EXTENT OF THE IMPRESSION.
The impression of the present edition of Shakespeare has been strictly limited to One Hundred and Fifty copies, great care being taken that not a single perfect copy of the loork shall be made up out of the waste sheets, which are the very few printed in excess to take the place of any that may be soiled or damaged. The only object in adhering so strictly to the limit is to protect, to their fullest extent, the interests of the original subscribers to the work, not from any views of exclusiveness.
Every copy of each of the first nine volumes of this work is certified as to the extent of the impression, and a number assigned and entered in every copy.
The paper on which this work is printed is of the best and most durable quality, manufactured by Messrs. Dickinson and Co.
✓
THE WORKS
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,
THE TEXT FORMED FIIOM TO WrilCH ARE ADDED ALL
THE ORIGINAL NOVELS AND TALES ON WHICH THE PLAYS ARE FOUNDED; COPIOUS ARCHAEOLOGICAL ANNOTATIONS ON EACH PLAY; AN ESSAY ON THE FORMATION OF THE TEXT; AND A LIFE OF THE POET:
BY
JAMES 0. HALLIWELL, ESQ., F.R.S.
HO.NOKAKV MEMBER OK THE ROVAL IRISH ACADKMV; THE ROYAL SOCIETY OP LTTERATURE ; THE NEWCASTLE ANTICJUAEtAN SOCIETY; THE ASHMOLEAN SOCIETY, AND THE SOCIETY lOR THE STUDY OF GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE; FELLOW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES ; AND CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETIES OF SCOTLAND, POICTIERS, PICARDIE, AND CAEN (ACADEMIEDES SCIENCES), AND OF THE COMITE DKSAEISET MONUMENTS.
VOLUME X.
THE SECOND PART OF HENRY THE FOURTH. KING HENRY THE FIFTH.
THE ILLUSTRATIONS AND WOOD-ENGRAVINGS BV
FREDERICK WILLIAM EAIRHOLT, ESQ., F.S.A.
AUTHOR OF 'COSTUME IN ENGLAND,' ETC.
LONDON :
PRINTED rOR THE EDITOR, BY J. E. ADLARD, BARTHOLOMEW CLOSE.
ISGl.
gistrtbutian of Copies.
HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF PRUSSIA.
S. A. R. LE DUG D'AUMALE, Orleans House, Twickenham.
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH AND QUEENSI5UUV, K.G.
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE.
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.
THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF FALMOUTH.
THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF WARWICK.
THE RIGHT HON. LORD FARNHAM, K.P.
THE RIGHT HON. LORD LONDESBOROUGH.
HIS EXCELLENCY M. SILVAIN VAN DE WEYER.
SIR JOHN T. L. BETHUNE, Bart., KiLCONauHAR, Fife.
SIR HARFORD JONES BRYDGES, Bart.. F.L.S.
SIR WILLIAM JARDINE, Bart., F.R.S.E., F.L.S.
SIR FITZROY KELLY, M.P.
THE HON. EDWARD CECIL CURZON, Whitehai.i,. R. S. HOLFORD, Esa., M.P. RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES, Esq., M.P. THE BARON ROTHSCHILD, M.P.
A. SMOLLETT, Esa., M.P., Cameron House, Dunbarton.shire. JAMES PILKINGTON, Esq., M.P., Park Place, Blackburn. THE LIBRARY OF THE IMPERIAL COURT OF AUSTRIA. WILLIAM ATKINSON, Esq., Ashton Hayes, Cheshire. THE LIBRARY OF THE ATHEN.EUM CLUB, London. THE LIBRARY OF ST. JOHN S COLLEGE, Cambridge. THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES of London. THE LIBRARY OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW.
M. OCTAVE DELEPIERRE, Secretaire de Legation de S. .M. le Roi des Belgls. THE PUBLIC LIBRARY, Plymouth.
MRS. SEBASTIAN BAZLEY, Agden Hall, Lymm, Warrington.
HENRY STEVENS, Esq., F.S A., Morley's Hotel, London.
CLEMENT TUDWAY SWANSTON, Esq., Q.C, F.R.S., F.S.A.
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, Cambridge.
JOHN C. NICHOLL, Esq., 33, Belgrave Square.
DR. COGSWELL, for the Astor Library, New York.
THE REV. ARCHIBALD WEIR, B.A., Trinity College, Oxford.
ROBERT L.\NG. Esq., Bristol.
H. T. D. B.Vl'HURST, Esq., Audit Office, Somerset House.
FREDERIC OUVRY, Esq., F.S.A., 29. Upper Gower Street.
HENRY HUCKS GIBBS. Esq., St. Dunstan's, Regent's Park.
THE REV. DR. HAWTREY, Provost of Eton College.
J. G. AVOODHOUSE, Esq., 47, Henry Street, Liverpool.
D. D. HOPKYNS, Esq., W^eycliffe, St. Catharine's, Guildford.
CHARLES WALTON, Esq., Manor House, East Acton.
GEORGE LIVERMORE, Esq., Boston, U.S.
CHARLES COBDEN, Esq., George Street, Manchester.
WILLIAM JAMES CLEMENT, Esq., The Council House, Shrewsbury.
THE REV. WILLIAM BORLASE, M.A., Vicar of Zennor, near St. Ives. Cornwall.
THOMAS TURPIN, Esq., Rose Hill Lodge, Brighton.
MORTIMER HARRIS, Esq., Dublin.
JA.MES MACKENZIE, Esq., Doune Terrace, Edinburgh.
DISTRIBTTTION OF
COPIES.
T. CHAPMAN BROWNE, Bookseller, Bible and Crown, Leicester.
DR. BUCHANAN WASHBOURN, Gloucester.
THOMAS FARMER COOKE, Esa., Bblgrave, Leicester.
THE LONDON INSTITUTION, Finsbury Circus.
WILLIAM BALFOUR BAIKIE, M.D., Gosport.
THE HULL SUBSCRIPTION LIBRARY.
GEORGE GILL MOUNSEY, Esq., Castletown, near Carlisle. DAVID WILLIAMS WIRE, Esq.
ALFRED GEORGE, Esq., 15, Arlington Street, Piccadilly. THOMAS SHEDDEN, Esq., Glasgow. DR. BELL FLETCHER, Birmingham.
JAMES PARKER, Esq., Great Baddow House, near Chelmsford. WILLIAM HENKY BROWN, Esq., Chester.
JOSEPH BARNARD D.AVIS, Esq., M.R.C.S. Engl., F.S.A., Shelton, Stai korushikh. THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, St. Andrews, N.B.
PLOWDEN C. J. WESTON, Esq., Hagley House, South Carolina, U.S.
THE FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY, Liverpool.
THE REV. C. J. CRAWFORD. D.D., Woodmansterne, Surrey.
W. P. HUNT, Esq., Ipswich.
JOHN WESTON, Esq., Northwich.
ROBERT M'CONNELL, Esq., Aigburth, near Liverpool. JOHN KELSO REID, Esq., New Orleans.
F. W. FAIRHOLT, Esq., F.S.A., 11, Montpelier Square, Brompton. ROBERT P. RAYNE, Esq , New Orleans, U.S. THE NEWARK STOCK LIBRARY, Newark-on-Trent. THE LIBRARY OF THE HON. SOC. OF LINCOLN'S INN. CHARLES GIBBS, Esq., 2nd Queen's Royal Regiment. BENJAMIN GODFREY WINDUS, Esq., Tottenham Green. JOHN MATHER, Esq., Mount Pleasant, Liverpool. MRS. BAILEY, Easton Court, Tenbury.
WILLIAM M. MACDONALD, Esq., Rossie Castle, Montrose. SAMUEL A. PHILBRICK, Esq., Colchester. HENRY WILLIAM PEEK, Esq., Wimbledon House, Surrey. ZELOTES HOSMER, Esq., Boston, U.S.
JOHN STAUNTON, Esq., Longbridge House, near Warwick. WILLIAM EUING, Esq., Glasgow.
WILLIAM HARRISON, Esq., F.G.S., Galligreaves House, Blackui un. THOMAS COOMBS, Esq., South Street, Dorchester. THE LIBRARY OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM.
HARMAN GRISEWOOD, Esq.. Daylesford House, co. Worcksti ii.
THE CITY OF LONDON LIBRARY, Guildhall.
THE LIBRARY OF THE ROYAL DUBLIN SOCIETY, Dublin.
MRS. ALLSOPP, M'illington, near Burton-on-Trent.
JOHN B. JELL, Esq., Bank of England, Liverpool.
SAMUEL TIMMINS, Esq., Birmingham.
WILLIAM LEAF, Esq., Park Hill, Streatham, Surrey.
DK. RALPH FLETCHER, Gloucester.
T. S. GODFREY, Junior, Esq., Balderton Hall, Notts.
(iEORGE WASHINGTON RIGGS, Esq., Washington, U.S.
ROBERT LENOX KENNEDY, Esq., New York.
THOMAS P. BARTON, Esq., Duchess County, New York.
WILLIAM D. GRIFFITHS, Esq., 15, St. Mary Axe.
WILLIAM B. ASTOR, Esq., New York.
JOHN HAES, Esq, Park Road, Stockwell.
PROFESSOR JOHN B. HOEGEL, Vienna.
MESSRS. ASHER & Co., Berlin.
S. LEIGH SOTHEBY, Esq., The M^oodlands, Norwood. WILLIAM H. RIGGS, Esq., New York. WILLIAM TYSSEN AMHURST, Esq., Didlington Park. EDWIN FORREST, Esq., New York.
ITist 0f ^hitts.
1. Portrait of King Henry the Fifth, from a contemporary illuminated Manuscript ..... Frontispiece
2. Facsimiles of the Title-page and first leaf from the first edition of
the Second Part of Henry the Fourth, published in 1600 . . 21
3. Facsimile of a Page of Henry the Fourth, from the Bering' Manuscript, being the earliest written copy of any of Shakespeare's plays known to exist . . . . . . 64
4. The Ballad of the Noble Acts of King Arthur, copied from the original black-letter broadside preserved in the Bagford Collection . . 74
5. The Knights of the Bound Table, from an illuminated Manuscript
• preserved in the Imperial Library at Paris . . . 147
6. Facsimile of the Title-pages of the two earliest known Editions of
the Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth .... 242
7. Facsimile of the Entries respecting Shakespeare's Plays from the original Registers preserved amongst the Becords of the Stationers' Company 280
8. Facsimiles of the Title-page and first leaf of the earliest edition of Henry the Fifth . . . . . .290
Cljf ^tcn)5 J art
X.
1
INTRODUCTION.
The historical portion of the Second Part of Henry the Fourth is chiefly founded upon the narrative of that king's reign which is given in Hohnshed's Chronicle, 1587 ; but slender hints for a few scenes of the play may be traced in an older drama, of little merit, entered on the registers of the Stationers' Company on May 14th, 1594, to Thomas Creede, as " a booke intituled the Famous Victories of Henry e the Fyft, conteyninge the honorable battell of Agincourt." This produc- tion was certainly written before 1588, the year of Tarlton's death, the part of the Clown, one of the characters in it, having been undertaken by that celebrated actor. The same drama is supposed to be alluded to by Nash, in his Pierce Penilesse his Supplication to the Divell, 1592, wherein he exclaims, — " What a glorious thing it is to have Henry the Fifth represented on the stage, leading the French King prisoner, and forcing him and the Dolphin to sweare fealtie." No printed edition of this play, however, is now known before one which appeared in the year 1598, the copyright then, as in 1594, belonging to Thomas Creede. It was republished in 1617, under the title of, " The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, containing the Honourable Battell of Agincourt, as it was acted by the Kinges Maiesties Seruants," the last assertion being probably untrue, and inserted with the view of deceiving the public by pretending that it was acted by Shakespeare's company, and hence leading them to believe that it was the production of the great dramatist. The imprint of this edition varies considerably in different copies.
4 KING HENEY THE EOUETH. [introd.
Some are stated to be, " imprinted by Barnard Alsop, and are to be sold by Tymothie Barlow at his shop in Paules Churchyard at the Signe of the Bull-head, 1617," while others are merely said to be imprinted by Barnard Alsop dwelling in Garter-place in Barbican, 1617 and copies with either of these imprints are occasionally found undated. Upon this play Shakespeare constructed some of the incidents which are introduced into the two parts of Henry the Fourth and Henry tlie Fifth, and, to a small extent, this circumstance has operated disadvantageously, the poet's recollection of the older drama having occasionally interfered with the free exercise of his own invention, or with a truthful use of the historical materials of Holinshed. The principal incidents adopted from this drama in the Second Part of Henry the Fourth are the taking away the crown by the Prince before the death of Henry, and the banishment of the boon companions of the former to a distance of ten miles from the Court. There is no allusion in the old play to the intestine disturbances which form the groundwork of the historical portion of Shakespeare's comedy. The scene in which the Prince strikes the Chief Justice, and is committed by him to the Fleet, is wisely omitted by Shakespeare, who merely intro- duces casual allusions to that incident, remembering, however, the old play, when he reinstates the judge in his office, he being appointed '* protector" in that drama, and no authority for either circumstance being traced in history. The following extract from the Famous Victories will suffice to show the slight nature of Shakespeare's obligations to that play, in which, it is scarcely necessary to observe, the characters are those of Shakespeare only in name, —
Ned. But whether are yee going now ?
ILenry 5. To the courte, for I heare say, my father lyes verie sicke. Tom. But I doubt he will not die.
Henry 5. Yet will I gee thither, for the breath shall be no sooner out of his mouth, but I will clap the crowne on my head.
Jochey. Will you goe to the court with that cloake so full of needles ?
Henry 5. Cloake, ilat-hoales, needles, and all was of mine owne devising ; and, therefore, I will weare it.
Tom. I pray you, my Lord, what my bee the meaning thereof?
Henry 5. Why, man, tis a signe that I stand uppon thorues, till the crowne be on ray head.
JocJcey. Or tliat every needle might be a pricke to theyr hearts that repine at your doings.
Henry 5. Thou sayst true, Jockey, but theres some will say, the young Prince will bee a well-toward young-man, and all this geare, that I had as leeve they
INTEOD.]
KING IIENHY THE EOURTH.
5
would breake my head with a pot, as to say any such thing ; but wee stand prating here too long. I must needes speake with my father; tlierefore, come away.
Porter. What a rapping keepe you at the Kings courte gate ?
Henry 5. Heres one that must speake with the King.
Porter, The King is very sicke, and none must speake with him.
Henry 5. No, you rascall, do you not know me.
Porter. You are my Lord the young Prince.
Henry. Then go and tell my father, that I must and will speake with him. Ned. Shall I cut off his head ?
Henry 5. No, no, though I would helpe you in other places, yet I have nothing to doo here, what you are in my fathers court.
Ned. I will write him in my tables, for so soone as I am made Lord chiefe Justice, I will put him out of his office. \The Trumpet sounds.
Henry 5. Gogs wounds, sirs, the King comes ; lets all stand aside.
Enter the King with the Lord of Exeter.
Henry 4. iVnd is it true, ray Lord, that my sonne is already sent to the Fleet. Now, truly, that man is more fitter to rule the realme then 1, for by no meanes could I rule my son, and hee by one word hath caused him to be ruled. Oh my Sonne, my sonne, no sooner out of one prison, but into an other ! I had thought one whiles I had lived, to have scene this noble realm of England flourisli by thee my son, but now I see it goes to mine and decay. \^He weepes.
Enters Lord of Oxford.
Oxford. And please your grace, here is my Lord your sonne, that commeth to speake with you. He sayth he must and M ill speake with you. Henry 4. Who, my sonne Harry? Oxford, /and please your majestic.
Henry 4, /know wherefore he commeth, but looke that none come with him. Oxford. A very disordered corapanie, and such as make very ill rule in your majesties house.
Henry 4. Well, let him come, but looke that none come with him. \He goeth. Oxford. And please your Grace, my Lord the King sends for you. Henry 5. Come away, sirs, lets goe all together. Oxford. And please your grace, none must goe with you. Henry 5. Why, I must needs have them with me. Otherwise I can doo my father no countenance. Therefore, come away.
Oxford. The King your father commaunds there should none come.
Henry 5. Well, sirs, then be gone, and provide me three noyse of musitians.
[Exeunt Knights.
Enters the Prince^ icith a dagger in Ms hand.
Henry 4. Come, my sonne, come on, a Gods name ! I know wherefore thy comming is. Oh my sonne, my sonne, what cause hath ever bene, that thou shouldst forsake mee, and followe this vilde and reprobate company, which abuseth youth so manifestly : Oh ray sonne, thou knowest that these thy doings will end thy fathers dayes. [He weeps.] I, so, so, ray sonne, thou fearest not to approach the presence of thy sicke father, in that disguised sort. I tell thee, ray sonne, that there is never a needle in thy cloke, but it is a pricke to my heart, and never an ilat-hole, but it is a hole to my soule ; and wherefore thou bringest that dagger in thy hand I know not, but by conjecture. [He iceepes.
6
KING HENRY THE EOUETH. [inteod.
Henry 5. My conscience accuseth me, most soveraigne Lord, and welbeloved father, to answere first to the last poynt, That is, whereas you conjecture that this hand and this dagger shall be armde against your life : no, know my beloved father, far be the thoughts of your sonne, sonne saide I, an unworthy sonne for so good a father : but far be the thoughts of any such pretended mischiefe : and I most humbly render it to your majesties hand, and live my Lord and soveraigne for ever : and with your dagger arme show like vengeance upon the body of that your sonne, I was about to say, and dare not, ah woe is me therefore, that your wilde slave; tis not the Crowne that I come for, sweete Eather, because I am unworthy, and those wilde and reprobate companions I abandon, and utterly abolish their company for ever. Pardon, sweet father, pardon, the least thing and most desire : and this ruffianly cloake, I here teare from my back, and sacrifice it to the divell, which is master of all mischief : pardon me, sweet father, pardon me : good my Lord of Exeter, speake for me : pardon me, pardon, good father : not a word : ah he will not speake one word : A Harry, now thrice unhappy Harry ! But what shall I doe : I will go take mee into some solitary place, and there lament my sinfull life, and when I have done, I will lay me downe and die. \Exit.
Henry 4. Call him againe, call my sonne againe.
Henry 5. And doth my father call me againe ? Now, Harry, happy be the time that thy father calleth thee againe.
Henry 4. Stand up, my sonne, and do not thinke thy father ; but at the request of thee my sonne, I will pardon thee, and G od blesse thee, and make thee his servant.
Henry 5. Thanks, good my Lord, and no doubt but this day, even this day, I am borne new againe.
Henry 4. Come, my son and Lords, take me by the hands.
\Bxeunt omnes.
Enter Dericke.
Dericl-e. Thou art a stinking whore, and a whorson stinking whore ! Doest think it ile take it at thy hands ?
Enter John Cobler running.
John. Dericke, D.D. Hearesta, dod, never while thou livest use that. "Why, what will my neighbours say, and thou go away so ?
Eeriche. Shees a narrant whore, and ile have the law on you, John. John. Why, what hath she done ?
Eeriche. Marry, marke thou, John, I will prove it that I will. John. What wilt thou prove ?
Eeriche. That she cald me in to dinner. John, marke the tale well, John, and, when I was set, she brought me a dish of roots, and a peece of barell butter therein : and she is a very knave, and thou a drab, if thou take her part.
John. Hearesta, Dericke, is this the matter ? Nay, and it be no worse, we will go home again, and all shall be amended.
Eeriche. Oh, John, hearesta, John, is all well?
John. I, all is well.
Eeriche. Then ile go home before, and breake all the glasse-windowes.
Enter the King with his Lords.
Henry 4. Come, my Lords, I see it boots mee not to take any physike, for all the physitians in the world cannot cure mee, no, not one. But, good my lords.
INTEOD.]
KING HENRY THE FOUETH.
7
remember my last "Will and Testament concerning my sonne, for truely, my Lords, I do not tliinke but he will prove as valiant and victorious a King, as ever raigned in England.
Both. Let heaven and earth be witnesse betweene us, if wee accomplish not thy will to the uttermost.
