King Henry IV, Part 2

    Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?  WESTMORELAND. The leaders, having charge from you to stand,    Will not go off until they hear you speak.  PRINCE JOHN. They know their duties.

Re-enter HASTINGS

  HASTINGS. My lord, our army is dispers'd already.    Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses    East, west, north, south; or like a school broke up,    Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place.  WESTMORELAND. Good tidings, my Lord Hastings; for the which    I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason;    And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray,    Of capital treason I attach you both.  MOWBRAY. Is this proceeding just and honourable?  WESTMORELAND. Is your assembly so?  ARCHBISHOP. Will you thus break your faith?  PRINCE JOHN. I pawn'd thee none:    I promis'd you redress of these same grievances    Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,    I will perform with a most Christian care.    But for you, rebels – look to taste the due    Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours.    Most shallowly did you these arms commence,    Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.    Strike up our drums, pursue the scatt'red stray.    God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day.    Some guard these traitors to the block of death,    Treason's true bed and yielder-up of breath. Exeunt

SCENE III. Another part of the forest

Alarum; excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLVILLE, meeting

  FALSTAFF. What's your name, sir? Of what condition are you, andof    what place, I pray?  COLVILLE. I am a knight sir; and my name is Colville of theDale.  FALSTAFF. Well then, Colville is your name, a knight is your    degree, and your place the Dale. Colville shall still be your    name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place – aplace    deep enough; so shall you be still Colville of the Dale.  COLVILLE. Are not you Sir John Falstaff?  FALSTAFF. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do you yield,    sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are thedrops    of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouseup    fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.  COLVILLE. I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in thatthought    yield me.  FALSTAFF. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly ofmine;    and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but myname.    An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply themost    active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me.    Here comes our general.Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, BLUNT, and others  PRINCE JOHN. The heat is past; follow no further now.    Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.Exit WESTMORELAND    Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?    When everything is ended, then you come.    These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,    One time or other break some gallows' back.  FALSTAFF. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: Inever    knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Doyou    think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poorand    old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hitherwith    the very extremest inch of possibility; I have found'red nine    score and odd posts; and here, travel tainted as I am, have,in    my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colville of the    Dale,a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what ofthat?    He saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say with thehook-nos'd    fellow of Rome-I came, saw, and overcame.  PRINCE JOHN. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.  FALSTAFF. I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I    beseech your Grace, let it be book'd with the rest of thisday's    deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad    else, with mine own picture on the top on't, Colville kissingmy    foot; to the which course if I be enforc'd, if you do not all    show like gilt twopences to me, and I, in the clear sky offame,    o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders ofthe    element, which show like pins' heads to her, believe not theword    of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desertmount.  PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too heavy to mount.  FALSTAFF. Let it shine, then.  PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too thick to shine.  FALSTAFF. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do megood,    and call it what you will.  PRINCE JOHN. Is thy name Colville?  COLVILLE. It is, my lord.  PRINCE JOHN. A famous rebel art thou, Colville.  FALSTAFF. And a famous true subject took him.  COLVILLE. I am, my lord, but as my betters are    That led me hither. Had they been rul'd by me,    You should have won them dearer than you have.  FALSTAFF. I know not how they sold themselves; but thou, like a    kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I thank thee for    thee.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND

PRINCE JOHN. Now, have you left pursuit? WESTMORELAND. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. PRINCE JOHN. Send Colville, with his confederates, To York, to present execution. Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. Exeunt BLUNT and others And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords. I hear the King my father is sore sick. Our news shall go before us to his Majesty, Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him And we with sober speed will follow you. FALSTAFF. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through Gloucestershire; and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good report. PRINCE JOHN. Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve. Exeunt all but FALSTAFF FALSTAFF. I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh – but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine. There's never none of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally fools and cowards-which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood; which before, cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice; but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extremes. It illumineth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puff'd up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage – and this valour comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and till'd, with excellent endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.

Enter BARDOLPH

    How now, Bardolph!  BARDOLPH. The army is discharged all and gone.  FALSTAFF. Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire, and therewill    I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already    temp'ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will Iseal    with him. Come away. Exeunt

SCENE IV. Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber

Enter the KING, PRINCE THOMAS OF CLARENCE, PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others

