And found no course of breath within your majesty,

  280

  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,

  285

  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 worse than gold:

  290

  Other, less fine in carat, more precious,

  Preserving life in med’cine potable;

  But thou, most fine, most honoured, most renowned,

  Hath eat thy bearer up.’ Thus, my most royal liege,

  Accusing it, I put it on my head

  295

  To try with it, as with an enemy

  That had before my face murdered 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,

  300

  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 forever keep it from my head

  And make me as the poorest vassal is

  305

  That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.

  KING

  God put 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

  310

  And hear, I think, the very latest counsel

  That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,

  By what bypaths and indirect, crook’d ways

  I met this crown; and I myself know well

  How troublesome it sat upon my head.

  315

  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 seemed in me

  But as an honour snatched with boist’rous hand,

  320

  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 see’st with peril I have answered,

  325

  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 purchased

  Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort.

  So thou the garland wear’st successively;

  330

  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 advanced

  335

  And by whose power I well might lodge a fear

  To be again displaced; 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

  340

  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

  345

  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

  You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;

  Then plain and right must my possession be,

  350

  Which I with more than with a common pain

  ’Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

  Enter [Prince JOHN of] Lancaster.

  KING

  Look, look! Here comes my John of Lancaster.

  JOHN

  Health, peace and happiness to my royal father.

  KING

  Thou bringst me happiness and peace, son John;

  355

  But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown

  From this bare, withered trunk. Upon thy sight

  My worldly business makes a period.

  Where is my Lord of Warwick?

  PRINCE

  [Enter WARWICK.]

  KING

  Doth any name particular belong

  360

  Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?

  WARWICK

  ’Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord.

  KING

  Laud be to God, even there my life must end.

  It hath been prophesied to me many years

  I should not die but in Jerusalem,

  365

  Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land.

  But bear me to that chamber: there I’ll lie.

  In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. FExeunt.F

  5.1

  Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH

  and] FPAGEF.

  SHALLOW By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away

  tonight. – What, Davy, I say!

  FALSTAFF You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.

  SHALLOW I will not excuse you. You shall not be excused.

  Excuses shall not be admitted. There is no excuse

  5

  shall serve. You shall not be excused. – Why, Davy!

  [Enter DAVY, with papers in hand.]

  DAVY Here, sir.

  SHALLOW Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy,

  let me see, Davy, let me see. Yea, marry, William

  Cook: bid him come hither. – Sir John, you shall not

  10

  be excused.

  DAVY Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served.

  And again, sir, shall we sow the hade land with

  wheat?

  SHALLOW With red wheat, Davy. But for William Cook

  15

  – are there no young pigeons?

  DAVY Yes, sir. Here is now the smith’s note for shoeing

  and plough-irons.

  SHALLOW Let it be cast and paid. – Sir John, you shall

  not be excused.

  20

  DAVY Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be

  had. And, sir, do you mean to stop any of William’s

  wages about the sack he lost at FHinckleyF Fair?

  SHALLOW ’A shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a

  couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton and

  25

  any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook.

  DAVY Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?

  SHALLOW Yea, Davy, I will use him well. A friend i’th’

  court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men

  well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves and will

  30

  backbite.

  DAVY No worse than they are back-bitten, sir, for they

  have marvellous foul linen.

  SHALLOW Well conceited, Davy. About thy business,

  Davy.

  35

  DAVY I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor

  of Woncote against Clement Perkes a’th’ hill.

  SHALLOW There is many complaints, Davy, against

  that Visor. That Visor is an arrant knave, on my

  knowledge.

  40

  DAVY I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but

  yet God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some

  countenance at his friend’s request. An honest man,

  sir, is able to speak for himself when a knave is not.

  I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years.

  45

  An I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a

  knave against an honest man, I have little credit with

  your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir;

  therefore I beseech you let him be countenanced.

  SHALLOW Go to, I say; he shall have no wrong. Look

  50

  about, Davy. [Exit Davy.]

  Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come; off with

  your boots! – Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.

  BARDOLPH I am glad to see your worship.

