gentlewoman, to clofe with us? Is fhe of the wicked? is thine Hoftefs here of the wicked? or is the boy of the wicked? or honeft Bardolph, whofe zeal burns in his nofe, of the wicked?

Poins. Anfwer, thou dead Elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath prickt down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roaft malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil out bids

him too.

P. Henry. For the women,

Fal. For one of them, fhe is in hell already, and burns, poor foul! for the other, I owe her money; and whether the be damn'd for that, I know not.

Hoft. No, I warrant you.

Fal. No, I think, thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for fuffering flesh to be eaten in thy houfe, contrary to the law, for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

Hoft. All victuallers do fo. What is a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Henry. You, gentlewoman.

Dol. What fays your Grace?

Fal. His Grace fays that, which his flefh rebels against.

Hoft. Who knocks fo loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.

• And burns, poor foul.] This is Sir T. Hanmer's reading. Undoubtedly right. The other editions had, he is in hell already,

and burns poor fouls. The venereal difeafe was called in thefe times the brennynge or burning.

SCENE.

SCENE VI.

Enter Peto.

P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?
Peto. The King your father is at Westminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied pofts
Come from the North; and, as I came along,
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns,
And afking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

P. Henry. By heavens, Poins, I feel me much to blame,

So idly to profane the precious time;

When tempeft of commotion, like the South
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my fword, and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
[Exeunt Prince and Poins.

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morfel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick'd. More knocking at the door?-how now? what's the matter?

Bard. You must away to Court, Sir, prefently; a dozen captains ftay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the musicians, Sirrah. Farewel, Hoftefs; farewel, Dol. You fee, my good wenches, how men of merit are fought after; the undeferver may fleep, when the man of action is call'd on. Farewel, good wenches; if I be not fent away poft, I will fee you again, ere I go.

Dol. I cannot fpeak; if my heart be not ready to burst-well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewel, farewel.

[Exit. Hoft. Well, fare thee well. I have known thee thefe twenty-nine years, come pefcod-time; but an honefter and truer hearted man-well, fare thee well.

Bard. Mrs. Tear-fbeet.

Hoft.

Hoft. What's the matter?

Bard. Bid Mistress Tear-Sheet come to my mafter.
Hoft. O run, Dol, run; run, good Dol.

[Exeunt.

'A CT III.

SCENE I.

The Palace in LONDON.

Enter King Henry in his Night-Gown, with a Page.

K. HENRY.

10, call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these

G

letters,

And well confider of them. Make good speed.

[Exit Page.
How many thousands of my poorest Subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O gentle sleep,
Nature's foft Nurfe, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And fteep my fenfes in forgetfulness?

Why rather, Sleep, ly'ft thou in fmoaky cribs,
Upon uneafy pallets ftretching thee,

And hufht with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the Great,
Under the Canopies of coftly State,

And lull'd with founds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull God, why ly'st thou with the vile
In loathfome beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch
'A watch-cafe, or a common larum bell?

7 The firft fcene is not in my copy of the first edition.

A watch-cafe, &c.] This alludes to the watchmen fet in garrison towns upon fome emi

Wilt

nence attending upon an alarum. bell, which he was to ring out in cafe of fire, or any approaching danger. He had a cafe or box to thelter him from the weather,

but

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,
In cradle of the rude imperious Surge;
And in the Vifitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf 'ning clamours in the flip'ry fhrouds,
That, with the hurley, death itself awakes?
Can't thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repofe
To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude?
And, in the calmeft and the ftillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a King?" then, happy lowly clown,
Uneafy lyes the head, that wears a Crown.

SCENE II.

Enter Warwick and Surrey.

War. Many good morrows to your Majesty!
K. Henry. Is it good morrow, lords?

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

1

K. Henry. Why, then, good morrow to you. Well,

my lords,

Have

Dr. Warburton has not admitted this emendation into his text: I am glad to do it the justice which its authour has neglected.

'In the old Edition:
Why then good morrow to you
all, my Lords:

Have you read o'er, &c.] The King fends Letters to Surrey and Warwick, with Charge that they fhould read them and attend him. Accordingly here Surrey and Warwick come, and no body elfe. The King would hardly have faid Good morrow to You

All,

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

War. We have, my Liege

K. Henry. Then you perceive the body of our Kingdom, How fowl it is; what rank difeafes grow,

And with what danger, near the heart of it.

2

Wor. It is but as a body yet diftemper'd, Which to its former ftrength may be reftor'd, With good advice and little medicine;

3 My lord Northumberland will foon be cool'd. K. Henry. Oh heav'n, that one might read the book of fate,

And fee the revolution of the times

Make Mountains level, and the Continent,

Weary of folid firmnefs, 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! O, if this were feen,
The happiest youth viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to enfue,

All, to two Peers. THEOBALD.
Sir. T. Hanmer and Dr. War-
burton have received this emen-
dation, and read well for all. The
reading either way is of no im-

portance.

2 It is but as a body YET diftemper'd,] What would he have more? We should read, It is but as a body SLIGHT diftemper'd. WARBURTON.

The prefent reading is right. Distemper, that is, according to the old phyfick, a disproportionate mixture of humours, or inequality of innate heat and radidical humidity, is less than actual difeafe, being only the ftate which foreruns or produces difeafes. The difference between diffemper and difsafe, feems to be VOL. IV.

much the fame as between dif pofition and habit.

3 My lord Northumberland will foon be cOOL'D.] I believe Shakespeare wrote SCHOOL'D; tutor'd, and brought to fubmiffion. WARBURTON. Cool'd is certainly right.

4 O, if this were feen, &c.] Thefe four lines are fupplied from the Edition of 1600. WARB.

My copy wants the whole fcene, and therefore thefe lines.

There is fome difficulty in the line,

What perils poft, what croffes to enfue, because it feems to make paft perils equally terrible with "enfuing croffes.