The palace. Enter king Henry in his night-gown, with a Page.

K. Henry.
Go, call the earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,

And well consider of them: Make good speed.— [Exit Page.
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep!—O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, ly'st thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why ly'st thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch,
^{2 note}A watch-case, or a common larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge;
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the ^{3 note}

^note are the clouds. Steevens.

That, with the hurly^{4 note}, death itself awakes?
Can'st thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? ^{5 note}

War.
Many good morrows to your majesty!

K. Henry.
Is it good morrow, lords?

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

K. Henry.
^{6 note}

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.

War.
^{7 note}

K. Henry.
O heaven! 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! ^{9 note}

Though then, heaven 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 shall 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 entreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
^{3 note}

K. Henry.
^{4 note}

War.
It cannot be, my lord;
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 powers 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, ^{5 note}unto the Holy Land. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Justice Shallow's seat in Glocestershire^{6 note}. Enter Shallow meeting Silence. Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bull-calf, Servants, &c. behind.

Shal.

Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early

stirrer, ^{7 note}by the rood. And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Sil^{8 note}.

Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

Shal.

And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

Sil.

Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

Shal.

By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin William is become a good scholar: He is at Oxford still, is he not?

Sil.

Indeed, sir; to my cost.

Shal.

He must then to the inns of court shortly: I was once of Clement's-inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil.

You were call'd—lusty Shallow, then, cousin.

Shal.

I was call'd any thing; and I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black ^{9 note}George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and ^{1 note}

Sil.

This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?

Shal.

The same sir John, the very same. I saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate^{5 note}

Sil.

We shall all follow, cousin.

Shal.

Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?

Sil.

Truly, cousin, I was not there.

Shal.

Death is certain.—Is old Double of your town living yet?

Sil.

Dead, sir.

Shal.

Dead!—See, see!—he drew a good bow;— And dead!—he shot a fine shoot:—John of Gaunt lov'd him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead!—he would have ^{7 note}clapp'd i'the clout at twelve score; and carry'd you a fore-hand shaft a ^{8 note}fourteen, and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see.—How a score of ewes now?

Sil.

Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.

Shal.

And is old Double dead!

Sil.

Here come two of sir John Falstaff's men, as I think.

Bard.

^{9 note}Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which is justice Shallow?

Shal.

I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this county, and one of the king's justices of the peace: What is your good pleasure with me?

Bard.

My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, sir John Falstaff: a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.

Shal.

He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good back-sword man: How doth the good knight? may I ask, how my lady his wife doth?

Bard.

Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated, than with a wife.

Shal.

It is well said, sir; and it is well said indeed too. Better accommodated!—it is good; yea, indeed, is it: good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated!—it comes of accommodo: ^{1 note}

Bard.

Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase, call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase: but I will maintain the word with my sword, to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command. Accommodated; That is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or, when a man is,—being,—whereby,—he may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

Shal.

It is very just:—Look, here comes good sir John.—Give me your good hand, give me your worship's good hand: By my troth, you look well, and bear your years very well: welcome, good sir John.

Fal.

I am glad to see you well, good master Robert Shallow;—Master Sure-card, as I think.9Q0745

Shal.

No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.

Fal.

Good master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

Sil.

Your good worship is welcome.

Fal.

Fie! this is hot weather.—Gentlemen, have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?

Shal.

Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?

Fal.

Let me see them, I beseech you.

Shal.

Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll?—Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so: Yea, marry, sir:—Ralph Mouldy:—let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so.— Let me see; Where is Mouldy?

Moul.

Here, an't please you.

Shal.

What think you, sir John? a good-limb'd fellow: young, strong, and of good friends.

Fal.

Is thy name Mouldy?

Moul.

Yea, an't please you.

Fal.

'Tis the more time thou wert us'd.

Shal.

Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i'faith! things, that are mouldy, lack use: Very singular good!— Well said, sir John; very well said.

Fal.

Prick him.

Moul.

I was prick'd well enough before, an you could have let me alone: my old dame will be undone now, for one to do her husbandry, and her drudgery: you need not to have prick'd me; there are other men fitter to go out than I.

Fal.

Go to; peace, Mouldy, you shall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent.

Moul.

Spent!

Shal.

Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; Know you where you are?—For the other, sir John:—let me see;—Simon Shadow!

Fal.

Ay marry, let me have him to sit under: he's like to be a cold soldier.

Shal.

Where's Shadow?

Shad.

Here, sir.

Fal.

Shadow, whose son art thou?

Shad.

My mother's son, sir.

Fal.

Thy mother's son! like enough; and thy father's shadow: so the son of the female is the shadow of the male: It is often so, indeed; but not much of the father's substance.

Shal.

Do you like him, sir John?

Fal.

Shadow will serve for summer,—prick him; —for ^{2 note}we have a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book.

Shal.

Thomas Wart!

Fal.

Where's he?

Wart.

Here, sir.

Fal.

Is thy name Wart?

Wart.

Yea, sir.

Fal.

Thou art a very ragged wart.

Shal.

Shall I prick him, sir John?

Fal.

It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins: prick him no more.

