Weft. My Liege, this hafte was hot in queftion,
* And many limits of the Charge set down
But yefternight: when, all athwart, there came
A Poft from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against th' irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Wellbman taken;
A thousand of his people butchered,

Upon whofe dead corps there was fuch mifufe,
Such beaftly, fhameless transformation,
By thofe Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much fhame, re-told or spoken of.

K. Henry. It feems then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our bufinefs for the holy Land.

[lord; Weft. This, matcht with other, did, my gracious

For more uneven and unwelcome news

Came from the North, and thus it did import.
On holy-rood day, the gallant Hot-fpur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon spent a fad and bloody hour:
As by discharge of their artillery,

And shape of likelihood, the news was told
For he, that brought it, in the very heat
And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Uncertain of the iffue any way.

4 And many limits-] Limits for eftimates.

5 This, matcht with other like, my gracious Lord,

Far more uneven and unwelcome news] Far more, the Oxford Editor alters to Farther; because this other news is matcht with the former, and yet faid to be Far more uneven: As if two uneven things could not be matcht together! But, to difpatch this emendation from whence it came, we must obferve the old books (which our Editor appears never once to have look'd into, as trusting all to his own fagacity) read the firft line thus,

This, matcht with other, did, my gracious lord: i. e. did break off the business of the holy land. And this is right.

K. Henry. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horfe,
Stain'd with the variation of each foil

Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours:
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
The Earl of Dowglas is discomfited ;

Ten thousand bold Scots, three and twenty Knights,
Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter fee

On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners, Hot-fpur took
Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest fon

To beaten Douglas, and the Earls of Athol,
Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith.

And is not this an honourable spoil?

A gallant prize? ha, coufin, is it not?

Weft. In faith, a conquest for a Prince to boast of. K. Henry. Yea, there thou mak'ft me fad, and mak'ft me fin

In Envy, that my lord Northumberland

Should be the father of fo bleft a fon :

A fon, who is the theam of Honour's tongue :
Amongst a grove, the very ftreightest plant;
Who is fweet Fortune's Minion, and her Pride:
Whilft I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and difhonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O could it be prov'd,
That fome night-tripping Fairy had exchang'd,
In cradle-cloaths, our children where they lay,
And call mine Percy, his Plantagenet;

Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. [Coufin,
But let him from my thoughts.-
What think you,

Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath furpriz❜d,
To his own ufe he keeps, and fends me word,
I fhall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.
Weft. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspects;

'Which makes him plume himself, and bristle up The Creft of youth against your Dignity.

K. Henry. But I have fent for him to answer this;
And for this cause a while we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerufalem.

Coufin, on Wednesday next our Council we
Will hold at Windfor, fo inform the lords:
But come your felf with speed to us again;
For more is to be faid, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
Weft. I will, my Liege.

SCENE II.

An Apartment of the Prince's.

[Exeunt.

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falstaff.

Fal.

JOW, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

N°

P. Henry. Thou art fo fat-witted with drinking old fack, and unbuttoning thee after fupper, and fleeping upon benches in the afternoon, that thou haft forgotten to demand That truly, which thou would't truly know. What What a devil haft thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of fack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the figns of leaping-houses, and the bleffed Sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata; I fee no reason why thou should't be fo fuperfluous, to demand the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal. For we, that take purfes, go by the moon and seven stars, and not by Phabus, 7 he, that wandring knight so fair. And I pray thee, fweet wag, when thou art King

6 Which makes him PRUNE himself,-] Doubtlefs Shakespear Wrote PLUME. And to this the Oxford Editor gives his fiat. 7 be, that wandering] Line of an old ballad.

as God fave thy Grace, (Majesty, I fhould fay; for grace thou wilt have none.)

P. Henry. What! none?

Fal. No, by my troth, not fo much as will ferve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

P. Henry. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly-Fal. Marry, then, fweet wag, when thou art King, let not us that are fquires of the night's body, be call'd thieves of the day's booty. Let us be Diana's forefters, gentlemen of the fhade, minions of the Moon; and let men fay, we be men of good government, being governed as the Sea is, by our noble and chaft miftrefs the Moon, under whose countenance we

fteal.

P. Henry. Thou fay'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 govern'd as the Sea is, by the Moon. As for proof, now: a purfe of gold moft refolutely fnatch'd on Monday night, and moft diffolutely spent on Tuesday morning; 8 got with fwearing, lay by; and fpent with crying, bring in: now in as low an ebb as 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 fay'ft true, lad: and is not mine Hoftefs of the tavern a moft sweet wench? P. Henry. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of

9

the

got with fwearing, lay by ;] i. e. fwearing at the paffengers they robbed, lay by your arms; or rather, lay by was a phrafe that then fignified ftand fill, addreffed to those who were preparing to rush forward. But the Oxford Editor kindly accommcdates thefe old, thieves with a new cant phrafe, taken from Baghot-Heath or Finchly-Common, of LUG OUT

9 my old lad of the cafile] This alludes to the name ShakeSpear firit gave to this buffoon character, which was Sir John Oldcastle: And when he changed the name, he forgot to strike out this expreffion that alluded to it. The reafon of the change was this, one Sir John Oldcastle having fuffered in the time of Henry V. for the opinions of Wickliffe, it gave offence; and therefore the Poet altered it to Falfiaff, and endeavours to remove the scandal,

the caftle; and is not a buff-jerkin a moft 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. Henry. Why, what a pox have I to do with my Hoftefs of the tavern?

Fal. Well, thou haft call'd her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

P. Henry. Did I ever call thee to pay thy part? Fal. No, I'll give thee thy due, thou haft paid all there.

P. Henry. Yea and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and where it would not, I have us'd' my crèdit.

Fal. Yea, and fo us'd it, that were it not here apBut, I pr'yparent, that thou art heir apparent thee, fweet wag, fhall there be Gallows ftanding in England, when thou art King? and refolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rufty curb of old father antick, the law? Do not thou, when thou art a King, hang a thief.

P. Henry. No: thou fhalt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

in the Epilogue to the fecond part of Henry IV. Fuller takes notice of this matter in his Church-Hiftory,- -Stage-Poets have themselves been very bold with, and others very merry at, the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, whom they have fancied a boon companion, a jovial royfter, and a coward to boot. The best is, Sir John Falstaff hath relieved the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, and of late is fubftituted buffoon in his place. Book 4. p. 168. But, to be candid, I believe there was no malice in the matter. Shakespear wanted a droll name to his character, and never confidered whom it belonged to, we have a like instance in the Merry Wives of Windfor, where he calls his French Quack, Caius, a name, at that time, very refpectable, as belonging to an eminent and learned phyfician, one of the founders of Caius College in Cambridge.

H4

P. Henry.