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About this text

  • Title: Henry IV, Part 1 (Folio 1 1623)
  • Editor: Rosemary Gaby
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-371-7

    Copyright Rosemary Gaby. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Rosemary Gaby
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry IV, Part 1 (Folio 1 1623)

    The First Part of King Henry the Fourth.
    Can lift your blood vp with perswasion.
    Enter a Messenger.
    Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you.
    Hot. I cannot reade them now.
    O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;
    To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long.
    2870If life did ride vpon a Dials point,
    Still ending at the arriuall of an houre,
    And if we liue, we liue to treade on Kings:
    If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs.
    Now for our Consciences, the Armes is faire,
    2875When the intent for bearing them is iust.
    Enter another Messenger.
    Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace.
    Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale:
    For I professe not talking: Onely this,
    2880Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword,
    Whose worthy temper I intend to staine
    With the best blood that I can meete withall,
    In the aduenture of this perillous day.
    Now Esperance Percy, and set on:
    2885Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre,
    And by that Musicke, Iet vs all imbrace:
    For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall,
    A second time do such a curtesie.
    They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth
    with his power, alarum vnto the battell. Then enter
    Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.
    Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus yu crossest me?
    What honor dost thou seeke vpon my head?
    Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,
    2895And I do haunt thee in the battell thus,
    Because some tell me, that thou art a King.
    Blunt. They tell thee true.
    Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath bought
    Thy likenesse: for insted of thee King Harry,
    2900This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,
    Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner.
    Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot,
    And thou shalt finde a King that will reuenge
    Lords Staffords death.
    Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.
    Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus
    I neuer had triumphed o're a Scot.
    Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king
    Hot. Where?
    2910Dow. Heere.
    Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well:
    A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
    Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe.
    Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes,
    2915A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere.
    Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King?
    Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats.
    Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,
    Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece,
    2920Vntill I meet the King.
    Hot. Vp, and away,
    Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.
    Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.
    Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear
    2925the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft
    who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you:
    here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as hea-
    uy too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more
    weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of
    2930Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my
    150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg du-
    ring life. But who comes heere?
    Enter the Prince.
    Pri. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword,
    2935Many a Nobleman likes starke and stiffe
    Vnder the hooues of vaunting enemies,
    Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy sword
    Fal. O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile:
    Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I haue
    2940done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure.
    Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee:
    I prethee lend me thy sword.
    Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my
    Sword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt.
    2945Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the Case?
    Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.
    The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke.
    Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.
    Throwes it at him.
    2950Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile pierce him: if he do come in
    my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let
    him make a Carbonado of me. I like not such grinning
    honour as Sir Walter hath: Giue mee life, which if I can
    saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an

    Scena Tertia.

    Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince,
    Lord Iohn of Lancaster, and Earle
    of Westmerland.

    2960King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou blee-
    dest too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him.
    P.Ioh. Not I, my Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too.
    Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp,
    Least you retirement do amaze your friends.
    2965King. I will do so:
    My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent.
    West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent.
    Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe;
    And heauen forbid a shallow scratch should driue
    2970The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
    Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on,
    And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres.
    Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland,
    Our duty this way lies, for heauens sake come.
    2975Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster,
    I did not thinke thee Lord of such a spirit:
    Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn;
    But now, I do respect thee as my Soule.
    King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,
    2980With lustier maintenance then I did looke for
    Of such an vngrowne Warriour.
    Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all.
    Enter Dowglas.
    Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads:
    2985I am the Dowglas, fatall to all those
    That weare those colours on them. What art thou
    That counterfeit'st the person of a King?
    King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at hart