[K. Henry.] Lords, give us leave: the prince of Wales and I Must have some private conference: but be near

At hand; for we shall presently have need of you.

As soon as the king and the prince are alone, the king

continues:

I know not whether heaven will have it so,

For some displeasing service I have done,

But thou dost make me think that thou art mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven

To punish my mistreadings. Tell me, else,
Could such inordinate and low desires,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,

And hold their level with thy princely heart

[P. Henry.] So please your majesty, I would I could Quit all offences with as clear excuse,

As, doubtless, I can purge myself of many

I am charg'd withal. Yet let me beg

I

may for some things true, wherein my youth

Hath wander'd, faulty and irregular,

Find pardon on my true submission.

[K. Hen.] Heaven pardon thee! Yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all our ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which, by thy younger brother, is supplied;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court, and princes of my blood.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common hackney'd in the eyes
of men,
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
But, being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at;

That men would tell their children,-" This is he;"
Others would say,-" Where?-which is Bolingbroke?"
Not an eye

But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;

Which now doth, what I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

[P. Henry.] I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, Be more myself.

[K. Henry.] For all the world,

As thou art at this hour, was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
What never-dying honour hath he gain'd!
Thrice hath this Hotspur, in his enterprises,
Discomfited great Douglas; ta'en him once;
Then set him free, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,

And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, and Morti-

Are up in arms against us.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee,

Who art my near'st and dearest enemy?

Thou-that art like enough, through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and courtesy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.

[mer,

[P. Henry.] Do not think so; you shall not find it so : And heaven forgive them that have so much sway'd Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!

I will redeem all this on Percy's head;
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you that I am your son:
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,

And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To' engross up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,

Or I will tear the recko'ning from his heart.
This, in the name of heaven, I promise here;
The which, if He be pleas'd, I shall perform.
[K Henry.] In this, in this, a hundred thousand die
Of rebel foes! Thou shalt have charge herein.
The earl of Westmorland sets forth to-day;
With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster:
And you, my Harry, shall, on Wednesday next,
Set forward: Thursday, we ourself will march:
Our meeting is Bridgenorth; and, Harry, you
Shall march through Glo❜cestershire.

Our hands are full of busi'ness: let's away;
Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay.

While the prince is gone to court, Falstaff rises from the place behind the arras where he slept out the night at the Boar's-head tavern. He calls Bardolph to him, who is the closest of his followers. Somewhat fatigued, probably, from the events of the previous day, he says,

[Falstaff] Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am withered like an old apple-john. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking: I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse. The inside of a church! Company, villainous company hath been the spoil of me.

[Bardolph.] Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

[Falstaff.] Why, there it is:-Come, sing me a song, and make me merry. I was virtuously given as any gen

tleman needs be, virtuous enough; swore- -a little ; diced--not above seven times a-week; paid money that I borrowed- -three or four times; lived in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

[Bardolph.] Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

[Falstaff] Do thou amend thy nose, and I'll amend my life. I have maintained that salamander face of thine with fire any time these two-and-thirty years, heaven reward me for it!—Did you tell Dame Partlet the hen what I have lost? Is she stirring? Here she comes. Now, mistress hostess, have you inquired yet who picked my pocket?

[Hostess.] Why, Sir John! What do you think, Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

[Falstaff] You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair; and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go.

[Hostess.] Who, I? I defy thee: I never was called so in mine own house before. You owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen shirts to your back.

[Falstaff] Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them. [Hostess.] Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet, and by drinkings, and money lent you, four-and-twenty pounds.

[Falstaff] Bardolph had his part; let him pay.

[Hostess.] He, alas! is poor: he hath nothing.

[Falstaff] How! poor? Look in his face: what call you rich? let him coin his nose, let him coin his cheeks. I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a sealring of my grandfather's, worth forty marks.

[Hostess.] Now I have heard the prince say, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

[Falstaff] The prince is a jack, a sneak cup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so.

[Hostess.] As I live, here comes the prince. Now will I tell him what you say. My lord, I pray you hear

me.

[Falstaff] How now, Hal? Well, in what door is the wind? Must we all march? Pr'y thee, Hal, have nothing to say with her list to me: this house is turned a house of ill fame, not fit for the virtuous, as I and thou they pick pockets.

[P. Henry.] What says't thou, Jack?

[Falstaff] Last night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked.

[P. Henry.] What didst thou lose, Jack?

[Falstaff] Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pounds a-piece, and a seal ring of my grandfather's.

[P. Henry.] A trifle, an eightpenny matter.

[Hostess.] So I told him, my lord; and I said I heard your grace say so and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and he said he would cudgel you; and, my lord, he said this other day, you owed him a thousand pound.

[P. Henry.] Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?