Thy maiden fword.

Lan. But, foft! who have we here?
Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead?
P. Henry. I did; I faw him dead, breathlefs
and bleeding

- Upon the ground.

Art thou alive? or is it fantafy

That plays upon our eye-fight? I pr'ythee, speak;
We will not truft our eyes, without our ears:
Thou art not what thou feem'st.

Fal. No, that's certain; I am not a double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy: [throwing the body down] if your father will do me any honour, fo; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can affure you.

P. Henry. Why, Percy I kill'd myself, and faw

thee dead.

Wales, Lord John of Lancafler, Earl of Weft-
moreland, with Worcester, and Vera, prifoners.
K. Henry. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.
Ill-fpirited Worcester did we not fend grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?
And would'st thou turn our offers contrary?
Mifuse the tenor of thy kinfman's trust?
Three knights upon our party flain to-day,
A noble earl, and many a creature elfe,
Had been alive this hour,

If, like a chriftian, thou hadst truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.

Wor. What I have done, my fafety urg'd me to;
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me. [non too:
K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and Ver-
Other offenders we will pause upon.--

[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guardıd.

How goes the field?

Fal. Didft thou-Lord, lord, how this world [he faw is given to lying!-I grant you, I was down, and P. Henry. The noble Scot, lord Douglas, when -out of breath; and fo was he: but we rofe both The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, at an inftant, and fought a long hour by Shrewf-The noble Percy flain, and all his men bury clock. If I may be believ'd, fo: if not, let them, that fhould reward valour, bear the fin upon their own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh: if the man were alive, and would deny it, I would make him eat a piece of my fword.

Lan. This is the ftrangest tale that e'er I heard.
P. Henry. This is the strangest fellow, brother
John.

Come bring your luggage nobly on your back:
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.

[Aretreat is founded.
The trumpet founds retreat, the day is ours.
Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field,
To fee what friends are living, who are dead.
[Exeunt.
Fal. I'll follow, as they fay, for reward. He
that rewards me, heaven reward him! If 1 do
grow great, I'll grow lefs; for I'll purge, and leave
fack, and live cleanly, as a nobleman should do.
[Exit, bearing off the body.
V.

SCENE

Another part of the Field.

Upon the foot of fear,-fied with the rest;
And, falling from a hill, he was fo bruis'd,
That the purfuers took him. At my tent
The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace,
may difpofe of him.

I

K. Hen. With all my heart.

P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you
This honourable bounty fhall belong:

Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ranfomlefs, and free:
His valour, fhewn upon our crefts to-day,
Hath taught us how to cherifh fuch high deeds,
Even in the bofom of our adverfaries.

K. Hen. Then this remains, that we divide
our power.-

You, fon John, and my coufin Weftmoreland,
Towards York fhall bend you, with your dearest
speed,

To meet Northumberland, and the prelate roop,
Who, as we hear, are bufily in arms :
Myfelf, and you, fon Harry, will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March.
Rebellion in this land fhall lofe his sway,
Meeting the check of fuch another day:
And fince this bufinefs fo fair is done,

The trumpets found. Enter King Henry, Prince of Let us not leave 'till all our own be won. [Exeunt,

SECOND

OF KING HENRY

INDUCTION.

Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues.

OPEN your ears; For which of you will Among my houfhold? Why is Rumour here ?

The tranfactions comprized in this History take up about nine years. The action commences with the account of Hotfpur's being defeated and killed; and cloics with the death of king Henry IV. and the coronation of king Henry V.

Enter Northumbeɣland.

Bard. Here comes the earl.

North. What news, lord Bardolph? Every
minute now

Should be the father of fome ftratagem:
The times are wild; contention, like a horfe
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loofe,
And bears down all before him.

Bard. Noble earl,

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an heaven will!

Bard. As good as heart can with:
The king is almoft wounded to the death;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry flain outright: and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas: young prince John,
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk fir John,
Is prifoner to your fon.: O fuch a day,
So fought, fo follow'd, and fo fairly won,
Came not, 'till now, to dignify the times,
Since Cæfar's fortunes!

North. How is this deriv'd?

