Internet Shakespeare Editions

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)

    62 The First Part of King Henry the Fourth.
    Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
    Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
    With rauishing Diuision to her Lute.
    1750Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

    The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.

    Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this.
    Glend. She bids you,
    On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,
    1755And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe,
    And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you,
    And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
    Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse;
    Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,
    1760As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
    The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme
    Begins his Golden Progresse in the East.
    Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing:
    By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne.
    1765Glend. Doe so:
    And those Musitians that shall play to you,
    Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence;
    And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend.
    Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:
    1770Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy
    Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.

    The Musicke playes.

    Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,
    1775And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous:
    Byrlady hee's a good Musitian.
    Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall,
    For you are altogether gouerned by humors:
    Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh.
    1780Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in
    Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?
    Hotsp. No.
    Lady. Then be still.
    1785Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault.
    Lady. Now God helpe thee.
    Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed.
    Lady. What's that?
    Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.

    1790 Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.

    Hotsp. Come, Ile haue your Song too.
    Lady. Not mine, in good sooth.
    Hotsp. Not yours, in good sooth?
    You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:
    1795Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue;
    And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day:
    And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes,
    As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury.
    Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
    1800A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth,
    And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,
    To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.
    Come, sing.
    Lady. I will not sing.
    1805Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Red-
    brest teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away
    within these two howres: and so come in, when yee
    will. Exit.
    Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow,
    1810As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe.
    By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale,
    And then to Horse immediately.
    Mort. With all my heart. Exeunt.

    Scaena Secunda.

    1815 Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

    King. Lords, giue vs leaue:
    The Prince of Wales, and I,
    Must haue some priuate conference:
    But be neere at hand,
    1820For wee shall presently haue neede of you.
    Exeunt Lords.
    I know not whether Heauen will haue it so,
    For some displeasing seruice I haue done;
    That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood,
    1825Hee'le breede Reuengement, and a Scourge for me:
    But thou do'st in thy passages of Life,
    Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd
    For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauen
    To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,
    1830Could such inordinate and low desires,
    Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts,
    Such barren pleasures, rude societie,
    As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too,
    Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood,
    1835And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?
    Prince. So please your Maiesty, I would I could
    Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,
    As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge
    My selfe of many I am charg'd withall:
    1840Yet such extenuation let me begge,
    As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd,
    Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare,
    By smiling Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers;
    I may for some things true, wherein my youth
    1845Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,
    Finde pardon on my true submission.
    King. Heauen pardon thee:
    Yet let me wonder, Harry,
    At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing
    1850Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
    Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost,
    Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de;
    And art almost an alien to the hearts
    Of all the Court and Princes of my blood.
    1855The hope and expectation of thy time
    Is ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man
    Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.
    Had I so lauish of my presence beene,
    So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,
    1860So stale and cheape to vulgar Company;
    Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne,
    Had still kept loyall to possession,
    And left me in reputelesse banishment,
    A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood.
    1865By being seldome seene, I could not stirre,
    But like a Comet, I was wondred at,