  KING. Now, lords, if God doth give successful end    To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,    We will our youth lead on to higher fields,    And draw no swords but what are sanctified.    Our navy is address'd, our power connected,    Our substitutes in absence well invested,    And everything lies level to our wish.    Only we want a little personal strength;    And pause us till these rebels, now afoot,    Come underneath the yoke of government.  WARWICK. Both which we doubt not but your Majesty    Shall soon enjoy.  KING. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,    Where is the Prince your brother?  PRINCE HUMPHREY. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, atWindsor.  KING. And how accompanied?  PRINCE HUMPHREY. I do not know, my lord.  KING. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?  PRINCE HUMPHREY. No, my good lord, he is in presence here.  CLARENCE. What would my lord and father?  KING. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.    How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother?    He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas.    Thou hast a better place in his affection    Than all thy brothers; cherish it, my boy,    And noble offices thou mayst effect    Of mediation, after I am dead,    Between his greatness and thy other brethren.    Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love,    Nor lose the good advantage of his grace    By seeming cold or careless of his will;    For he is gracious if he be observ'd.    He hath a tear for pity and a hand    Open as day for melting charity;    Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he is flint;    As humorous as winter, and as sudden    As flaws congealed in the spring of day.    His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd.    Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,    When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth;    But, being moody, give him line and scope    Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,    Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,    And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,    A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,    That the united vessel of their blood,    Mingled with venom of suggestion —    As, force perforce, the age will pour it in —    Shall never leak, though it do work as strong    As aconitum or rash gunpowder.  CLARENCE. I shall observe him with all care and love.  KING. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?  CLARENCE. He is not there to-day; he dines in London.  KING. And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?  CLARENCE. With Poins, and other his continual followers.  KING. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;    And he, the noble image of my youth,    Is overspread with them; therefore my grief    Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.    The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape,    In forms imaginary, th'unguided days    And rotten times that you shall look upon    When I am sleeping with my ancestors.    For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,    When rage and hot blood are his counsellors    When means and lavish manners meet together,    O, with what wings shall his affections fly    Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!  WARWICK. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite.    The Prince but studies his companions    Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language,    'Tis needful that the most immodest word    Be look'd upon and learnt; which once attain'd,    Your Highness knows, comes to no further use    But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,    The Prince will, in the perfectness of time,    Cast off his followers; and their memory    Shall as a pattern or a measure live    By which his Grace must mete the lives of other,    Turning past evils to advantages.  KING. 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb    In the dead carrion.

Enter WESTMORELAND

    Who's here? Westmoreland?  WESTMORELAND. Health to my sovereign, and new happiness    Added to that that am to deliver!    Prince John, your son, doth kiss your Grace's hand.    Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all,    Are brought to the correction of your law.    There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,    But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere.    The manner how this action hath been borne    Here at more leisure may your Highness read,    With every course in his particular.  KING. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,    Which ever in the haunch of winter sings    The lifting up of day.

Enter HARCOURT

    Look here's more news.  HARCOURT. From enemies heaven keep your Majesty;    And, when they stand against you, may they fall    As those that I am come to tell you of!    The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph,    With a great power of English and of Scots,    Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown.    The manner and true order of the fight    This packet, please it you, contains at large.  KING. And wherefore should these good news make me sick?    Will Fortune never come with both hands full,    But write her fair words still in foulest letters?    She either gives a stomach and no food-    Such are the poor, in health – or else a feast,    And takes away the stomach – such are the rich    That have abundance and enjoy it not.    I should rejoice now at this happy news;    And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy.    O me! come near me now I am much ill.  PRINCE HUMPHREY. Comfort, your Majesty!  CLARENCE. O my royal father!  WESTMORELAND. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.  WARWICK. Be patient, Princes; you do know these fits    Are with his Highness very ordinary.    Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.  CLARENCE. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs.    Th' incessant care and labour of his mind    Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in    So thin that life looks through, and will break out.  PRINCE HUMPHREY. The people fear me; for they do observe    Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature.    The seasons change their manners, as the year    Had found some months asleep, and leapt them over.  CLARENCE. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;    And the old folk, Time's doting chronicles,    Say it did so a little time before    That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.  WARWICK. Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers.  PRINCE HUMPHREY. This apoplexy will certain be his end.  KING. I pray you take me up, and bear me hence    Into some other chamber. Softly, pray. Exeunt

SCENE V. Westminster. Another chamber

The KING lying on a bed; CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others in attendance

  KING. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;    Unless some dull and favourable hand    Will whisper music to my weary spirit.  WARWICK. Call for the music in the other room.  KING. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.  CLARENCE. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.  WARWICK. Less noise! less noise!

Enter PRINCE HENRY

  PRINCE. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?  CLARENCE. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.  PRINCE. How now! Rain within doors, and none abroad!    How doth the King?  PRINCE HUMPHREY. Exceeding ill.  PRINCE. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.  PRINCE HUMPHREY. He alt'red much upon the hearing it.  PRINCE. If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic.  WARWICK. Not so much noise, my lords. Sweet Prince, speak low;    The King your father is dispos'd to sleep.  CLARENCE. Let us withdraw into the other room.  WARWICK. Will't please your Grace to go along with us?  PRINCE. No; I will sit and watch here by the King.Exeunt all but the PRINCE    Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,    Being so troublesome a bedfellow?    O polish'd perturbation! golden care!    That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide    To many a watchful night! Sleep with it now!    Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet    As he whose brow with homely biggen bound    Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!    When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit    Like a rich armour worn in heat of day    That scald'st with safety. By his gates of breath    There lies a downy feather which stirs not.    Did he suspire, that light and weightless down    Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father!    This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep    That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd    So many English kings. Thy due from me    Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood    Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,    Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.    My due from thee is this imperial crown,    Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,    Derives itself to me. [Putting on the crown] Lo where itsits-    Which God shall guard; and put the world's whole strength    Into one giant arm, it shall not force    This lineal honour from me. This from thee    Will I to mine leave as 'tis left to me. Exit  KING. Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!

Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE

  CLARENCE. Doth the King call?  WARWICK. What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace?  KING. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?  CLARENCE. We left the Prince my brother here, my liege,    Who undertook to sit and watch by you.  KING. The Prince of Wales! Where is he? Let me see him.    He is not here.  WARWICK. This door is open; he is gone this way.  PRINCE HUMPHREY. He came not through the chamber where westay'd.  KING. Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?  WARWICK. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.  KING. The Prince hath ta'en it hence. Go, seek him out.    Is he so hasty that he doth suppose    My sleep my death?    Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.Exit WARWICK    This part of his conjoins with my disease    And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are!    How quickly nature falls into revolt    When gold becomes her object!    For this the foolish over-careful fathers    Have broke their sleep with thoughts,    Their brains with care, their bones with industry;    For this they have engrossed and pil'd up    The cank'red heaps of strange-achieved gold;    For this they have been thoughtful to invest    Their sons with arts and martial exercises;    When, like the bee, tolling from every flower    The virtuous sweets,    Our thighs with wax, our mouths with honey pack'd,    We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees,    Are murd'red for our pains. This bitter taste    Yields his engrossments to the ending father.

Re-enter WARWICK

    Now where is he that will not stay so long    Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?  WARWICK. My lord, I found the Prince in the next room,    Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,    With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,    That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,    Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife    With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.  KING. But wherefore did he take away the crown?

Re-enter PRINCE HENRY

    Lo where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry.    Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.Exeunt all but the KING and the PRINCE  PRINCE. I never thought to hear you speak again.  KING. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.    I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.    Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair    That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours    Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!    Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.    Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity    Is held from falling with so weak a wind    That it will quickly drop; my day is dim.    Thou hast stol'n that which, after some few hours,    Were thine without offense; and at my death    Thou hast seal'd up my expectation.    Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not,    And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it.    Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,    Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,    To stab at half an hour of my life.    What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour?    Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself;    And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear    That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.    Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse    Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head;    Only compound me with forgotten dust;    Give that which gave thee life unto the worms.    Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;    For now a time is come to mock at form-    Harry the Fifth is crown'd. Up, vanity:    Down, royal state. All you sage counsellors, hence.    And to the English court assemble now,    From every region, apes of idleness.    Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum.    Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,    Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit    The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?    Be happy, he will trouble you no more.    England shall double gild his treble guilt;    England shall give him office, honour, might;    For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks    The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog    Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.    O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!    When that my care could not withhold thy riots,    What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?    O, thou wilt be a wilderness again.    Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!  PRINCE. O, pardon me, my liege! But for my tears,    The moist impediments unto my speech,    I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke    Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard    The course of it so far. There is your crown,    And he that wears the crown immortally    Long guard it yours! [Kneeling] If I affect it more    Than as your honour and as your renown,    Let me no more from this obedience rise,    Which my most inward true and duteous spirit    Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending!    God witness with me, when I here came in    And found no course of breath within your Majesty,    How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,    O, let me in my present wildness die,    And never live to show th' incredulous world    The noble change that I have purposed!    Coming to look on you, thinking you dead-    And dead almost, my liege, to think you were-    I spake unto this crown as having sense,    And thus upbraided it: 'The care on thee depending    Hath fed upon the body of my father;    Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold.    Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,    Preserving life in med'cine potable;    But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,    Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege,    Accusing it, I put it on my head,    To try with it – as with an enemy    That had before my face murd'red my father —    The quarrel of a true inheritor.    But if it did infect my blood with joy,    Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride;    If any rebel or vain spirit of mine    Did with the least affection of a welcome    Give entertainment to the might of it,    Let God for ever keep it from my head,    And make me as the poorest vassal is,    That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!  KING. O my son,    God put it in thy mind to take it hence,    That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,    Pleading so wisely in excuse of it!    Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed,    And hear, I think, the very latest counsel    That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,    By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways    I met this crown; and I myself know well    How troublesome it sat upon my head:    To thee it shall descend with better quiet,    Better opinion, better confirmation;    For all the soil of the achievement goes    With me into the earth. It seem'd in me    But as an honour snatch'd with boist'rous hand;    And I had many living to upbraid    My gain of it by their assistances;    Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,    Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears    Thou seest with peril I have answered;    For all my reign hath been but as a scene    Acting that argument. And now my death    Changes the mood; for what in me was purchas'd    Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;    So thou the garland wear'st successively.    Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,    Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;    And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends,    Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;    By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,    And by whose power I well might lodge a fear    To be again displac'd; which to avoid,    I cut them off; and had a purpose now    To lead out many to the Holy Land,    Lest rest and lying still might make them look    Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,    Be it thy course to busy giddy minds    With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out,    May waste the memory of the former days.    More would I, but my lungs are wasted so    That strength of speech is utterly denied me.    How I came by the crown, O God, forgive;    And grant it may with thee in true peace live!  PRINCE. My gracious liege,    You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;    Then plain and right must my possession be;    Which I with more than with a common pain    'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WARWICK, LORDS, and others