Saw you the field: came you from Shrewsbury?
Bard, Ipake with one, my lord, that came
from thence;

A gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely render'd me thefe news for true.
North. Here comes my fervant Travers, whom

I fent

On Tuesday laft to liften after news.

I'll give my barony; never talk of it.
North. Why should the gentleman, that rode
by Travers,

Give then fuch inftances of lofs ?

Bard. Who, he? f

4

He was fome hilding + fellow, that had ftol'n
The horfe he rode on; and, upon my life,

Spoke at adventure. Look, here comes more news.
Enter Morton.

North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf 5,
Foretells the nature of a tragick volume:
So looks the trond, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witnefs'd ufurpation.——

Say, Morton, did't thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mort. I ran from Shrewtbury, my noble lord;
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask,
To fright our party.

North. How doth my fon and brother?
Thou trembleft; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even fuch a man, fo faint, fo fpiritlefs,
So dull, fo dead in look, fo woe-begone 6,
Drew Prian's cuntain in the dead of night,
And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd:
But Priam feand the fire, ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'ît it.
This would'il thou fay,-- Your fon did thus, and thus;
Your brother, thus; fo fought the noble Douglas;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds :
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hart a figh to blow away this praife,

Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; Ending with-brother, fon, and all are dead.

And he is furnish'd with no certainties,
More than he haply may retail from me.

Enter Travers.

North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with you?

Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back
With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd,
Out-rode me. After him, came, fpurring hard,
A gentleman almoft forfpent with fpted,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloody'd horfe:
He atk'd the way to Chefter; and of him
I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me, that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's fpur was cold:
With that, he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, ftruck his armed heels
Against the panting fides of his poor jade 2
Up to the rowel-head; and, ftarting fo,
He feem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.

North. Ha!Again,

Said he, young Harry Percy's fpur was cold
Of Hotspur, coldfpur? that rebellion
Had met ill luck?

Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what ;-
If my young lord your fon have not the day,
Upon mine honour, for a filken point 3

1 To forfend is to wafte, to exhauft.

Mort. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet: But for my lord your fon,

North. Why, he is dead.

See, what a ready tongue fufpicion hath!
He, that but fears the thing he would not know,
Hath, by inftinet, knowledge from other's eyes,
That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet fpeak, Morton;
Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies;
And I will take it as a fweet difgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me fuch wrong.
Mort. You are too great to be by me gainfaid:
Your fpirit is too truc, your fears too certain.

North. Yet, for all this, fay not that Percy's dead.
I fee a frange confeilion in thine eye:
Thou fhak i thy head; and hold'it it fear 7, or fin,
To fpeak a truth. If he be flain, fay fo:
The tongue offends not, that reports his death:
And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead;
Not he, which fays the dead is not alive.
Yet the firft bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a lofing office; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a fullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend.

Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your fon is dead.
Mort. I am forry, I should force you to believe
That. which I would to heaven I had not feen:
But thefe mine eyes faw him in bloody ftate,

2 Jade feems anciently to have fignify'd what we now call

a hackney; a beat employed in drudgery, opposed to a horfe kept for fhow, or to be rid by its 3 A point is a string tagged, or lace, 4 Forbilderling, i, e. bafe, degenerate. 5 Mr. Steevens obferves, that in the time of our poet, the title-page to an elegy, as well as every intermediate leaf,

maiter.

Was totally black. 6 i, e. fo far gone in woe. 7 Fear for danger.

Read'ring

breath'd,

Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-To ftormy paffion, must perforce decay.
You caft the event of war, my noble lord,
And fumm'dthe account of chance, before you faid,-
Let us make head. It was your pre-furmife,
That, in the dole of blows 5 your fon might drop:
You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er :
You were advis'd, his flesh was capable
Of wounds, and fears; and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where moft trade of danger rang'd;
Yet did you fay,-Go forth; and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The ftiff-borne action: What hath then befallen,
Or what hath this bold enterprize brought forth
More than that being which was like to be?

