DRAMATIS PERSONA.

KING HENRY THE FOURTH.

HENRY, Prince of Wales; afterwards K. Hen. V.,

THOMAS, Duke of Clarence,

PRINCE JOHN of Lancaster,

PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOSTER,

EARL OF WARWICK,

EARL OF WESTMORELAND, Of the KING'S Party.

EARL OF SURREY,

GOWER, HARCOURT,

His Sons.

SIR WILLIAM GASCOIGNE, Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench.
A Gentleman attending on the Chief Justice.

EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND,

SCROOP, Archbishop of York,

LORD MOWBRAY,

LORD HASTINGS,

Opposites to the KING.

LORD BARDOLPH,

SIR JOHN COLEVILE,

TRAVERS and MORTON, Retainers of NORTHUMBERLAND,

SIR JOHN FALstaff.

His Page.

BARDOLPH.

PISTOL.

POINS.

PETO.

SHALLOW and SILENCE, Country Justices.

DAVY, Servant to SHALLOW.

MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and BULL-CALF, Recruits.

FANG and SNARE, Sheriff's Officers.

RUMOUR, the Presenter.

A Porter. A Dancer, Speaker of the Epilogue.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.

LADY PERCY.

HOSTESS QUICKLY.

DOLL TEAR-SHEET.

Lords and Attendants; Officers, Soldiers, Messenger, Drawers, Beadles,

Grooms, &c.

SCENE, ENGLAND.

SECOND PART OF

KING HENRY IV.

INDUCTION.

WARKWORTH. Before NORTHUMBERLAND'S Castle.
Enter RUMOUR, painted full of Tongues.

Rum. Open your ears; for which of you will stop
The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks?
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth:

Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only I,

Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence?
Whilst the big year, swoln with some other grief,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,—
And no such matter. Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,

That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,

Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize

Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before king Harry's victory;

Who, in a bloody field at Shrewsbury,

Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion

Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first? my office is
To noise abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword;
And that the king before the Douglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,

And not a man of them brings other news

Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tongues
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-The Same.

Enter LORD BARDOLPH.

L. Bard. Who keeps the gate here? ho!—

Enter Porter above the gate.

[Exit.

Where is the earl?

Port. What shall I say you are?

L. Bard.

Tell thou the earl,

That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here.

Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard:

Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,

And he himself will answer.

L. Bard.

Here comes the earl.

[Exit Porter above.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

North. What news, lord Bardolph? every minute now

Should be the father of some stratagem.

The times are wild: contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.

L. Bard.

Noble earl,

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an God will!

L. Bard.

As good as heart can wish :

The king is almost wounded to the death;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young prince John,
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times,
Since Cæsar's fortunes!

North.

Saw

How is this deriv'd?

you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?

:

L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence;

A gentleman well bred, and of good name,

That freely render'd me these news for true.

North. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom I sent

On Tuesday last to listen after news.

L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way;

And he is furnish'd with no certainties,

More than he haply may retail from me.

Enter TRAVERS.

North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with you?
Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back

With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd,
Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury :
He told me that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
With that, he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head; and, starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.

Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion

Had met ill luck?

L. Bard.

My lord, I'll tell you what ;

If my young lord your son have not the day,

Upon mine honour, for a silken point

I'll give my barony: never talk of it.

North. Why should the gentleman, that rode by Travers, Give, then, such instances of loss?

L. Bard.

Who, he? He was some hilding fellow, that had stolen The horse he rode on; and, upon my life,

Spoke at a venture.-Look, here comes more news.

Enter MORTON.

North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume :
So looks the strond, whereon th' imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.

Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask,
To fright our party.

North.

How doth my son and brother?

Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek

Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless.

So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd;
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it.
This thou wouldst say,-Your son did thus, and thus
Your brother, thus; so fought the noble Douglas;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,

Ending with-brother, son, and all are dead.
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;

But, for my lord your son,—

North.

Why, he is dead.

See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath!

He that but fears the thing he would not know,

Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes,

s;

That what he fear'd is chancèd. Yet speak, Morton;

Tell thou thy earl his divination lies,

And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,

And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid:

Your spirit, is too true, your fears too certain.