And none contented: sometimes am I king:
Then, treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am then, crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king:
Then, am I king'd again: and, by and by,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing :-but whate'er I am,
Nor 1, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
With being nothing.-[Music.] Music do I
hear?

Ha, ha! keep time :-how sour sweet music is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To check time broke in a disorder'd string;
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numbering
clock:
[jar
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, [watch,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my
heart,

[groans, Which is the bell; so sighs, and tears, and Show minutes, times, and hours :-but my time Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.

This music mads me; let it sound no more;
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad.
Yet, blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal prince!
K. Rich.
Thanks, noble peer;
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how com'st thou hither,
Where no man never comes, but that sad dog
That brings me food to make misfortune live?
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable,
king,

[York,

When thou wert king; who, travelling towards
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometimes royal master's face.
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets, that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary!
That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,
That horse that I so carefully have dress'd!
K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me,
How went he under him? [gentle friend,
Green. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the
ground.
[his back!

K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on
That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
This hand hath made him proud with clapping
him.

Would he not stumble? Would he not fall
down,
[neck
|(Since pride must have a fall,) and break the
Of that proud man that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And
yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a dish.

Keep. [To the Groom.] Fellow, give place;
here is no longer stay.
[away.
K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert
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.
[Exton, who
Keep. My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of
Lately came from the king, commands the
contrary.
[ter, and thee!
K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancas-
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
[Strikes the Keeper.

Keep. Help, help, help!
Enter Sir Pierce of Exton, and Servants,
armed.

K. Rich. How now! what means death in
this rude assault?
[strument.
Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's in-
[Snatching a weapon and killing one.
Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

[He kills another: then Exton strikes him down.

Scene 1.

At large discoursèd 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 pre-
sent

Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou
hast wrought

A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head, and all this famous land.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did
[need,
I this deed.
Boling. They love not poison that do poison
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 labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour:
With Cain go wander through the shade of
night

And never show thy head by day nor light.
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, [grow:
That blood should sprinkle me to make me
Come, mourn with me for that 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 mournings here,
In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt.

Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal:
The earl of Douglas is discomfited: [news. for we that take purses, go by the moon and
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty the seven stars, and not by Phoebus,-he,
knights,
that wandering knight so fair." And, I
Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter seepr'ythee, sweet wag, when thou art king, -as,
On Holmedon's plains of prisoners, Hot- God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say,
Mordake earl of Fife and eldest son [spur took for grace thou wilt have none,)-

Scene 2.

FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.

P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.

405

Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou Fal. Thou hast the most unsavory similes, art king, let not us, that are squires of the melancholy of Moor-ditch? night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen and art, indeed, the most comparative, rasof the shade, minions of the moon; and let callest,-sweet young prince, but, Hal, I men say, we be men of good government, pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and would to God, thou and I knew where a comold lord of the council rated me the other day chaste mistress the moon, under whose coun-modity of good names were to be bought. An in the street about you, sir; but I marked him tenance we steal. not; and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not; and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.

holds P. Hen. Thou sayest well, and 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 snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing-"lay by ;" and spent with now in as low an ebb as crying-"bring in: 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 sayest true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad And is not a buff jerkin a most of the castle.

P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and out in the streets, and no man regards it. art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,-God forgive nothing; and now am I, if a man should thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain: I'll I must give over this life, and I will give it over; be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to

sweet robe of durance?
Fal. How now, how now, mad wag! what,morrow, Jack?
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. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do not, call me villain, and baffle me. P. Hen. I see a good amendinent of life in thee; from praying to purse-taking.

Enter Poins, at a distance.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal! 'tis Poins!-Now shall we know if Gadshill have no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for set a watch.-O, if men were to be saved by Stand!" to a true man. him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried

What

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned. Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John here apparent that thou art heir apparent, but, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gal-Sack-and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil lows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed, as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antick, the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. 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. Well, Hal, well and in some sort it
jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in
the court, I can tell you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?
Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the
'Sblood, I
hangman hath no lean wardrobe.
am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged
bear

P. Hen. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.

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 devil his due. yet a breaker of proverbs,-he will give the

Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping P. Hen. Else he had been damned for thy word with the devil. cozening the devil.

Poins. But my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill ! There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses: I have visors for you all: have bespoke supper to-night in Rochester: you have horses for yourselves: Gadshill lies Ito-morrow night in Eastcheap: we may do it

as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home and be hanged.

Fal. Hear ye, 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? [my faith. P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by 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. [madcap. P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days I'll be a Fal. Why, that's well said. [home. P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor, then, when thou art king.

P. Hen. I 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.

ties he endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.

P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap; there I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit.

P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while
uphold

The unyok'd humour of your idleness:
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wish'd for

come,

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of per- So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, suasion, and him the ears of profiting, that And pay the debt I never promised, what thou speakest may move, and what he By how much better than my word I am, hears may be believed, that the true prince may By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; (for recreation sake) prove a false thief: for And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, the poor abuses of the time want countenance. My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, Farewell you shall find me in Eastcheap. Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Fare-Than that which hath no foil to set it off. well, All-hallown summer! I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; Redeeming time, when men think least I will. [Exit.

Palace.

[Exit Falstaff. Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow: I have a jest to exe- SCENE III.-London. Another Room in the cute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Wor and I will not be there; and when they have cester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others. the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and this head from my shoulders. Unapt to stir at these indignities, [temperate, And you have found me; for, accordingly, You tread upon my patience: but, be sure, I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition; Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young And therefore lost that title of respect, [down, Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. [deserves

P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in setting forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail! and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.

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.

Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little The scourge of greatness to be used on it; And that same greatness, too, which our own Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord,

[hands [see

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 K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I do have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask Danger and disobedience in thine eye: [tory, our noted outward garments. [for us. O, sir, your presence is too bold and pérempP. Hen. But I doubt they will be too hard And majesty might never yet endure Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them The moody frontier of a servant brow. [need to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned You have good leave to leave us; when we back; and for the third, if he fight longer than Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue [Exit Worcester. of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies [To North.] You were about to speak. that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we North. Yea, my good lord, meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought Those prisoners in your highness name dewith; what wards, what blows, what extremimanded,

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