[down
To Harry Monmouth; whofe fwift wrath beat
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more fprung up.
In few, his death (whofe fpirit lent a fire
Even to the dulleft peafant in his camp)
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the beft temper'd courage in his troops:
For from his metal was his party steel'd;
Which once in him abated 2, all the reft
Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed;
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's lofs,
Lend to this weight fuch lightnefs with their fear,
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim,
Than did our foldiers, aiming at their fafety,
Fly from the field: then was that noble Worcester
Toofoon ta'en prifoner: and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring fword]
Had three times flain the appearance of the king,
'Gan vail his ftomach 3, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backs; and, in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The fum of all
Is, that the king hath won; and hath fent out
A fpeedy power, to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster,
And Weftmoreland: this is the news at full.
North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poifon there is phyfick; and these news
Having been well, that would have made me fick,
Being fick, have in fome measure made me well:
And as the wretch, whofe fever-weaken'd joints,
Like Strengthlefs hinges, buckle 4 under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms; even fo my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief,
Are thrice themfelves: hence therefore, thou nice
crutch;

A fcaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel,

Bard. We all, that are engaged to this lofs,
Knew that we ventur'd on fuch dangerous feas,
That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one :
And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd
Choak'd the refpect of likely peril fear'd;
And, fince we are o'er-fet, venture again.
Come,, we will all put forth; body, and goods.
Mort. 'Tis more than time: And, my most
noble lord,

I hear for certain, and do fpeak the truth,-
The gentle archbishop of York is up,
With well appointed powers; he is a man,
Who with a double furety binds his followers,
My lord your fon had only but the corps,
But fhadows, and the fhews of men, to fight:
For that fame word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their fouls;
And they did fight with queatinefs, conftrain'd,
As men drink potions; that their weapons only
Seem'd on our fide, but for their fpirits and fouls,
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,
As fifh are in a pond: But now the bifhop
Turns infurrection to religion :
Suppos'd fincere and holy in his thoughts,
He's follow'd both with body and with mind;
And doth enlarge his rifing with the blood

Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his caufe;
Tells them, he doth beftride a bleeding land,
Gafping for life under great Bolingbroke;
And more and lefs 7 do flock to follow him.
North. I knew of this before; but, to speak

fruth,

Muft glove this hand: and hence, thou fickly quoif; Of fair king Richard, ferap'd from Pomfret stones:
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which princes, flesh'd with conqueft, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron: And approach
The rugged'ft hour that time and spight dare bring,
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland!
Let heaven kifs earth! Now let not nature's hand
Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die!
And let this world no longer be a ftage,
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one fpirit of the firft-born Cain
Reign in all bofoms, that, each heart being fet
On bloody courfes, the rude fcene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead! [my lord:
Bard. This ftrained paffion doth you wrong, Enter Sir John Fulluff, with his page bearing bis
Sweet carl, divorce not wifdom from your honour.
Mort. The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er

This prefent grief had wip'd it from my mind.
Go in with me; and counsel every man
The aptent way for fafety, and revenge:
Get pofts, and letters, and make friends with speed;
Never fo few, and never yet more need. [Exeunt.

SCENE
Aftreet in London.

fword and buckler.

II.

Fal. Sirrah, you giant! what fays the doctor to my water?

2 i. e. reduced to a

Quittance is return. By faint quittance is meant a faint return of blows. lower temper, or, as it is ufually called, let doen. 31. c. began to fall his courage, to let his fpirits fink under his fortune. 4 i. e. bend, yield to preffure. 5 The dole of blows is the difinibution of blows; dele originally fignifying the portion of alms (confifting either of meat or money) given away at the door of a nobleman. That is, ftands over his country to defend her as the lies bleeding on the ground. 7. c. greater and less.

Page

Page. He faid, fir, the water itfelf was a good a horfe in Smithfield: if I could get me but a wife healthy water: but, for the party that owed it, he in the ftews, I were mann'd, hors'd, and wiv’d. might have more difeafes than he knew for.

Fal. Men of all forts take a pride to gird at I me: The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myfelf, but the caufe that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee, like a fow, that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into my fervice for any other reafon than to fet me off, why then I

Enter the Lord Chief Justice 9, and Servants. Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for ftriking him about Bardolph.

