Internet Shakespeare Editions


Jump to line
Help on texts

About this text

  • Title: Henry IV, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1598)
  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 (Quarto 1, 1598)

    Henry the fourth.
    Harc. From enemies, heauens keep your maiesty,
    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 shrieue of Yorkshire ouerthrowne,
    The manner, and true order of the fight,
    This packet, please it you, containes at large,
    Ki. And wherfore should these good news make me sicke?
    Will Fortune neuer come with both hands full.
    But wet her faire words stil in foulest termes?
    She either giues a stomach, and no foode,
    Such are the poore in health: or else a feast,
    2490And takes away the stomach, such are the rich
    That haue aboundance, and enioy it not:
    I should reioyce now at this happy newes,
    And now my sight failes, and my braine is giddy,
    O me, come neare me, now I am much ill.
    2495Hum. Comfort your maiesty.
    Clar. O my royall father!
    West. My soueraigne Lord, cheere vp your selfe, look vp.
    War. Be patient princes, you do know these fits
    2500Are with his highnesse very ordinary.
    Stand from him, giue him ayre, heel straight be wel.
    Clar. No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs,
    Th'incessant care and labour of his mind,
    2505Hath wrought the Mure that should confine it in,
    So thin that life lookes through.
    Hum. The people feare me, for they do obserue
    Vnfather'd heires, and lothly births of nature,
    The seasons change their manners, as the yeere
    2510Had found some moneths a sleepe, and leapt them ouer.
    Clar. The riuer hath thrice flowed, no ebbe between,
    And the old folk, (Times doting chronicles,)
    Say, it did so a little time before
    That our great grandsire Edward, sickt and died.