THE FIRST PART OF

KING HENRY THE

FOURTH.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir Walter BLUNT, and others.

King Henry.

O shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,

And breathe short-winded accents of
new broils

To be commenced in strands afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's
blood;

No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,

Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,
Did lately meet in the intestine shock

And furious close of civil butchery,

Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way; and be no more opposed
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore,
friends,

As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,

(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross We are impressed and engaged to fight,) Forthwith a power of English shall we levy; Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb

To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd,
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go :
Therefore we meet not now.-Then let me
hear

Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.

West. My liege, this haste was hot in ques tion,

And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered:
Upon whose dead corpses there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,

By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, re-told or spoken of.
K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of

this broil

Brake off our business for the Holy Land. West. This, match'd with other, did my gracious lord;

For more uneven and unwelcome news

Came from the north, and thus it did import: On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, That ever-valiant and approved Scot,

At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;

As by discharge of their artillery,

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

K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend,

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Stain'd with the variation of each soil

Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; And he hath brought us smooth and welcome

news:

The earl of Douglas is discomfited:

Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,

Balk'd in their own blood, did sir Walter see On Holmedon's plains: of prisoners, Hotspur took

Mordake earl of Fife, and eldest son

To beaten Douglas; and the earl of Athol,
Of Murray, Augus, and Menteith.

And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,

It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.

K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin

In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so bless'd a son :
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet Fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow

Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved,

That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet !
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts.-What think
you, coz,

Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surprised,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is
Worcester,

Malevolent to you in all aspects;

Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.

K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer

this:

And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we

Will hold at Windsor ;-so inform the lords;

But come yourself with speed to us again ;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.

An apartment of the

Prince's.

Enter HENRY PRINCE OF WALES, and Falstaff. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffata, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

Hal:

Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,—he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,)—

P. Hen. What! none?

Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

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