BARDOLPH enters.

  What is it, Bardolph?

  BARDOLPH

  The army is dismissed, and everyone’s gone.

  FALSTAFF

  Let them go. I’ll head to Gloucestershire. I’ll visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I’ve already got him under my thumb, as soft as wax. Soon I’ll seal the deal. Let’s go.

  They exit.

  ACT 4, SCENE 3

  Original Text

  Enter KING Henry, his sons Thomas Duke of CLARENCE and Humphrey Duke of GLOUCESTER, with 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.

  5

  Our navy is addressed, our power collected,

  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

  10

  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?

  GLOUCESTER

  I think he’s gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.

  KING

  15

  And how accompanied?

  GLOUCESTER

  I do not know, my lord.

  KING

  Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?

  GLOUCESTER

  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.

  20

  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

  25

  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.

  30

  For he is gracious if he be observed;

  He hath a tear for pity and a hand

  Open as day for melting charity;

  Yet notwithstanding, being incensed he is flint,

  As humorous as winter, and as sudden

  35

  As flaws congealed in the spring of day.

  His temper therefore must be well observed.

  Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,

  When thou perceive his blood inclined to mirth;

  But, being moody, give him time and scope

  40

  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,

  45

  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

  50

  Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?

  CLARENCE

  He is not there today; 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,

  55

  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

  60

  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,

  65

  O, with what wings shall his affections fly

  Towards fronting peril and opposed 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,

  70

  ’Tis needful that the most immodest word

  Be looked upon and learned; which, once attained,

  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,

  75

  Cast off his followers, and their memory

  Shall as a pattern or a measure live,

  By which his Grace must mete the lives of others,

  Turning past evils to advantages.

  KING

  ’Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb

  80

  In the dead carrion.

  Enter WESTMORELAND

  Who’s here? Westmoreland?

  WESTMORELAND

  Health to my sovereign, and new happiness

  Added to that that I am to deliver.

  Prince John your son doth kiss your Grace’s hand.

  Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all

  85

  Are brought to the correction of your law.

  There is not now a rebel’s sword unsheathed

  But peace puts forth her olive everywhere.

  The manner how this action hath been borne

  Here at more leisure may your Highness read

  90

  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,

  95

  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.

  100

  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?

  105

  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,

  110

  And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy.

  O, me! Come near me, now I am much ill.

  GLOUCESTER

  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

  115

  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 labor of his mind

  Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in

  120

  So thin that life looks through and will break out.

  GLOUCESTER

  The people fear me, for they do observe

  Unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature.

  The seasons change their manners, as the year

  Had found some months asleep and leapt them over.

  CLARENCE

  125

  The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between,

  And the old folk, time’s doting chronicles,

  Say it did so a little time before

  That our great-grandsire, Edward, sicked and died.

  WARWICK

  Speak lower, princes, for the King recovers.

  GLOUCESTER

  130

  This apoplexy will certain be his end.

  KING

  I pray you, take me up and bear me hence

  Into some other chamber. Softly, pray.

  They carry the KING to a bed.

  Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends,

  Unless some dull and favorable hand

  135

  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 HENRY

  Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

  CLARENCE

  140

  I am here, brother, full of heaviness.

  PRINCE HENRY

  How now! Rain within doors, and none abroad?

  How doth the King?

  GLOUCESTER

  Exceeding ill.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

  GLOUCESTER

  He altered much upon the hearing it.

  PRINCE HENRY

  145

  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 disposed to sleep.

  CLARENCE

  Let us withdraw into the other room.

  WARWICK

  Will ’t please your Grace to go along with us?

  PRINCE HENRY

  150

  No, I will sit and watch here by the King.

  Exeunt all but PRINCE HENRY

  Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,

  Being so troublesome a bedfellow?

  O polished perturbation, golden care,

  That keep’st the ports of slumber open wide

  155

  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

  160

  Like a rich armor 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,

  165

  This sleep is sound indeed. This is a sleep

  That from this golden rigol hath divorced

  So many English kings. Thy due from me

  Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,

  Which nature, love, and filial tenderness

  170

  Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.

  My due from thee is this imperial crown,

  Which, as immediate as thy place and blood,

  Derives itself to me. (he puts the crown on his head) Lo, where it sits,

  Which God shall guard. And put the world’s whole strength

  175

  Into one giant arm, it shall not force

  This lineal honor from me. This from thee

  Will I to mine leave, as ’tis left to me.

  Exit PRINCE HENRY

  KING

  (waking) Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!

  Enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest

  CLARENCE

  Doth the King call?

  WARWICK

  What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace?

  KING

  180

  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

  185

  This door is open. He is gone this way.

  GLOUCESTER

  He came not through the chamber where we stayed.

  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.

  190

  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

  195

  When gold becomes her object!

  For this the foolish overcareful fathers

  Have broke their sleep with thoughts,

  Their brains with care, their bones with industry.

  For this they have engrossèd and piled up

  200

  The canker’d heaps of strange-achievèd 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,

  205

  Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with honey,

  We bring it to the hive and, like the bees,

  Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste

  Yield his engrossments to the ending father.

  Enter WARWICK

  Now, where is he that will not stay so long

  210

  Till his friend sickness hath determined me?

  WARWICK

  My lord, I found the Prince in the next room,

  Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,

  With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow

  That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood,

  215

  Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife

  With gentle eyedrops. He is coming hither.

  KING

  But wherefore did he take away the crown?

  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 PRINCE HENRY

  PRINCE HENRY

  220

  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 honors

  225

  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.

  230

  Thou hast stol’n that which after some few hours

  Were thine without offense, and at my death

  Thou hast sealed up my expectation.

  Thy life did manifest thou loved’st me not,

  And thou wilt have me die assured of it.

  235

  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,

  240

  And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear

  That thou art crownèd, 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.

  245

  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 crowned. Up, vanity,

  Down, royal state, all you sage counsillors, hence,

  250

  And to the English court assemble now,

  From every region, apes of idleness.

  Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum.

  Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,

  Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit

  255

  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, honor, might,

  For the fifth Harry from curbed license plucks

  260

  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?