honour fitting on his helm,

'Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My fhames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I fhall make this northern Youth exchange.
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
T'engrofs up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And I will call him to fo ftrict account,
That he fhall render every glory up,
Yea, even the flighteft worship of his time,"
Or I will tear the reck'ning from his heart.
This in the name of heav'n I promise here:
The which, if I perform, and do furvive,
I do beseech your Majefly, may falve

The

The long-grown wounds of my intemperature.
If not, the end of life cancels all bonds;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the fmalleft parcel of this vow.

K. Henry. A hundred thoufand Rebels die in this! Thou shalt have Charge, and fovereign Truft herein. Enter Blunt,

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.
Blunt. So is the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath fent word,
That Dowglas and the English rebels met
Th' eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promifes be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a State.

K. Henry. The Earl of Westmoreland fet forth to-day,
With him my fon, lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement is five days old.

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou fhalt fet forward: On Thursday, we ourselves will march: our meeting Is at Bridgnorth; and, Harry, you shall march Through Gloftershire: by which fome twelve days

hence

Our general forces at Bridgnorth fhall meet.
Our hands are full of business: let's away,
Advantage feeds them fat, while we delay. [Exeunt.

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Changes to the Boar's-head Tavern in Eaft-cheap.
Enter Falftaff and Bardolph.

Fal. BARDOLPH

ARDOLPH, am not I fall'n away vilely, fince this laft action ? Do I not bate? do I not dwindle? why, my fkin hangs about me like an old lady's loofe gown: I am wither'd, like an old apple John. Well, I'll repent, and that fuddenly,'

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while I am in fome liking: I fhall be out of heart fhortly, and then I fhall have no ftrength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the infide of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse; the infide of a church! company, villainous company hath been the spoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it; come, fing me a bawdy song, to make me merry: I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house not above once in a quarter of an hour; paid money, that I borrow'd, three or four times; liv'd well, and in good compass: and now I live out all order, out of all compass.

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compafs, out of all reasonable compafs, Sir John.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our Admiral, thou beareft the lanthorn in the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it, as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori. I never fee thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that liv'd in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning.- -If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would fwear by thy face; my oath hould be, by this fire; but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'ft up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horfe, if I did not think, thou had'ft been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlafting bonfire-light; thou haft faved me a thousand marks in links and torches,

walking

walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the sack, that thou haft drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years, heav'n reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would, my face were in your belly. Fal. God-a-mercy! fo fhould I be fure to be heartburn'd.

Enter Hoftefs.

How now, dame Partlet the hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Hoft. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think, I keep thieves in my houfe? I have search'd, I have enquir'd, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, fervant by fervant: the tithe of a hair was never loft in my house before.

Fal. Ye lie, hoftefs; Bardolph was shav'd, and loft many a hair: and I'll be fworn, my pocket was pick'd; go to, you are a woman, go.

Hoft. Who I? I defy thee; in mine own houfe before.

I was never call'd fo

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Hoft. No, Sir John: you do not know me, Sir John; I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. bought you a dozen of fhirts to your back.

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made boulters

of them.

Hoft. Now as I am a true woman, Helland of eight fhillings an ell: you owe money here befides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Fal. He had his part of it, let him pay.

Hoft. He? alas! he is poor, he hath nothing.
Fal. How! poor? look upon his face: what call

you,

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