Henry IV, Part I

Henry IV, Part I

By William Shakespeare.

Table of Contents

1. Titlepage
2. Imprint
3. Dramatis Personae
4. Henry IV, Part I
   1. Act I
      1. Scene I
      2. Scene II
      3. Scene III
   2. Act II
      1. Scene I
      2. Scene II
      3. Scene III
      4. Scene IV
   3. Act III
      1. Scene I
      2. Scene II
      3. Scene III
   4. Act IV
      1. Scene I
      2. Scene II
      3. Scene III
      4. Scene IV
   5. Act V
      1. Scene I
      2. Scene II
      3. Scene III
      4. Scene IV
      5. Scene V
5. Colophon
6. Uncopyright

Imprint

This ebook is the product of many hours of hard work by volunteers for Standard Ebooks, and builds on the hard work of other literature lovers made possible by the public domain.

This particular ebook is based on a transcription produced for the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and on digital scans available at the HathiTrust Digital Library.

The writing and artwork within are believed to be in the U.S. public domain, and Standard Ebooks releases this ebook edition under the terms in the CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication. For full license information, see the Uncopyright at the end of this ebook.

Standard Ebooks is a volunteer-driven project that produces ebook editions of public domain literature using modern typography, technology, and editorial standards, and distributes them free of cost. You can download this and other ebooks carefully produced for true book lovers at standardebooks.org.

Dramatis Personae

• King Henry the Fourth

• Henry, Prince of Wales, son to the king

• John of Lancaster, son to the king

• Earl of Westmoreland

• Sir Walter Blunt

• Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester

• Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland

• Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur, his son

• Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March

• Richard Scroop, Archbishop of York

• Archibald, Earl of Douglas

• Owen Glendower

• Sir Richard Vernon

• Sir John Falstaff

• Sir Michael, a friend to the Archbishop of York

• Poins

• Gadshill

• Peto

• Bardolph

• Lady Percy, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer

• Lady Mortimer, daughter to Glendower, and wife to Mortimer

• Mistress Quickly, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap

• Lords, officers, sheriff, vintner, chamberlain, drawers, two carriers, travellers, and attendants

Scene: England.

Henry IV, Part I

Act I

Scene I

London. The palace.

	Enter King Henry, Lord John of Lancaster, the Earl of Westmoreland, Sir Walter Blunt, and others.
King	So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in strands afar remote. No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children’s blood; No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, All of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, March all one way and be no more opposed Against acquaintance, kindred and allies: The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross We are impressed and engaged to fight, Forthwith a power of English shall we levy; Whose arms were moulded in their mothers’ womb To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walk’d those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail’d For our advantage on the bitter cross. But this our purpose now is twelve month old, And bootless ’tis to tell you we will go: Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, What yesternight our council did decree In forwarding this dear expedience.
Westmoreland	My liege, this haste was hot in question, And many limits of the charge set down But yesternight: when all athwart there came A post from Wales loaden with heavy news; Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight Against the irregular and wild Glendower, Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, A thousand of his people butchered; Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, Such beastly shameless transformation, By those Welshwomen done as may not be Without much shame retold or spoken of.
King	It seems then that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
Westmoreland	This match’d with other did, my gracious lord; For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north and thus it did import: On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald, That ever-valiant and approved Scot, At Holmedon met, Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; As by discharge of their artillery, And shape of likelihood, the news was told; For he that brought them, in the very heat And pride of their contention did take horse, Uncertain of the issue any way.
King	Here is a dear, a true industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Stain’d with the variation of each soil Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. The Earl of Douglas is discomfited: Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, Balk’d in their own blood did Sir Walter see On Holmedon’s plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest son To beaten Douglas; and the Earl of Athol, Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith: And is not this an honourable spoil? A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
Westmoreland	In faith, It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
King	Yea, there thou makest me sad and makest me sin In envy that my Lord Northumberland Should be the father to so blest a son, A son who is the theme of honour’s tongue; Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant; Who is sweet Fortune’s minion and her pride: Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, See riot and dishonour stain the brow Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, And call’d mine Percy, his Plantagenet! Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. But let him from my thoughts.