War.
Many good morrows to your Majesty!

K. Henry.
Is it good morrow, lords?

War.
'Tis one o'clock, and past.

K. Henry.
^{1 note}

Have you read o'er the letters I sent you?

War.
We have, my Liege.

K. Henry.
Then you perceive the body of our Kingdom,
How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.

Wor.
^{2 note}

K. Henry.
Oh heav'n, that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
Make Mountains level, and the Continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the Sea; and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the Ocean
Too wide for Neptune's hips; how Chances mock,
And Changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! ^{4 note}

Wou'd shut the book, and sit him down and die.
'Tis not ten Years gone,
Since Richard and Northumberland, great Friends,
Did feast together; and in two years after
Were they at wars. It is but eight years since,
This Percy was the man nearest my soul;
Who, like a brother, toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot;
Yea, for my sake, ev'n to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by?
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember) [To War.
When Richard, with his eye brim-full of tears,^{5 note}
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy.
‘Northumberland, thou ladder by the which
‘My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my Throne:’
Though then, Heav'n knows, I had no such intent;
But that Necessity so bow'd the State,
That I and Greatness were compell'd to kiss:
‘The time will come, thus did he follow it,
‘The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
‘Shall break into corruption:’ so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition,
And the division of our amity.

War.
There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the Nature of the times deceas'd;
The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And by the necessary form of this,^{6 note}

That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness,
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on You.

K. Henry.
Are these things then necessities?* ^note

War.
It cannot be:
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your Grace
To go to bed. Upon my life, my lord,
The Pow'rs, that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.
To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain instance that Glendower is dead.
Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill,
And these unseason'd hours perforce must add
Unto your sickness.

K. Henry.
I will take your counsel;
And were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.^{7 note} [Exeunt.

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