Henry 4. I give you most unfained thankes, good my Lords : Draw the curtaines and depart my chamber a while, and cause some musicke to rocke me a sleepe. \_IIe sleepeth. — Exeunt Lords.
Enter the Prince.
Henry 5. Ah, Harry, thrice unhappy, tliat hath neglect so long from visiting of thy sicke father, I will goe ; nay, but why doe I not goe to the chamber of my sicke father, to comfort the melancholy soule of his body, his soule, said I ; heere is his body, but his soule is, wheras it needs no bodie. Now, thrice accursed Harry, that hath offended thy father so much, and could not I crave pardon for all. Oh, my dying father curst be the day wherein I was borne, and accursed be the houre wherin I was begotten ! but what shall I doe? if weeping teares which come too late, may suffice the negligence neglected to some, I will weepe day and night untill the fountaine be drie with weeping. \_Ejeit.
Enter Lord of Exeter and Oxford.
Exeter. Come easily, my Lord, for waking of the King.
Henry 4. Now, my Lords.
Oxford. How doth your Grace feele your selfe ?
Henry 4. Somewhat better after my sleepe ; but, good my Lord, take off my crowne ; remove my chayre a little backe, and set me right.
Ambo. And please your grace, the crown is taken away.
Henry 4. The crowne taken away ! Good my Lord of Oxford, go see who hath done this deed : No doubt tis some wilde traytor that hath done it, to deprive ray Sonne ; they that would doe it now, would seeke to scrape and scrawle for it after ray death.
Enter Lord of Oxford, with the Prince.
Oxford. Here and please your Grace, is my Lord the yong Prince with the Crowne.
Henry 4. Why, how now, my sonne ; I had thought the last time I had you in schooling, I had given you a lesson for all, and do you now begin againe ? Why, tell me, my sonne, doest thou thinke the time so long, that thou wouldest have it before the breath be out of ray raouth.
Henry 5. Most soveraigne Lord, and welbeloved father, I carae into your chamber, to comfort the melancholy soule of your body, and finding you at that time past all recovery, and dead to ray thinking, God is my witnesse, and what should I doo, but with weeping teares lament the death of you ray father ; and after that, seeing the crowne, I tooke it. And tell rae, ray father, who might better take it then I, after your death ; but seeing you live, I most humbly render it into your majesties hands, and the happiest man alive, that ray father live : And live ray Lord and father for ever.
Henry. Stand up, my sonne, thine answere hath sounded well in mine eares, for I must needs confesse that I was in a very sound sleepe, and altogether unraindfull of thy comraing : but, corae neare, my sonne, and let mee put thee in possession whilst I live, that none deprive thee of it after my death.
8
KING HENEY THE FOURTH.
[iNTROD.
Henry 5. Well may I take it at your majesties hands, but it shal never touch my head, so long as my father lives. [ He taJcetJi the crowne.
Henry 4. God give thee joy, my sonne ; God blesse thee, and make thee his servant, and send thee a prosperous raigne. Eor God knowes, ray sonne, how hardly I came by it, and how hardly I have maintained it.
Henry 5. Howsoever you came by it, I know not, and now I have it from you, and from you I wil keepe it : and he that seekes to take the crown from my head, let him looke that his armour be thicker then mine, or I will pearce him to the heart, where it harder then brasse or bollion.
Henry 4. Nobly spoken, and like a King. Now trust me, my Lords, I feare not but my sonne will be as warlike and victorious a Prince as ever raigned in England.
L. Amho. His former life shewes no lesse.
Henry 4. Well, my lords, I know not whether it be for sleep, or drawing neare of drowsie summer of death, but I am very much given to sleepe. There- fore, good my lords, and my sonne, draw the curtaines, depart my chamber, and cause some musicke to rocke me asleepe. [Uxewd omnes. The King dyeth.
Enter the Theefe.
Theefe. Ah, God, I am now much like to a byrd which hath escaped out of the cage ; for so soone as my Lord Chiefe Justice heard that the old King was dead, he was glad to let me go, for feare of my Lord the young Prince, but here comes some of his companions ; I will see and I can get any thing of them, for olde acquaintance.
JEnter Knights raunging.
Tom. Gogs wounds, the King is dead !
Jocl-ey. Dead ! then, gogs blood, wee shall be all kings.
Ned. Gogs wounds, I shall be Lord Chiefe Justice of England.
Tom. Why, how are you broken out of prison ?
Ned. Gogs wounds, how the villaine stinkes !
Jocl-ey. Why, what will become of thee now ? Eye upon him, how the rascall stinkes.
Theefe. Marry, I will goe and serve my maister againe.
Tom. Gogs blood, doest think that he will have any such scabd knave as thou art? What man he is a king now.
Ned. Hold thee, heres a couple of angels for thee ; and get thee gone, for the King will not be long before he come this way ; and hereafter I will tell the King of thee. \Kxit Theefe.
Jochey. Oh how it did me good to see the King when he was crowned. Me thought his seate was like the figure of heaven, and his person like unto a God.
Ned. But who would have thought that the King would have chang'de his countenance so ?
Jochey. Did you not see with what grace he sent his embassage into Erance, to tell the French king that Harry of England hath sent for the crowne, and Harry of England will have it.
Tom. But twas but a little to make the people believe, that hee was sorrie for his fathers death. \_The trumpets sound.
Ned. Gogs wounds, the King comes ; lets all stand aside.
INTROD.]
KING IIENEY THE POURTIL
9
Enter the King loith the Archhishop and the Lord of Oxford. Jochei/. How doo you, my Lord ?
Ned. How now, Harry? Tut, ray Lord, put away these dumpes ; you are a King, and all the realrae is yours. What, man ? do you not remember the old sayings ? You know I must be Lord Chiefe Justice of England. Trust mee, my Lord, me thinks you are very much changed : and 'tis but with a little sorrowing, to make folkes believe the death of your father grieves you, and 'tis nothing so.
Henry 5. I prethee, Ned, mend thy manners, and be more modester in thy tearraes, for my unfeined griefe is not to be ruled by thy flattering and dissembling talke ; thou sayest I am changed ; so I am indeed, and so must thou be and that quickly, or else I must cause thee to be chaunged.
Jochey. Gogs wounds, how like you this ? Sownds, tis not so sweet as musicke.
Tonu I trust we have not offended your Grace no way.
Henry 5. Ah, Tom, your former life grieves me, and makes me to abandon and abolish your company for ever ; and, therefore, not upon pain of death to approch my presence by ten miles space ; then, if I heare well of you, it may bee I will doe somewhat for you ; otherwise looke for no more favour at my hands, then at any other mans : and, therefore, be gone, we have other matters to talke on. \Exeunt Knights.] Now, my good Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, what say you to our embassage into France ?
The play of the Famous Victories furnished Shakespeare with the name of Oldcastle for that of one of his principal characters, Falstaff having heen originally so called in hoth parts of Henry the Fourth. In the second scene of the first act of the Second Part, as printed in 1600, Old. is found as the prefix of a speech, which is rightly assigned to Falstaff in tlie folio of 1623. There can he no doubt but that the name of Oldcastle was originally written in the place of Falstaff through- out the author's manuscript of this play, and that the instance above alluded to arose from an accidental omission, on the part of the compositor, or of the reviser of the manuscript, to substitute the name of Falstaff. There is another piece of evidence to the same effect in the second scene of the third act, wdiere Shallow speaks of Sir John Falstaff as having been, when a boy, " page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk." It was Oldcastle, not Falstaff, to whom tliis description applies, the former being introduced in Weever's Mirror of Martyrs, 1601, as stating that his father " made meanes that I was made Sir Thomas Mowbrais page." By depicting Sir John Oldcastle in a manner that attached some ridicule to his name, Shakespeare unwittingly gave offence, to use the words of Dr. James, who wrote about the year 1630, to personages descended from his title, as peradventure by manic others allso whoe ought to have X. 2
10 KING HENEY THE FOUETH. [introd.
him in honourable memorie ;" so that, in the Epilogue, the poet found it necessary to disclaim the supposition that the dramatic FalstafF was a satire upon the real Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cohham, who died a martyr. This reference also shows that the Epilogue was written some time after the first compo- sition of the play, and after the name of Oldcastle had been altered.
The incident of the Prince giving the Chief Justice a box on the ear was prominently introduced into the old play, but is only alluded to by Shakespeare, though in a manner to show that he had the Famous Victories in his recollection. FalstafF's page says to his master, on seeing the Chief Justice : — " Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for striking him about Bardolph." Falstaff in the same scene thus addresses Gascoigne : — " For the box of the ear that the prince gave you, — he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have checked him for it, and the young lion repents." Gascoigne, when Henry refers to the incident in the fifth act, mentions that he had struck him in the very seat of judge- ment," a circumstance thus mentioned by Holinshed, who, speaking of the " wanton pastime" in which Prince Henry passed his youth, says, that " where on a time liee stroke the cJdefe justice on the face ivith Jiisjiste, for emprisoning one of his mates, he was not only committed to straighte prison himselfe by the sayde chief justice, but also of his father put out of the privie counsell and banished the courte." Holinshed has here followed Hall, using nearly the saine words. It appears, however, from the king's reference to his father's words, — " Happy am I," &;c., — that Shakespeare must have been acquainted with the following version of the anecdote, as related in Sir Thomas Elyot's book entitled the Governour, — " The moste renouned prince, king Henry the fyfte, late kynge of Englande, durynge the lyfe of his father, was noted to be fiers and of wanton courage. It hapned, that one of his servauntes, whom he favoured well, was for felony by him committed, arrained at the Kynges Benche ; whereof the prince being adver- tised, and incensed by lyghte persones aboute him, in furious rage came hastily to the barre where his servante stode as a prisoner, and commaunded him to be ungyved and set at libertie ; wliereat all men were abashed, reserved the chiefe Justice, who humbly exhorted the prince to be contented, that his seruaunt mought be ordred accordynge to the aunciente lawes
INTROD,]
KING HENUY THE FOURTH.
11
of this realine ; or if he wolde have hym saved from the rigour of the lawes, that he shulde ohteyne, if he moiighte, of the kynge his father, his gratious pardon, vvherby no lawe or justyce shulde be derogate. With whiche answere the prince nothynge appeased, but rather more inflamed, endevored hym selfe to take away his servant. The juge, considering the perillous example, and inconvenience that mought therby ensue, with a valyant spirite and courage, commanded the prince, upon his alegeance, to leave the prisoner, and depart his way. With which commandment the prince, being set all in a fury, all chafed and in a terrible nianer, came up to the place of juge- ment, men thynking that he wold have slayne the juge, or have done to hym some damage ; but the juge sittynge styll without moving, declaring the majestic of the kynges place of jugement, and with an assured and bolde countenaunce, had to the prince, these wordes foUowyng, — ' Syr, remembre yourselfe, I kepe here the place of the kyng your soveraine lorde and father, to whom ye owe double obedience ; wherfore eftsoones in his name, I charge you desyste of your wylfulnes and unlaufull enterprise, and from hensforth give good example to those, whyche here- after shall be your propre subjectes. And nowe, for your contempte and disobedience, go you to the prysone of tlie Kynges Benche, whereunto I commytte you, and remayne ye there prysoner untyll the pleasure of the kynge your father be further knowen.' With whiche wordes being abashed, and also wondrynge at the mervaylous gravitie of that worshypfulle justyce, the noble prince layinge his weapon aparte, doying reverence, departed, and wente to the Kynges Benche, as he was commanded. Wherat his servauntes disdaynynge, came and shewed to the kynge all the hole affaire. Whereat he awhyles studyenge, after as a man all ravyshed with gladnes, lioldynge his eien and handes up towarde heven, abraided, saying with a loude voice, ' O mercifull God, howe moche am I, above all other men, bounde to your infinite goodnes, specially for that ye have gyven me a juge, who feareth nat to minister justyce, and also a sonne, who can sufl're semblably, and obeye justyce!' " This is the earliest authority for the story that has yet been discovered. It is copied nearly verbatim by Stow, who is usually supposed to be the source familiar to Shakespeare. According to this version, the Prince did not strike the judge. Holinshed asserts that the blow was inflicted, but the precise allusion to the manner in which the insult was
12
KING HENEY THE EOURTH.
[iNTROD.
supposed to have been perpetrated, as alluded to by Shakespeare, is found only in the play of the Famous Victories. There can be but little doubt that all the three versions of the anecdote were familiar to the great dramatist.
The action of the Second Part of Henry the Fourth com- mences with the account of the defeat of Hotspur at Shrews- bury in the year 1403, and it closes with the accession of Henry the Fifth to the throne in 1413 ; but the dramatist has not introduced all the leading historical incidents of this period. On the contrary, he has nearly restricted himself to the consi- deration of Northumberland's rebellion, which, in defiance of chronology, is made to occupy the entire period between the battle of Shrewsbury and the death of Henry the Fourth. The truth of history is also violated in other particulars, for Northumberland did not rise against the king immediately after that battle, but, after disbanding his forces, came and surren- dered himself to Henry at York, and, in the parliament of 1404, he was restored to most of his dignities. The defeat of Northumberland and the Scots by the Sheriff of Yorkshire is introduced at an erroneous period, and other circumstances are mentioned that are irreconcilable with chronological accuracy as well as inconsistent with fact, Shakespeare here, as in other instances, using historical events for dramatic purposes without reference to the exactitude of history. The chief incidents of the serious portion of the comedy are taken, with variations, from Holinshed's Chronicle, ed. 1587, the following extracts from which exhibit the main circumstances adopted by the great dramatist, —
A.D. 1405. — Whilest such dooings were in hand betwixt the English and French, as the besieging of Marke castell by the earle of saint Paule, and the sending foorth of the English fleet, under the governance of the lord Thomas of Lancaster, and the earle of Kent, the king was minded to have gone into Wales against the Welsh rebels, that under their cheefteine Owen Glendouer, ceassed not to doo much mischeefe still against the English subjects. But at the same time, to his further disquieting, there was a conspiracie put in practise against him at home by the earle of Northumberland, who had conspired with Richard Scroope, archbishop of Yorke, Thomas Mowbraie earle marsliall, sonne to Thomas duke of Norfolke, who for the quarrell betwixt him and king Henrie had beene banished, as ye have heard, the lords Hastings, Eauconbridge, Berdolfe, and diverse others. It was appointed that they should meet altogitfier with their whole power upon Yorkeswold, at a dale assigned, and that the earle of Northumberland should be cheefteine, promising to bring with him a great number of Scots. The archbishop, accompanied with the earle marshall, devised certeine articles of such matters, as it was supposed that not onelie the commonaltie of the Eealme, but also the nobilitie found themselves greeved with : which articles thev shewed first unto such
INTROD.]
KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
13
of tlicir adherents as were neere about them, and after sent them abroad to their freends further off, assuring them that for redresse of such oppressions, they would shed the last drop of blood in their bodies, if need were. The archbishop, not meaning to staie after he saw himselfe accompanied with a great number of men, that came flocking to Yorke to take his part in this quarrell, foorthwith discovered his enterprise, causing the articles aforsaid to be set up in the publike streets of the citie of Yorke, and upon the gates of the monasteries, that ech man might understand the cause that mooved him to rise in armes against the king, the reforming whereof did not yet apperteine unto him. Hereupon knights, esquiers, gentlemen, yeomen, and other of the commons, as well of the citie, townes and countries about, being allured either for desire of change, or else for desire to see a reformation in such things as were mentioned in the articles, assembled togither in great numbers ; and the archbishop comming foorth amongst them clad in armor, incouraged, exhorted, and, by all meanes he could, pricked them foorth to take the enterprise in hand, and manfullie to continue in their begun purpose, promising forgivenesse of sinnes to all them whose hap it was to die in the quarrell ; and thus not onelie all the citizens of Yorke, but all other in the countries about, that were able to beare weapon, came to the archbishop, and the earle marshall. In deed the respect that men had to the archbishop, caused them to like the better of the cause, since the gravitie of his age, his integritie of life, and incomparable learning, with the reverend aspect of his amiable personage, mooved all men to have him in no small estimation. The king, advertised of these matters, meaning to prevent them, left his journie into Wales, and marched with all speed towards the north parts. Also Rafe Nevill, earle of Westmerland, that was not farre oflF, togither with the lord John of Lancaster the kings sonne, being informed of this rebellious attempt, assembled togither such power as they might make, and togither with those which were appointed to attend on the said lord John to defend the borders against the Scots, as the lord Henrie Fitzhugh, the lord R,afe Cevers, the lord Robert Umfrevill, and others, made forward against the rebels, and comming into a plaine within the forrest of Galtree, caused their standards to be pitched downe in like sort as the archbishop had pitched his, over against them, being farre stronger in number of people than the other, for, as some write, there were of the rebels at the least twentie thousand men. When the earle of Westmerland perceived the force of the adversaries, and that they laie still and attempted not to come forward upon him, he subtillie devised how to quaile their purpose, and foorthwith dispatched messengers unto the archbishop to understand the cause as it were of that great assemblie, and for what cause, contrarie to the kings peace, they came so in amour. The archbishop answered, that he tooke nothing in hand against the kings peace, but that whatsoever he did, tended rather to advance the peace and quiet of the common-wealth, than otherwise ; and where he and his companie were in armes, it was for feare of the king, to whom he could have no free accesse, by reason of such a multitude of flatterers as were about him ; and therefore he mainteined that his purpose to be good and profitable, as well for the king himselfe, as for the realme, if men were willing to understand a truth : and herewith he shewed foorth a scroll, in which the articles were written wherof before ye have heard. The messengers returning to the earle of Westmerland, shewed him what they had heard and brought from the archbishop. When he had read the articles, he shewed in word and countenance outwardly that he liked of the archbishops holie and vertuous intent and purpose, promising that he and his would prosecute the same in assisting the archbishop, who, rejoising hereat, gave credit to the earle, and persuaded the earle marshall, against his will as it Avere, to go with him to a place appointed for them to commune togither. Here, when they were met with
14
KING HENEY THE EOUETH.
[iNTEOD.
like number on either part, the articles were read over, and without anie more adoo, the earle of Westmerland and those that were with him agreed to doo their best, to see that a reformation might be had, according to the same. The earle of Westmerland using more policie than the rest : Well, said he, then our travell is come to the wished end : and where our people have beene long in armour, let them depart home to their woonted trades and occupations : in the meane time, let us drinke togither in signe of agreement, that the people on both sides maie see it, and know that it is true, that we be light at a point." They had no sooner shaken liands togither, but that a knight was sent streight waies from the arch- bishop, to bring word to the people that there was peace concluded, commanding ech man to laie aside his armes, and to resort home to their houses. The people beholding such tokens of peace, as shaking of hands, and drinking togither of the lords in loving manner, they being alreadie wearied with the unaccustomed travell of warre, brake up their field and returned homewards ; but in the meane time, whilest the people of the archbishops side withdrew awaie, the number of the contrarie part increased, according to order given by the earle of Westmerland ; and yet the archbishop perceived not that he was deceived, untill the earle of Westmerland arrested both him and the earle marshall, with diverse other. Thus saith Walsingham. But others write somewhat otherwise of this matter, affirming that the earle of Westmerland in deed, and the lord Eafe Cevers, procured the archbishop and the earle marshall, to come to a communication with them upon a ground just in the m.idwaie betwixt both the armies, where the earle of Westmer- land in talke declared to them how perilous an enter))rise they had taken in hand, so to raise the people, and to moove warre against the king, advising thera therefore to submit themselves without further delaie unto the kings mercie, and his Sonne the lord John, who was present there in the field with banners spred, redie to trie the matter by dint of sword, if they refused this counsell : and therefore he willed them to remember themselves well ; and if they would not yeeld and crave the kings pardon, he bad them doo their best to defend themselves. Hereupon as well the archbishop as the earle marshall submitted themselves unto the king, and to his sonne the lord John that was there present, and returned not to their armie. Whereupon their troops scaled and fled their waies ; but being pursued, manie were taken, manie slaine, and manie spoiled of that that they had about them, and so permitted to go their waies. Howsoever the matter was handled, true it is that the archbishop, and the earle marshall, were brought to Pomfret to the king, who in this meane while was advanced thither with his power, and from thence he went to Yorke, whither the prisoners were also brought, and there beheaded the morrow after Whitsundaie in a place without the citie, that is to understand, the archbishop himselfe, the earle marshall, sir John Lampleie, and sir Eobert Plumpton. Unto all which persons, though indemnitie were promised, yet was the same to none of them at anie hand performed. By the issue hereof, I meane the death of the foresaid, but speciallie of the archbishop, the prophesie of a sickelie canon of Bridlington in Yorkeshire fell out to be true, who darklie inough foretold this matter, and the infortunate event thereof. The archbishop suffered death verie constantlie, insomuch as the common people tooke it, he died a martyr, affirming that certeine miracles were wrought as well in the field where he was executed, as also in the place where he was buried : and imraediatlie upon such bruits, both men and women began to worship his dead carcasse, whom they loved so much when he was alive, till they were forbidden by the kings freends, and for feare gave over to visit the place of his sepulture. The earle marshals bodie by the kings leave was buried in the cathedrall church, manie lamenting his destinie ; but his head was set on a pole aloft on the wals for a certeine space, till by the kings permission, after the same had suffered manie a
INTROD.]
