How many nobles then should hold their places,
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort!

Ch. Just. O God, I fear all will be overturn'd.


P. John. Good-morrow, cousin Warwick, good-morrow. P. Humph., Cla. Good-morrow, cousin.

P. John. We meet like men that had forgot to speak. War. We do remember; but our argument

Is all too heavy to admit much talk.

P. John. Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy!

Ch. Just. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier!

P. Humph. O, good my lord, you have lost a friend And I dare swear you borrow not that face

Of seeming sorrow,-it is sure your own.


P. John. Though no man be assur'd what grace to find, You stand in coldest expectation:

I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise.

Cla. Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair; Which swims against your stream of quality.

Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honour, Led by the impartial conduct of my soul;

And never shall you see that I will beg

A ragged and forestall'd remission.
If truth and upright innocency fail me,
I'll to the king my master that is dead,
And tell him who hath sent me after him.
Wor. Here comes the prince.


Ch. Just. Good-morrow; and God save your majesty! King. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty,

Sits not so easy on me as you think.

Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear:

This is the English, not the Turkish court;

Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,

But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers,
For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you:
Sorrow so royally in you appears

That I will deeply put the fashion on,

And wear it in my heart: why, then, be sad;
But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
Than a joint burden laid upon us all.

For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd,

I'll be your father and your brother too;
Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares:
Yet weep that Harry's dead; and so will 1;
But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears,
By number, into hours of happiness.

P. John, &c. We hope no other from your majesty. King. You all look strangely on me:—and you most; [To the Chief-Justice.

You are, I think, assur'd I love you not.

Ch. Just. I am assur'd, if I be measur'd rightly,
Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
King. No!

How might a prince of my great hopes forget
So great indignities you laid upon me?

What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
The immediate heir of England! Was this easy?
May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?

Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your father ;
The image of his power lay then in me:
And, in the administration of his law,
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
Your highness pleased to forget my place,
The majesty and power of law and justice,
The image of the king whom I presented,
And struck me in my very seat of judgment;
Whereon, as an offender to your father,
I gave bold way to my authority,
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a son set your decrees at naught,
To pluck down justice from your awful bench,
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword
That guards the peace and safety of your person;
Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image,
And mock your workings in a second body.
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours;
Be now the father, and propose a son;
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd,
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd;
And then imagine me taking your part,
And, in your power, soft silencing your son:
After this cold considerance, sentence me;
And, as you are a king, speak in your state
What I have done that misbecame my place,
My person, or my liege's sovereignty.

King. You are right, justice, and you weigh this well; Therefore still bear the balance and the sword:

And I do wish your honours may increase
Till you do live to see a son of mine
Offend you, and obey you, as I did.
So shall I live to speak my father's words:
Happy am I, that have a man so bold,
That dares do justice on my proper son;
And not less happy, having such a son,
That would deliver up his greatness so
Into the hands of justice.-You did commit me:
For which I do commit into your hand
The unstain'd sword that you have us'd to bear;
With this remembrance,-that you use the same
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit
As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand;
You shall be as a father to my youth:

My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear;
And I will stoop and humble my intents
To your well-practis'd wise directions.-
And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you;—
My father is gone wild into his grave,
For in his tomb lie my affections;
And with his spirit sadly I survive,
To mock the expectation of the world,
To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out
Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
After my seeming. The tide of blood in me
Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now:
Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea,
Where it shall mingle with the state of floods,
And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
Now call we our high court of parliament:
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,
That the great body of our state may go
In equal rank with the best-govern'd nation;
That war or peace, or both at once, may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us;
In which you, father, shall have foremost hand.
[To the Lord Chief-Justice.

Our coronation done, we will accite,
As I before remember'd, all our state:
And,-God consigning to my good intents,—
No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say,
God shorten Harry's happy life one day.


The Garden of




Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth:-come, cousin Silence :-and then to bed.

Fal. 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.

Shal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John::—marry, good air.-Spread, Davy; spread, Davy: well said, Davy.

Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man and your husband.

Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John:-by the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down:come, cousin.

Sil. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a,-we shall

Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer,
And praise heaven for the merry year;
When flesh is cheap and females dear,
And lusty lads roam here and there,
So merrily,

And ever among so merrily


Fal. There's a merry heart!-Good Master Silence, I'll give you a health for that anon.

Shal. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.

Davy. Sweet sir, sit [seating BARDOLPH and the Page at another table]; I'll be with you anon; most sweet sir, sit.-Master Page, good Master Page, sit.-Proface! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink. But you must bear; the heart's all.


Shal. Be merry, Master Bardolph;-and, my little soldier there, be merry.


Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;
For women are shrews, both short and tall;
"Tis merry in hall when beards wag all,

And welcome merry Shrove-tide.

Be merry, be merry, &c.


Fal. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle.

Sil. Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere


Re-enter DAVY.

Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats for you.

Shal. Davy,

[Setting them before BARD.

Davy. Your worship? I'll be with you straight [to BARD.]-A cup of wine, sir?


A cup of wine that's brisk and fine,


And drink unto the leman mine;
And a merry heart lives long-a.

Fal. Well said, Master Silence.

Sil. And we shall be merry;-now comes in the sweet of the night.

Fal. Health and long life to you, Master Silence.


Fill the cup, and let it come;
I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.


Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest anything, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart.-Welcome, my little tiny thief [to the Page]; and welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cavaleroes about London.

Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die.

Bard. An I might see you there, Davy,

Shal. By the mass, you'll crack a quart together,—ha! will you not, Master Bardolph?

Bard. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.

Shal. By God's liggens, I thank thee:-the knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that: he will not out; he is true bred.

Bard. And I'll stick by him, sir.

Shal. Why, there spoke a king.

merry. [Knocking heard.] Look who's at door there, ho!

who knocks?

Fal. Why, now you have done me right.

Lack nothing: be

[Exit DAVY.

[To SIL., who has drunk a bumper.

[blocks in formation]

Fal. 'Tis so.

Sil. Is't so? Why, then, say an old man can do somewhat.

Re-enter DAVY.

Davy. An it please your worship, there's one Pistol come from the court with news.

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