Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd
Prin. Ned, where are our disguises?Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close
Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: euery man to his businesse. Enter Trauellers
Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our Legges
Theeues. Stay
Tra. Iesu blesse vs
Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats; a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs youth; downe with them, fleece them
Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer
Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Bacons, on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.
Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines.
Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London, it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a Moneth, and a good iest for euer
Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming.Enter Theeues againe.
Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke
Prin. Your money
Poin. Villaines.
As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all run away, leauing the booty behind them.
Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse: The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't not for laughing, I should pitty him
Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.
But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house. He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous. Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition. Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte, good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot, very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan. Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour? Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters, to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth? and are they not some of them set forward already? What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards to night. Enter his Lady.
How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours
La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?For what offence haue I this fortnight binA banish'd woman from my Harries bed?Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from theeThy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe?Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth?And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes?And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee,To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly?In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht,And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres:Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed,Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'dOf Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine,And all the current of a headdy fight.Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre,And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe,That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow,Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame;And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd,Such as we see when men restraine their breathOn some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these?Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand,And I must know it: else he loues me not
Hot. What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone
Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses fro[m] the Sheriffe?Ser. One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now
Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not
Ser. It is my Lord
Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth into the Parke
La. But heare you, my lord
Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?La. What is it carries you away?Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse
La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Brother Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent for you to line his enterprize. But if you go- Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue
La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true
Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not,I care not for thee Kate: this is no worldTo play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no
Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweareI loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate,I must not haue you henceforth, question me,Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate.I know you wise, but yet no further wiseThen Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,But yet a woman: and for secrecie,No Lady closer. For I will beleeueThou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know,And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate
La. How so farre?Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate,Whither I go, thither shall you go too:To day will I set forth, to morrow you.Will this content you Kate?La. It must of force.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Prince and Poines.
Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend me thy hand to laugh a little
Poines. Where hast bene Hall? Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3. or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke, and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Falstaffe, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and when I am King of England, I shall command al the good Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dying Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to sweeten which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar, clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker, one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Falstaffe come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome, while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile shew thee a President
Poines. Francis
Prin. Thou art perfect
Poin. Francis.Enter Drawer.
Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet,Ralfe
Prince. Come hither Francis
Fran. My Lord
Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to-Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a faire paire of heeles, and run from it? Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in England, I could finde in my heart
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. How old art thou, Francis?Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe-Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord
Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thougauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two
Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Askeme when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon
Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis: or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou wilt. But Francis
Fran. My Lord
Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch
Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane?Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onelydrinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doubletwill sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much
Fran. What sir?Poin. Francis
Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?
Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.
Enter Vintner.
Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling?Looke to the Guests within: My Lord, olde SirIohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I letthem in?Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore.Poines.Enter Poines.
Poin. Anon, anon sir
Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at the doore, shall we be merry? Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee, What cunning match haue you made this iest of the Drawer? Come, what's the issue? Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight. What's a clocke Francis? Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcell of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day? Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres, some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow. Enter Falstaffe.
Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene? Fal. A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant? Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter, pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound
Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A villanous Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still
Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thyKingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Subiectsafore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuerweare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?Prin. Why you horson round man? what's the matter?Fal. Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, andPoines there?Prin. Ye fat paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ilestab thee
Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such backing: giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day
Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since thou drunk'st last
Falst. All's one for that.
He drinkes.
A plague of all Cowards still, say I
Prince. What's the matter?Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haueta'ne a thousand pound this Morning
Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundredvpon poore foure of vs
Prince. What, a hundred, man? Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet, foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum. I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe. A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes of darknesse
Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen
Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord
Gad. And bound them
Peto. No, no, they were not bound
Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man ofthem, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew
Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh menset vpon vs
Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in theother
Prince. What, fought yee with them all? Falst. All? I know not what yee call all: but if I fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish: if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature
Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of them
Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues in Buckrom let driue at me
Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now
Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure
Poin. I, I, he said foure
Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen points in my Targuet, thus
Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now
Falst. In buckrom
Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes
Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else
Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon
Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal?Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack
Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: thesenine in Buckrom, that I told thee of
Prin. So, two more alreadie
Falst. Their Points being broken
Poin. Downe fell his Hose
Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of the eleuen I pay'd
Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne out of two? Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st not see thy Hand
Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them, grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson obscene greasie Tallow Catch
Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not thetruth, the truth?Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men inKendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st notsee thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thouto this?Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason
Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion? If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I
Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker, this huge Hill of Flesh
Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke
Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare me speake but thus
Poin. Marke Iacke
Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House. And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparant shame? Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast thou now? Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant? Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great matter. I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion, and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night, pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold, all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What, shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory
Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing away
Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.