KING HENRY THE EOURTH.
15
hot sunnie daie, and manie a wet shower of raine, it was taken downe and buried togither witli the bodie, After the king, accordinglie as seemed to him good, had ransomed and punished by greevous fines the citizens of Yorke, which had borne armour on their archbishops side against him, he departed from Yorke with an armie of thirtie and seven thousand fighting men, furnished with all provision necessarie, marching northwards against the earle of Northumberland. At his comming to Durham, the lord Hastings, the lord Eauconbridge, sir John Collevill of the Dale, and sir John Griffith, being convicted of the conspiracie, were there beheaded. The earle of Northumberland, hearing that his counsell was bewraied, and his confederats brought to confusion, through too much hast of the archbishop of Yorke, with three hundred horsse got him to Berwike. The king comming forward quickelie, wan the castell of Warkewoorth. Whereupon the earle of Northumberland, not thinking himselfe in suertie at Berwike, fled with the lord Berdolfe into Scotland, where they were received of David lord Fleming. The king comming to Berwike, commanded them that kept the castell against him to render it into his hands, and when they flatlie denied so to doo, he caused a peece of artillerie to be planted against one of the towers, and at the first shot overthrowing part thereof, they within were put in such feare, that they simplie yeelded themselves without any maner of condition, wholie to remaine at the kings pleasure. Hereupon the chiefest of them, to wit, sir William Greistoke, Sonne to Eafe baron of Greistoke, sir Henrie Beinton, and John Blenkinsop, with foure or five other were put to death, and diverse other were kept in prison. Some write that the earle of Northumberland at his entring into Scotland, delivered the towne of Berwike unto the Scots, who hearing of King Henries approch, and despairing to defend the towne against him, set fire on it and departed. There was not one house that was left unburnt, except the friers and the church. After that the king had disposed things in such convenient order as stood with his pleasure at Berwike, he came backe, and had the castell of Alnewike delivered unto him, with all other the castels that belonged to the erle of Northumberland in the north parts, as Prodhow, Langlie, Cockermouth, Aluhara, and Nevvsteed. Thus having quieted the nortii parts, he tooke his journie directlie into Wales, where he found fortune nothing favourable unto him, for all his attempts had evill successe, in sorauch that losing fiftie of his cariages through abundance of raine and waters, he returned ; and comming to Worcester, he sent for the arclibishop of Canturburie, and other bishops, declaring to them the misfortune that had chanced to him, in consideration whereof he requested them to helpe him with some portion of monie, towards the maintenance of his warres, for the taming of the presumptuous and unquiet Welshmen. In the meane time, the Erench king had appointed one of the marshals of Erance called Montmerancie, and the master of his crosbowes, with twelve thousand men, to saile into AVales to aid Owen Glendouer. They tooke shipping at Brest, and having the wind prosperous, landed at Milford-haven, with an hundred and fourtie ships, as Thomas Walsinghara saith ; though Enguerant de Monstrellet maketh mention but of an hundred and twentie. The most part of their horsses were lost by the waie for lacke of fresh water. The lord Berkleie, and Henrie Paie, espieng their advantage, burnt fifteene of those Erench ships, as they laie at road there in the haven of Milford : and shortlie after the same lord Berkleie, and Sir Thomas Swinborne, with the said Henrie Paie, tooke other fourteene ships, as they came » that waie with provision of vittels and munition foortli of Erance to the aid of the other. In the meane while, the marshall Montmerancie, with his armie, besieged the towne of Carmarden, and wan it by composition, granting to the men of warre that kept it against him, licence to depart whither they would, and to take with them all their mooveable goods; the castell of Penbroke they assaulted not,
16
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. [introd.
esteeming it to be so well manned, that they shuld but lose their labour in attempting it. Notwithstanding they besieged the towne of Hereford-west, which neverthelesse was so well defended by the earle of Arundell and his power, that they lost more than they wan, and so they departed towards the towne of Denbigh, where they found Owen Glendouer abiding for their comming, with ten thousand of his Welshmen. Here were the Frenchmen joifuUie received of the Welsh rebels, and so when all things were prepared, they passed by Glamorganshire towards Worcester, and there burnt the suburbes : but hearing of the kings approch, they suddenlie returned towards Wales. The king with a great puissance followed, and found them imbattelled on a high mounteine, where there was a great valUe betwixt both the armies, so that either armie might plainelie perceive the other, and either host looked to be assailed of his adversarie, and therefore sought to take the advantage of ground. Thus they continued for the space of eight dales from morning till night, readie to abide, but not to give battell. There were manie skirmishes, and diverse proper feats of armes Avrought in that meane while, in the which the French lost manie of their nobles and gentlemen, as the lord Patroullars de Tries, brother to the marshall of France, the lord Matelonne or Martelonne, the lord de la Yalle, and the bastard of Bourbon, with other, to the number, as some have written, of five hundred. But Enguerant de Monstrellet affirmeth, that upon their returne into France, there wanted not above threescore persons of all their companies. After they had laine thus one against an other the space of eight dales, as before is said, vittels began to faile, so that they were inforced to dislodge. The French and Welshmen withdrew into Wales, and though the Englishmen followed, yet impeached with the desart grounds and barren countrie, thorough which they must passe, as our felles and craggie mounteins, from hill to dale, from marish to wood, from naught to woorsse, as Hall saith, without vittels or succour, the king was of force constrained to retire with his armie, and returne againe to Worcester, in which returne the enimies tooke certeine cariages of his laden with vittels. The Frenchmen after the armies were thus withdrawne, returned into Britaine, making small brags of their painefull journie.
A.D. 1408. — The earle of Northumberland, and the lord Bardolfe, after they had beene in Wales, in France and Flanders, to purchase aid against king Henrie, were returned backe into Scotland, and had remained there now for the space of a whole yeare ; and as their evill fortune would, whilest the king held a councell of the nobilitie at London, the said earle of Northumberland and lord Bardolfe, in a dismall houre, with a great power of Scots returned into England, recovering diverse of the carles castels and seigniories, for the people in great numbers resorted unto them. Heereupon incouraged with hope of good successe, they entred into Yorkeshire, and there began to destroie the countrie. At their coming to Threske, they published a proclamation, signifieng that they were come in comfort of the English nation, as to releeve the common-wealth, wilhng all such as loved the libertie of their countrie, to repaire unto them, with their armor on their backes, and in defensible wise to assist them. The king advertised hereof, caused a great armie to be assembled, and came forward with the same towards his enimies ; but yer the king came to Notingham, sir Thomas, or, as other copies have, Eafe Rokesbie shirifPe of Yorkeshire, assembled the forces of the countrie to resist the earle and his power, comming to Grimbaut-brigs, beside Knaresbourgh, there to stop them the passage ; but they returning aside, got to Weatherbie, and so to Tadcaster, and finallie came forward unto Bramham more, neere to Haizel- wood, where they chose their ground meet to fight upon. The shiriffe was as readie to give battell as the earle to receive it, and so with a standard of S. George spred, set fiercelie upon the earle, who under a standard of his owne armes incountred
INTROD.]
KING HENRY THE EOURTH.
17
his adversaries with great manhood. There was a sore incounter and cruell conflict betwixt the parties, but in the end the victorie fell to the shiriffe. The lord Bardolfe was taken, but sore wounded, so that he shortlie after died of the hurts. As for the earle of Northumberland, he was slaine outright : so that now the prophesie was fulfilled, which gave an inkling of this his heavie hap long before; namelie, Stirps Persitina perlet confusa rnhia; for this earle was the stocke and maine root of all that were left alive called by the name of Persie ; and of manie more by diverse slaughters dispatched. For whose misfortune the people were not a little sorrie, making report of the gentlemans valiantnesse, renowme, and honour, and applieng unto him certeine lamentable verses out of Lucane ; for his head, full of silver horie heares, being put upon a stake, was openlie carried through London, and set upon the bridge of the same citie : in like nianer was the lord Bardolfes. The bishop of Bangor was taken and pardoned by the king, for that when he was apprehended, he had no armor on his backe. This battell was fought the nineteenth day of Eebruarie. The king, to purge the North parts of all rebellion, and to take order for the punishment of those that were accused to have succoured and assisted the earle of Northumberland, went to Yorke, where when manie were condemned, and diverse put to great fines, and the countrie brought to quietnesse ; he caused the abbat of Hailes to be hanged, who had beene in armour against him with the foresaid earle.
A.D. 1412. — In this fourteenth and last yeare of king Henries reigne, a councell was holden in the white friers in London, at the which, among other things, order was taken for ships and gallics to be builded and made readie, and all other things necessarie to be provided for a voiage which he meant to make into the liolie land, there to recover the citie of Jerusalem from the infidels. Eor it greeved him to consider the great malice of Christian princes, that were bent upon a mischeefous purpose to destroie one another, to the perill of their owne soules, rather than to make war against the enimies of the Christian faith, as in conscience, it seemed to him, they were bound. He held his Christmas this yeare at Eltham, being sore vexed with sicknesse, so that it was thought sometime that he had beene dead ; notwithetanding, it pleased God that he somwhat recovered his strength againe, and so passed that Christmasse with as much joy as he might.
A.D. 1413. — The morrow after Candlemas dale began a parlement, which he had called at London, but he departed this life before the same parlement was ended ; for now that his provisions were readie, and that he was furnished with sufficient treasure, soldiers, capteins, vittels, munitions, tall ships, strong gallies, and all things necessarie for such a roiall journie as he pretended to take into the holie land, he was eftsoones taken with a sore sicknesse, which was not a leprosie striken by the hand of God, saith maister Hall, as foolish friers imagined ; but a verie apoplexie, of the which he languished till his appointed houre, and had none other greefe nor maladie ; so that what man ordeineth, God alteretli at his good will and pleasure, not giving place more to the prince, than to the poorest creature living, when he seeth his time to dispose of him this waie or that, as to his omnipotent power and divine providence seemeth expedient. During this his last sicknesse, he caused his crowne, as some write, to be set on a pillow at his beds head, and suddenlie his pangs so sore troubled him, that he laie as though all his vitall spirits had beene from him departed. Such as were about him, thinking verelie that he had beene departed, covered his face with a linnen cloth. The prince his sonne being hereof advertised, entered into the chamber, tooke awaie the crowne, and departed. The father, being suddenlie revived out of that trance, quicklie perceived the lacke of his crowne ; and having knowledge that the prince his Sonne had taken it awaie, caused him to come before his presence, requiring of him what he meant so to misuse himselfe. The prince with a good audacitie X. 3
18
KING HENEY THE EOUUTH.
[iNTROD.
answered ; " Sir, to mine and all mens judgements, you seemed dead in this world ; wherefore I, as your next heire apparant, tooke that as mine owne, and not as yours." Well, faire sonne, said the king with a great sigh, what right I had to it, God knoweth. Well, said the prince, if you die king, I will have the garland, and trust to keepe it with the sword against all mine enimies, as you have doone. Then said the king, I commit all to God, and remember you to doo well. With that he turned himselfe in his bed, and shortlie after departed to God in a chamber of the abbats of Westminster called Jerusalem, the twentith dale of March, in the yeare 1413, and in the yeare of his age 46, when he had reigned thirteene yeares, five moneths and od dales, in great perplexitie and little pleasure, or foureteene yeares, as some have noted, who name not the disease whereof he died, but refer it to sicknesse absolutelie, whereby his time of departure did approach and fetch him out of the world. We find that he was taken with his last sickenesse, while he was making his praiers at saint Edwards shrine, there as it were to take his leave, and so to proceed foorth on his journie : he was so suddenlie and greevouslie taken, that such as were about him feared least he would have died presentlie ; wherfore to releeve him, if it were possible, they bare him into a chamber that was next at hand, belonging to the abbat of Westminster, where they laid him on a pallet before the fire, and used all remedies to revive him. At length, he recovered his speech, and understanding and perceiving himselfe in a strange place which he knew not, he willed to know if the chamber had anie particular name, whereunto answer was made that it was called Jerusalem. Then said the king ; " Lauds be given to the father of heaven, for now I know that I shall die heere in this chamber, according to the prophesie of me declared, that I should depart this life in Jerusalem." Whether this was true that so he spake, as one that gave too much credit to foolish prophesies and vaine tales, or whether it was fained, as in such cases it commonlie happeneth, we leave it to the advised reader to judge. His bodie with all funerall pompe was conveied unto Canturburie, and there solemnlie buried, leaving behind him by the ladie Marie daughter to the lord Humfrie Bohun earle of Hereford and Northampton, Henrie prince of Wales, Thomas duke of Clarence, John duke of Bedford, Humfrie duke of Glocester, Blanch duchesse of Bauier, and Philip queene of Denmarke ; by his last wife Jane, he had no children. This king was of a meane stature, well proportioned, and formallie compact, quicke and livelie, and of a stout courage. In his latter daies he shewed himselfe so gentle, that he gat more love amongst the nobles and people of this realme, than he had purchased malice and evill will in the beginning. But yet to speake a truth, by his proceedings, after he had atteined to the crowne, what with such taxes, tallages, subsidies, and exactions as he was constreined to charge the people with ; and what by punishing such as moved with disdeine to see him usurpe the crowne, contrairie to the oth taken at his entring into this land, upon his returne from exile, did at sundrie times rebell against him, he wan himselfe more hatred, than in all his life time, if it had beene longer by manic yeares than it was, had beene possible for him to have weeded out and removed. And yet doubtlesse, woorthie were his subjects to tast of that bitter cup, sithens they were so readie to joine and clappe hands with him, for the deposing of their rightfuU and naturall prince king Richard, whose cheefe fault rested onlie in that, that he w^as too bountifull to his freends, and too mercifull to his foes ; speciallie if he had not beene drawne by others, to seeke revenge of those that abused his good and courteous nature.
Henrie prince of Wales, son and heire to K. Henrie the fourth, borne in Wales at Monmouth on the river of Wie, after his father was departed tooke upon him the regiment of this realme of England, the twentith of March, the morrow after proclamed king, by the name of Henrie the fift, in the yeare of the world
iNTROD.] KING HENEY THE EOURTH. 19
5375, after the birth of our Saviour, by our account, 1413, the third of the emperor Sigismund ; the three and thirtith of Charles the sixt French king, and in the seventh yeare of governance in Scotland under Robert brother to him that, before entrance into his kingdome 1390, had John to name, which by devise and order of the states was changed into Eobert the third, who at Rotsaie, a towne in the Hand of Got, 140G, deceassed by occasion thus. As upon hope in this governor to himselfe conceived how to come to the crowne, he at the castell of Falkland, latelie had famisht his coosine David the kings elder sonne and heire, a dissolute yoong prince, yet to his fathers exceeding sorrow, at whose deceasse the father verie carefull, and casting for the safegard of James his yoonger son and heire, from Basse the rocke in a well appointed ship, under charge of Henrie Saintcleere, earle of Orkeneie, into France to his old freend king Charles for good education and safetie this yoong prince he sent ; who, in the course, whether for tempest or tendernes of stomach, tooke land in Yorkeshire at Flamborrow, that after by wisedome and good consideration of the king and his councell was thought verie necessarie here to be reteined. But by the sudden newes of this stale, the father, at supper as he sat, so stroken at hart that well nie streight had he fallen downe dead, yet borne into his chamber, where for greefe and pine within three dales next he deceassed. The yoong king James his sonne, after an eighteene yeares stale, in which time he had beene well trained in princehood, at last with right honorable marriage at saint Marie Overies unto Jone daughter to the earle of Summerset, coosine unto Henrie the sixt then king, and with manie other high gratuities here beside was sent and set in his rule and kingdome at home. Such great hope and good expectation was had of this mans fortunate successe to follow, that within three dales after his fathers deceasse, diverse noble men and honorable personages did to him homage, and sware to him due obedience, which had not beene scene doone to any of his predecessors kings of this realme, till they had beene possessed of the crowne. He was crowned the ninth of Aprill being Passion sundaie, which was a sore, ruggie, and tempestuous day, with wind, snow and sleet, that men greatlie marvelled thereat, making diverse interpretations what the same might signifie. But this king even at first appointing with himselfe, to shew that in his person princelie honors should change publike manners, he determined to put on him the shape of a new man. For whereas aforetime he had made himselfe a companion unto misrulie mates of dissolute order and life, he now banished them all from his presence, but not unrewarded, or else unpreferred, inhibiting them upon a great paine not once to approch, lodge, or sojourne within ten miles of his court or presence ; and in their places he chose men of gravitie, wit, and high policie, by whose wise counsell he might at all times rule to his honour and dignitie ; calhng to mind how once to hie offense of the king his father, he had with his fist striken the cheefe justice for sending one of his minions (upon desert) to prison, when the justice stoutlie commanded himselfe also streict to ward, and he (then prince) obeied. The king after expelled him out of his privie councell, banisht him the court, and made the duke of Clarence (his yoonger brother) president of councell in his steed. This reformation in the new king Christ. Okl. hath reported, fullie consenting with this. But now that the king was once placed in the roiall seat of the realme, he vertuouslie considering in his mind that all goodnesse commeth of God, deter- mined to begin with some thing acceptable to his divine maiestie, and therefore commanded the cleargie sincerelie and trulie to preach the word of God, and to live accordinglie, that they might be the lanternes of light to the temporaltie, as their profession required. The laie men he willed to serve God, and obeie their prince, prohibiting them above all things breach of matrimonie, custome in swearing ; and namelie, wilfull perjurie. Beside this, he elected the best learned
20
KING HENRY THE EOUETH.
[iNTROD.
men in the lawes of the realrae, to the offices of justice ; and men of good living, he preferred to high degrees and authoritie. Immediatlie after Easter he called a parlement, in which diverse good statutes, and wholesome ordinances, for the preservation and advancement of the common-wealth were devised and established. On Trinitie sundaie were the solemne exequies doone at Canterburie for his father, the king himselfe being present thereat.
