The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 179
And we with sober speed will follow you.
FALSTAFF My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go
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Through Gloucestershire, and when you come to court
Stand my good lord, pray, in your good report.
LANCASTER Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition,
Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
Exit, with all but Falstaff.
FALSTAFF I would you had but the wit, ’twere better
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than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young
sober-blooded boy doth not love me, nor a man cannot
make him laugh; but that’s no marvel, he drinks no
wine. There’s never none of these demure boys come
to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their
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blood, and making many fish meals, that they fall into
a kind of male green-sickness; and then when they
marry they get wenches. They are generally fools and
cowards – which some of us should be too, but for
inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a twofold
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operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me
there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which
environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full
of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which
delivered o’er to the voice, the tongue, which is the
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birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of
your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood,
which before, cold and settled, left the liver white and
pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and
cowardice; but the sherris warms it, and makes it
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course from the inwards to the parts’ extremes. It
illumineth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning
to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and
then the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits,
muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great
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and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of
courage; and this valour comes of sherris. So that skill
in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it
a-work, and learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a
devil, till sack commences it and sets it in act and use.
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Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the
cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father he
hath like lean, sterile, and bare land manured,
husbanded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of
drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, that he
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is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand
sons, the first human principle I would teach them
should be to forswear thin potations, and to addict
themselves to sack.
Enter BARDOLPH.
How now, Bardolph?
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BARDOLPH The army is discharged all and gone.
FALSTAFF Let them go. I’ll through Gloucestershire,
and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire.
I have him already tempering between my finger and
my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come
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away. Exeunt.
4.4 Enter the KING, carried in a chair, WARWICK, THOMAS DUKE OF CLARENCE, HUMPHREY DUKE OF GLOUCESTER and others.
KING Now, lords, if God doth give successful end
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address’d, our power collected,
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Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And every thing lies level to our wish;
Only we want a little personal strength,
And pause us till these rebels now afoot
Come underneath the yoke of government.
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WARWICK Both which we doubt not but your Majesty
Shall soon enjoy.
KING Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
Where is the Prince your brother?
GLOUCESTER
I think he’s gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.
KING And how accompanied?
GLOUCESTER I do not know, my lord.
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KING Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?
GLOUCESTER No, my good lord, he is in presence here.
CLARENCE 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?
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He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas.
Thou hast a better place in his affection
Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy,
And noble offices thou mayst effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,
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Between his greatness and thy other brethren.
Therefore omit him not, blunt not his love,
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
By seeming cold, or careless of his will;
For he is gracious, if he be observ’d,
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He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens’d, he’s flint,
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
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His temper therefore must be well observ’d.
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin’d to mirth;
But being moody, give him time and scope,
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
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Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion –
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As force perforce the age will pour it in –
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
CLARENCE I shall observe him with all care and love.
KING
Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?
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CLARENCE He is not there today, he dines in London.
KING And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?
CLARENCE
With Poins, and other his continual followers.
KING Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds,
And he, the noble image of my youth,
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Is overspread with them; therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.
The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape
In forms imaginary th’unguided days
And rotten times that you shall look upon
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When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
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Towards fronting peril and oppos’d decay!
WARWICK
My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite.
The Prince but studies his companions
Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language,
’Tis needful that the most immodest word
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Be look’d upon and learnt; which once attain’d,
Your Highness knows, comes to no further use
But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,
The Prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers, and their memory
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Shall as a pattern or a measure live
By which his Grace must mete the lives of other,
Turning past evils to advantages.
KING ’Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
In the dead carrion.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
Who’s here? Westmoreland?
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WESTMORELAND
Health to my sovereign, and new happiness
Added to that that I am to deliver!
Prince John your son doth kiss your Grace’s hand:
Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all
Are brought to the correction of your law.
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There is not now a rebel’s sword unsheath’d,
But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere.
The manner how this action hath been borne
Here at more leisure may your Highness read,
With every course in his particular.
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KING O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day.
Enter HARCOURT.
Look, here’s more news.
HARCOURT From enemies heaven keep your Majesty;
And when they stand against you, may they fall
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As those that I am come to tell you of!
The Earl Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolph,
With a great power of English and of Scots,
Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown.
The manner and true order of the fight
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This packet, please it you, contains at large.
KING
And wherefore should these good news make me sick?
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food –
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Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast
And takes away the stomach – such are the rich
That have abundance and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news,
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy.
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O me! come near me, now I am much ill.
GLOUCESTER Comfort, your Majesty!
CLARENCE O my royal father!
WESTMORELAND
My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
WARWICK
Be patient, Princes; you do know these fits
Are with his Highness very ordinary.
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Stand from him, give him air; he’ll straight be well.
CLARENCE
No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs.
Th’incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
So thin that life looks through and will break out.
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GLOUCESTER
The people fear me, for they do observe
Unfather’d heirs and loathly births of nature.
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep and leap’d them over.
CLARENCE
The river hath thrice flow’d, no ebb between,
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And the old folk, time’s doting chronicles,
Say it did so a little time before
That our great-grandsire Edward sick’d and died.
WARWICK Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers.
GLOUCESTER This apoplexy will certain be his end.
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KING I pray you take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber: softly, pray.
4.5 They take the KING up and lay him on a bed.
KING Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends,
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
WARWICK Call for the music in the other room.
KING Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
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CLARENCE His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
WARWICK Less noise, less noise!
Enter PRINCE HENRY.
PRINCE Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
CLARENCE I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
PRINCE How now, rain within doors, and none abroad?
How doth the King?
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GLOUCESTER Exceeding ill.
PRINCE Heard he the good news yet?
Tell it him.
GLOUCESTER He alter’d much upon the hearing it.