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Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee. Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go!
(Kneels. I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt. York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. SCENE V. - Pomfret. The dungeon of the castle.
Enier King Richard.
Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face! This prison, where I live, unto the world:
eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; And, for because the world is populous, His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast. And here is not a creature but myself, He prays but faintly, and would be denied;
I cannot do it. — Yet I'll hammer it out. We pray with heart and soul, and all beside. My brain I'll prove the femaleto my soul; His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;
My soul, the father: and these two beget Our knees shall kneel, till to the ground they grow. A generation of still-breeding thoughts, His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
And these same thoughts people this little world, Ours, of true zeal, and deep integrity.
In humours, like the people of this world, Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have For no thought is contented. The better sort, That mercy, which true prayers ought to have! As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd Boling. Good aunt, stand up!
With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word :
It is as hard to come, as
s for a camel Pardon should be the first word of thy speech. To thread the postern of a needle's eye. I never long‘d to hear a word till now;
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails
York. Speak it in French, king! say, pardonnez moi! And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king; Duch. I do not sue to stand,
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, Pardon is all the suit, I have in hand.
And so I am. Then crushing penury. Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Persuades me, I was better, when a king; Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Then am I king'd again: and, by-anti-by, Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again!
Think, that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, And straight am nothing: - but, whate'er I am, But makes one pardon strong.
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, Boling. With all my heart
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd I pardon him.
With being nothing.–Music do I hear? (Music. Duch. A god on earth thou art.
Ha, ha! keep time: – how sour sweet music is, Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law, and the When time is broke, and no proportion kept! abbot,
So is it in the music of men's lives. With all the rest of that consorted crew,
And here have I the daintiness of ear, Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. – To check time broke in a disorder'd string; Good uncle, help to order several powers
But, for the concord of my state and time, To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are !
Had not an ear, to hear my true time broke. They shall not live within this world, I swear, I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. But I will have them, if I once know where.
For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock : Uncle, farewell! and cousin too, adien!
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, Duch. Come, my old son! I pray God make thee Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
[Exeunt. Is pointig still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is, SCENE IV.
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs, and tears, and groans,
time Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words he Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, spake?
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock. Have I no
friend will rid me of this living fear? This music mads me, let it sound no more! Was it not so?
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits, Serv. Those were his very words.
In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. Exton. Have I no friend?quoth he: he spake it twice, Yet blessing on his heart, that gives it me! And urg'd it twice together; did he not?
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard Serv. He did.
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look'don me;
Enter Groom. As who should say: I would, thou wert the man, Groom. Hail, royal prince! That would divorce this terror from my heart! K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer!
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
SCENE VI. - Windsor. A room in the castle, What art thou ? and how comest thou hither, Flourish. Enter BolingBROKE and York, with Lords Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog
and Attendants. That brings me food, to make misfortune live? Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, Is, that the rebels have consum'd with fire
North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.
The manner of their taking may appear K. Rich.Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, at large discoursed in this paper
here. How went he under him?
[Presenting a paper. Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains, K. Rich. So proud, that Bolingbroke was on his back! And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
Enter FITZWATER. This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down, The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely ; (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, of that proud man, that did usurp his back? That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. Forgiveness, horse! why do S rail on thee,
Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Since thoa, created to be aw'd by man,
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;
Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. And yet I bear a burden, like an ass,
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, Spur-galld, and tir'd, by jauucing Bolingbroke. With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, Enter Keeper, with a dish.
Hath yielded up his body to the grave: Keep. Fellow, give place! here is no longer stay. But here is Carlisle living, to abide
[To the Groom. Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time, thou wert away. Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom: Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
(Exit. More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life! Keep. My lord, will’t please you to fall to? So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife! K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do! For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, Keep. Mylord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, who High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. Lately came from the king, commands the contrary, Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a coffin. K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and Exton. Great king, within this coffin ) present thee!
Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies Patience is stale, and I'm weary of it.
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
[Beats the Keeper. Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. Keep. Help, help, help!
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast Enter Exton, and Servants, armed.
wrought K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, assault?
Upon my head, and all this famous land. Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this (Snatching aw
and killing one. deed. Go thon, and fill another room in hell!
Boling, They love not poison, that do poison need. (He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, I hate the murderer, love him murdered. That staggers thus my person.-Exton,thy fierce hand The guilt of conscience take thon for thy labour, Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. But neither my good word, nor princely favour! Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high ; With Cain go wander through the shade of night, Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward here to die. And never show thy head by day nor light!
[Dies. Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood ! That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow; Both have I spilt. 0, wonld the deed were good! Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, For now the devil, that told me, I did well, And put on sullen biack incontinent ! Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell.
