But is a-weary of thy common sight,

[Prince turns away abashed. Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;

Which now doth what I would not have it do

Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. [King weeps. P. Hen. (R.) I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,

Be more myself.

K. Hen. For all the world,

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
Now, by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the shadow of succession.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas!

Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathing-clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises

Discomfited great Douglas: ta'en him once;
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,

To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,

And shake the peace and safety of our thrown.

And what say you to this: Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against us, and are up. [Prinoe advances.
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?

Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my nearest and dearest enemy?

[Prince turns away.

Thou-that art like enough, through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and curt'sy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.

P. Hen. [Nearer the King.] Do not think so; you shall not find it so:

And heaven forgive them that so much have sway'd
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me?
I will redeem all this on Percy's head;
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son:
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,

And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.
For every honour sitting on his helm,

Would they were multitudes! and on my head
My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the s.ighest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of heaven, I promise here:
The which, if he be pleas'd, I shall perform.
I do beseech your majesty may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of life cancels all bands;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

[Kneels.

K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this:[King rises, goes to the Prince and raises him.. Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein. Enter SIR WALTER BLUNT, L.

How now, good Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed. Blunt. (L.) So hath the business that I come to speak of.

Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word

That Douglas and the English rebels meet,
The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury.

A mighty and a fearful head they are,

If promises be kept on every hand,

As ever offered foul play in a state.

K. Hen. (c.) The Earl of Westmoreland sets forth to-day;

With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement is five days old:

On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set

Forward; on Thursday, we ourselves will march :
Our meeting is Bridgenorth; and, Harry, you

Shall march through Glostershire.

Our hands are full of business; let's away:

Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. [Exeunt, L.

SCENE II.-The Boar's-Head Tavern, in Eastcheap.

́Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH,

R.

Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely, since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am withered like an old apple-John. [Sits c.-Bard. stands on his R.] Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An' I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse. Company, villanous company, hath been the spoil of me.

Bard. (R. C.) Sir Johm, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it :-come, sing me a song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced, not above seven times a-week; went to bordello, not above once in a quarter of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, Sir John. [Fal. rises. Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop-but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.

Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives, that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. When thou ran'st up Gad's Hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wild-fire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have

• Bardolph has an extremely large red nose.

maintained that salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years; heaven reward me for it! [Sits again. Bard. 'Sblood,' I would my face were in your belly! Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heartburned.

Enter HOSTESS, L.

How now, dame Partlet the hen? have you inquired yet who picked my pocket?

Host. [L. of Sir John's chair.] Why, Sir John! what do you think, Sir John? Do you think, I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair; and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: go to, you are a woman, go.

Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.

Fal. Go to; I know you well enough.

Host. No, Sir John; you do not know me, Sir John: I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John: and now you pick a quarrel, to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.

Ful. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have n.ade bolters of them.

Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here, besides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings; and money lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Fal. [Pointing to Bard.] He had his part of it; let him pay.

Host. He! alas, he is poor; he hath nothing.

Fal. How! poor? [Rising.] Look upon his face: what call you rich? Let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks: I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark. Host. O, I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

Fal. How, the Prince is a Jack, a sneak cup; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if ne would say so,

Enter PRINCE OF WALES, L., making signs of marching. FALSTAFF meets him, L. C.

How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i'faith ?—must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.

Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen. What say'st thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man, Host. (L. C.) Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. (c.) 'Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. (c.) What say'st thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night, I fell aleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack?

[Bardolph stands R. Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal ring of my grandfather's.

P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard your grace say so: and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Hen. (L. C.) What! he did not?

Host. (L. C.) There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.

Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. (R. C.) What thing? Why, a thing to thank heaven on.

Host. I am no thing to thank heaven on, Ì would thou shouldst know it; I am an honest man's wife; and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call

me so.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?

Fal. What beast, why an otter.

P. Hen. An otter, Sir John? why an otter?

Fal. Why? she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.