  SHALLOW I thank thee with my heart, kind Master

  55

  Bardolph. [to Page] And welcome, my tall fellow!

  Come, Sir John.

  FALSTAFF I’ll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.

  [Exit Shallow.]

  Bardolph, look to our horses.

  [Exeunt Bardolph and Page.]

  If I were sawed into quantities I should make four

  60

  dozen of such bearded hermits’ staves as Master

  Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable

  coherence of his men’s spirits and his. They, by

  observing him, do bear themselves like foolish

  justices; he, by conversing with them, is turned into

  65

  a justice-like servingman. Their spirits are so married

  in conjunction with the participation of society that

  they flock together in consent like so many wild

  geese. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would

  humour his men with the imputation of being near

  70

  their master; if to his men, I would curry with

  Master Shallow that no man could better command

  his servants. It is certain that either wise bearing or

  ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases one

  of another; therefore, let men take heed of their

  75

  company. I will devise matter enough out of this

  Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter

  the wearing out of six fashions, which is four

  terms, or two actions; and ’a shall laugh without

  intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight

  80

  oath and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow

  that never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you

  shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill

  laid up!

  SHALLOW [within] Sir John!

  85

  FALSTAFF I come, Master Shallow. I come, Master

  Shallow. [Exit.]

  5.2

  Enter WARWICK [at one door, and the]

  Lord Chief JUSTICE [at another door].

  WARWICK

  How now, my Lord Chief Justice, whither away?

  JUSTICE

  How doth the King?

  WARWICK

  Exceeding well. His cares are now all ended.

  JUSTICE

  I hope not dead.

  WARWICK He’s walked the way of nature,

  And to our purposes he lives no more.

  5

  JUSTICE

  I would his majesty had called me with him.

  The service that I truly did his life

  Hath left me open to all injuries.

  WARWICK

  Indeed, I think the young King loves you not.

  JUSTICE

  I know he doth not, and do arm myself

  10

  To welcome the condition of the time,

  Which cannot look more hideously upon me

  Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.

  Enter [Prince] JOHN, Thomas[, Duke of CLARENCE],

  and Humphrey[, Duke of GLOUCESTER].

  WARWICK

  Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry.

  O, that the living Harry had the temper

  15

  Of he, the worst of these three gentlemen!

  How many nobles then should hold their places

  That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort?

  JUSTICE

  O God, I fear all will be overturned.

  JOHN

  Good morrow, cousin Warwick; [to Justice] good

  morrow.

  20

  CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER

  Good morrow, cousin.

  JOHN

  We meet like men that had forgot to speak.

  WARWICK

  We do remember, but our argument

  Is all too heavy to admit much talk.

  JOHN

  Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy.

  25

  JUSTICE

  Peace be with us, lest we be heavier.

  GLOUCESTER [to Justice]

  O good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed,

  And I dare swear you borrow not that face

  Of seeming sorrow. It is sure your own.

  JOHN [to Justice]

  Though no man be assured what grace to find,

  30

  You stand in coldest expectation.

  I am the sorrier. Would ’twere otherwise.

  CLARENCE [to Justice]

  Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair,

  Which swims against your stream of quality.

  JUSTICE

  Sweet princes, what I did I did in honour,

  35

  Led by th’impartial conduct of my soul;

  And never shall you see that I will beg

  A ragged and forestalled remission.

  If truth and upright innocency fail me,

  I’ll to the King my master that is dead

  40

  And tell him who hath sent me after him.

  Enter Prince FHenryF [as KING] and Blunt.

  WARWICK

  Here comes the Prince.

  JUSTICE

  Good morrow, and God save your majesty.

  KING

  This new and gorgeous garment, majesty,

  Sits not so easy on me as you think.

  45

  Brothers, you FmixF your sadness with some fear.

  This is the English, not the Turkish, court:

  Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,

  But Harry, Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers,

  For, by my faith, it very well becomes you.

  50

  Sorrow so royally in you appears

  That I will deeply put the fashion on

  And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad;

  But entertain no more of it, good brothers,