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  • Title: Henry IV, Part 2 (Folio 1 1623)
  • Editor: Rosemary Gaby

  • 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
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry IV, Part 2 (Folio 1 1623)

    The second Part of King Henry the Fourth.
    King. Humphrey (my Sonne of Gloucester) where is
    the Prince, your Brother?
    2385Glo. I thinke hee's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Wind-
    King. And how accompanied?
    Glo. I doe not know (my Lord.)
    King. Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, with
    Glo. No (my good Lord) hee is in presence heere.
    Clar. What would my Lord, and Father?
    King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
    How chance thou art not with the Prince, thy Brother?
    2395Hee loues thee, and thou do'st neglect him (Thomas.)
    Thou hast a better place in his Affection,
    Then all thy Brothers: cherish it (my Boy)
    And Noble Offices thou may'st effect
    Of Mediation (after I am dead)
    2400Betweene his Greatnesse, and thy other Brethren.
    Therefore omit him not: blunt not his Loue,
    Nor loose the good aduantage of his Grace,
    By seeming cold, or carelesse of his will.
    For hee is gracious, if hee be obseru'd:
    2405Hee hath a Teare for Pitie, and a Hand
    Open (as Day) for melting Charitie:
    Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, hee's Flint,
    As humorous as Winter, and as sudden,
    As Flawes congealed in the Spring of day.
    2410His temper therefore must be well obseru'd:
    Chide him for faults, and doe it reuerently,
    When you perceiue his blood enclin'd to mirth:
    But being moodie, giue him Line, and scope,
    Till that his passions (like a Whale on ground)
    2415Confound themselues with working. Learne this Thomas,
    And thou shalt proue a shelter to thy friends,
    A Hoope of Gold, to binde thy Brothers in:
    That the vnited Vessell of their Blood
    (Mingled with Venome of Suggestion,
    2420As force, perforce, the Age will powre it in)
    Shall neuer leake, though it doe worke as strong
    As Aconitum, or rash Gun-powder.
    Clar. I shall obserue him with all care, and loue.
    King. Why art thou not at Windsor with him (Tho-
    Clar. Hee is not there to day: hee dines in Lon-
    King. And how accompanyed? Canst thou tell
    2430Clar. With Pointz, and other his continuall fol-
    King. Most subiect is the fattest Soyle to Weedes:
    And hee (the Noble Image of my Youth)
    Is ouer-spread with them: therefore my griefe
    2435Stretches it selfe beyond the howre of death.
    The blood weepes from my heart, when I doe shape
    (In formes imaginarie) th'vnguided Dayes,
    And rotten Times, that you shall looke vpon,
    When I am sleeping with my Ancestors.
    2440For when his head-strong Riot hath no Curbe,
    When Rage and hot-Blood are his Counsailors,
    When Meanes and lauish Manners meete together;
    Oh, with what Wings shall his Affections flye
    Towards fronting Perill, and oppos'd Decay?
    2445War. My gracious Lord, you looke beyond him quite:
    The Prince but studies his Companions,
    Like a strange Tongue: wherein, to gaine the Language,
    'Tis needfull, that the most immodest word

    Be look'd vpon, and learn'd: which once attayn'd,
    2450Your Highnesse knowes, comes to no farther vse,
    But to be knowne, and hated. So, like grosse termes,
    The Prince will, in the perfectnesse of time,
    Cast off his followers: and their memorie
    Shall as a Patterne, or a Measure, liue,
    2455By which his Grace must mete the liues of others,
    Turning past-euills to aduantages.
    King. 'Tis seldome, when the Bee doth leaue her Combe
    In the dead Carrion.
    Enter Westmerland.
    2460Who's heere? Westmerland?
    West. Health to my Soueraigne, and new happinesse
    Added to that, that I am to deliuer.
    Prince Iohn, your Sonne, doth kisse your Graces Hand:
    Mowbray, the Bishop, Scroope, Hastings, and all,
    2465Are brought to the Correction of your Law.
    There is not now a Rebels Sword vnsheath'd,
    But Peace puts forth her Oliue euery where:
    The manner how this Action hath beene borne,
    Here (at more leysure) may your Highnesse reade,
    2470With euery course, in his particular.
    King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird,
    Which euer in the haunch of Winter sings
    The lifting vp of day.
    Enter Harcourt.
    2475Looke, heere's more newes.
    Harc. From Enemies, Heauen keepe your Maiestie:
    And when they stand against you, may they fall,
    As those that I am come to tell you of.
    The Earle Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolfe,
    2480With a great Power of English, and of Scots,
    Are by the Sherife of Yorkeshire ouerthrowne:
    The manner, and true order of the fight,
    This Packet (please it you) containes at large.
    King. And wherefore should these good newes
    2485Make me sicke?
    Will Fortune neuer come with both hands full,
    But write her faire words still in foulest Letters?
    Shee eyther giues a Stomack, and no Foode,
    (Such are the poore, in health) or else a Feast,
    2490And takes away the Stomack (such are the Rich,
    That haue aboundance, and enioy it not.)
    I should reioyce now, at this happy newes,
    And now my Sight fayles, and my Braine is giddie.
    O me, come neere me, now I am much ill.
    2495Glo. Comfort your Maiestie.
    Cla. Oh, my Royall Father.
    West. My Soueraigne Lord, cheare vp your selfe, looke
    War. Be patient (Princes) you doe know, these Fits
    2500Are with his Highnesse very ordinarie.
    Stand from him, giue him ayre:
    Hee'le straight be well.
    Clar. No, no, hee cannot long hold out: these pangs,
    Th'incessant care, and labour of his Minde,
    2505Hath wrought the Mure, that should confine it in,
    So thinne, that Life lookes through, and will breake out.
    Glo. The people feare me: for they doe obserue
    Vnfather'd Heires, and loathly Births of Nature:
    The Seasons change their manners, as the Yeere
    2510Had found some Moneths asleepe, and leap'd them ouer.
    Clar. The Riuer hath thrice flow'd, no ebbe betweene:
    And the old folke (Times doting Chronicles)
    Say it did so, a little time before
    That our great Grand-sire Edward sick'd, and dy'de.
    War. Speake