The First Part of Henry the Fourth,

with the Life and Death of HENRY
Sirnamed HOT-SPURRE.

Actus Primus. Scana Prima.

Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland, with others.

King.

O shaken as we are, so wan with care,

Finde we a time for frighted Peace to pant,
And breath shortwinded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in Stronds a-farre remote:

No more the thirsty entrance of this Soile,
Shall daube her lippes with her owne childrens blood:
No more shall trenching Warre channell her fields,
Nor bruise her Flowrets with the Armed hoofes

Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes,
Which like the Meteors of a troubled Heaven,
All of one Nature, of one Substance bred,
Did lately meete in the intestine shocke,
And furious cloze of civil Butchery,
Shall now in mutuall well-beseeming rankes
March all one way, and be no more oppos'd
Against Acquaintance, Kindred, and Allies.
The edge of Warre, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his Master. Therefore Friends,

As farre as to the Sepulcher of Christ,

Whose Souldier now under whose blessed Crosse
We are impressed and ingag'd to fight.
Forthwith a power of English shall we levie,
Whose armes were moulded in their Mothers wombe,
To chace these Pagans in those holy Fields,
Over whose Acres walk'd those blessed feete
Which fourteene hundred yeares ago were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter Crosse.
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old,
And bootlesse 'tis to tell you we will go :

Therefore we meete not know. Then let me heare
Of you my gentle Cousin Westmerland,
What yesternight our Councell did decree,
In forwarding this deere expedience.

West. My Liege: This haste was hot in question,
And many limits of the Charge set downe
But yesternight: when all athwart there came
A Post from Wales, loaden with heavy Newes;
Whose worst was, That the Noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wilde Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered :
Upon whose dead corpes there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shamelesse transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
(Without much shame) re-told or spoken of.

King. It seemes then, that the tidings of this broile,

Brake off our businesse for the Holy land.

West. This matcht with other like, my gracious Lord,

Farre more uneven and unwelcome Newes

Came from the North, and thus it did report:

On Holy-roode day, the gallant Hotspurre there,
Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald,

That ever-valiant and approoved Scot,

At Holmeden met, where they did spend
A sad and bloody houre:

As by discharge of their Artillerie,

And shape of likely-hood the newes was told :
For he that brought them, in the very heate
And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Uncertaine of the issue any way.

King. Heere is a deere and true industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his Horse,
Strain'd with the variation of each soyle,
Betwixt that Holmeden, and this Seat of ours:

And he hath brought us smooth and welcomes newes.
The Earle of Dowglas is discomfited,

Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights
Balk'd in their owne blood did Sir Walter see

On Holmedons Plaines. Of Prisoners, Hotspurre tooke
Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldest sonne

To beaten Dowglas, and the Earle of Atholl,

Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith.

And is not this an honourable spoyle?

A gallant prize? Ha Cosin, is it not? Infaith it is.
West. A Conquest for a Prince to boast of.

In

King. Yea, there thou makʼst me sad, & mak'st me sin, envy, that my Lord Northumberland

Should be the Father of so blest a Sonne :

A Sonne, who is the Theame of Honors tongue;
Among'st a Grove, the very straightest Plant,
Who is sweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride:
Whil'st I by looking on the praise of him,
See Ryot and Dishonor staine the brow
Of my yong Harry. O that it could be prov'd,
That some Night-tripping-Faiery, had exchang'd
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 thinke
Of this young Percies pride? The Prisoners
Which he in this adventure hath surpriz❜d,
To his owne use he keepes, and sends me word
I shall have none but Morduke Earle of Fife.

you

Coze

West. This is his Unckles teaching. This is Worcester Malevolent to you in all Aspects:

Which makes him prune himselfe, and bristle up

The crest of Youth against your Dignity.

King. But I have sent for him to answer this:

And for this cause a-while we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

Cosin, on Wednesday next, our Councell we will hold
At Windsor, and so informe the Lords:

But come your selfe with speed to us againe,

For more is to be said, and to be done,

Then out of anger can be uttered.

West. I will my Liege.

Scana Secunda.

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir John Falstaffe,
and Pointz.

Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?

Exeunt.

Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of olde Sacke, and unbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping upon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know. What a divell hast thou to do with the time of the day? unlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons, and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason,

why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that take Purses, go by the Moone and seven Starres, and not by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God save thy Grace, Majesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte have none.

Prin. What, none?

Fal. No, not so much as will serve to be Prologue to an Egge and Butter.

Prin. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly.

Fal. Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King, let not us that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd Theeves of the Dayes beautie. Let us be Dianaes Forresters, Gentlemen of the Shade. Minions of the Moone; and let them say, we be men of good Government, being governed as the Sea is, by our noble and chast mistris the Moone, under whose countenance we steale.

Prin. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the fortune of us that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and flow like the Sea, beeing governed as the Sea is, by the Moone; as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by: and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the Gallowes.

Fal. Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of the Taverne a most sweet Wench?

Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is not a Buffe Jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

Fal. How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to doe with a BuffeJerkin?

Prin. Why, what a poxe have I to doe with my Hostesse of the Taverne?