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, This dead king to the living king I'll bear. – To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. — Take hence the rest, and give them burial here! March sadly after; grace my mournings here,
[Exeunt. 'In weeping after this untimely bier ! [Exeunt.
Persons of the Drama King Henry the Fourth.
Sir RICHARD VERxon. HENRY, prince of Wales,
Sir John FALSTAFF. Prince Jour of LANCASTER,
sons to the king
Poins. Earl of WESTORELAND, }friends to the king.
GADSHILL. Sir Walter BLUNT,
Pero.' BARDOLPH. Thomas Percy, earl of Worcester.
Lady Percy, wife to HOTSPUR, and sister to MonHENRY Percy, earl of NorthUMBERLAND. Henry Pency, surnamed HOTSPUR, his son. Lady MORTIMER, daughter to GLENDOWER, and wife EDMUND MORTIMER, earl of MARCH.
to MORTIMER. Scroop, archbishop of York.
Mrs Quickey, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. ARCHIBALD, earl of Douglas.
Lords, Officers,Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, DrawOwen GLENDOWER.
ers, Two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants. Scexe,— Englando
A C T I.
K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this broil
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
For more uneven and unwelcome news
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,
For he, that brought them, in the very heat
Uncertain of the issue any way. Did lately meet in the intestine shock
K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend, Aud furious close of civil butchery,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Shall now,
in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, Stain'd with the variation of each soil March all one way, and be no more oppos'd Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies,
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, The earl of Douglas is discomfited; No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
Balk'd in their own blood, did sir Walter see
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
me sin Therefore we meet not now. - - Then let me hear In envy, that my lord Northumberland of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
should be the father of so blest a son; What yesternight our council did decree,
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; In forwarding this dear expedience.
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant; West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride: And many limits of the charge set down
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came See riot and dishonour stain the brow A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news, Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd, Whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer, That some night-tripping fairy had exchang’d Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight In cradle-clothes our children, where they lay,' Against the irregular and wild Glendower, And call’d mine – Percy, his — Plantagenet! Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. And a thousan of his people butchered:
Butlet him from my thoughts !-What think you, coz, Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse, of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, Such beastly, shameless transformation
Which he in this adventure hath surpriz'd, By those Welshwomen done, as may not be, To his own use he keeps, and sends me word, Without much shaire, re-told or spoken of. I shall have none, but Mordake, earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester, | Ful. Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apMalevolent to you in all aspects ;
parent that thou art heir apparent,--But, I pr’ythec, Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in EngThe crest of youth against your dignity.
land when thou art king ? and resolution thus fobK. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this; bed as it is, with the rusty curb of old father anAnd, for this cause, awhile we must neglect tic, the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
a thief! Consin, on Wednesday next our council' we
P. Hen. No; thou shalt. Will hold at Windsor; so inform the lords ! Fal. Shall I? O rare ! By the Lord, I'll be a brave But come yourself with speed to us again!
judge. For more is to be said, and to be done,
P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou Than out of anger can be uttered.
shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become West. I will, my liege.
(Exeunt. a rare hangman.
Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps SCENE II. - The game. Another room in the palace. with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I Enter Henry, prince of Wales, and Falstaff.
can tell you. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old Pal. Yea, for obtaining of suits : whereof the hangsack, and unbattoning thee after supper, and sleeping man hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as meupon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten lancholy, as a gib cat, or a lugged bear. to demand that truly, which thou would'st truly know. P. Hen. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bag-pipe. day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes ca P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the mepons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the lancholy of Moor-ditch ? signs of leaping houses, and the blessed sun himself Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata, I see no art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet reason why thou should'st be so superfluous to de- young prince, ---But, Hal, I pr’ythee, trouble me no mand the time ot the day.
more with vanity! I would to God, thou and I knew, Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal; for we, where a commodity of good names were to be that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars, bought. An old lord of the council rated me the other and not by Phoebus, - he, that wandering knight day in the street about you, sir; but I marked him so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art not, and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded king - as, God save thy grace, ( majesty, I should him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the say; for grace thou wilt have none,
street too. P. Hen. What! none ?
P. Hen. Thou did'st well; for wisdom cries ont Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to in the streets, and no man regards it. be prologue to an egg and butter.
Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly! able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it! Before I let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if called thieves of the day's beauty! let us be Dia- a man should speak truly, little better, than one of na's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give the moon! And let men say, we be men of good go- it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain ; I'll vernment; being governed as the sea is, by our noble be dammed for never a king's son in Christendom. and chaste mistress, the moon, under whose coun P.Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow,Jack? tenance we-steal.
Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do P. Hen Thon say'st well; and it holds well too : not, call me villain, and baffle me! for the fortune of ns, that are the moon's men, doth P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; ebb and flow, like the sea; being governed, as the sea from praying, to purse-taking. is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold
Enter Poins, at a distance. most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most Fol. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning, got with swear- for a man, to labour in his vocation. Poins !--Now ing-lay by, and spent with crying-bring in : now, in as shall we know, if Gadshill have set a match. O, if men low an ebb, as the foot of the ladder; and, by and were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were by, in as high a flow, as the ridge of the gallows. hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent
Fal. By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad. And is not villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a true man. my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? P. Hen. Good-morrow, Ned!
P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the Poins. Good-morrow, sweet Hal!-What says moncastle! And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe sieur Remorse? What says sir John Sack-and-Sugar? of durance?
Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for a cup quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg? do with a buff jerkin ?
P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of hostess of the tavern?
proverbs, he will give the devil his due. Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning, ma Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word ny a time and oft.
with the devil. P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all devil. there.
Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin by four o'clock, early at Gadshill! There are pilgrims would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders
riding to London with fat purses. I have visors for
you all, you liave horses for yourselves ; Gadshill lies | Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
But when they seldom come, they wish’d-for come, Fal. Hear me, Yedward! if I tarry at home, and And nothing pleaseth, but rare accidents. go not, I'll hang you for going.
So, when this loose behaviour J throw off, Poins. You will, chops ?
And pay the debt, I never promised, Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ?
By how much better, than my word, I am, P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith! By so much shall I falsify men's hopes, Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, V.Hen.Well,then once in my days I'll be a mad-cap. Than that, which hath no foil to set it off. Fal. Why, that's well said.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; P. Hen. Well, come what will! 171 tarry at home. Redeeming time, when men think least I will. (Exit. Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
SCENE II.-The same. Another room in the palace. P. Hen. I care not.
Enter King Henry, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCESTER, Poins. Sir John, I pr’ythee, leave the prince and me HOTSPUR, Sir Walter Blunt, and Others. alone! I will lay him down such reasons for this ad K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, venture, that he shall go.
Unapt to stir at these indignities, Fal. Well, may’st thou have the spirit of persuasion, And you have found me; for, accordingly, and he the ears of profiting, that wkat thou speakest, You tread upon my patience; but, be sure, may move, and what he hears,may be believed, that the I will from henceforth rather be myself, true prince may ( for recreation sake,) prove a false Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition; thief! for the poor abuses of the time want counte- Which hath been smooth, as oil, soft, as youug down, nance. Farewell! You shall find me in Eastcheap. And therefore lost that title of respect,
P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, All- Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. hallown summer!
[Exit Falstaff Wor, Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with the scourge of greatness to be used on it; us to-morrow! I have a jest to execute, that I can- And that same greatness too, which our own hands not manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gads- Have holp to make so portly. hill, shall rob those men, that we have already way, North. My lord, laid; yourself, and I, will not be there: and when K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone! for I see danger they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, and disobedience in thine eye. O, sir, cut this head from my shoulders !
Your presence is too bold and peremptory, P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in set- and majesty might never yet endure ting forth?
The moody frontier of a servant brow. Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, You have good leave to leave us; when we need and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is Your use and counsel, we shall send for youat our pleasure to fail; and then will they adven
(Lxit Worcester. ture upon the exploit themselves : which they shall You were about to speak.
(To North. have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them. North. Yea, my good lord.
P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will know us, Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other ap- Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, pointment, to be ourselves.
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied, Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie As is deliver'd to your majesty. them in the wood; our visors we will change after Either envy, therefore, or misprision, we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buck- Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. ram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward lot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. garments.
But, I remember, when the fight was done, P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us. When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil,
Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, as true-bred cowards, as ever turned back; and for Came there a certain lord, neat, trimiy dressid, the third, if he fight longer, than he sees reason, I'll Fresh, as a bridegroom, and his chin', new reap'd, forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home; incomprehensible lies, that this same fat rogue will He was perfumed like a milliner, tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held he fought with; what wards, what blows, what ex- A pouncet-box, which ever and anon tremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, He gave his nose, and took't away again ; lies the jest.
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there, P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all Took it in snuff: --and still he smild, and talk'd things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, Easteheap, there I'll sup. Farewell!
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, Poins. Farewell, my lord!
(Exit Poins. To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold Betwixt the wind and his nobility. The unyok'd humour of your idleness:
With many holiday and lady terms Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
He question'd me; among the rest demanded Who doth permit the base contagious clouds My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. To smother up his beauty from the world, I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, That, when he please again to be himself,
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,