Meres, in his Palladis Tamia, 1598, mentions the play of Henry the Fourth as one of Shakespeare's tragedies then in existence, but without distinguishing it as a composition in two parts. It is certain, however, that the Second Part was written before February the 25th, 1597-8, because on that day Andrew Wise entered the First Part on the books of the Stationers' Company as containing "the conceipted mirth of Sir John Falstaffe," a fact which demonstrates that the name of Oldcastle had then been changed to that of Falstaff, whereas it clearly appears, from what has been previously stated, that Oldcastle was originally the name of the character in the Second Part of Henry the Fourth. The comedy was, in all probability, composed in the year 1597, soon after the production of the play of Richard the Second, which is quoted in it. Although probably never so popular as the First Part, it no doubt met with great success, and Ben Jonson, in Every Man out of his Humour, acted in 1599, thus makes a passing allusion to one of the characters in it, — " Sav. I'll give you some water for her eyes. When do you go, sir ? — Punt. Certes, sweet lady, I know not. — Fast. He dotli stay the rather, madam, to present your acute judgment with so courtly and well parted a gentleman as yet your ladyship hath never seen. — Sav. What is he, gentle monsieur Brisk? not that gentleman ? — Fast. No, lady, this is a kinsman to justice Silence." There are no allusions in the Second Part of Henry the Fourth itself that satisfactorily prove anything as to the question of the date of its composition, with the exception of that contained in the Epilogue, the concluding words of which show that it was produced on the stage in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
The Second Part of Henry the Fourth was entered on the registers of the Stationers' Company on August the 23d, 1600, in the following terms, — Andrewe Wyse, William Aspley ; entred for their copies under the handes of the wardens, twoo bookes, the one called Muche adoo about Nothinge, thother the second parte of the history of Kinge Henry the iiij.th, with the humors of Sir John FallstafF, wrytten by Mr. Shakespere."
oj ^ .2
O o
5J
1
I
Co
12
,.o
3 -a S o 5
C: ^ 6 o ,'. • -
O c ^ ^
r- aj "O O c
^ bio E ^
-C c .S ^
•r "5 " > c
nj (J _c O
O u ^ O
O « ^ .S ^
Sj^
_, t) o W S 2
Si t:
72 c o
^ i
t» c >-
-O C C 23
c: HH ^
u
•c
-c >i o > o S o >■
£2
„ 3
f3
^1
c
o
<w c
4-. 3 3 3 ^ O-O
O c
_ o 3 3
c a
2:5
c >
' CO Sj O 3 2
*i « b
O 4>
■t: o
Sis
w u bC-S
-5 ■>
1-0 3 d, g I ^
« 8^ 3
^, w OJ > 3 ^ HJ JZ O 5 S • C
£ S y c o
-C CO 3
3 T"
bO C
5 ^
C
1-1-1 OJ ^ 3 3
5 Q
c
_0 ^3
bO -5 a,j3 3.CUC c
M. qj 'J ^ —
c
•~' -fc* * ii, w w • ' ^ C O ^ w to 1 r- > f— <
> H >< ^ < s < H H o e <
H
bX) G O
I
r3
-I
Si
i-i
INTROD.]
KING HENRY THE EOUETH.
21
The play was issued in the same year under the following title, — " The Second part of Henrie the fourth, continuing to his death, and coronation of Henrie the fift. With the humours of Sir lohn Falstaffe, and swaggering Pistoll. As it hath been sundrie times publikely acted by the right honourable, the Lord Chamberlaine his seruants. Written by William Shakespeare. London Printed by V. S. for Andrew Wise, and William Aspley. 1600," 4to., 43 leaves. Other copies of the same edition, in quarto, not containing Sign. E 5 and E 6, have only 41 leaves, the reason of this consisting in the rather singular fact of Valentine Simmes, the printer, having accidentally in the first instance omitted to insert the first scene of the third act, and thus was compelled to reprint a sheet to render the edition complete, the perfect copies being distinguished by the pecu- liarity of the sheet E containing six instead of four leaves. The probability is that Simmes printed from a defective manuscript, for it is certain from the context that some of the omissions in the quarto, supplied in the folio, were written at the same time with the rest of the comedy. There is no other edition of the play in quarto, and it was not republished until it appeared in the collective folio of 1623, the editors of which seem to have used a play-house copy of the edition of 1600, in which were contained some additions to that text, as well as a few omissions. There is no reason whatever for supposing that any of the latter were made by Shakespeare's authority, although the additions were probably taken from the author's original manuscript. Some of the passages peculiar to the quarto were no doubt erased by the master of the Revels, while as to the rest, the players would be more likely to curtail the play for the conve- nience of acting, than to insert unauthorised additions to the play-house copy ; and, indeed, there is manifest internal evidence that some of the passages in the quarto, omitted in the folio, proceeded from the hand of Shakespeare. It may, there- fore, be reasonablv assumed that both the edition of 1600 and that of 1623 are good authorities for the text of this comedy, and that a modern editor is justified in the formation of an eclectic text from those editions.
A small portion of the second part of Henry the Fourth, consisting chiefly of part of the opening and the scenes relating to the King's death, was incorporated into an alteration of the two parts formed into one, which was made for private repre- sentation under the direction of Sir Edward Dering of Surrenden,
22
KING HENRY THE EOURTH.
[iNTROD.
who died in the year 1644. The manuscript, which is the most ancient transcript of any of Shakespeare's plays known to exist, is still preserved ; but it is of no critical authority. It is chiefly curious as exhibiting the early popularity of the comedy, and the mode in w^hich plays were sometimes curtailed for the con- venience of representation. The Second Part of Henry the Fourth does not appear to have been revived after the restora- tion of Charles the Second, nor until the time of Queen Anne, when Dogget personated the character of Shallow with great success.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
King Henry the Fourth.
Henry, Prince of Wales, afterwards King Henry K, Thomas, Duke of Clarence, Prince John op Lancaster,
his sons.
Prince Humphrey op Gloster, Earl op Warwick. Earl op "Westmoreland. Earl op Surrey.
GOWER.
Harcourt.
Lord Chief- Justice of the Kinfs Bench. A Gentleman attending on the Chief- Justice. Earl op Northumberland. Scroop, Archbishop of Yorh. Lord Mowbray. Lord Hastings. Lord Bardolph. Sir John Colevile.
Travers and Morton, retainers of Northumberland.
Sir John Ealstapp.
His Page.
Bardolph.
Pistol.
Pointz.
Peto.
Silence, 3 Davy, servant to Shallow.
Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Eeeble, and Bullcalp, recruits. Eang and Snare, sheriff's officers.
Lady Northumberland. Lady Percy.
Mistress Quickly, hostess of a tavern in Uastcheap. Doll Tearsheet.
Lords and Attendants ; Porter, Drawers, Beadles, Grooms, S^'c.
Shallow,
BuMOUR, the Presenter.
A Dancer, spealcer of the epilogue.
SCENE— England.
SCENE. — Warkworth. Before Northumberland's
Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues.^
Rum. Open your ears ; for which of you will stop The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks ? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth : Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce. Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. I speak of peace, while covert enmity. Under the smile of safety, wounds the world : And who but Rumour, who but only I, Make fearful musters and prepar'd defence. Whilst the big year, swoln with some other grief. Is thought with child by the stern tyrant War, And no such matter ? Rumour is a pipe^ Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ; And of so easy and so plain a stop,^ That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it. But what need I thus
26
KING HENEY THE FOUETH.
[induct.
My well-known body to anatomize
Among my household ? Why is Rumour here ?
I run before King Harry's victory ;
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,
Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first ? my office is
To noise abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword ;
And that the king, before the Douglas' rage,
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,*
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
Lies crafty-sick : the posts come tiring on.
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me : from Rumour's tongues
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.
[Exit.
d i\t Jfirst
SCENE I. — Warkworth. Before Northumberland's Castle.
Enter Lord Bardolph. L. Bard. Who keeps the gate here ? Ho !
Enter Porter.
Where is the earl ?
Port. What shall I say you are ?
L. Bard. Tell thou the earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard : Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer.
L. Bard. Here comes the earl. [_Exit Porter.
Enter Northumberland.
North. What news. Lord Bardolph ? every minute now Should be the father of some stratagem :^ The times are wild ; contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke, And bears down all before him.
28
KING HENRY THE FOUETH.
[act I. sc. r.
L. Bard. Noble earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. North. Good, an God will !
L. Bard. As good as heart can wish : —
The king is almost wounded to the death ; And, in the fortune of my lord your son, Prince Harry slain 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 Sir John, Is prisoner to your son : O, such a day. So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won. Came not till now to dignify the times, Since Caesar's fortunes !
North. How is this deriv'd ?
Saw you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury ?
L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, A gentleman well bred and of good name. That freely render'd me these news for true.
North. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent On Tuesday last to listen after news.
L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way ; 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 TJmfrevile turn'd me back With joyful tidings ; and, being better hors'd, Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard A gentleman, almost forspent with speed. That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse. He asked the way to Chester ; and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury ; He told me that rebellion had bad luck. And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. With that, he gave his able horse the head, And, bending forward, struck his armed heels Against the panting sides of his poor jade" Up to the rowel-head ;^ and starting so,
ACT I. SC. I.]
KING HENEY THE EOURTH.
He seem'd in running to devour the way/ Staying no longer question.
North. Ha ! — Again :
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold ? Of Hotspur, coldspur ?^ that rebellion Had met ill luck ?
L. Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what ;
If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point I'll give my barony : never talk of it.
North. Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers Give, then, such instances of loss ?
L. Bard. Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow, that had stolen The horse he rode on ; and, upon my life. Spoke at a venture. — Look, here comes more news.
Enter Morton.
North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,^*' Foretells the nature of a tragic volume : So looks the strand, whereon the imperious flood Hath left a witness'd usurpation. — Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury ?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord ; Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask" To fright our party.
North. How doth my son and brother ?
Thou tremblest ; and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless. So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,^^ Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night. And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd ; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue. And I my Percy's death ere thou report' st it. This thou wouldst say, — Your son did thus and thus ; Your brother thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ; Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds : But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed. Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Ending with — brother, son, and all are dead !
30
KING HENEY THE FOURTH.
[ACT I. SC. 1.
Mo7\ Douglas is living, and your brother, yet ; But, for my lord your son, —
North. Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath I He that but fears the thing he would not know Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton ; Tell thou thy earl his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace. And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid : Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.^^ I see a strange confession in thine eye : Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so ; The tongue offends not that reports his death ; And he doth sin that doth belie the dead ; Not he which savs the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Remember'd knolling a departing friend.^*
L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen ; But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rendering faint quittance, wearied and outbreath'd, To Harry Monmouth ; whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up. In few, his death, — whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, — Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-temper'd courage in his troops ; For from his metal was his party steel'd ; Which once in him abated, all the rest 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 loss. Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear,
ACT I. SCI.] KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
31
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester Too soon ta'en prisoner ; and that furious Scot, The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword Had three times slain the appearance of the king, Gan vail his stomach,^^ and did grace the shame Of those that turn'd their backs ; and in his flight. Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all Is, that the king hath won ; and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord. Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn. In poison there is physic ; and these news, Having been well, that would have made me sick. Being sick, have in some measure made me well : And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints, Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,^'' Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs. Weakened with grief, being now enrag'd with grief," Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch ! A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel. Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly quoif Thou art a guard too wanton for the head. Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron ; and approach The ragged'st hour^^ that time and spite dare bring To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland ! Let heaven kiss earth ! now let not Nature's hand Keep the wild flood confin'd ! let order die ! And let this world no longer be a stage To feed contention in a lingering act ; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene may end. And darkness be the burier of the dead !~°
Tra. This strained passion^^ doth you wrong, my lord.
L. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
Mor. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health ; the which, if you give o'er
32
KING HENEY THE EOURTH.
[act I. sc. I.
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast the event of war, my noble lord,
And summ'd the account of chance, before you said.
Let us make head. It was your presurmise,
That, in the dole of blows,^^ your son 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 scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd :
Yet did you say. Go forth ; and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action ; what hath, then, befallen,
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be ?
L. Ba7'd. We all that are engaged to this loss Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas. That if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one ; And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd ; And since we are o'erset, venture again. Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
Mor. 'Tis more than time : and, my most noble lord, I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, The gentle Archbishop of York is up With well-appointed powers : he is a man Who, with a double surety, binds his followers. My lord your son had only but the corpse, But shadows and the shows of men, to fight ; For that same word. Rebellion, did divide The action of their bodies from their souls ; And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd, As men drink potions ; that their weapons only Seem'd on our side, but, for their spirits and souls. This word. Rebellion, it had froze them up, As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop Turns insurrection to religion : Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts. He's foUow'd both with body and with mind ; And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones ; Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause ;
I. sc. IT.] KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
33
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land/^ Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ; And more, or less/* do flock to follow him.
North. I knew of this before ; but, to speak truth. This present grief had wip'd it from my mind. Go in with me ; and counsel every man The aptest way for safety and revenge : Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed, — Never so few, and never yet more need. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.— London. A Street.
Enter Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.
Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water
Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water ; but, for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at 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 myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake,^^ thou art fitter to be worn in ray cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now : but I will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for a jewel, — the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his cheek ; and yet he will not stick to say, his face is a face- royal : God may finish it when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet : he may keep it still as a face-royal,^" for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it ; and yet he will be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him. — What said Master Dumbleton^^ about the satin for mv short cloak and my slops?
X. 5
34 KING HENEY THE EOUETH. [act i. sc. ii.
Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph : he would not take his bond and yours ; he hked not the security.
Fal. Let him be damned, hke the glutton may his tongue be hotter ! — A whoreson Architophel ! a rascally yea-forsooth knave I to bear a gentleman in hand,^^ and then stand upon security ! — The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles ; and if a man is through w^ith them in honest taking-up,^^ then they must stand upon security ! I had as lief they would put rats- bane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security. I looked, he should have sent me two-and-twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security ; for he hath the horn of abundance,^* and the light- ness of his wife shines through it : and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lantern to light him. — Where's Bardolph?
Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.
Fal. I bought him in Paul's,^^ and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield ?^ An I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.
Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for striking him about Bardolph.
Fal. Wait close ; I will not see him.^^
Enter the Lord Chief- Justice and an Attendant.
Ch. Just. What's he that goes there ?
Atten. Fal staff, an't please your lordship.
Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery ?
Atten. He, my lord : but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury ; and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the Lord of Lancaster.
Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back again.
Atten. Sir John Falstaff !
Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf.
Page. You must speak louder ; my master is deaf. Ch. Just. I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. — Go, pluck him by the elbow ; I must speak with him. Atten. Sir John, —
Fal. What ! a young knave, and begging ! Is there not wars ? is there not employment ? doth not the king lack sub- jects ? do not the rebels need soldiers ? Though it be a shame
ACTi. sc. II.] KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
85
to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebelhon can tell how to make it.
Atten. You mistake me, sir.
Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat, if I had said so.
Atten. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside ; and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your throat, if you say I am any other than an honest man.
Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so ! I lay aside that which grows to me ! If thou gettest any leave of me, hang me ; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be hanged. You hunt- counter,^^ hence ! avaunt !
Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with you.
Fal. My good lord ! — God give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad : I heard say your lordship was sick : I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time ; and I most humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverend care of your health.
Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.
Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales.
Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty : — you would not come when I sent for you.
Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy.
Ch. Just. Well, God mend him ! — I pray you, let me speak with you.
Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an't please your lordship ; a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whore- son tingling.
Ch. Just. What tell you me of it ? be it as it is.
Fal. It hath its original from much grief, from study, and perturbation of the brain : I have read the cause of his effects in Galen : it is a kind of deafness.
Ch. Just. I think you are fallen into the disease ; for you hear not what I say to you.
Fal. Very well, my lord, very well rather, an't please you,
36
KING HENEY THE TOUETH. [act i. sc. ii.
it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.
Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels would amend the atten- tion of your ears ; and I care not if I do become your physician.
Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient : your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty ; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or, indeed, a scruple itself.
Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me.
Fal. As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
Ch. Just. Well, the truth is. Sir John, you live in great infamy.
Fal. He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less. Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.
Fal. I would it were otherwise ; I would my means were greater, and my waist slenderer.*^
Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince.
Fal. The young prince hath misled me : I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.*^
Ch. Just. Well, I am loth to gall a new-healed wound : your day's service at Shrewsbury hatli a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gads-hill : you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting that action.
Fal. My lord,—
Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so : wake not a sleeping wolf.
Fal. To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox. Ch. Just. What ! you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.
Fal. A wassail candle,*^ my lord ; all tallow : if I did say of w^ax, my growth would approve the truth.
Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your face but should have his effect of gravity.
Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy !
Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up and down, like his ill angel.
Fal. Not so, my lord ; your ill angel is light ; but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing : and yet, in
ACT I. sc. II.] KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
37
some respects, I grant, I cannot go : — I cannot tell.'^ Virtue is of so little regard in these costermonger times,*^ that true valour is turned bear-herd : pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings : all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young ; you measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls : and we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too.
Ch. Just. Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age ? Have you not a moist eye ? a dry hand ? a yellow cheek ? a white beard ? a decreasing leg ? an increasing belly ? is not your voice broken ? your wind short ? your chin double ? your wit single P**^ and every part about you blasted with antiquity ? and will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie. Sir John !
Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head and something a round belly. For my voice, — I have lost it with hollaing, and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not : the truth is, I am only old in judgment and understanding ; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him. For the box of the ear that the prince gave you,*^ — he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have checked him for it ; and the young lion repents, — marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack.
Ch. Just. Well, God send the prince a better companion !
Fal. God send the companion a better prince ! I cannot rid my hands of him.
Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed you and Prince Harry : I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.
Fal. Yea ; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look you, pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day ; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily : if it be a hot day, an I brandish any thing but my bottle, I would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but I am thrust upon it : well, I cannot last ever : but it was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If
38
KING HENRY THE FOUETH. [act i. sc. m.
ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God, my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is : I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.
Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest ; and God bless your expedition !
Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth ?
Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny ; you are too impatient to bear crosses.*^ Fare you well : commend me to my cousin Westmoreland. [Exeunt Chief- Justice and Attendant.
Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle.^" — A man can no more separate age and covetousness, than he can part young limbs and lechery : but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other ; and so both the diseases prevent my curses. -Boy !-
Page. Sir ?
Fal. What money is in my purse ? Page. Seven groats and two pence.
Fal. I . can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse : borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. — Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster ; this to the prince ; this to the Earl of Westmoreland ; and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin. About it : you know where to find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout ! or, a gout of this pox ! for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great toe. It is no matter if I do halt ; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem tlie more reasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing: I will turn diseases to commodity. [Exit.
Scene III. — A Room in the Archbishop of York's palace.
Enter the Archbishop, the Lords Hastings, Mowbray, and
Bardolph.
Arch. Thus have you heard our cause and know our means ; And, my most noble friends, I pray you all
ACT I. sc. nr.] KING HENRY THE EOURTH.
39
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes : — And first, lord Marshal, what say you to it ?
Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms ; But gladly would be better satisfied How, in our means, we should advance ourselves To look with forehead bold and big enough Upon the power and puissance of the king.
Hast. Our present musters grow upon the file To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice ; And our supplies live largely in the hope Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns With an incensed fire of injuries.
L. Bard. The question, then, Lord Hastings, standetli thus ; —
Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand May hold up head without Northumberland ? Hast. With him, we may.
L. Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point :
But if without him we be thought too feeble, My judgment is, we should not step too far Till we had his assistance by the hand ; For, in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this. Conjecture, expectation, and surmise Of aids incertain, should not be admitted.
Jrch. 'Tis very true. Lord Bardolph ; for, indeed, It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.
L. Bard. It was, my lord ; who lin'd himself with hope, Eating the air on promise of supply. Flattering himself w4th project of a power Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts : And so, with great imagination, Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, And, winking, leap'd into destruction.
Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
L. Bard. Yes, in this present quality of war — Indeed, the instant action, — a cause on foot, — Lives so in hope, as in an early spring We see the appearing buds ; which to prove fruit, Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model ;
40
KING HENRY THE EOUETH. [act i. sc. iii.
And when we see the figure of the house.
Then must we rate the cost of the erection ;
Which if we find outweighs abiUty,
What do we then but draw anew the model
In fewer offices, or at least desist
To build at all? Much more, in this great work, —
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down.
And set another up, — should we survey
The plot of situation and the model.
Consent upon a sure foundation.
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo.
To weigh against his opposite or else
We fortify in paper and in figures.
Using the names of men instead of men :
Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it ; who, half through,
Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost
A naked subject to the weeping clouds.
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth) Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd The utmost man of expectation ; I think we are a body strong enough. Even as we are, to equal with tbe king.
L. Bard. What, is the king but five-and-twenty thousand ?
Hast. To us no more ; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph. For his divisions, as the times do brawl. Are in three heads : one power against the French," And one against Glendower ; perforce a third Must take up us : so is the unfirm king In three divided ; and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness.
Arch. That he should draw his several strengths together, And come against us in full puissance, Need not be dreaded.
Hast. If he should do so,^^
He leaves his back unarm 'd, the French and Welsh Baying him at the heels : never fear that.
h. Bard. Who is it like should lead his forces hither ?
Hast. The Duke of Lancaster," and Westmoreland : Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth.
ACT I. sc. III.] KING HENEY THE FOTJETH.
41
But who is substituted 'gainst the French, I have no certain notice.
