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K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow


Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. War. Less noise, less noise.



West. Health to my sovereign! and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver! Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand : Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, Are brought to the correction of your law; There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed, But peace puts forth her olive every where, The manner how this action hath been borne, Here at more leisure may your highness read; With every course, in his particular.

K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,

Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day. Look! here's more news.

Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of! The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph, With a great power of English, and of Scots, Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: The manner and true order of the fight, This packet, please it you, contains at large.

K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news make me sick?

Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food,·
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach, such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news;
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy: ·
O me! come near me, now I am much ill. [Swoons.
P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty !
O my royal father!
West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look


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War. Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits Are with his highness very ordinary. Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well. Cla. No, no; he cannot long hold out these

pangs; The incessant care and labour of his mind Hath wrought the mure, that should confine it in, So thin, that life looks through, and will break out. P. Humph. The people fear me; for they do observe

Jnfather'd heirs, and loathly birds of nature:
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd then


Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between : And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, Say, it did so, a little time before

That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end. K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me


Into some other chamber: softly, pray.

[They convey the KING into an inner part of the room, and place him on a bed. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper musick to my weary spirit.

War. Call for the musick in the other room.

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P. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the king. [Exeunt all but P. HENRY. Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? O polish'd perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night! — sleep with it now! Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound, Snores out the watch of night. O majesty! When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : Did he suspire, that light and weightless down Perforce must move. – My gracious lord! my fa

ther! This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep, That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd So many English kings. Thy due, from me, Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood; Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously: My due, from thee, is this imperial crown; Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,


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P. Humph. He came not through the chamber |
where we stay'd.
K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from
my pillow?

To stab at half an hour of my life.
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself;
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,

War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse,
Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head:
Only compound me with forgotten dust;
Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms.
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;
For now a time is come to mock at form,
Harry the fifth is crown'd: - Up, vanity'
Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!
And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness!

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum'
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit

K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence : — seek him out.


Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose

My sleep my death?

Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.

This part of his conjoins with my disease,
And helps to end me. — See, sons, what things you

How quickly nature falls into revolt,
When gold becomes her object!

For this the foolish over-careful fathers

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?

with care,

Their bones with industry,

For this they have engrossed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises:
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets;

Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England shall double gild his treble gilt:
England shall give him office, honour, might:
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
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!

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with

P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my
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 true and inward duteous spirit
Teacheth,) this prostrate and exterior bending!
Heaven 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 med'cine 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;

To try with it, as with an enemy,

That had before my face murder'd my father,
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


We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield his engrossments to the ending father.

Re-enter WARWICK.

Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?

War. My lord, I found the prince in the next

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Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the


Lo, where he comes, Come hither to
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

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Lords, &c.

P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that


I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and, at my death,
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:

Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,

K. Hen. O my son !
Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence,
That thou might'st 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. Heaven 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 thy friends, which thou must make thy

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,



Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and Page. Shal. By cock and pye, 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!


Enter DAVY. Davy. Here, sir.

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 head-land 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: shall not be excused. Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must

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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 cominon pain,
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.


Glostershire. A Hall in Shallow's | needs be had:

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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.


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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 sir John, you 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,

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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, 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. [Erit SHALLOW.

Fal. I'll follow you, good master Robert Shallow. Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page.] If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded hermit's-staves as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing, to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his : They, by observing him, do bear themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man; 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. [Erit FALSTAFF.

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Led by the impartial conduct of my soul;
And never shall you see, that I will beg
A ragged and forestall'd remission.
If truth and upright innocency fail me,
I'll to the king my master that is dead,
And tell him who hath sent me after him.
War. Here comes the prince.


Ch. Just. Good morrow; and heaven save your majesty !

King. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, Sits not so easy on me as you think. Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear; This is the English, not the Turkish court; Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,

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But Harry Harry: Yet be sad, good brothers,
For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you;
Sorrow so royally in you appears,
That I will deeply put the fashion on,
And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad:
But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
Than a joint burden laid upon us all.
For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd,
I'll be your father and your brother too;
Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares.
Yet weep, that Harry's dead; and so will I;
But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears,
By number, into hours of happiness.