Shal.

Ha, ha, ha!—you can do it, sir; you can do it: I commend you well.—Francis Feeble!

Feeble.

Here, sir.

Fal.

What trade art thou, Feeble?

Feeble.

A woman's taylor, sir.

Shal.

Shall I prick him, sir?

Fal.

You may: but if he had been a man's taylor, he would have prick'd you.—Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle, as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?

Feeble.

I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.

Fal.

Well said, good woman's taylor! well said,

courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove, or most magnanimous mouse.—Prick the woman's taylor well, master Shallow; deep, master Shallow.

Feeble.

I would, Wart might have gone, sir.

Fal.

I would, thou wert a man's taylor; that thou might'st mend him, and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands: Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.

Feeble.

It shall suffice, sir.

Fal.

I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.—Who is next?

Shal.

Peter Bull-calf of the green!

Fal.

Yea, marry, let us see Bull-calf.

Bull.

Here, sir,

Fal.

Trust me, a likely fellow!—Come, prick me Bull-calf, 'till he roar again.

Bull.

Oh! good my lord captain,—

Fal.

What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd?

Bull.

O lord, sir! I am a diseas'd man.

Fal.

What disease hast thou?

Bull.

A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which I caught with ringing in the king's affairs, upon his coronation day, sir.

Fal.

Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown; we will have away thy cold; and I will take such order, that thy friends shall ring for thee.—Is here all?

Shal.

There is two more call'd than your number, you must have but four here, sir;—and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.

Fal.

Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good troth, master Shallow.

Shal.

O, sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the wind-mill in saint George's fields?

Fal.

No more of that, good master Shallow, no more of that.

Shal.

Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane Night-work alive?

Fal.

She lives, master Shallow.

Shal.

She could never away with me^{8 note}.

Fal.

Never, never: she would always say, she could not abide master Shallow.

Shal.

By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was then a ^{9 note}

Fal.

Old, old, master Shallow.

Shal.

Nay, she must be old; she cannot chuse but be old; certain, she's old; and had Robin Night-work by old Night-work, before I came to Clement's-inn.

Sil.

That's fifty-five years ago.

Shal.

Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen!—Ha, sir John, said I well?

Fal.

We have heard the chimes at midnight, master Shallow.

Shal.

That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, sir John, we have; our watch-word was, Hem, boys!—Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to dinner:—O, the days that we have seen!—Come, come.

Bull.

Good master corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and here is four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own part, sir, I

do not care; but, rather, because I am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends; else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.

Bard.

Go to; stand aside.

Moul.

And good master corporal captain, for my old dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do any thing about her, when I am gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall have forty, sir.

Bard.

Go to; stand aside.

Feeble.

I care not;—a man can die but once;—we owe God a death;—I'll ne'er bear a base mind:— an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: No man's too good to serve his prince: and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this year, is quit for the next.

Bard.

Well said; thou'rt a good fellow.

Feeble.

'Faith, I'll bear no base mind.

Fal.

Come, sir, which men shall I have?

Shal.

Four of which you please.

Bard.

Sir, a word with you:—^{1 note}I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bull-calf.

Fal.

Go to; well.

Shal.

Come, sir John, which four will you have?

Fal.

Do you chuse for me.

Shal.

Marry then,—Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, and Shadow.

Fal.

Mouldy, and Bull-calf:—For you, Mouldy, stay at home 'till you are past service^{2 note}

Shal.

Sir John, sir John, do not yourself wrong; they are your likeliest men, and I would have you serv'd with the best.

Fal.

Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to chuse a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes^{3 note}

Bard.

Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus.

Fal.

Come, manage me your caliver. So:—very well:—go to:—very good:—exceeding good.—O, give me always a little, lean, old, chopp'd, ^{7 note}bald shot.—Well said, Wart; thou'rt a good scab: hold, there's a tester for thee.

Shal.

He is not his craft's-master, he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile-end green^{8 note}, when I lay at Clement's-inn9Q0747, (^{9 note}

show) there was a little quiver fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus: and 'a would about, and

about, and come you in, and come you in: rah, tah, tah, would 'a say; bounce, would 'a say; and away again would 'a go, and again would 'a come;—I shall never see such a fellow.

Fal.

These fellows will do well, master Shallow.— God keep you, master Silence; I will not use many words with you:—Fare you well, gentlemen both: I thank you: I must a dozen mile to-night.—Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.

Shal.

Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper your affairs, and send us peace! As you return, visit my house; let our old acquaintance be renew'd: peradventure, I will with you to the court.

Fal.

I would you would, master Shallow.

Shal.

Go to; I have spoke, at a word. Fare you well.

Fal.

Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.—On, Bardolph; lead the men away.—[Exeunt Bardolph, Recruits, &c.] —As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom of justice Shallow. Lord, lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This same starv'd justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done ^{9 note}

and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at Clement's-inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a fork'd radish, with a head fantastically carv'd upon it with a knife: he was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight ^{1 note}were invisible: he was the very Genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores call'd him—mandrake^{2 note}

ever in the rear-ward of the fashion; and sung those tunes to the ^{3 note}