SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, in his Nightgown, with a Page. Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber; And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Enter WARWICK and SURRY. War. Many good morrows to your majesty! War. "Tis one o'clock, and past. K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords. Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? War. We have, my liege. K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom War. It is but as a body, yet, distemper'd; K. Hen. O heaven! that one might read the book of 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 [fate; Too wide for Neptune's hips: how chances mock, With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth,-viewing his progress through, Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends, [To Warwick. That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss: War. There is a history in all men's lives, Such things become the hatch and brood of time; King Richard might create a perfect guess, K. Hen. Are these things then necessities? War. It cannot be, my lord; To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd K. Hen. I will take your counsel: And were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Court before JUSTICE SHALLOW's House in GLOUCESTERSHIRE. Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MoULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and Servants behind. Shal. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my good cousin, Silence? Sil. 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. 47 Sil. You were called-lusty Shallow, then, cousin. Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pick bone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold man,-you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again: and, may say to you, we knew where the bonarobas were; and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk. 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, when he was a crack, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray'sinu. O, the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead! 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 loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! -he would have clapped i'the clout at twelvescore; and carried you a forehand shaft a 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? Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him. Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. |