Enter King Henry in his nightgown, with a Page. K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters, Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber; Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! 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, my lords. Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, 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! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth,-viewing his progress through, "Tis not ten years gone, Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends, [To Warwick. But that necessity so bow'd the state, That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss :- The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head, War. There is a history in all men's lives, 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, The powers that you already have sent forth, To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd A certain instance, that Glendower is dead. And these unseason'd hours, perforce, must add 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 GLOCESTERSHIRE. 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 bedfellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my goddaughter 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. By the mass, 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 George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold man,-you had not four |