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P. Hen. From a god to a bull? a heavy descension! it was Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation ! that shall be mine : for, in every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly.
Peto, how now? what news ?
Peto. The king, your father is at Westminster; And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, Come from the north: and, as I came along, I met, and overtook, a dozen captains, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking every one for sir John Falstaff. P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to
blame, So idly to profane the precious time; When tempest of commotion, like the south, Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt, And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. Give me my sword and cloak :-and, Poins, good night.
Warkworth. Before the Castle.
Enter NortHUMBERLAND, Lady NORTHUMBER
LAND, and Lady Percy.
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 ;
these wars !
your word, When you were more endear'd to it than now; When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, Threw many a northward look to see his father Bring up
powers; but he did long in vain. Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost; yours, and
thick, which nature made his blemish,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Beshrew your heart,
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 upon remembrance with mine eyes,, That it may grow and sprout ashigh as heaven, For recordation to
noble husband. North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my
Enter King Henry in his Night-gown, with a Page.
K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of WarBut, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these
letters, And well consider of them: Make good speed.
[Exit Page. How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep! - Sleep, gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber; Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody ? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, In loathsome beds; and leav’st the kingly couch, A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly ’, death itself awakes ?
Enter WARWICK and SURREY.
War. Many good morrows to your majesty !
read o'er the letters that I sent you? War. We have, my liege. K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our
War. It is but as a body, yet distemper'd ;
K. Hen. O heaven! that one might read the book
1 Those in lowly situations.