Enter Hostesse
Host. My Lord, the Prince?Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'stthou to me?Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of theCourt at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, heecomes from your Father
Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royallman, and send him backe againe to my Mother
Falst. What manner of man is hee?Hostesse. An old man
Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?Shall I giue him his answere?Prin. Prethee doe Iacke
Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing.Enter.
Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie
Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne
Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes Sword so hackt? Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe the like
Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse, to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare his monstrous deuices
Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteeneyeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, andeuer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fireand sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; whatinstinct hadst thou for it?Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe youbehold these Exhalations?Prin. I doeBard. What thinke you they portend?Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses
Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken
Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.Enter Falstaffe.
Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe, Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee? Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres (Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder. There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy; and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado, and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a plague call you him? Poin. O, Glendower
Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in LawMortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightlyScot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp aHill perpendicular
Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistollkills a Sparrow flying
Falst. You haue hit it
Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow
Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him,hee will not runne
Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse himso for running?Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee willnot budge a foot
Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct
Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more. Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now as cheape as stinking Mackrell
Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds
Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant, could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes againe, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it? Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct
Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow, when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me, practise an answere
Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine meevpon the particulars of my Life
Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee myState, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion myCrowne
Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy GoldenScepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious richCrowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne
Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of thee now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it in King Cambyses vaine
Prin. Well, heere is my Legge
Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie
Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith
Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling tearesare vaine
Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance?Falst. For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen,For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes
Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotryPlayers, as euer I see
Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine. Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes; yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares. Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word, partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion; not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy companie, but I know not his Name
Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie? Falst. A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent, of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady) inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen, hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes. If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast thou beene this moneth? Prin. Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand for mee, and Ile play my Father
Falst. Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare
Prin. Well, heere I am set
Falst. And heere I stand: iudge my Masters
Prin. Now Harry, whence come you?Falst. My Noble Lord, from East-cheape
Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous
Falst. Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle ye for a young Prince
Prin. Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloakebagge of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey iniquitie, that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? wherein is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie? wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? Falst. I would your Grace would take me with you: whom meanes your Grace? Prince. That villanous abhominable mis-leader of Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan
Falst. My Lord, the man I know
Prince. I know thou do'st
Falst. But to say, I know more harme in him then in my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde (the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it: but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-master, that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault, Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd: if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe, kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Falstaffe, and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and banish all the World
Prince. I doe, I will.Enter Bardolph running.
Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a mostmonstrous Watch, is at the doore
Falst. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe. Enter the Hostesse.
Hostesse. O, my Lord, my Lord
Falst. Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddlesticke:what's the matter?Hostesse. The Sherife and all the Watch are at thedoore: they are come to search the House, shall I letthem in?Falst. Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece ofGold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, withoutseeming so
Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct
Falst. I deny your Maior: if you will deny the Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as another
Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and good Conscience
Falst. Both which I haue had: but their date is out, and therefore Ile hide me. Enter.
Prince. Call in the Sherife.Enter Sherife and the Carrier.
Prince. Now Master Sherife, what is your will withmee?She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hathfollowed certaine men vnto this house
Prince. What men?She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord,a grosse fat man
Car. As fat as Butter
Prince. The man, I doe assure you, is not heere,For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him:And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee,That I will by to morrow Dinner time,Send him to answere thee, or any man,For any thing he shall be charg'd withall:And so let me entreat you, leaue the house
She. I will, my Lord: there are two GentlemenHaue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes
Prince. It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men,He shall be answerable: and so farewell
She. Good Night, my Noble Lord
Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?She. Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.Enter.
Prince. This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules:goe call him forth
Peto. Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, andsnorting like a Horse
Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search hisPockets.
He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth certaine Papers.
Prince. What hast thou found?Peto. Nothing but Papers, my Lord
Prince. Let's see, what be they? reade them
Peto. Item, a Capon. ii.s.ii.d.Item, Sawce iiii.d.Item, Sacke, two Gallons. v.s.viii.d.Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper. ii.s.vi.d.Item, Bread. ob
Prince. O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is else, keepe close, wee'le reade it at more aduantage: there let him sleepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning: Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall be honorable. Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot, and I know his death will be a Match of Twelue-score. The Money shall be pay'd backe againe with aduantage. Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good morrow Peto
Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.
