A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.

By being feldom feen, I could not ftir

But like a comet I was wondred at;
That men would tell their children, This is he.
Others would fay, Where? which is Bolingbroke?
And then I ftole all courtefie from heav'n,
And dreft my felf in fuch humility,

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud fhouts and falutations from their mouths,
Even in the prefence of the crowned King.
Thus I did keep my perfon fresh and new,
My prefence like a róbe pontifical,
Ne'er feen but wonder'd at; and fo my state,
Seldom but fumptuous, fhewed like a feast,
And won, by rareness, fuch folemnity.
The skipping King, he ambled up and down
With fhallow jesters, and rash baven wits,
Soon kindled, and foon burnt; 'fcarded his ftate,
Mingled his royalty with carping fools,

Had his great name profaned with their scorns,
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh with gybing boys, and ftand the push
Of every beardlefs, vain comparative :
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:

That being daily fwallow'd by men's eyes,
They furfeited with honey, and began

To loath the taste of sweetness, whereof little
More than a little is by much too much.

So when he had occafion to be seen,

He was but as the Cuckow is in June,

Heard, not regarded; feen, but with such eyes,

As, fick and blunted with community,

Afford no extraordinary gaze;

Such as is bent on fun-like Majefty,

When it shines feldom in admiring eyes:

They rather drowz'd, and hung their eye- lids down,
Slept in his face, and rendred fuch aspect

As cloudy men ufe to their adverfaries,

Being with his prefence glutted, gorg'd, and full.

And

And in that very line, Harry, ftand'st thou;
For thou haft loft thy Princely privilege
With vile participation. Not an eye,
But is a-weary of thy common fight,

Save mine, which hath defir'd to see thee more ;
Which now doth, what I would not have it do,
Make blind it felf with foolish tenderness.

P. Henry. I fhall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
Be more my self.

K. Henry. Harry, for all the world,

As thou art at this hour, was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg ;
And ev'n as I was then, is Percy now.
Now by my fcepter, and my foul to boot,
He hath more worthy intereft to the state,
Than thou, the fhadow of fucceffion :
For of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm,
Turns head against the Lion's armed jaws;
And being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient Lords and rev'rend Bishops on,
To bloody battels, and to bruifing arms.
What never-
r-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas, whofe high deeds,
Whofe hot incurfions, and great name in arms,
Holds from all foldiers chief majority,

And military title capital,

Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Chrift!
Thrice hath this Hot-fpur Mars in fwathing-cloaths,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises,
Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,

And shake the peace and fafety of our throne.

And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,

Th' Arch-bishop's Grace of York, Dowglas and Mortimer

Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell this news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near it and dearest enemy?

E 3

Thou

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

P. Henry. Do not think fo, you shall not find it fo:
And heav'n forgive them, that fo much have sway'd
Your Majefty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And in the clofing of fome glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your fon:
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And ftain my favour in a bloody mask,
Which washt away fhall fcowre my fhame with it.
And that shall be the day, when e'er it lights,
That this fame child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hot--fpur, this all-praised Knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet:
For every honour fitting on his helm,

Would there were multitudes, and on my head
My fhames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I fhall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my Lord,
T'engrofs up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And I will call him to fo ftrict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the flighteft worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reck'ning from his heart.
This, in the name of heav'n, I promise here:
The which, if I perform't and do furvive,
I do beseech your Majefty, may falve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperature;
If not, the end of life cancels all bonds,
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the fmalleft parcel of this vow.

K. Henry. A hundred thousand rebels die in this :
Thou shalt have charge, and fovereign trust herein.

Enter Blunt.

How now, good Blunt ? thy looks are full of speed.

Blunts

Blunt. So is the bufinefs that I come to speak of,
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Douglas and the English rebels met
Th' eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury :
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promifes be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a ftate.

K. Henry. The Earl of Weftmorland fet forth to-day, With him my fon, Lord John of Lancaster;

For this advertisement is five days old.

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou shalt set forward :
On Thursday, we our felves will march: our meeting
Is at Bridgnorth; and, Harry, you fhall march
Through Glo' ferfire by which, fome twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth fhall meet.
Our hands are full of business: let's away,
Advantage feeds them fat, while we delay.

[Exeunt.
SCENE V. The Tavern in Eaft-cheap.
Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal. Bardolph, am I not fall'n away vilely, fince this laft action? Do I not 'bate? do I not dwindle? why, my fkin hangs about me like an old Lady's loofe gown: I am withered like an old apple John. Well, I'll repent, and that fuddenly, while I am in fome liking: I fhall be out of heart fhortly, and then I fhall have no ftrength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the infide of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horfe; the infide of a church! company, villainous company hath been the fpoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are fo fretful, you cannot live long. Fal. Why, there is it; come, fing me a bawdy fong, to make merry: I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; fwore little; diced not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house not above once in a quarter of an hour; paid mony that I borrow'd, three or four times; liv'd well, and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compafs. Bard. Why, you are fo fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compaís, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

Fal.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our admiral, thou beareft the lanthorn in the poop, but 'tis in the nofe of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.

Fal. No, I'll be fworn; I make as good use of it, as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori. I never fee thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that liv'd in purple; for there he is in his robes burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would fwear by thy face; my oath fhould be, by this fire; but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'st up Gads-bill in the night to catch my horfe, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in mony. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlafting bonfire-light; thou haft faved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the fack that thou haft drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the deareft chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of thine with fire, any time this two and thirty years, heav'n reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly.

Fal. God-a-mercy! fo fhould I be fure to be heartburn'd.

Enter Hoftefs.

How now, dame Partlet the hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Hoft. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John ? do you think I keep thieves in my houfe? I have fearch'd, I have enquir'd, fo has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, fervant by fervant: the tight of a hair was never loft in my houfe before.

Fal. Ye lie, hoftefs; Bardolph was fhav'd, and loft many a hair; and I'll be fworn my pocket was pick'd; go to, you are a woman, go!

Hoft. Who I? I defie thee; I was never call'd fo in mine own houfe before.

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Hoft.