King Henry the Fourth.

    Henry,
           Prince of Wales,
         son to the King.

    Prince 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
               the Boar's Head in Eastcheap.

    Lords,
           Officers,
         Sheriff,
           Vintner,
         Chamberlain,
           Drawers,
         two Carriers,
           Travellers,
         and Attendants.

    SCENE.

    --England and Wales.

 
  ACT I. Scene I. London. The
       Palace.

    Enter the King,
           Lord John of Lancaster,
         Earl of Westmoreland,
           [Sir Walter Blunt,] with 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 commenc'd
                   in stronds 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 flow'rets
               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 oppos'd
                   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 engag'd
                       to fight- Forthwith a power
                           of English shall
                 we levy,
         Whose arms
            were moulded
                   in their mother's 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 twelvemonth 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.

    West.

    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;