Arch. Let us on : And pubUsh the occasion of our arms. The commonwealth is sick of their own choice ; Their over-greedy love hath surfeited. An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. O thou fond many with what loud applause Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, Before he was what thou would'st have him be ! And now being trimm'd up in thine own desires, Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge Thy glutton-bosom of the royal Richard ; And now thou would'st eat thy dead vomit up. And howl'st to find it. What truth is in these times ? They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him die, Are now become enamour'd on his grave : Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head. When through proud London he came sighing on After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke, Cry'st now, — " O Earth, yield us that King again, And take thou this !" O thoughts of men accurs'd ! Past, and to come, seem best ; things present, worst.
Moioh. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on ?
Hast. We are Time's subjects, and Time bids, be gone.
X.
6
^ Enter Bjimour^ painted full of tongues.
This direction for the appearance of Eumour is found only in the quarto of 1600. The direction explains the sixth line : —
" Upon my tongues continual slanders ride.*'
Bumour appears to have been exhibited in a similar manner in the masques preceding Shakespeare's time, and subsequently. — Knight.
Stephen Hawes, in his Pastime of Pleasure, had long ago exhibited her [Eumour) or Pame, in the same manner :
A goodly lady, envyroned about With tongues of fire .
And so had Sir Thomas More, in one of his Pageants : Fame I am called, merveyle you nothing Thoughe with tonges I am compassed all rounde.
Not to mention her elaborate portrait by Chaucer, in the Booke of Pame ; and by John Higgins, one of the assistants in the Mirror for Magistrates, in his Legend of King Albanacte. — Farmer.
In a masque presented on St. Stephen's night, 1614, by Thomas Campion, Bumour comes on in a skin-coat full o/" winged tongues. Eumour is likewise a character in Sir Clyomon, Knight of the Golden Shield, 1599. So also in the whole magnificent Entertainment given to King James, and the Queen his Wife, 15th March, 1603, by Thomas Decker, 4to. 1604: "Directly under her in a cart by herselfe. Fame stood upright : a woman in a watchet roabe, thickly set with open eyes and tongues, a payre of large golden winges at her backe, a trumpet in her hand, a mantle of sundry cullours traversing her body : all these ensignes displaying but the propertie of her swiftnesse and aptnesse to disperse Bumoure." — Steevens.
Holinshed, in his description of a pageant of the time of Henry the Eighth, mentions Eeport as entering "apparelled in crimson sattin, full of toongs."
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
Carew, in his masque of Coelum Britannicum, introduces Momus " attired in a long darkish robe all wrought over with poiniards, serpents, tongues," &c.
^ Bumour is a 'pipe.
Here the poet imagines himself describing Bimoiir, and forgets that Bumour is the speaker. — Jolmson.
Johnson accuses Shakespeare of forgetting, in this place, that Bumour is the speaker ; had he read on for six lines further, he would have found that the poet did not forget that circumstance, but makes Bumour remark how needless it was for her to describe herself; and then proceeds to tell why she was come. — Seymour.
^ So easy and so plain a stop.
The stops are the holes in a flute or pipe. So, in Hamlet : " Govern these ventages with your finger and thumb : — Look you, these are the stops." Again : " You would seem to know my stojjs." — Steevens.
* This worm-eaten hold of ragged stone.
Ttie old copies read — " worm-eaten hole." Northumberland had retired and fortified himself in his castle, a place of strength in those times, though the building might be impaired by its antiquity ; and, therefore, I believe our poet wrote : — " And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone." — Theohald.
Theobald is certainly right. So, in the Wars of Cyrus, 1594 :
Besieg'd his fortress with his men at arms, Where only I and that Libanio stay'd . By whom I live. Eor when the hold was lost, &c.
Again, in King Henry YI. Bart III. :
She is hard by with twenty thousand men,
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. — Steevens.
^ Should he the father of some stratagem. Some stratagem, according to Mason, means here some great, important, or dreadful event. So, in the Third Bart of King Henry YI. the father who had killed his son says :
0 pity, God ! this miserable age \ What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly ! This mortal quarrel daily doth heget I I cannot see any occasion for annexing to " stratagem," either here or in the instance quoted by Mason, from Henry YI., a meaning different from the obvious one, device, contrivance, to oppose or prevent the enemy. — Seymour.
^ Of his poor jade.
Jade is not used by Shakespeare as a term of contempt ; for King Bichard II. gives this appellation to his favourite horse Boan Barbary, which Henry lY. rode at his coronation :
^\idX jade hath eat bread from my royal hand. The commentators suppose that ^jade meant a horse kept for drudgery, a hackney ; but this is not the fact. It was only another name for a horse, as nag since. Thus we have
Hollow pampered jades of Asia. And Ford, in his Lover's Melancholy, Act ii. Sc. 2 : —
Like high fed jades upon a tilting day. — Singer.
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
45
Up to the rowel-head.
I think tliat I have observed in old prints the roioel of those times to have been only a single spike. — Johnson.
Dr. Johnson had either forgotten the precise meaning of the word rowel, or has made choice of inaccurate language in applying it to the single spiked spur, which he had seen in old prints. The former signifies the moveable spiked wheel at the end of a spur, such as was actually used in the time of Henry the Fourth, and long before the other was laid aside. Shakespeare certainly meant the spur of his own time. — Douce.
The rowel, every reader of a single book of heraldry knows, was always a minute wheel radiated like a star. Up to the rowel-head implies, up to the head of one of the spikes with which the rowel was radiated. — Heron.
^ He seenid in running to devour the icay.
So, in the Book of Job, chap, xxxix : " He siDalloioeth the ground in fierce- ness and rage." The same expression occurs in Ben Jonson's Sejanus : But with that speed and heat of appetite, With which they greedily devour the ivay To some great sports. — Steevens.
So Ariel, to describe his alacrity in obeying Prospero's commands : — " I drink the air before me." — M. Mason.
^ Of Hotspur, coldspur.
Hotspur seems to have been a very common term for a man of vehemence and precipitation. Stanyhurst, who translated four books of Virgil, in 1584, renders the following line : — Nec victoris heri tetigit captiva cuhile. — To couch not mounting of mayster vanquisher hoatspur. — Steevens.
Like to a title-leaf.
It may not be amiss to observe, that, in the time of our poet, the title-page to an elegy, as well as every intermediate leaf, was totally black. I have several in ray possession, written by Chapman, the translator of Homer, and ornamented in this manner. — Steevens.
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask.
The following note was communicated to me by Mr. Eairholt : " A mask used by an actor in the old ' Todtentauz' as formerly practised in Germany. It is carved in white wood, and is now in the Old German Museum of Nuremberg. In the little volume describing the ceremonies of the Fete Dieu founded by Bene of Anjou in Provence, published at Aix, 1777, is an engraving of ' Le Jeu de la Mort' thus described — ' il est represente par une figure noire, avec des ossendut de squelette peints dessus, avec une laide testiere tres-bien caracterisee. Toute son jeu consiste a faire aller & venir sa faulx sur le pave & I'approcher des pieds de tout le monde, qui pour s'en debarrasser donne quelque chose a son queteur. C'est le plus triste, le plus desagreable, & le plus horrible de tous les Entremets.' The popularity of these Jeux des Morts is curiously illustrated by an adventure of Don Quixote (Part 2, book i. cap. xi.) who meets a company of Strollers arranged for its performance, one of whom tells him, ' Sir, we are strollers belonging to Angelo el
46
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
Male's company ; this morning, which is the octave of Corpus Christi, we have been performing in a village on the other side of yon hill, a piece representing the Cortez, or Parliament of Death ; and this evening we are to play it again in that village just before us; which being so near, to save ourselves the trouble of dressing and undressing, we come in the clothes we act our parts in. That lad there acts Death.' He is described as having ' a human visage,' and with him are a series of characters showing that the play was a realization of the old painted Dances of Death on cemetery walls and perpetuated in old woodcuts."
So woe-hegone.
This word was common enough amongst the old Scottish and English poets, as G. Douglas, Chaucer, Lord Euckhurst, Fairfax; and signifies, /ar gone in woe. — Warburton.
So, in the Spanish Tragedy : —
Awake, revenge, or we are wo-hegone !
Again, in Arden of Eeversham, 1592 :
So woe-legone^ so inly charg'd with woe.
Again, in A Looking Glass for London and England, 1598 :
Eair Alvida, look not so woe-hegone.
Dr. Bentley is said to have thought this passage corrupt, and therefore (with a greater degree of gravity than my readers will probably express) proposed the following emendation :
" So dead, so dull in look, Ucalegon, " Drew Priam's curtain," &c.
The name of Ucalegon is found in the third book of the Iliad, and the second of the jEneid. — Steevens.
Dr. Bentley's proposed substitution of Ucalegon for woe-hegone, is a most striking example of the uselessness of learning when unaccompanied with judg- ment to direct it. "Where too had the doctor found that Ucalegon drew Priam's curtain ? and, it may be added, where did Shakespeare find that any one did so ? It is not very uncommon for our poet to forget his reading, and make events change places. Thus a little further on, he has confounded Althea's firebrand with Hecuba's ; and it is not improbable that in the present instance he might have misapplied the vision of Hector to iEneas so finely described in the second book of the JEneid. — Douce.
So pale and frightlesse a wretch drew Priam's curtaine in the dead of night, and told him, halfe Troy was burn'd ; he was of my mind, I would have done so myself. — Suckling^ s Discontented Colonell, 164i2.
Yet, for all this, sag not that Percy* s dead.
Dr. Johnson would give this line to Bardolph ; however, he does not offer to alter the text, but candidly proposes a mode of distributing the parts of the speech, which he thinks belong to several interlocutors. I cannot see any advantage to be gained by it. Grief is talkative, and can bear no interruption. Cibber, in adapting this scene to the circumstance of Prince Edward's murder, in the tragedy of Eichard III., has given this line to King Henry, the father of Edward, and has thereby rendered the scene more affecting. Morton is, I think, too much overwhelmed with the weight of his unhappy tidings to reason so conclusively and coolly as in the lines which Dr. Johnson gives to him. Lord Bardolph very properly breaks silence, by saying, — " I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead." Great part of this scene between Northumberland and Travers is not unskilfully
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
47
woven into the first act of Gibber's alteration of Eichard III., and applied to Henry VI.'s lamentation for the murder of his son. The celebrated imprecation of Northumberland, so deservedly praised by Addison and Dr. Johnson, Gibber would not lose ; he transplanted several lines of it into his fourth act, and with the remainder he closed the dying speech of Eichard. — Bavies.
Dr. Johnson would give this line to the Lord Bardolph, and the conclusion of the speech to Morton ; but, surely, without necessity or improvement : the contradictions which the change is meant to remove are well suited to the distraction of the speaker's mind. — Seymour.
Mememher'd hnolling a departing f riend.
So in our author's 71st Sonnet:
you shall hear the surly Bullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am Jled.
This significant epithet has been adopted by Milton :
I hear the far-oflP curfew sound. Over some wide water'd shore Swinging slow with sullen roar.
Departing, I believe, is here used for departed. — Malone.
I cannot concur in this supposition. The bell, anciently, was rung before expiration, and thence was called the passing hell, that is, the bell that solicited prayers for the soul passing into another world. — Steevens.
I am inclined to think that this bell might have been originally used to drive away demons who were watching to take possession of the soul of the deceased. In the cuts to some of the old service books which contain the Vigilife mortuorum, several devils are waiting for this purpose in the chamber of a dying man, to whom the priest is administering extreme unction. — Douce.
The following is a passage in Stubbs's Anatomic of Abuses, 1585, p. 75. He is relating the dreadful end of a swearer in Lincolnshire, — "At the last, the people perceiving his ende to approche, caused the hell to tolle ; who, hearing the bell toll for him, rushed up in his bed very vehemently." — Brand.
Gan vail his stomach.
Began to fall his courage, to let his spirits sink under his fortune. — Johnson. From avaller, Er. to cast down, or to let fall down. — Malone. This phrase has already appeared in the Taming of the Shrew :
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot ;
And place your hands below your husband's foot. — Reed.
Thus, to vail the honnet is to pull it off. So, in the Pinner of Wakefield, 1599 :
And make the king vail honnet to us both.
To vail a staff, is to let it fall in token of respect. Thus, in the same play :
And for the ancient custom of vail-staff.
Keep it still ; claim thou privilege from me :
If any ask a reason, why? or how?
Say, English Edward vaiVd his staff to you. — Steevens.
^° Buckle under life.
Buchle, to bend or bow ; to yield to pressure. Still in use in the provinces. Ninepences a little buckled," Lestrange's Anecdotes, MS. Harl. In the play
48
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
of the Witch of Edmonton, by Eowley, Dekker, Ford, &c. 1658, the witch, Elizabeth Sawyer, is introduced gathering sticks, with this sohloquy :
Why should the envious world
Throw all their scandalous malice upon me, 'Cause I am poor, deform'd, and ignorant. And, like a bow hicMed and bent together, By some more strong in mischiefs than myself?
Thence homeward, having passed through Cheapside, and Newgate Market, all burned ; and seen Anthony Joyce's house in fire ; and took up, which I keep by me, a piece of glass of the Mercer's Chapel in the street, where much more was, so melted and hiicTcled with the heat of the fire like parchment. — Pepjs, 1666.
But the said Antonio being returned in March last with his family, to dwell again in his own house, and on his entrance there, hearing the noise of a man walking in his chamber, and seeing the boards hucJde under his feet as he walked, though no man to be seen in the chamber (for they went on purpose to look), he returned with his family to dwell on the other side of the river. — Mather s Recording of Illustrious Frovidences, 1684.
Weaken d with grief, heing now enrag'd with grief Shakespeare elsewhere uses grief for hodily pain. Palstaff, in King Henry IV. Part L, speaks of "the grief oi a wound." Orief in the latter part of this line, is used in its present sense, for sorrow ; in the former part, for hodilij pain. — Malone.
Orief in' ancient language, signifies hodilg pain, as well as sorroio. So, in A Treatise of Sundrie Diseases, &c. by T. T. 1591: — he being at that time griped sore, and having grief m his lower bellie." Dolor ventris is, by our old writers, frequently translated " ^n"^ of the guts." I perceive no need of alteration. — Steevens.
And hence, thou sichly quoif
An anachronism, the author here thinking of the costume of his own time.
See the annexed engraving of a quoif of the sixteenth century.
^® The ragged' st hour.
Theobald and the subsequent editors read — The rugged'' st. But change is unnecessary, the expression in the text being used more than once by our author. In As You Like It, Amiens says, his voice is ragged ; and rag is employed as a term of reproach in the Merry Wives of Windsor, and in Timon of Athens. See also the Epistle prefixed to Spenser's Shepherd's Calender, 1579: " — as thinking them fittest for the rustical rudeness of shepheards, either for that their rough sound would makes his rimes more ragged, and rustical," &c. The modern editors of Spenser might here substitute the word rugged with just as much propriety as it has been substituted in the present passage, or in that in As You Like It : " My voice is rugged." Again, in the Rape of Lucrece :
Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, — Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name.
NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT.
49
Again, in our poet's eighth Sonnet :
Then let not Winter's ragged hand deface In thee thy summer.
Again, in the play before us : —
A ragged and fore-stalled remission. — Malone.
I believe ragged here is much the same as rugged. The crest of the Earl of "Warwick was the bear and ragged staff, and " the tops of the ragged rocks" are mentioned in Isaiah, c. 2, v. 21. — Seymour.
And darkness he the hurier of the dead. The conclusion of this noble speech is extremely striking. There is no need to suppose it exactly philosophical ; darJcness, in poetry, may be absence of eyes, as well as privation of light. Yet we may remark, that by an ancient opinion it has been held, that if the human race, for whom the world was made, were extir- pated, the whole system of sublunary nature would cease. — Johnson.
A passage resembling this speech, but feeble in comparison, is found in the Double Marriage of Beaumont and Eletcher :
That we might fall.
And in our ruins swallow up this kingdom,
Nay the whole world, and make a second chaos. — Boswell.
Before this land shall wear the Roman yoke, Let first the adamantine axle crack. Which binds the ball terrestrial to her poles. And dash the empty air ! let planets drop Their scalding jelly, and, all flame being spent, Entomb the world in everlasting smoke ! —
Fiiimus Troes, or the True Trojanes, 1633.
In our own day the Second Part is very seldom produced ; but when it is, the players destroy the connecting link, by suppressing one of the finest scenes which Shakspere ever wrote — the scene between Northumberland, Lord Bardolph, and Morton, at Warkworth Castle. Colley Cibber, however, wrenched the scene out of its place; and, cutting it up into a dozen bits, stuck it here and there through- out his alteration of Richard III. — Knight.
In Gibber's alteration of Richard the Third, the line in the text, and some of the preceding ones, are given as the dying words of Richard. In the same piece, the doubts and lamentations of Northumberland, on hearing the various accounts of the battle of Shrewsbury, are transferred to Henry the Sixth, and the battle of Tewksbury.
This strained passion doth you wrong. This line, in the quarto, where alone it is found, is given to Umfrevile, who, as Steevens has observed, is spoken of in this very scene as absent. It was on this ground probably rejected by the player-editors. It is now, on the suggestion of Steevens, attributed to Travers, who is present, and yet, as that gentleman has remarked, " is made to say nothing on this interesting occasion." — Malone.
In the dole of hloics. The dole of blows is the distribution of blows. Bole originally signified the portion of alms (consisting either of meat or money) that was given away at the door of a nobleman. — Steevens.
Then I perceive I must lift up my pole. And deale your love-sick noddle such a dole, X. 7
50
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
That ev'ry blow shall make so huge a clatter,
Men ten leagues off shall aske, Hah ! what's the matter ? —
Britannia Triumplians^ 1637.
Tells them, he doth hestride a hleeding land. That is " stand over his country, as she lies bleeding and prostrate, to protect her." It was the office of a friend to protect his fallen comrade in battle in this manner. Shakespeare has alluded to it in other places. — Singer.
And more and less.
That is, great and small, all ranks. So, in Macbeth : — " Both more and less have given him the revolt." — Steevens.
What says the doctor to my loater ?
The method of investigating diseases by the inspection of urine only, was once so much the fashion, that Linacre, the founder of the College of Physicians, formed a statute to restrain apothecaries from carrying the icater of their patients to a doctor, and afterwards giving medicines, in consequence of the opinions they received concerning it. This statute was, soon after, followed by another, which forbade the doctors themselves to pronounce on any disorder from such an uncer- tain diagnostic. John Day, the author of a comedy called Law Tricks, or Who would have thought it? 1608, describes an apothecary thus: " — his house is set round with patients twice or thrice a day, and because they'll be sure not to want drink, every one brings his own water in an urinal with him." Again, in Beaumont and Eletcher's Scornful Lady :
I'll make her cry so much, that the physician, If she fall sick upon it, shall want urine To find the cause by. — Steevens.
The following amusing satirical anecdote on doctors judging by the water occurs in Culpeper's English Physitian Enlarged, 1661, — " A woman whose husband had bruised himself, took his water and away to the Doctor trots she ; the Doctor takes the water and shakes it about. How long hath this party been ill (saith he). Sir, saith the woman. He hath been ill these two dales. This is a man's water, quoth the Doctor presently ; this he learned by the word He ; then looking on the water he spied blood in it, the man hath had a bruise, saith he ; I, indeed, saith the woman, my husband fell down a pair of stairs backwards ; then the Doctor knew well enough that what came first to danger must needs be his back and shoulders, said, the bruise lay there; the woman she admired at the Doctors skill and told him that if he could tell her one thing more, she would account him the ablest Physitian in Europe ; wel, what was that ? How many stairs her husband fel down ; this was a hard question indeed, able to puzle a stronger Brain than Mr. Doctor had, to pumping goes he, and having taken the urinal and given it a shake or two, enquires where about she lived, and knowing well the place, and that the houses thereabouts were but low built houses, made answer (after another view of the urine for fashion sake) that probably he might fall down seven or eight stairs. Ah, quoth the woman, Now I see you know nothing, my husband fell down thirty. Thirty ! quoth the Doctor, and snatching up the urinal, is here all the water, saith he ? No, saith the woman, 1 spilt some of it in putting of it in ; look you there, quoth Mr. Doctor, there were all tiie other stairs spilt."
