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his The next news is I have to London sent
The heads of Salibsury, Spencer, Blunt, and
Kent:

Boling

Enter KEEPER, with a Dish. Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. [To the GROOM. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.

Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Exit. Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to? K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.

Keep. My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton, who

Lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee!

Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Beats the KEEPER. Keep. Help, help, help !

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude assault ?

Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.

[Snatching a weapon and killing one, Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

That

[He kills another, then EXTON strikes him down.

hand shall burn in never-quenching fire,

That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce hand

Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's
own land.
[high;
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to-
die.
[Dies.
Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood:
Both have I spilt; O would the deed were
good!

For now the devil, that told me I did well,
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king I'll bear ;-
Take bence the rest, and give them burial here.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.-Windsor.-A Room in the
Castle.

Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE, and YORK,
with LORDS and ATTENDANTS.
Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news
we hear

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The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursed in this paper here.

[Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for

thy pains;

And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter FITZWATER.

Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to
London

The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely;
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors,
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be
forgot;

Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter PERCY, with the Bishop of CARLISLE. Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster,

With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, -
Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
But here is Carlisle living to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :—
Choose out some secret place, some reverend
room,

More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from
strife;

For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

Enter EXTON, with ATTENDANTS bearing a
Coffin.

Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present

Thy buried fear herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou
hast wrought
A deed of slander with thy fatal band,
Upon my head, and all this famous land.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did
I this deed.

Boling. They love not poison that do poison need,

Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,”
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy la-
bour,

But neither my good word, nor princely fa

vour:

With Cain go wander through the shade of night,

Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe,
And never show thy head by day nor light.-
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me
grow:

Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent; *
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty
hand :-

March sadly after; grace my
here,

Welcome, my lord: What is the news?
North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all In weeping after this untimely bier.
happiness.

mournings

[Exeunt.

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It was long the prevailing opinion that Sir Piers Exton, and others of his guards, fell upon Richard in the eastle of Pomfret, where he was confined, and despatched him with their halberts. But it is more probable that he was starved to death in prison; and it is said that he prolonged his unhappy life for a fortnight, after all sustenance was denied him, before he reached the end of his miseries.---Hume.

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 Halidowa 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 render this fat old man' the leading attraction of the play: and though his 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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ACT I.

SCENE 1-London.-A Room in the
Palace.

Enter King HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir
WALTER BLUNT, and others.

K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with
care,

Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote.
No more the thirsty Erinnys + of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's
blood;

No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,

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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,

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HUBLK LIB.

ASTOR, LENOX

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,
In forwarding this dear expedience. *

West. My liege, this baste 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.

of

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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 old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou

West. This, match'd with other, did, my gra- would'st truly know. What the devil hast thou

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,
Stain'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 son
To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Augus, 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 superfluons 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,-be, 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.

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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 governed as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof now: A purse of gold most resolutely

K. Hen. Yea, there thou makʼst 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, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. Oh! that it could be
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 he in this adventure bath surpris'd,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
West. 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: now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And 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 prune¶ himself, and bristle up coin would stretch; and where it would not, i The crest of youth against your dignity.

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have used my credit.

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here

Covered with dirt of different
Piled up in a heap.

• Favourites.

Trim, as birds clean their feathers."

+ Stand still. 1 More wine, The dress of sheriff's officers.

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