P. John, &c. We hope no cther from your majesty.
King. You all look strangely on me : —
- and you
I think, assur'd I love you not.

You are,
Ch. Just. I am assur'd, if I be measur'd rightly,
Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
King. No!

How might a prince of my great hopes forget
So great indignities you laid upon me?
What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
The immediate heir of England! Was this easy?
May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?

Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your father;
The image of his power lay then in me:
And, in the administration of his law,

Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
Your highness pleased to forget my place,
The majesty and power of law and justice,
The image of the king whom I presented,
And struck me in my very seat of judgment;
Whereon, as an offender to your father,
I gave bold way to my authority,
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a son set your decrees at nought;
To pluck down justice from your awful bench;
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword
That guards the peace and safety of your person:
Nay, more; to spurn at your inost royal image,
And mock your workings in a second body.
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours;
Be now the father, and propose a son :
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd,
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
Behold yourself so by a son disdained;
And then imagine me taking your part,
And, in your power, soft silencing your son:
After this cold considerance, sentence me;
And, as you are a king, speak in your state,
What I have done, that misbecame my place,
My person, or my liege's sovereignty.

King. You are right, justice, and you weigh this well;

Therefore still bear the balance, and the sword :
And I do wish your honours may increase,
Till you do live to see a son of mine
Offend you, and obey you, as I did.
So snai I live to speak my father's words; -
Happy am I, that have a man so bold,
That dares do justice on my proper son :
Ana not less happy, having such a son,
That would deliver up his greatness so
Into the hands of justice. You did commit me :
For which, I do commit into your hand

The unstained sword that you have us'd to bear;

With this remembrance, That you use the same
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit,
As you have done 'gainst me There is my hand;
You shall be as a father to my youth:

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My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear;
And I will stoop and humble my intents
Το your well practis'd, wise directions.
And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you;
My father is gone wild into his grave,
For in his tomb lie my affections;
And with his spirit sadly I survive,
To mock the expectation of the world;
To frustrate prophecies; and to raze out
Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
After my seeming. The tide of blood in me
Hath proudly flow'd in vanity, till now:
Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea;
Where it shall mingle with the state of floods,
And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
Now call we our high court of parliament:
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,
That the great body of our state may go
In equal rank with the best govern'd nation.
That war, or peace, or both at once, may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us;
In which you, father, shall have foremost band.

Our coronation done, we will accite,
As I before remember'd, all our state
And (God consigning to my good intents,)

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Shall. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, sir John : — marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread, Davy; Well said, Davy.

Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man, and your husbandman.

Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, sir John. By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper: Now A good varlet. sit down, now sit down: come, cousin. Sil. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a-we shall

Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, [Singing.
And praise heaven for the merry year;
When flesh is cheap and females dear,
And lusty lads roam here and there,
So merrily,

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And ever among so merrily. Fal. There's a merry heart! Good master Silence, I'll give you a health for that anon. Shal. Give master Bardolph some wine, Davy. Davy. Sweet sir, sit; [seating BARDOLPH and the Page at another table.] I'll be with you anon :— most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit: proface! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink. But you must bear ; The heart's all. [Exit.

Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph ; little soldier there, be merry.

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- and my

Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife's as all; [Singing. For women are shrews, both short and tall; 'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,

And welcome merry skrove-tide.

Be merry, be merry, &c.

Fal. I did not think, master Silence had been a man of this mettle.

Sil. Who I? I have been merry twice and once,

ere now.

Re-enter DAVY.

Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats for you. [Setting them before BARDOLPH.

Shal. Davy,
Davy. Your worship?-I'll be with you straight.
To BARD.] A cup of wine, sir?

Sil. A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine,
And drink unto the leman mine;


And a merry heart lives long-a. Fal. Well said, master Silence.

Sil. And we shall be merry; -now comes in the sweet of the night.

Fai. Health and long life to you, master Silence.
Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come;
I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.

Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome: If thou wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief; [to the Page.] and


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