Mort. These promises are faire, the parties sure,And our induction full of prosperous hope
Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,Will you sit downe?And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,I haue forgot the Mappe
Glend. No, here it is:Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you,His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh,He wisheth you in Heauen
Hotsp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendowerspoke of
Glend. I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie,The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,The frame and foundation of the EarthShak'd like a Coward
Hotsp. Why so it would haue done at the same season, if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe had neuer beene borne
Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne
Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde,If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke
Glend. The heauens were all on fire, the Earth didtremble
Hotsp. Oh, then the Earth shookeTo see the Heauens on fire,And not in feare of your Natiuitie.Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forthIn strange eruptions; and the teeming EarthIs with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext,By the imprisoning of vnruly WindeWithin her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing,Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downeSteeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature,In passion shooke
Glend. Cousin: of many menI doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaueTo tell you once againe, that at my BirthThe front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the HeardsWere strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,And all the courses of my Life doe shew,I am not in the Roll of common men.Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,And hold me pace in deepe experiments
Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:Ile to Dinner
Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad
Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe
Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man:But will they come, when you doe call for them?Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command theDeuill
Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither,And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence.Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill
Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitableChat
Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made headAgainst my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent himBootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe
Hotsp. Home without Bootes,And in foule Weather too,How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe:Shall wee diuide our Right,According to our three-fold order ta'ne?Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided itInto three Limits, very equally:England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto,By South and East, is to my part assign'd:All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore,And all the fertile Land within that bound,To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to youThe remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne:Which being sealed enterchangeably,(A Businesse that this Night may execute)To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power,As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.My Father Glendower is not readie yet,Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes:Within that space, you may haue drawne togetherYour Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen
Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, Lords:And in my Conduct shall your Ladies come,From whom you now must steale, and take no leaue,For there will be a World of Water shed,Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you
Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here,In quantitie equals not one of yours:See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in,And cuts me from the best of all my Land,A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out.Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp,And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne,In a new Channell, faire and euenly:It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,To rob me of so rich a Bottome here
Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth
Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course,And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side,Gelding the opposed Continent as much,As on the other side it takes from you
Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,And on this North side winne this Cape of Land,And then he runnes straight and euen
Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it
Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd
Hotsp. Will not you?Glend. No, nor you shall not
Hotsp. Who shall say me nay?Glend. Why, that will I
Hotsp. let me not vnderstand you then, speake it inWelsh
Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you:For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court;Where, being but young, I framed to the HarpeMany an English Dittie, louely well,And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament;A Vertue that was neuer seene in you
Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge
Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd
Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much LandTo any well-deseruing friend;But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?Glend. The Moone shines faire,You may away by Night:Ile haste the Writer; and withall,Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence:I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde,So much she doteth on her Mortimer.Enter.
Mort. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father
Hotsp. I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me,With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen,A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat,And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,He held me last Night, at least, nine howres,In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names,That were his Lacqueyes:I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tediousAs a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife,Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liueWith Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre,Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me,In any Summer-House in Christendome
Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,Exceeding well read, and profited,In strange Concealements:Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,And as Bountifull, as Mynes of India.Shall I tell you, Cousin,He holds your temper in a high respect,And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope,When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does.I warrant you, that man is not aliue,Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done,Without the taste of danger, and reproofe:But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you
Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame,And since your comming hither, haue done enough,To put him quite besides his patience.You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault:Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood,And that's the dearest grace it renders you;Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage,Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment,Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine:The least of which, haunting a Nobleman,Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayneVpon the beautie of all parts besides,Beguiling them of commendation
Hotsp. Well, I am school'd:Good-manners be your speede;Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue.Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.
Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me,My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh
Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you,Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres
Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt PercyShall follow in your Conduct speedily.
Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the same.
Glend. Shee is desperate heere:A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.
The Lady speakes in Welsh.
Mort. I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty WelshWhich thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens,I am too perfect in: and but for shame,In such a parley should I answere thee.
The Lady againe in welsh.
Mort. I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine,And that's a feeling disputation:But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongueMakes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,With rauishing Diuision to her Lute
Glend. 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,And 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,As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd TeemeBegins 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
Glend. 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:Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thyLappe
Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.
The Musicke playes.
Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,And '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
Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle inIrish
Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?Hotsp. No
Lady. Then be still
Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault
Lady. Now God helpe thee
Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed
Lady. What's that?Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.
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:Not 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,A 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
Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away within these two howres: and so come in, when yee will. Enter.
Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow,As 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.
