Come from the north and, as I came along, I met, and overtook, a dozen captains, P. Hen. By heavens, Poins, I feel me much to blame, So idly to profane the precious time; When tempest of commotion, like the south, [Exeunt P. HEN., POINS, PETO, and BARD. Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. [Knocking heard. More knocking at the door! Re-enter BARDOLPH. How now? what's the matter? Bard. You must away to court, sir, presently; A dozen captains stay at door for you. Fal. [to the Page.] Pay the musicians, sirrah. -Farewell, hostess;-farewell, Doll.-You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches : if I be not sent away post I will see you again ere go. Doll. I cannot speak ;-if my heart be not ready to burst :—well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod time; but an honester and truer-hearted man, well, fare thee well. Bard. [within.] Mistress Tear-sheet. Host. What's the matter? Bard. [within.] Bid mistress Tear-sheet come to my master. Host. O run, Doll, run; run, good Doll. [Exeunt. G ACT III. SCENE I.-A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, with a Page. King Henry. O, 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. 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, 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 Enter WARWICK and SURREY. War. Many good morrows to your majesty ! War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past. K. Hen. Why, then, good morrow to you all, Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. 'Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears, That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss :- 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 deceased: The which observed, 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; King Richard might create a perfect guess, K. Hen. Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities: And that same word even now cries out on us; They say, the bishop and Northumberland Are fifty thousand strong. War. It cannot be, my lord; Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, To comfort you the more, I have received 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. |