Scene IV, V. KING RICHARD II. I do not sue to stand, Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. I pardon him. With all my heart A god on earth thou art. With all the rest of that consorted crew,- thee new. Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Serv. Those were his very words. And urg'd it twice together; did he not? Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look'd on me; As who should say,-I would, thou wert the man K. Rich. I have been studying how I may com pare This prison, where I live, unto the world: As thus,-Come, little ones; and then again,- 383 That many have, and others must sit there: With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Groom. Hail, royal prince! Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, With much ado, at length have gotten leave How went he under him? Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves,-This hand hath made him proud with clapping That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, (2) His own body. him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down (7) An ornamented buckle, and also a jewel in general. (8) Former. Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, 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 Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to Lon- Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot, Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. Keep. Help, help, help! Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood: Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, Enter Exton, with attendants bearing a coffin. A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, with That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow: Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. Welcome, my lord: What is the news? North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap- The next news is,-I have to London sent [Presenting a paper. (1) Jaunting. (2) Immediately. This play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of invention is not always proportionate to labour, it is not finished at last with the happy force of some other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to af fect the passions, or enlarge the understanding. JOHNSON. ACT I. SCENE I.-London. A room in the palace. Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter Blunt, and others. King Henry. So (Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross (1) Strands, banks of the sea. (2) The Fury of discord. (3) Force, army. (4) Needless. (5) Expedition. (Poins. Gadshill. Peto. Bardolph. Lady Percy, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mor timer. Lady Mortimer, daughter to Glendower, and wife to Mortimer. Mrs. Quickly, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, 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 of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land. For more uneven and unwelcome news Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; And shape of likelihood, the news was told; K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, (6) Estimates. (7) September 14. To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol, A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. 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 us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: "And let men say, we be men of good government: being govern'd as the sea is, K. Hen Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under mak'st me sin In envy that my lord Northumberland A son who is the theme of honour's tongue; Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd, coz, Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, Malevolent to you in all aspects;' Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this; Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we [Exeunt. 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 snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing-lay by ; and spent with crying-bring in: now, in as low an ebb a 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 coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used my credit. Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here 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 curb of old SCENE I.-The same. Another room in the father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art palace. Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and king, hang a thief. Falstaff. P. Hen. No; thou shalt. Fal. Shall I? 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. 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 would'st Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I the time of the day? unless hours were cups of can tell you. sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffeta; I see no reason, why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of the day. 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. 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 Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace sweet young prince,-But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou 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. (1) Points. (2) Trim, as birds clean their feathers. (3) Favourites. (4) Stand still. (5) More wine. (6) The dress of sheriffs' officers. 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: and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too. (7) Gib cat, should be lib cat,-a Scotch term at this day for a gelded cat. (8) Croak of a frog. P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it. Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration: and art, thou speakest may move, and what he hears may indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done be believed, that the true prince may (for recreamuch harm upon me, Hal,-God forgive thee for tion sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and of the time want countenance. Farewell: You now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better shall find me in Eastcheap. 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; I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom. P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack? Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an do not, call me villain, and baffle2 me. P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying, to purse-taking. Enter Poins, at a distance. I P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer!" [Exit Falstaf 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 with them in setting forth? Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wheresin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!-in it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. adventure upon the exploit themselves: which O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set hell were hot enough for him? This is the most upon them. omnipotent villain, that ever cried, 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 Good-friday 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 damn'd for keeping thy word with the devil. P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil. 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, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments. 8 P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us. Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morn- at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, ing, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill: There are what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof" pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, of this, lies the jest. and traders riding to London with fat purses: Í P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all have visors for you all, you have horses for your-things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in selves; Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester; I have Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; Poins. Farewell, my lord. we may do it as secure as sleep: If you will go, 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 one? 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, I'll tarry at home. Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. P. Hen. care not. Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go. [Exit Poins. (7) Fine weather at All-hallown-tide (i. e. All Saints, Nov. 1st) is called an All-hallown summer. (8) Occasion. (9) Confutation. (10) Expectations. (11) Dull. |