~^ To gird at me.
That is, to gibe. So, in Lyly's Mother Bombie, 1594 : " We maids are mad wenches ; we gird them, and flout them," &c. — Steevens.
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
51
Gird, says Gifford, is a mere metathesis of gride, and means a thrust, a blow ; the metaphorical use of the word for a smart stroke of wit, taunt, reproachful retort, &c., is justified by a similar application of kindred terms in all languages.
Thou whoreson mandrake.
Mandrake is an herb of a narcotic and cold quality ; especially the root, which is large and shaped like those of a parsnip, carrot, white briony, &c., and, in old times, has been applied to deaden pain in parts to be opened or cut off. Its roots are sometimes forked ; which made the fruitful heads of antiquity fancy they were like the legs and thighs of man, and derive its Greek name, quad Andragora. — Davies.
A root supposed to have the shape of a man. Quacks and impostors counter- feited, with the root briony, figures resembling parts of the human body, which were sold to the credulous as endued with specific virtues. See Sir Thomas Brown's Vulgar Errors, p. 72, edit. 1686, for some very curious particulars. — Singer.
A very diminutive or grotesque figure was often compared to a mandrake ; that is, to the root, as above described. " He stands as if his legs had taken root, — a very mandrake^'' Wits. — Nares.
I was never manned with an agate till now.
Manned, that is, waited on, attended. So, in Yalentinian, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 1647,
Lucina. You flatter : Good sir, no more of that. Chi. Well, I but tell you—
Lucina. Will you go forward ? since I must be mann'd. Pray, take your place.
Clau. Cannot you man us too, sir ?
Chi. Give me but time.
Marc. And you '11 try all things.
An agate is used metaphorically for a very diminutive person, in allusion to the small figures cut in agate for rings and broaches. Thus Florio explains ' Eormaglio : ouches, broaches, or tablets and jewels, that yet some old men wear in their hats, with agath-stones, cut and graven with some formes and images on them, namely of famous men's heads.' So in Bomeo and Juliet : —
In shape no bigger than an agate stone. On the fore finger of an alderman. — Singer.
Alluding to the little figures cut in agates, and other hard stones, for seals ; and therefore he says, / ivill set you neither in gold nor silver. The Oxford editor alters it to aglet, a tag to the points then in use, a word, indeed, which our author uses to express the same thought : but aglets, though they were sometimes of gold or silver, were never set in those metals. — Warhurtou.
It appears from a passage in Beaumont and Eletcher's Coxcomb, that it was usual for justices of peace either to wear an agate in a ring, or as an appendage to their gold chain : " — Thou wilt spit as formally, and show thy agate and hatched chain, as well as the best of them." — Malone.
Page. Not so strange as the metamorphosis of Ajax an't like your Grace.
Bern. Grace, you Aggot, hast not forgot that yet ?
Page. No, and yet 'tis a wonder I ha'not, grace being so seldorae used ; I'm sure they say none at some ordinaries, for at sitting down they cannot intend it
52
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
for hunger, and at rising up, they are either drunke, or have such mind a dice, they never remember, my Lord, then. — Day's lie of Gulls, 1633.
He may heep it still as a face-royal.
The quarto, 1600, and the foho, 1633, have it " at a face-royal :" it was corrected in the foho, 1632. The allusion seems to be to the coin called a royal, having a face upon it which produced no beard profitable to a barber. — Collier.
Johnson says that, by a face-royal, Ealstatf means a face exempt from the touch of vulgar hands. As a stay-royal is not to be hunted, a mine-royal is not to be dug. Steevens imagines that there may be a quibble intended on the coin called a real, or royal; that a barber can no more earn sixpence by his face, than by the face stamped on the coin, the one requiring as little shaving as the other. Mason thinks that Ealstaff's conceit is, ' If nothing be taken out of a royal, it will remain a royal still, as it was.' The reader will decide for himself. I have nothing better in the way of conjecture to offer. — Singer.
Wliat said master Dnmljleton.
The folio has, Domhleton ; the quarto, Bommeldon. This name seems to have been a made one, and designed to afford some apparent meaning. The author might have written — Double-done, (or, as M. Mason observes, Donhle-doiDn,) from his making the same charge twice in his books, or charging twice as much for a commodity as it is worth. I have lately, however, observed that Dmnbleton is the name of a town in Glocestershire. The reading of the folio may therefore be the true one. — Steer ens.
Steevens is in error where he says that Dumbleton is the name of a town in Glocestershire. A small village, about seven miles from Tewkesbury, bears that name ; but it is, I think, very improbable that Shakespeare could have alluded to this place as furnishing a title for Ealstaff's tailor. At the period when this play was written, the manor of Dumbleton was held by the Abbey of Abingdon, having been given to it by King Athelstan in 931, and was vested in that house at the dissolution, when King Henry the Eighth sold it to Thomas Lord Audley and Sir Thomas Pope ; it afterwards came into the family of the Cockses of Cleeve, Glocestershire, descended from the Cockses, of Cocks- Hall, Kent, from whom Lord Somers, the present proprietor, inherits it. — Bennett.
Let Mm he dammed lihe the glutton.
An allusion to the fate of the rich man, who had fared sumptuously every day, when he requested a drop of water to cool his tongue, being tormented with flames. — Henley.
To bear a gentleman in hand.
To bear in hand is, to keep in expectation, to amuse with frivolous pretences.
I beare in hande, I threp upon a man that he hath done a dede or make hym byleve so. Je fas accroyre tert. conj., conjugate in the seconde boke. I beare hym in hande : je luy fais acroyre, construitur cum dativo. He beareth me in hande : il me fait acroyre. I shall beare them in hande : je leurferay acroyre, and so, joynyng the modes, tenses, norabres and persons of je fais, unto the pronowne and croyre. And in this sence I fynde also je metz sus, conjugate herafter in " I put," as I beare him in hande it was he that stale my horse : je luy metz sus que ce fut luy qui me desroha mon cheual, — Palsgrave, 1530.
If a man is thorough with them in honest tahing up.
That is, if a man hy tahing up goods is in their debt. To be thorough seems to be the same with the present phrase, — to be in loith a tradesman. — Johnson.
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
53
I assure you, in these times, no man. has his servant more obsequious and pliant, than gentlemen their creditors : to whom, if at any time you pay but a moiety, or a fourth part, it comes more acceptably than if you gave them a new- year's gift, — Sog. I perceive you, sir : I will take up, and bring myself in credit, sure. — Every Man out of his Humour.
That is, goods on credit ; a common phrase in the writers of those times. So EalstafF, " gentleman would be thorough with 'em, in honest they stand upon security." — Again, in Donne,
There's now as great an itch of bravery,
And heat of taking up. Elegy, xvi. — Whalley.
He hath the horn of abundance.
But chiefly citizens, upon whose crowne Fortune her blessino-s most did tumble downe ; And in whose eares (as all the world doth know) The home of great aboundance still doth blow.
Pasquils Night- Cap, 1612.
/ hought him in PauVs.
EalstafP alludes to a proverbial saying, which is thus given in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy : — " He that marries a wife out of a suspected inn or alehouse, buys a horse in Smithfield, and hires a servant in Paul's, as the diverb is, shall likely have a jade to his horse, a knave for his man, an arrant honest woman to his wife." The middle aisle of the old cathedral of St. Paul's was the resort of bullies, knights of tlie post, and others of the like reputable professions, who carried on their various occupations here with great success : indeed, bargains of all kinds were made here as commonly as on the Exchange, and with as little feeling of impropriety. Ben Jonson lays a scene in Every Man out of his Humour in the Middle Aisle of St. Paul's. He calls his Captain Bobadil " a Paul's man." But Paul's was also a sort of exchange ; and announcements were fixed upon the pillars that corresponded with the newspaper advertisements of modern times. The " masterless serving-man" set up " his bill in Paul's," as well as the tradesman who called attention to his wares. These advertisements were denominated Si quisses. Paul's was also the resort of newsmongers and politi- cians ; and sometimes was the scene of more important conferences than arose out of the gossip of the day. Bishop Carleton tells us that Babington's and Ballard's conspiracy was " conferred upon in Paul's Church." The spendthrifts resorted there for protection against their creditors ; a part of the cathedral being privileged from arrest : " There you may spend your legs in winter a whole afternoon ; con- verse, plot, laugh, and talk anything ; jest at your creditor, even to his face ; and in the evening, even by lamplight, steal out." (Dekker's ' Gull's Horn Book,' 1609.) In Bishop Earle's ' Microcosmography,' 1628, we have an exceedingly amusing description of all the general features of Paul's "Walk, of which the following passage will convey a notion of the style : — " It is a heap of stones and men, with a vast confusion of languages ; and, were the steeple not sanctified, nothing liker Babel. The noise in it is like that of bees, a strange humming or buzz, mixed of walking, tongues, and feet. It is a kind of still roar, or loud whisper. It is the great exchange of all discourse, and no business whatsoever but is here stirring and a-foot. It is the synod of all pates politic, jointed and laid together in the most serious posture; and they are not half so busy at the parliament." That St. Paul's Church was, till the latter end of Queen Anne's reign, a common resort for all sorts of people we find from Pope's Essay on Criticism : — " Nor is Paul's church more free than Paul's Church-yard." — Knight.
54
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
So, in Fearful and lamentable Effects of Two dangerous Comets, no date ; by Nashe, in ridicule of Gabriel Harvey : " Paules church is in wonderful! perill thys yeare without the help of our conscionable brethren, for that day it hath not eytlier broker, maisterless serving-man, or pennilesse companion, in the middle of it, the usurers of London have sworne to bestow a newe steeple upon it." In an old Collection of Proverbs, I find the following: — "Who goes to Westminster for a wife, to St. PaiiVs for a man, and to Smithfield for a horse, may meet with a whore, a knave, and a jade." In a pamphlet by Dr. Lodge, called Wit's Miserie, and the World's Madnesse, 1596, the devil is described thus : — ''\n Poids walketh like a gallant courtier, where if he meet some rich chuffes worth the gulling, at every word he speaketh, he maketh a mouse an elephant, and telleth them of wonders done in Spaine by his ancestors." I should not have troubled the reader with this quotation, but that it in some measure familiarizes the cha- racter of Pistol, which (from other passages in the same pamphlet) appears to have been no uncommon one in the time of Shakespeare. Dr. Lodge concludes his description thus : " His courage is boasting, his learning ignorance, his abihty weakness, and his end beggary." Again, in Ram-AUey, or Merry Tricks, 1611 :
get thee a gray cloak and hat.
And walk in PatiVs among thy cashier'd mates. As melancholy as the best.
I learn from a passage in Greene's Disputation between a He Coneycatcher and a She Coneycatcher, 1592, that *S'^. PauVs was a privileged place, so that no debtor could be arrested within its precincts. — Steevens.
" It was the fashion of those times," (the times of King James I.)-, says Osborne, in his Memoirs of that monarch, " and did so continue till these, (the interregnum,) for the principal gentry, lords, courtiers, and men of all professions, not merely mechanicks, to meet in St. PauVs church by eleven, and walk in the middle isle till twelve, and after dinner from three to six ; during which time some discoursed of business, others of news. Now, in regard of the universal commerce there happened little that did not first or last arrive here." — Malone.
Before the introduction>of newspapers, the pillars of this church seem to have answered the same purposes as the columns of those daily publications. The following passage is from a volume of Harleian Manuscripts filled with scraps of letters and other concerns of Mrs. Jane Shelley (daughter of John Lynge, Esq. of Sutton in Herefordshire), who died in 1600. The writer, who appears to have been one of her servants, addressing his sister, complains of the strictness of his lady, and determines to leave lier service : " It may be you will say I wer better to here of a new before I loose the ould servisse; my answer is, I cannot loose much by the bargain ; for yf I take but the basest course, and sett my J)ill in Paides, in one or two daves I cannot want a servisse," Harl. MSS. 2050. — BlaJceway.
^'^ He'll huy me a horse hi Smithfield.
" He who goeth to Westminster for a wife, to Pauls for a man, and to Smith- field for a horse, may have a jade to his horse, a knave to his man, and a wagg-tail to his wife," Howell, 1659.
Civis. — Call the chamberlain, and let us have a chamber severallie. (i. e. apart to ourselves.)
Roger. — With all spede, a Gods name. Chamberlain, prepare your chamber, with all thinges accordingly in the same, for my master and maistres. Whip maister Ostiler with a caste of ligerdemain ; bestirre you, sirrha, and make xiid. of three botles of stinkng Haye and a pecke of Ottes. You can make a stoned
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
55
horse a gelding, and a long taile a curtail. You knowe my meanyng wel enough : hem, sirrha, I saie notliyng but mum, I have seen you often in Smithfielde. — Bulleyns Dialogue.
A pleasant fellow desirous to put off a lame horse, rode him from the Sunne Tavern within Cripplegate to the Sunne in Holborne neare to Fullers Rents ; and minding the next day to sell him in Smithfeild, the chapman askt him why he looked so lean. Marry, no marvell, answered he ; for, but yesterday, I rid him from Sunne to Sunne, and never drew bit. — A Banquet of Jests new Sf old, 1657.
But if any inconveniences arise from these corruptions of matrimony, they are not to be lookt upon as the discomforts of lawful wedlock, but as the punishments of rash and greedy riot, or the long experienc'd inconveniences of SmithJleldhQ,Yter. — T/ie Women's Advocate, 1683.
^'^ TFait close, I will not see him. In a copy of ed. 1600, which has very early MS. notes, nearly contemporary with the impression, is a curious diagram in the margin in this place, representing probably the position of the characters on the stage of the Globe Theatre.
You hunt-con nter.
That is, blunderer. He does not, I think, allude to any relation between the judge's servant and the counter-prison. — Johnson.
Dr. Johnson's explanation may be countenanced by the following passage in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub :
Do you mean to make a hare
Of me, to hunt counter thus, and make these doubles. And you mean no such thing as you send about ?
Again, in Hamlet;
0, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.
It should not, however, be concealed, that Ban die Holme, in his Academy of Armory and Blazon, book iii, ch. 3, says : — " Hunt counter, when hounds hunt it by the heel." — Steevens.
Hunt counter means, base tyl-e, or worthless dog. There can be no reason why Ealstaff should call the attendant a blunderer, but he seems very anxious to prove him a rascal. After all, it is not impossible the word may be found to signify a catchpole or hum-bailiff. He was probably the Judge's tipstaff. — Bitson.
Perhaps the epithet hunt-counter is applied to the officer, in reference to his having reverted to Ealstaff 's salvo. — Henley.
I think it much more probable that Ealstaff means to allude to the counter- prison. Sir T. Overbury, in his character of A Serjeant's Yeoman, 1616, (in modern language, a bailiff's follower^ calls him " a counter-rat." — Malone.
Very well, my lord, very well. In the quarto edition, printed in 1600, this speech stands thus : " Old. Very well, my lord, very well : "
I had not observed this, when I wrote my note to the Eirst Part of Henry IV. concerning the tradition of Ealstaff's character having been first called Oldcastle. This almost amounts to a self-evident proof of the thing being so : and that the play, being printed from the stage manuscript, Oldcastle had been all along altered into Ealstaff, except in this single place by an oversight ; of which the printers, not being aware, continued these initial traces of the original name. — Theobald.
56
NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT.
*° And my waist slenderer .
A similar quibble occurs in Lilly's Endimion, — " What a low stature shee is, and yet what a great foot she carrieth ? How thriftie must shee be in whom there is no icaste ? How vertuous is she like to be, ouer whom no man can be iealous ?"
ThefelloiD with the great helly, and he my dog.
Dr. Johnson says he does not understand the joke ; he knows that dogs some- times lead the blind, but asks, Why should a dog lead the fat ? Dr. Farmer answers, " If the fellow's great belly prevented him from seeing his way, he would want a dog as well as the blind man." But this reply is by no means satisfac- tory ; the definite article repeated in " the" man, and " the" great belly, seems to denote a reference to some well-known object at that time. — Seymour.
And though he had no absolute occasion for him, Shakespeare would still have supplied him with one. He seems to have been very little solicitous that his com- parisons should answer completely on both sides. It was enough for him that men were sometimes led by dogs. — Malone.
The allusion was probably to some well-known character of the time. Ben Jonson, in his Discoveries, has an anecdote of a notorious thief of the day, who was remarkable for his great belly. A little more information respecting this person might perhaps identify him with the character here alluded to. — Talbot.
A wassel candle, my lord.
A luassel candle is a large candle lighted np at a feast. There is a poor quibble upon the word wax, which signifies increase as well as the matter of the honey-comb. — Johnson.
The same quibble has already occurred in Love's Labour's Lost, " That was the way to make his godhead icax."" — Steevens.
Lihe his ill angel.
So the quarto, 1600, both here and in FalstafiP's reply. The folio has " evil angel " in the first place, and " ill angel " in the second. The mistake seems obvious : ''ill angel" answers the purpose both of Falstaff and the Chief Justice. — Collier.
Evil is the reading of the folio ; ill of the quarto. Theobald says, " If this were the true reading, Falstaff could not have made the witty and humorous evasion he has done in his reply." It may be answered, however, that the humour of the evasion is perhaps rather heightened by Falstaff's change of the epithet from evil to ill. When he says " an ill angel is light," his allusion is to the coin called an angel. — Knighl.
If this were the true reading, Falstaff could not have made the witty and humorous evasion he has done in his reply. I have restored the reading of the
oldest quarto. The Lord Chief Justice calls Falstaff the Prince's ill angel or genius : which Falstaff turns off by saying, an ill angel (meaning the coin called an angel) is light ; but, surely, it cannot be said that he wants weight : ergo — the inference is obvious. Now money may be called ill, or had ; but it is never called evil, with regard to its being under weight. This Pope will facetiously call restoring lost puns : but if the author wrote a pnn.
NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT.
57
and it happens to be lost in an editor's indolence, I shall, in spite of his grimace, venture at bringing it back to light. — Theobald.
"As light as a dipt angel," is a comparison frequently used in the old comedies. So, in Ram- Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611 :
The law speaks profit, does it not ?
Eaith, some had angels haunt us now and then. — Steevens.
44.
I cannot go, I cannot tell.
I cannot be taken in a reckoning : 1 cannot pass current. — Johnson.
Gifford, in a note on Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, vol. i. p. 125, objects to this explanation. I cannot tell (he observes) me^n^, I cannot tell what to thinh of it, and nothing more." The phrase, with that signification, was certainly common ; but, as it will also bear the sense which Dr. Johnson has assigned to it, his interpretation appears to me to suit the context better. Let the reader judge. — Boswell.
45
In these costermonger times.
In these times when the prevalence of trade has produced that meanness that rates the merit of every thing by money. — Johnson. Coster-monger, means any thing meanly mercenary ; in its original sense a dealer in apples.
Coster-monger, jocularly used as an adjective. Any thing meanly mercenary, like a petty dealer in apples, whose character was bad in various ways. See the above passage, where note, that times is not in the two folios, but is supplied from the quarto, and that hear-herd should probably be hear-ivard, the quarto having herod. Bear-herd occurs, however, in other passages. — Wares.
46
Tour wit single.
Mil. Methinksj Cordatus, he dwelt somewhat too (^^lea^t^jM^ long on this scene; it hung in the hand. — Cor. I see not where he could have insisted less, and to have
made the humours perspicuous enough. — Mil. True, as his subject lies ; but he might have altered the shape of his argument, and explicated them better in single scenes. — Cor. That had been single indeed. Why, be they not the same persons in this, as they would have been in those ? — Ben Jonson's Uvery Man out of his Humour.
Single-witted and single-souVd were common epithets with our ancestors, to designate simple persons. In the text there is a quibble on douhle in the previous sentence, but not necessarily implying that single is used in its ordinary sense. There is a somewhat similar quibble in Coriolanus, —
Men. You blame Marcius for being proud.
Brutus. We do it not alone.
Men. I know you can do very little alone for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single.