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,For 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,Hee'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'dFor the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauenTo punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,Could 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,And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?Prince. So please your Maiesty, I would I couldQuit all offences with as cleare excuse,As well as I am doubtlesse I can purgeMy selfe of many I am charg'd withall:Yet 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 youthHath 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 WingQuite 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 heartsOf all the Court and Princes of my blood.The hope and expectation of thy timeIs ruin'd, and the Soule of euery manProphetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.Had I so lauish of my presence beene,So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,So 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.By being seldome seene, I could not stirre,But like a Comet, I was wondred at,That men would tell their Children, This is hee:Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke.And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen,And drest my selfe in such Humilitie,That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts,Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes,Euen in the presence of the Crowned King.Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new,My Presence like a Robe Pontificall,Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State,Seldome but sumptuous, shewed like a Feast,And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie.The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe,With shallow Iesters, and rash Bauin Wits,Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his state,Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles,Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes,And gaue his Countenance, against his Name,To laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the pushOf euery Beardlesse vaine Comparatiue;Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie:That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes,They surfeted with Honey, and began to loatheThe taste of Sweetnesse, whereof a littleMore then a little, is by much too much.So when he had occasion to be seene,He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune,Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes,As sicke and blunted with Communitie,Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze,Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie,When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes:But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe,Slept in his Face, and rendred such aspectAs Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries,Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou:For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge,With vile participation. Not an EyeBut is awearie of thy common sight,Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more:Which now doth that I would not haue it doe,Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse
Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,Be more my selfe
King. For all the World,As thou art to this houre, was Richard then,When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh;And euen as I was then, is Percy now:Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,He hath more worthy interest to the StateThen thou, the shadow of Succession;For of no Right, nor colour like to Right.He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme,Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes;And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou,Leades ancient Lords, and reuerent Bishops onTo bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes.What neuer-dying Honor hath he got,Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes,Whose hot Incursions, and great Name in Armes,Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie,And Militarie Title Capitall.Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ,Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes,This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises,Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once,Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp,And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne.And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas, Mortimer,Capitulate against vs, and are vp.But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee?Why, Harry, doe I tell thee of my Foes,Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie?Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare,Base Inclination, and the start of Spleene,To fight against me vnder Percies pay,To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes,To shew how much thou art degenerate
Prince. Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so:And Heauen forgiue them, that so much haue sway'dYour Maiesties good thoughts away from me:I will redeeme all this on Percies head,And in the closing of some glorious day,Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne,When I will weare a Garment all of Blood,And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske:Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it.And that shall be the day, when ere it lights,That this same Child of Honor and Renowne.This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight.And your vnthought-of Harry chance to meet:For euery Honor sitting on his Helme,Would they were multitudes, and on my headMy shames redoubled. For the time will come,That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchangeHis glorious Deedes for my Indignities:Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord,To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe:And I will call him to so strict account,That he shall render euery Glory vp,Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time,Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart.This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here:The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue,I doe beseech your Maiestie, may salueThe long-growne Wounds of my intemperature:If not, the end of Life cancells all Bands,And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths,Ere breake the smallest parcell of this Vow
King. A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this:Thou shalt haue Charge, and soueraigne trust herein.Enter Blunt.
How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed
Blunt. So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of.Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,That Dowglas and the English Rebels metThe eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury:A mightie and a fearefull Head they are,(If Promises be kept on euery hand)As euer offered foule play in a State
King. The earle of Westmerland set forth to day:With him my sonne, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old.On Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward:On thursday, wee our selues will march.Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall marchThrough Glocestershire: by which account,Our Businesse valued some twelue dayes hence,Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete.Our Hands are full of Businesse: let's away,Aduantage feedes him fat, while men delay.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
Falst. Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well, Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking: I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no strength to repent. And i haue not forgotten what the in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper-Corne, a Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villanous Company hath beene the spoyle of me
Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue long
Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song, make me merry; I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of compasse
Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable compasse, Sir Iohn
Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thyLife: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanternein the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art theKnight of the burning Lampe
Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme
Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning, burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire: But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede, but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse. When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it
Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly
Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.Enter Hostesse.
How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet who pick'd my Pocket? Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn? doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a hayre was neuer lost in my house before
Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd: goe to, you are a Woman, goe
Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so in mine owne house before
Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough
Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn: I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe
Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of them
Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn, for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, foure and twentie pounds
Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay
Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing
Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne, but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke
Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know nothow oft, that that Ring was Copper
Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe:and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge,if hee would say so.Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on hisTrunchion like a Fife.
Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore?Must we all march?Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion
Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me
Prince. What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest man
Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee
Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee
Prince. What say'st thou, Iacke?Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind theArras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'dBawdy-house, they picke Pockets
Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke?Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bondsof fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers
Prince. A Trifle, some eight-penny matter
Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee would cudgell you
Prince. What hee did not?Host. There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hoodin me else
Falst. There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune; nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go
Host. Say, what thing? what thing?Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on
Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so
Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beastto say otherwise
Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?Fal. What beast? Why an Otter
Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?Fal. Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowesnot where to haue her