Fal. Wait clofe, I will not fee him.
Ch. Juft. What's he that goes there?
Serv. Falstaff, an't please your lordship.
Ch. Juft. He that was in queftion for the rob-

bery?

Lancafter.

Cb. Jufi, What, to York? again.

Call him back

Serv. Sir John Falstaff!
Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf.
Page. You must speak louder, my mafter is

deaf.

Ser. He, my lord: but he hath fince done have no judgement. Thou whorefon 2 mandrake, good fervice at Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is thou art fitter to be worn in my cap, than to wait now going with fome charge to the lord John of at my heels. I was never mann'd 3 with an agate 'till now but I will neither fet you in gold nor filver, but in vile apparel, and fend you back again to your master, for a jewel; the juvenal 4, the prince your mafter, whofe chin is not yet fledg'd. I will fooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his cheek; yet he will not stick to fay, his face is a face-royal. Heaven may finish it when he will, it is not a hair amifs yet he may keep it ftill as a face-royal, for a barber fhall never earn fixpence out of it 5; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever fince his father was a batchelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can affure him.- -What faid mafter Dombledon about the fattin for my fhort cloak, and flops ?

Page. He faid, fir, you should procure him better affurance than Bardolph: he would not take his bond and yours; he lik'd not the fecurity.

7

Fal. Let him be damn'd like the glutton! may his tongue be hotter !-A whorefon Achitophel! a rafcally yea-forfooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, and then ftand upon fecurity!-The whorefon fmooth-pates do now wear nothing but high fhoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is thorough with them in honeft taking up, then they muft ftand upon-security. I had as lief they would put ratfoane in my mouth, as offer to ftop it with fecurity. I look'd he fhould have fent me two-and-twenty yards of fattin, as I am a true knight, and he fends me fecurity. Well, he may fleep in fecurity; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife fhines through it and yet cannot he fee, though he have his own lanthorn to light him.- -Where's Bardolph ?

Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horfe.

Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me

young man.

Ch. Juft. I am fure he is, to the hearing of any thing good.- -Go, pluck him by the elbow; I muft fpeak with him.

Serv. Sir John,

Fal. What! a young knave, and beg! Is there not wars is there not employment Doth not the king lack fubjects? do not the rebels want foldiers? Though it be a fhame to be on any fide but one, it is worfe fhame to beg than to be on the worst fide, were it worfe than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.

Serv. You mistake me, fir.

Fal. Why, fir, did I fay you were an honest man? Setting my knighthood and my foldiership afide, I had lied in my throat if I had faid fo.

Serv, I pray you, fir, then fet your knighthood and your foldiership afide; and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your throat, if you fay I am any other than an honest man.

Fal. I give thee leave to tell me fo! I lay afide that which grows to me! If thou get'it any leave of me, hang me; if thou tak ft leave, thou wert better be hang'd: You hunt-counter 10, hence! avaunt!

Serv. Sir, my lord would speak with you.
Cb. Jul. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you,

Fal. My good lord!-God give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to fee your lordship abroad: I heard fay, your lordship was fick: I hope, your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not clean paft your youth, hath yet fome fmack of age in you, fome relish of the

3 That is, I ne

1 i. e. to gibe. 2 Mandrake is a root fuppofed to have the shape of a man. ver before had an agate for my man. Our author alludes to the little figures cut in agates, and other hard ftones, for feals; and therefore Falstaff fays, I will fet you neither in gold nor filver. 4 i. e. the 5 Mr. Steevens thinks, "this quibbling allufion is to the English real, rial, or royal; and that the poet fecins to mean, that a barber can no more earn fixpence by his face-royal, than by the face ftamped on the coin called a royal; the one requiring as little fhaving as the other." is, to keep a gentleman in expectation. 7 To be thorough feems to be the fame with the prefent phrafe to be in with (in debt) a tradefman. 8 At that time the refort of idle people, cheats, and knights of the post. 9 This judge was Sir William Gafcoigne, chicf justice of the king's-bench, He died December 17, 1413, and was buried in Harwood church, in Yorkshire.

blunderer.

6 That

40 That is,

faltnefs