Dr. Johnson explains ' your wit single f to mean ' your merriment unfashion- able? such as no one had any part in but himself: a calamity' (observes the Doctor) ' always incident to a grey-hair'd wit, whose allusions are to forgotten facts, and his illustrations drawn from notions obscured by time.' Steevens supposes that Shakespeare meant only that he had more fat than wit, that his wit was not increased in proportion to his bodv, which was bloated by intemperance X. ' 8
58
NOTES TO THE EIRST ACT.
to twice its original size.' But, what mark, or ' character of age,' is there in a man's not growing more imtty, as he grows more fat? Wit, in this passage, means (a sense, which it has often been shewn to bear, by the commentators) understanding, intellect. And single (which they do not seem to have noticed) signifies, loeaTc, infirm, feehle, not strong. 'Is not your wit single?' is equivalent to, ' is not your intellect impaired?' a certain mark of age. We will add some examples of this use of the word single. In Beaumont and Eletclier's Queen of Corinth, Neanthes having observed of Onos that he must be fifty years of age ; Sosicles replies, ' All men believe it when they hear him speak ; he utters such single matter ' (i. e. such weak nonsense) ' in so infantly a voice.' In the Captain of the same authors, lacomo calls to a drawer, ' More beer, boy, very sufficient single beer.' A little aftervt^ards, this is called ' small beer.' ' Single beer ' occurs also before in the same scene, and in Act II. Sc. I. and is to be found in other authors. — Anon.
Ealstaff had more fat than wit. The chief justice, in my opinion, intends to reproach him with being solely master of that wit which promoted dissipation, licentiousness, and debauchery. That his ideas and practice were perfectly con- formable, he was become so habituated to loose discourse and a profligate mode of living, that he could not reform. In short, says the chief justice, your wit is confined to one subject, you are a perfect stranger to reasoning on any topic, except that which is connected with luxury, and leads to the tavern or the bawdy- house. — Bavies.
The hex o' the ear that the prince gave you.
This incident is introduced into the old play of the Eamous Victories, in which Tarlton usually took the part of the Clown. This fact appears from a curious anecdote related in Tarlton's Jests, I61I, — An excellent jest of Tarlton suddenly spohen. — At the Bui at Bishops-gate was a play of Henry the 5, wherein the judge was to take a box on the eare ; and because he was absent that should take the blow, Tarlton himselfe, ever forward to please, tooke upon him to play the same judge, besides his own part of the clowne : and Knel then playing Henry the 5., hit Tarlton a sound boxe indeed, which made the people laugh the more because it was he, but anon the judge goes in, and immediately Tarlton (in his clownes cloathes) comes out, and askes the actors what newes : O saith one hadst thou been here, thou shouldest have seene Prince ITenry hit the judge a terrible box on the eare : What, man, said Tarlton, strike a judge? It is true, yfaith, said the other. No other hke, said Tarlton, and it could not be but terrible to the judge, when the report so terrifies me, that me thinkes the blow remaines still on my cheeke, that it burnes againe. The people laught at this mightily : and to this day I have heard it commended for rare ; but no marvell, for he had many of these. But I would see our clownes in these dayes doe the like : no, I warrant ye, and yet they thinke well of themselves too.
Tarlton died in 1588, but his fame as a great comic actor continued in the memories of the public long after his death. Even in the seventeenth century, his name was a common one for the sign of a tavern. So, in a marginal note to Stowe's Annales, ed. 1615, p. 697, — " Tarleton so beloved that men use his picture for their signes." The present token is one of the rarest and most intrinsically curious in the whole range of the London series. There does not appear to be any specimen of it in the Beaufoy cabinet. The following- curious allusion to Tarlton's name as an inn-sign does not appear to have been hitherto noticed, —
Elowbeit, if they did onelie this, they were the more to be
NOTES TO THE PIEST ACT.
59
pardoned ; but they are not ashamed to step one degree higher, by lianging out these monumentes of their grosse ignorance, for signes at innes and ale-houses (the toleration whereof I have wondered at) putting no difference betweene the renowned Scepter of K. Henry the 8. and Tartletons pipe. If this bee not to propliane the sacred Majestic of Princes, and disgrace nobility, surely I cannot judge. But this I am sure of, that if any private man were so handled, he would holde it an indignity unsufferable. — Lomatius on Painting, by HagdocJc, 1598.
/ would I might never spit white again.
The meaning of the words is plain ; but the application of them here may be doubted. His meaning is, may I never again have wine enough to produce that efiPect : or rather, perhaps, may I never have a debauch over-night, to make me thirsty in the morning. I fear we must condemn the intemperance of our ancestors, when we find that this effect was often observed and alluded to. Spungius says, in Massinger, — " Had I been a pagan still, I should not have spit white for want of drink," that is, for want of more drink, to remedy the eflPect of what he had taken before. It was noticed also as a consequence of habitual intemperance. The unlucky pages, in Lyly's Mother Bombie, say that their masters had sodden their livers in sack for forty years, and — " That makes them spit white broath, as they do." — Nares.
You are too impatient to hear crosses.
I believe a quibble was here intended. Ealstaff had just asked his lordship to lend him a thousand pound, and he tells him in return that he is not to be entrusted with money. A cross is a coin so called, because stamped with a cross. So, in As You Like It: —
" If I should bear you, I should bear no cross." — Steevens.
^'^ If I do, fillip me with a three-man heetle. A diversion is common with boys in Warwickshire and the adjoining counties, on finding a toad, to lay a board about two or three feet long, at right angles, over a stick about two or three inches diameter, as per sketch. Then, placing the toad at A, the other end is struck by a bat or large stick, which throws the creature forty or fifty feet perpen- dicular from the earth, and its return in general kills it. This is called
Filliping the Toad. A three-man
heetle is an implement used for driving
piles; it is made of a log of wood about eighteen or twenty inches diameter, and fourteen or fifteen inches thick, with one short, and two long handles, as per sketch. A man to each of the long handles manages the fall of the beetle, and a third man by the short handle assists in raising it to strike the blow. Such an imple- ment was, without doubt, very suitable for filliping so corpulent a being as FalstafF. — J. Johnson.
Beetle, a large, heavy, wooden hammer, hooped with iron round its heads, and studded all over with nails, for the purpose chiefly of riving wood with iron wedges. In Scotland an article of the same sort is called Bittle.
See Pirate, I. 128. catalogue of farming implements has a plough-beetle. — Moor.
Tusser, in his
60
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
So, in A "World of Wonders, A Mass of Murthers, A Covie of Cosenages, &c. 1595, sign. P. " — whilst Arthur Hall was weighing the plate, Bullock goes into the kitchen and fetcheth a heavie washing hetle, wherewith he comming behinde Hall, strake him," &c. — Beed.
A leetle which laundrers do use to wash their buck and clothes. — Hollyhand's Dicfionarie, 1593. The wooden mallet used by pavers of streets is still so called, and the word is occasionally heard as a verb.
It would require such a ponderous beetle to fillip him, if by that word be meant what is called in SufiPolk a gibbet. This is a barbarous act of boys, laying a toad or mouse, or other " small deer" on one end of a lath, or a piece of wooden hoop, its centre on the ledge of a gate equipoized : — a violent stroke (hyperbolically a fillip) on the other end sends the victim of cruelty high in the air. The fall or haply the rapidity of ascent kills the creature. It is hoped that this barbarism is, with others, now unpractised. — Moors Suffolk MS.
61 Pf event my curses.
To prevent means, in this place, to anticipate. So, in the 119tli Psalm : " Mine eyes prevent the night watches." — Steevens.
Yes, in this present quality of war.
This and the following nineteen lines appeared first in the folio. That copy reads : — " Yes, if this present," &c. I believe the old reading is the true one, and that a line is lost ; but have adopted Dr. Johnson's emendation, because it makes sense. The punctuation now introduced appears to me preferable to that of the old edition, in which there is a colon after the word action. Bardolph, I think, means to say, " Indeed the present action (our cause being now on foot, war being actually levied,) lives so in hope," &c. otherwise the speaker is made to say, in general, that all causes once on foot afford no hopes that may securely be relied on ; which is certainly not true. — Malone.
The reading of the old copy, merely substituting in for " «/"," as Johnson suggested, will bear this construction : — It never yet did hurt (says Hastings) to be sanguine. To which Lord Eandolph replies : —
Yes, in this present quality of war — (it has done hurt) Indeed the instant action, (i. e.) a cause on foot Lives so in hope, as in the early spring, &c.
To be over sanguine, has been and is most injurious in that particular crisis we are now arrived at ; on the point of committing ourselves irrevocably: — false hopes at this time are as treacherous as early blossoms. — Singer.
"Hope," says Hastings, "never yet did harm." "Yes," says Bardolph, "in a state of affairs like the present, where action seems imminent, it lias done harm to entertain (unfounded) hopes." He then proceeds to press on his friends, as their only chance of safety, the necessity of making the war not imminent — of postponing it until they have pondered well their resources, and received further supplies. All this is intelligible enough, and may be elicited with perfect ease from the ordinary text which was adjusted by Dr. Johnson — the original reading of the two lines in question being obviously disfigured by typographical errors. — Anon.
A great variety of conjectural emendations of the two lines commencing Bardolph's speech have been suggested. Eor example, — ^/'this present quality of war impede the instant act in this present quality of war indeed of mstsLut action; if this prescient quality of war indue d the instant action ; in this present quality of war: indeed the instant act and; in this present quality of war, indeed of
NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT.
Gl
instant action ; if this present quality of war impel the instant action. The last conjecture is by Steevens, who explains his reading thus, —
Hastings says, it never yet did hurt to lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. Yes, says Bardolph, it has in every case like ours, where an array inferior in number, and waiting for supplies, has, without that reinforcement, impelled^ or hastily brought on, an immediate action. — Steevens.
If we may be allowed to read — imtcmc'd, the text may mean — Yes, it has done harm in every case like ours ; indeed, it did harm in young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury, which the Archbishop of York has just instanced or given as an example. — Toilet.
Modern editors have changed the if of the original into in, and pointed the passage accordingly. They have thus made that unintelligible which, with care in the punctuation, presents little difficulty. As we read the passage, the meaning is this : — Hastings has said that it never yet did hurt to lay down forms of hope. Bardolph replies yes (it does hurt), ifi\\Q present condition of our war — ifi\\& instant state of our action and cause on foot — lives only in such hope as the pre- mature buds of an early spring. — Knight.
There is no harm, says Hastings, in taking probabilities into reckoning : yes, cries Bardolph, in the present condition of things, there is ; hope, or a flattering calculation, as our cause stands, (in the instant action) is likely to deceive us, and our prospect of success is no more to be relied on than the premature promise of a spring which, to an experienced mind, suggests the likelihood of abortion, rather than of abundance. Bardolph's speech to "We fortify in paper," is not in the quarto, — Seymour.
" When we mean to huild.
Shakespeare here refers to St. Luke's Gospel, — " Eor which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it ? — Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, — Saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish. — Or what king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and consulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand ?"
To weigh against his opposite.
Previously to these words, there is inserted in a modern annotated copy the following line, — " A careful leader sums what force he brings." It means, before we engage in any great and perilous undertaking, we should know how able we are to undergo such a work — how able we are to weigh against the opposite of such a work ; that is, to contend successfully against the forces of the enemy. Mr. Singer says that, if any change is necessary, we should read " this opposite," instead of " his opposite." With submission we beg to say, that, if any change is necessary, " its" and not "this" is the word which must be substituted for "his." But no change is necessary *. " his opposite" means the work's opposite ; and it is no unfrequent idiom with Shakespeare to use " his " for " its." — Anon.
This interpolation mars entirely the integrity of the poet's simile, by introducing a new element, and interrupting its course ; making what was before perfectly simple and consecutive, involved. The reading last for " least" may have been adopted from Steevens. The only other correction which the passage requires, if indeed that be necessary, is to read " this opposite," instead of his. " Much more in this great work," says Lord Bardolph, " should we examine our plan, our situation, and the frame of it. Agree upon a secure foundation of it. Question lookers-on, know our position ; how far we are able to undertake such a work,
62
NOTES TO THE EIRST ACT.
and preponderate against this adversary." There is no necessity for further deviation from the old copy. — Singer.
One power against the French.
During this rebellion of Northumberland and the archbishop, a Erench array of twelve thousand men landed at Milford Haven, in Wales, for the aid of Owen Glendower. — Steevens.
This is correct ; the contest with Wales still went on, and a force was about this time sent to Calais, under Prince Thomas ; Henry was still at war with the Erench, who had assisted Owen Glendower. I know not why Hastings says that he knew not who commanded this force. — Courtnay.
If he should do so.
This passage is read, in the first edition, thus : " If he should do so, Erench and Welsh he leaves his back unarmed, they baying him at the heels, never fear that." These lines, which were evidently printed from an interlined copy not understood, are properly regulated in the next edition, and are here only mentioned to show what errors may be suspected to remain. — Johnson.
I believe the editor of the foho did not correct the quarto rightly ; in which the only error probably was (as Capell has observed) the omission of the word to:—
To Erench and Welsh he leaves his back unarm'd, They baying him at the heels ; never fear that. — Malone.
The dtiJce of Lancaster.
Prince John never had the title of Duke of Lancaster. He was not created a duke until the reign of Henry the Eifth, when, in 1414, he was made Duke of Bedford and Earl of Kendal. At this time Prince Henry was actually duke of Lancaster. Shakespeare was misled by Stowe, who, speaking of the first parliament of King Henry IV. says, ' Then the king rose, and made his eldest Sonne prince of Wales, &c. ; his second sonne was there made duke of Lancaster.' Annales, 1631. Prince John, however, was the third not the second son of Henry the Eourth.
^® 0 thou fond many!
Mawy, a multitude ; a company ; followers ; household attendants ; family. Ray and Skinner give the word, the latter saying he had met with it only in Gouldman, and both in the last sense. It appears from Watson that it was in use in Yorkshire as lately as 1775. It is a common archaism.
Lo, serys, a part we have of oure entent, Eor to take Jhesu now we must provyde
A sotjl meny to be present,
That dare fyth and wele abyde. — Lud. Covent, p. 270.
" Meny of plantes, plantaige," Palsgrave. Dryden uses the word : " The ma?iy rend the skies with loud applause."
SCENE I.— London. J Street.
Enter Hostess, Fang a7id Ms Boy tvithher, and Snare following.
Host. Master Fang, have you entered the action ? Fang. It is entered.
Host. Where 's your yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman? will he stand to it ?
Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare ?
Host. O Lord, ay ! good Master Snare.
Snare. Here, here.
Fang. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. Host. Yea, good Master Snare ; I have entered him and all. Snare. It mav chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab.
Host. Alas the day ! take heed of him ; he stabbed me in mine own house, and that most beastly : in good faith, he cares not what mischief he doth, if his weapon be out : he will foin like any devil ; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.
Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.
Host. No, nor I neither : I'll be at your elbow.
Fang. An I but fist him once ; an he comes but within my vice,^ —
Host. I am undone by his going ; I warrant you, he is an
64
KING HENEY THE FOUETH. [act ii. sc. i.
infinitive thing upon my score : — good Master Fang, hold him sure ; — good Master Snare, let him not scape. He comes con- tinuantly to Pie-corner, saving your manhoods, to buy a saddle ; and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber' s-head in Lumbert street, to Master Smooth's the silkman : I pray ye, since my exion is entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one^ for a poor lone woman^ to bear ; and I have borne, and borne, and borne ; and have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing ; unless a woman should be made an ass and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong. — Yonder he comes ; and that arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do your offices. Master Fang and Master Snare ; do me, do me, do me your offices.
Enter Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph.
Fal. How now ! whose mare 's dead ? what's the matter ?
Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.
Fal. Away, varlets ! — Draw, Bardolph : cut me off the villain's head ; throw the quean in the channel.
Host. Throw me in the channel ! I'll throw thee in the channel. Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou bastardly rogue ! — Murder, murder ! O thou honey-suckle villain ! wilt thou kill God's officers and the king's ? O thou honey-seed * rogue ! thou art a honey-seed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller.^
Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.
Fang. A rescue ! a rescue !
Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two. — Thou wo't, wo't thou ? thou wo't, wo't ta ? do, do, thou rogue ! do, thou hemp- seed !
Fal. Away, you scullion ! you rampallian ! you fustilarian ! ^ I'll tickle your catastrophe.^
Enter the Lord Chief-Justice, attended.
Ch. Just. What is the matter? keep the peace here, ho ! Host. Good my lord, be good to me ! I beseech you, stand to me !
Ch. Just. How now, Sir John ! what, are you brawling here ?
J^a/ysirmie fn/N //// IJr/ii/a 2fa/Vy(£cript of ffe/i/y dt£ Friirlh ^ tJi^^ ^a/iir/.t' written^ cxpj of ariy vf S}LaJ<eepeares
f
lit
■"X^S^ jh^^ ,^!W^ ot^o-i^^ -^^oc^jl^. /^^cjj^ t^^^^-cy'^^ ^
/
TJ; faceup 64-
ACTii. sc. I.] KING HENRY THE EOURTH.
65
Doth this become your place, your time, your business ? You should have been well on your way to York. — Stand from him, fellow : wherefore hang'st upon him ?
Host. O my most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.
Ch, Just. For what sum ?
Host. It is more than for some, my lord ; it is for all, — all I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home ; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his : — but I will have some of it out again, or I will ride thee o' nights like the mare.
Fal. I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have any vantage of ground to get up.
Ch. Just. How comes this, Sir John? Fie! what man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation ? Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course, to come by her own ?
Fal. What is the gross sum that I owe thee ?
Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet,*^ sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor, — thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech,^° the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us she had a good dish of pravv'ns ; whereby thou didst desire to eat some ; whereby I told thee, they were ill for a green wound ? And didst thou not, when she was gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people ; saying that, ere long, they should call me madam ? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings ? I put thee now to thy book-oath : deny it if thou canst.
Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul ; and she says, up and down the town, that her eldest son is like you : she hath been in good case, and the truth is, poverty hath distracted her. Bat for these foolish officers, I beseech you, I may have redress against them.
Ch. Just. Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words that come with such
X. 9
66
KING HENEY THE FOURTH. [act ii. sc. i.
more than impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from a level consideration : you have, as it appears to me, practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your uses both in purse and in person. Host. Yea, in troth, my lord.
Ch. Just. Prithee, peace. — Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villany you have done with her : the one you may do with sterling money, and the other with current repentance.
Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap" without reply. You call honourable boldness, impudent sauciness ; if a man will make court'sy, and say nothing, he is virtuous : — no, my lord, my humble duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say to you, I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment in the king's affairs.
Ch. Just. You speak as having power to do wrong : — but answer in the effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.
Fal. Come hither, hostess. [Takes her aside.
Enter Gower.
Ch. Just. Now, Master Gower, — what news ? Gow. The king, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales, Are near at hand : the rest the paper tells. [Gives a letter.
Fal. As I am a gentleman, — Host. Faith, you said so before.
Fal. As I am a gentleman : — come, no more words of it.
Host. By this heavenly ground I stand on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining chambers.
Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking and for thy walls, — a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in water- work,^* is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an it were not for thy humours, there is not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me ; dost not know me ? Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this.
Host. Pray thee. Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles ; i' faith I am loth to pawn my plate, so God save me, la.
Fal. Let it alone ; I'll make other shift : you'll be a fool still.
ACT II. SC. I.]
KING HENUY THE TOUETH.
67
Host. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you'll come to supper. You'll pay me altogether ?
Fal. Will I live ? — Go, with her, with her, [to Bardolph] ; hook on, hook on.
Host. Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper ?
Fal. No more words ; let's have her.
[Exeunt Hostess, Bardolph, Officers, and Boy.
Ch. Just. I have heard better news.
Fal. What's the news, my good lord ?
Ch. Just. Where lay the king last night ?
Goto. At Basingstoke, my lord.
Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well ; what is the news, my lord ?
Ch. Just. Come all his forces back ?
Goii\ No ; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.
Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord ?
Ch. Just. You shall have letters of me presently : Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.
Fal. My lord !
Ch. Just. What's the matter ?
Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner ? Goic. I must wait upon my good lord here, — I thank you, good Sir John.
Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go.
Fal. Will you sup with me. Master Gower ?
Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you these manners. Sir John ?
Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me. — This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair.
Ch. Just. Now the Lord lighten thee ! thou art a great fool.
[Exeunt.
68
KING HENRY THE EOUETH. [act ii. sc. ii.
SCENE II.— T/ie Same. Another Street.
Enter Prince Henry and Pointz.
P. Hen. Before God, I am exceeding weary.
Poin. Is it come to that ? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood.
P. Hen. Faith, it does me ; though it discolours the com- plexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer.
Poin. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition.
P. Hefi. Belike, then, my appetite was not princely got ; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But, indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name ? or to know thy face to-morrow ? or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast, viz. these, and those that were thy peach-coloured ones? or to bear the inventory of thy shirts, as, one for superfluity, and one other for use? — but that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I ; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there ; as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low- countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland : and God knows, whether those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom ; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault ; whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened.
Poin. How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you should talk so idly ! Tell me, how many good young princes would do so, their fathers being so sick as vours at this time is?
P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz ? Poin. Yes, faith ; and let it be an excellent good thing. P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.
actii.sc.it.] king henry THE EOURTH.
09
Poin. Go to ; I stand the push of your one thing that you will tell.
P. Hen. Marry, I tell thee, — it is not meet that I should he sad, now my father is sick : albeit I could tell to thee, — as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend, — I could be sad, and sad indeed too.
Poin. Very hardly upon such a subject.
P. Hen. By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book^^ as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency : let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick : and keeping such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow.
Poin. The reason?
P. Hen. What wouldst thou think of me, if I should weep ?
Pohi. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
P. Hen. It would be every man's thought ; and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks : never a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way better than thine : every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so ?
Poin. Why, because you have been so lewd, and so much engraffed to Falstaff.
P. Hen. And to thee.
Poin. By this light, I am well spoke on ; I can hear it with mine own ears : the worst that they can say of me is, that I am a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands ; and those two things, I confess, I cannot help. — By the mass, here comes Bardolph.
P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaff : he had him from me Christian ; and look, if the fat villian have not transformed him ape.
Enter Bardolph and Page.
Bard. God save your grace !
P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph !
Bard. Come, you virtuous ass^*^ [to the Page], you bashful fool, must you be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become ! Is it such a matter to get a pottle-pot's^^ maidenhead ?
Page. lie called me even now, my lord, through a red lattice,
70
KING HENEY THE FOURTH. [act ii. sc. ii.
and I could discern no part of his face from the window : at last I spied his eyes ; and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat, and so peeped through.
P. Hen. Hath not the boy profited ?
Bard, ilway, you whoreson upright rabbit, away !
Page. Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away !
P. Hen. Instruct us, boy ; what dream, boy ?
Page. Marry, my Lord, Althaea dreamed^^ she was delivered of a fire-brand ; and therefore I call him her dream.
P. Hen. A crown's worth of good interpretation : — there it is, boy. \_Gives him money.
Poin. O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers ! — Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
Bard. An you do not make him be hanged among you, the gallows shall have wrong.
P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph ?
Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's coming to town : there's a letter for you.
Poin. Delivered with good respect. — And how doth the martlemas, your master
Bard. In bodily health, sir.
Poin. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician ; but that moves not him : though that be sick, it dies not.
P. Hen. I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog : and he liolds his place ; for look you how he writes.
Poin. \reads\ " John Falstaff, knight," — every man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to name himself : even like those that are kin to the king ; for they never prick their finger but they say, " There is some of the king's blood spilt." " How comes that ?" says he, that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrowed cap,^^ " I am the king's poor cousin, sir."
P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. But to the letter : —
Poin. \reads\ " Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the king, nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting," — Why, this is a certificate.
P. Hen. Peace !
Pohi. " I will imitate the honourable Romans in bre-
vity :" — sure he means brevity in breath, short-winded. — " I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Pointz ; for he misuses thy favours so much.
ACTii. sc. ii.J KING HENRY THE EOUETH.
71
that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Kepcnt at idle times as thou mayest : and so, farewell.
"Thine, hj yea and no, — which is as much as to say, as thou usest him — Jack Falstaff with my fami- liars, John with my brothers and sisters, and Sir John with all Europe." My lord, I will steep this letter in sack, and make him eat it.
P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his words."" But do you use me thus, Ned ? must I marry your sister ?
Poin. God send the wench no worse fortune ! but I never said so.
P. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with the time ; and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. — Is your master here in London ?
Bard. Yes, my lord.
P. Hen. Where sups he ? doth the old boar feed in the old frank ?
Bard. At the old place, my lord, — in Eastcheap. P. Hen. What company ?
Pa(/e. Ephesians, my lord,^* — of the old church. P. Hen. Sup any women with him?
Paffe. None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.
P. Hen. What pagan may that be ?
Pa(/e. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's.
P. Hen. Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. — Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?
Poin. I am your shadow, my Lord ; I'll follow you.
P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy, — and Bardolph, — no word to your master that I am yet come to town : there's for your silence.
[Gives money.
Bard. I have no tongue, sir.
Page. And for mine, sir, — I will govern it.
P. Hen. Fare ye well ; go. [Exeunt Bardolph and Page.] — This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.
Poin. I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London.
P. He7i. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen ?
Poin. Put on two leathern jerkins"' and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers.
72
KING HENEY THE EOUETH. [act ii. sc. iii.
P. Hen. From a god to a bull ? a heavy descension ! ~^ it was Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a low transforma- tion ! that shall be mine ; for in every thing the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned. [JExeunt.
SCENE III.— Warkworth. Before the Castle.
Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and Lady
Percy.
North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter. Give even way unto my rough affairs : Put not you on the visage of the times. And be, like them, to Percy troublesome.
Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more ; Do what you will ; your wisdom be your guide.
North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn ; And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
Lady P. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars ! The time was, father, that you broke your word. When you were more endear'd to it than now ; When your own Percy, when my heart-dear Harry, Threw many a northward look to see his father Bring up his powers ; but he did long in vain. Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost, — yours and your son's. For yours, — may heavenly glory brighten it ! For his, — it stuck upon him, as the sun In the grey vault of heaven ; and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts : he was, indeed, the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves : He had no legs that practis'd not his gait ; And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, Became the accents of the valiant ; For those that could speak low and tardily Would turn their own perfection to abuse, To seem like him : so that in speech, in gait, In diet, in affections of delight.
ACT II. sc. III.] KING HENRY THE FOUETII.
73
In military rules, humours of blood,
He was the mark and glass, copy and book.
That fashion'd others. And him, — O wondrous him !
0 miracle of men ! — him did you leave — Second to none, unseconded by you — To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage ; to abide a field Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name Did seem defensible : — so you left him. Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong To hold your honour more precise and nice With others than with him ! let them alone : The marshal and the archbishop are strong : Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck. Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.
North. Beshrew your heart,
Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must go, and meet with danger there ; Or it will seek me in another place. And find me worse provided.
Lady N. O, fly to Scotland,
Till that the nobles and the armed commons Have of their puissance made a little taste.
Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the king. Then join you with them, like a rib of steel. To make strength stronger ; but, for all our loves. First let them try themselves. So did your son ; He was so suffer'd : so came I a widow ; And never shall have length of life enough. To rain upon remembrance^^ with mine eyes. That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, For recordation to my noble husband.
North. Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind, As with the tide swell'd up unto his height. That makes a still-stand, running neither way : Fain would I go to meet the archbishop. But many thousand reasons hold me back.
1 will resolve for Scotland : there am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company. \_Exeimt.
X.
10
74
KING HENEY THE EOUETH. [act ii. sc. iv.
SCENE IV. — London. A Room in the Boars-Head Tavern in
Eastcheap.
Enter two Drawers.
First Draiv. What the devil hast thou brought there ? apple- johns? thou knowest Sh' John cannot endure an apple-john.
Sec. Draio. Mass, thou sayest true. The prince once set a dish of apple-johns"'' before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns ; and, putting off his hat, said, " I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights." It angered him to the heart : but he hath forgot that.
First Draw. Why, then, cover, and set them down : and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise \ ^ Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music. Dispatch: — the room where they supped is too hot ; they'll come in straight.
Sec. Draw. Sirrah, here will be the prince and Master Pointz anon ; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons ; and Sir John must not know of it : Bardolph hath brought word.
First Draw. By the mass, here will be old utis \ ^ it will be an excellent stratagem.
Sec. Draw. I'll see if I can find out Sneak. \Exit.
Filter Hostess and Doll Tearsheet.
Dost. I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excel- lent good temperality : your pulsidge beats^^ as extraordinarily as heart would desire ; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose : but, i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries ; and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere one can say. What's this ? — How do you now ?
Dol. Better than I was : — hem.
Dost. Why, that's well said ; a good heart's worth gold. — Look, here comes Sir John.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal, [singing] When Arthur first in court "^^ — Empty the jorden. [Exit first Dratver.] — " And was a worthy king." — How now, Mistress Doll !
F(uslmil^' of die^ BoJJmI of Kih^ Arfhur^ /rorw aw ori^mal JJlac/o letter co^
The Noble AOi% newly found, Oi9i.ix\\XC of the Table Round.
To the Tunc of, flping jfanae.
Wlljcn Arthur firft in Court began, anij toajs app^ofcet) l&ing , 2Bg force of arm0 gjeat QSiaojiea tnon
ant) Conqueft tome bit) b^ing : Ujjtn into Brittain(traigt)tf)f came,
toljere fiftpftout ano able IRnigbtsJ, tl)en repaired untoljim,
tDljicl) toere of tbf 3K.ounb table. 2ln& manp 3uft0 anfc 'QEurnamentiS,
before |)i'm tt)cre toere pjeCt, mi)crcin rl)efc 2Sni0l)t)3 bib tt)en ejccell,
anbfar furmounttt)e reft. But one feir Lancelot du Lake,
tol}0 teagf app2obeb tocll, 1^E inl)i;3( figljt^anb beeb^ of armjJ,
all ot{)erjS bib excel, tlBljen be Ijab cefleb bim a tot)ile, ro plap, anb game, anb fpo?t, ^e tt)L'Uffl]t \z tooulbapp^obc tjimfelf
in fome abbent'couss fo?t : ibe armeb robe in fojreft toibe,
anb met a iDamfel fair, (EcllbotQlb biniof abbenture0 g?eat,
toijerero be gabe gcob ear, tHiiiltjpftoulbnot^l ? (quotb Lancelot tljO)
fo;i tljat caufe came 31 bitt)er, 'QTbou feem'fl:, quotlj (be, a^nigljt rigbt goob,
anb 31 toill b^ing tbee tl}it|)er, m\txt 30 tl^e mi'0t)teft Itlnigl)t bott) btoell
tl)at no\xi is of gjeat famC) 5KI[ll)erefoje tell me tobatlif^nigljt tl)Ou a^t)
anb tl)cn tol)at ijs tbp name. Sippname 10 Lancelot duLake,
quotf) (be it like0 met^en, l^ere btoelljesal^iniQ^t tbat nebec boajs
o'j:e--matcl)t of anp man : Mbo t)at{) in pzifon tljieefco^e Ifenigljt^,
anb Come tl)at \i batb bounu^ iKnigbtjs of l&mg Arthurs Court tl)ep be,
anb of tbc ^able rounb, &l)e bjiougbt ^im to a Eiber t^en,
anb alCoto a tree, MlfjereafS a Copper :i5afon l)ung,
l)i0iFeHoto ^bielbss to fee. i^e atuck fo barb tfje IBafon b^oUe, toljen Tarquin Ijearb ttcfounD, ^e brobe a bojfe befo;Le bim Ocaigbt,
bol)ereon a l&nigijt toa0 bounb. &ic itlnigt)t (tbeit faib ^ir Lancelot)
b?tng me tt)£t i^o?fe4oab tiitl)er, anb lapbim bobonanblet binned,
toe'll trpour fo^ce togettec : ifo^ 30 3i unDerttanb, tfjou t)a8,
as far agitljou art able, , 9Done great befpigbt anb (bame unto
tbe ^nigbt^ of tfie rounb table. 3,f tljou art of tbe table rounb,
quotb Tarquin fpeebilp, 2Botb V^tt anb all tbp i^ellotoibip,
1 utterly fiefie. Ifjat'jsobermucb, quotl) Lancelot tlio, bcfenb tljee bp anb bp.
'^l)epput tlictr fpure unto tteic ^teeD0,
anb eacljat ott)ecflpe. 'Cbfp coucb tlieir ^pearjS anb ^ojCe^run,
a0 tbougb tl)ep ll)ab been tijunber, anb eacb ft ruck t^en upon tl)^ ^^ielb,
toticretoiti) tbep bjeakafunber : %\t\i back0 bjeak unber tl)em,
rlje l^nigt)t)3 tljep toereafton'b; 'OEo aboib tt)eirl)o^fe)2« t!)ep mabe l)a(te,
tofigl)tupontbe gjounb : Ul)fp took tbem to ibeir (bielbsS full fad,
tt)eir »)toojb?{ tbep b^etn out tben, WM\i\^ miffbtp (ttciak?f mott eagerlp,
cacb one at Oliver run : % b^ P ^ounbeb toere, anb bleb full fo^e,
h\ b^eatt) tbep botb bib (lanb, anb leaning on tl)eic fetoo^bjSa tot)ile,
quotl) Tarquin l)Olb tbp b^^nb, 2lnb tell to me tobat 31 (ball ajsk,
fap on, quotl) Lancelot tbo, Ul)0u art, quot^ Tarquin, tt)e beft JRntgljt
tbat eber 31 bibknoto. anb like a IRnigbi tt)at 3 bib Ijate,
fo tl)atrl)ou be not be, 31'bDill beliber all t^ereft, anb eke atco^b toitt) tt)ee. '3Ebat ijS toell faib, quotb Lancelot tf)en,
butfitt) it fo mull be, ai^bat (0 tbe JRnigljt tbou Ijateft fe J
31 p;ap tljce fbeto tome? ^i;^ name i^ &ir Lancelot du Lake,
be fletomp Bjott)er bear, l^imBlCufpectofall tt)e re(t, 31 b30ulD 1\ bab bim ber^ • ^bp toitt) tbou baft, but note unknobon,
31 am Lancelot du Lake, i^oto of Ifting Arthurs table rounb, lliing Hands ^on of Benwake : ianb I befie tljee do r^p toojft, l)a, ba, quott) Tarquin tbo, SDne of u0 ttoo f^jall enb our libeiS, before ttiat toe bo go. 3lf t^ou be Lancelot du Lake, tben toelcome (bait tbou be> (SMberefo?e fee tbou tbp felf befenb, fo^ noto 31 bo tbee befie. 2Cj)ep burleb tben togett)ec faff, like tboo boilb 26oar0 fo rafbing , 0nb toitb tbfir ^too^bja % febi'elblS t^ep ran, at one another flafbing. tCbe s^ounb befpp'nkleb toagJ toitt) WodD,
Tarquin began to faint, iFor be Ijab backt anb bo;ie t)i0 ^l){elb, fo loto l)e bib repent: ^5ai)icl) Coon efpp'b Lancelot tl)o, §e leapt uponbimtf)en, l^e puU'b Ijim boton upon \\<^ knee, anb rufljcboff I)i0 Jjelm : anb t!)en l)e (truck ^10 iPecK in ttoa, anb t)b|)en t)e f)ab bone f«, iFcom p^ifon tb^eefco^e I&nigljt^lanbfmr, Lancelot bcUbecebtbo.
Printed by and for aiey.Jl^ilboucn in^B^'een^arbo^'dTouriin ttie Hittlt^lb^Bail?.
lo ^uce p. 74
ACT II. SC. IV.]
KING HENEY THE EOUETH.
75
Host. Sick of a calm ; yea, good faith.
Fed. So is all her sect \ ^ an they be once in a calm, they are sick.
I)ol. You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me ?
Fal. You make fat rascals,^' Mistress Doll.
Dol. I make them I gluttony and diseases make them ; I make them not.
Fal. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Doll : we catch of you, Doll, we catch of you ; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that.
Dol. Yea, joy, — our chains and our jewels.
Fal. ''Your brooches, pearls, and ouches:"'^'' — for to serve bravely is to come halting off, you know : to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely ; to venture upon the charged chambers^^ bravely, —
Dol. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!
Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion ; you two never meet but you fall to some discord : you are both, in good troth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts \ ^ you cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What the good year ! one must bear, and that must be you [to DolT] : you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.
Dol. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogs- head ? there's a whole merchant's venture of Bordeaux stuff in him ; you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold. — Come, I'll be friends with thee. Jack : thou art going to the wars ; and whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares.
Re-enter First Drawer.
First Draiv. Sir, Ancient PistoP" is below, and would speak with you.
Dol. Hang him, swaggering rascal ! let him not come hither: it is the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England.
Host. If he swagger, let him not come here : no, by my faith ; I must live amongst my neighbours ; I'll no swaggerers : I ain in good name and fame with the very best : — shut the door ; — there comes no swaggerers here : I have not lived all this while, to have swaggering now : — shut the door, I pray you.
Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess ? —
76
KING HENRY THE EOTJETH. [act it. sc. i v.
Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, Sir John : there comes no swaggerers here.
Fal. Dost thou hear ? it is mine ancient.
Host. Tilly -fally. Sir John, never tell me : your ancient swag- gerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick, the deputy, the other day ; and, as he said to me, — it was no longer ago than Wednesday last, — Neighbour Quickly," says he ; — Master Dumb, our minister,^" was by then; — "Neighbour Quickly," says he, " receive those that are civil ; for," saith he, ''you are in an ill-name:" — now he said so, I can tell where- upon ; " for," says he, " you are an honest woman, and well thought on ; therefore take heed what guests you receive : receive," says he, " no swaggering companions." — There comes none here : — you would bless you to hear what he said : — no, I'll no swaggerers.
Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess ; a tame cheater,*^ i' faith ; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound : he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. — Call him up, drawer.
[Exit First Drawer.
Host. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house,*" nor no cheater : but I do not love swaggering ; by my troth, I am the worse, when one says swagger : feel, masters, how I shake ; look you, I warrant you.
Dol. So you do, hostess.
Host. Do I ? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen-leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, Bardolpii, a7id Page. Pist. God save you, Sir John !
Ful. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack :*^ do you discharge upon mine hostess.
Pist. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir ; you shall hardly offend her.
Host. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets : I'll drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.
Pist. Then to you. Mistress Dorothy ; I will charge you.
l)ol. Charge me ! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What ! you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate ! Away, you mouldy rogue, away I I am meat for your master.
Pist. I know you. Mistress Dorothy.
ACT II. SC. IV.]
KING IIENEY THE FOURTPL
77
DoL Away, you cut-purse rascal ! you filthy bung,^ away ! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle^^ with me. Away, you bottle -ale rascal ! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you ! — Since when, I pray you, sir ? — God's light, with two points on your shoulder ? much.^^
Pist. I will murder your ruff for this.
Fal. No more, Pistol ; I would not have you go off here ; discharge yourself of our company. Pistol.
Host. No, good Captain Pistol ; not here, sweet captain.
Dol. Captain ! thou abominable damned cheater,*^ art thou not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earned them. You a captain ! you slave, for what ? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy- house ? — He a captain ! hang him, rogue ! he lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes.*^ A captain God's light, these villains will make the word as odious as the word occupy which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted : therefore captains had need look to it.
Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither. Mistress Doll.
Pist. Not I : I tell thee what. Corporal Bardolph, — I could tear her : — I'll be revenged on her. Page. Pray thee, go down.
Pist. I'll see her damned first — to Pluto's damned lake, by this hand, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line,^^ say I. Down, down, dogs ! down faitors Have we not Hiren here ? ^*
Host. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet ; it is very late, i' faith : I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
Pist. These be good humours, indeed ! Shall packhorses, And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,^^ Which cannot go but thirty miles a-day. Compare with Caesars, and with Caimibals,^'' And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar.^^ Shall we fall foul for toys ?
Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
Bard. Be gone, good ancient : this will grow to a brawl anon.
Pist. Die men like dogs give crowns like pins ! Have we not Hiren here ?