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Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.

O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!

When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,

Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!

P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears,


The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke
Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard
The course of it so far. There is your crown;
And He that wears the crown immortally
Long guard it yours! If I affect it more
Than as your honour and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise,—
Which my most inward and true duteous spirit
Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending!
God witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your majesty,
How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die,

And never live to show the incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed!
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,-
And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,-
I spake unto the crown as having sense,

And thus upbraided it: The care on thee depending
Hath fed upon the body of my father;

Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold:
Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,

Preserving life in medicine potable;

But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege,
Accusing it, I put it on my head,

my father,

To try with it,-as with an enemy
That had before my face murder'd
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride;
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine

Did with the least affection of a welcome
Give entertainment to the might of it,
Let God for ever keep it from my head,
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!

K. Hen. O my son,

God put it in thy mind to take it hence,

That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it!

Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,
By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown; and I myself know well
How troublesome it sat upon my head:
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation;
For all the soil of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me

But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand;
And I had many living to upbraid

My gain of it by their assistances;

Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears
Thou see'st with peril I have answered;
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument: and now my death
Changes the mode; for what in me was purchas'd,
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;

So thou the garland wear'st successively.

Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;

And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends,
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;

By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displac'd: which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now

To lead out many to the Holy Land,

Lest rest and lying still might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course to busy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God forgive;
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. Hen. My gracious liege,

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
Then plain and right must my possession be:

Which I with more than with a common pain 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.

Lords, and others.

P. John. Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father!

K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son


But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight,
My worldly business makes a period.-

Where is my Lord of Warwick?

P. Hen.
My Lord of Warwick!
K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
War. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.

K. Hen. Laud be to God !-even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years,

I should not die but in Jerusalem;
Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land:-
But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.




Shal. By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night.
-What, Davy, I say!

Fal. You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.

Shal. I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused.—Why, Davy!

Davy. Here, sir.

Enter DAVY.

Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy,-let me see, Davy; let me see:-yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither.Sir John, you shall not be excused.

Davy. Marry, sir, thus;-those precepts cannot be served: and, again, sir,-shall we sow the headland with wheat?

Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook:are there no young pigeons?

Davy. Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and plough-irons.

Shal. Let it be cast, and paid.-Sir John, you shall not be excused.

Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had:-and, sir, do you mean to stop any of William's wages about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair?

Shal. He shall answer it.-Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook.

Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?

Shal. Yea, Davy, I will use him well: a friend i' the court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy; for they are arrant knaves, and will back bite.

Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten, sir; for they have marvellous foul linen.

Shal. Well conceited, Davy:—about thy business, Davy. Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes of the hill.

Shal. There are many complaints, Davy, against that Visor: that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.

Davy. I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, I beseech your worship, let him be countenanced.

Shal. Go to; I say, he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy. [Exit DAVY.] Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off with your boots.-Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.

Bard. I am glad to see your worship.

Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph:—and welcome, my tall fellow [to the Page].—Come, Sir John.

Fal. I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. [Exit SHALLOW.] Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page.] If I were sawed into quantities, I should


2 c

make four dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his: they, by observing of him, do bear themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like servingman: their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society that they flock together in consent, like so many wild geese. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master: if to his men, I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another: therefore, let men take heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions,—which is four terms, or two actions, and he shall laugh without intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight oath, and a jest with a sad brow, will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up!

Shal. [within.] Sir John!

Fal. I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow.



A Room in the Palace.

Enter, severally, WARWICK and the Lord Chief-Justice.
War. How now, my lord chief-justice! whither away?
Ch. Just. How doth the king?

War. Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended.
Ch. Just. I hope, not dead.


He's walk'd the way of nature;

And to our purposes he lives no more.

Ch. Just. I would his majesty had call'd me with him: The service that I truly did his life

Hath left me open to all injuries.

War. Indeed I think the young king loves you not.
Ch. Just. I know he doth not; and do arm myself

To welcome the condition of the time;

Which cannot look more hideously upon me

Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.

War. Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry:

O that the living Harry had the temper

Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen!

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