Shal. Hee greetes me well: (Sir) I knew him a good Back-Sword-man. How doth the good Knight? may I aske, how my Lady his Wife doth? Bard. Sir, pardon: a Souldier is better accommodated, then with a Wife
Shal. It is well said, Sir; and it is well said, indeede, too: Better accommodated? it is good, yea indeede is it: good phrases are surely, and euery where very commendable. Accommodated, it comes of Accommodo: very good, a good Phrase
Bard. Pardon, Sir, I haue heard the word. Phrase call you it? by this Day, I know not the Phrase: but I will maintaine the Word with my Sword, to bee a Souldier-like Word, and a Word of exceeding good Command. Accommodated: that is, when a man is (as they say) accommodated: or, when a man is, being whereby he thought to be accommodated, which is an excellent thing. Enter Falstaffe.
Shal. It is very iust: Looke, heere comes good Sir Iohn. Giue me your hand, giue me your Worships good hand: Trust me, you looke well: and beare your yeares very well. Welcome, good Sir Iohn
Fal. I am glad to see you well, good M[aster]. Robert Shallow:Master Sure-card as I thinke?Shal. No sir Iohn, it is my Cosin Silence: in Commissionwith mee
Fal. Good M[aster]. Silence, it well befits you should be ofthe peace
Sil. Your good Worship is welcome
Fal. Fye, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) haue youprouided me heere halfe a dozen of sufficient men?Shal. Marry haue we sir: Will you sit?Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you
Shal. Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see: so, so, so, so: yea marry Sir. Raphe Mouldie: let them appeare as I call: let them do so, let them do so: Let mee see, Where is Mouldie? Moul. Heere, if it please you
Shal. What thinke you (Sir Iohn) a good limb'd fellow:yong, strong, and of good friends
Fal. Is thy name Mouldie?Moul. Yea, if it please you
Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert vs'd
Shal. Ha, ha, ha, most excellent. Things that are mouldie, lacke vse: very singular good. Well saide Sir Iohn, very well said
Fal. Pricke him
Moul. I was prickt well enough before, if you could haue let me alone: my old Dame will be vndone now, for one to doe her Husbandry, and her Drudgery; you need not to haue prickt me, there are other men fitter to goe out, then I
Fal. Go too: peace Mouldie, you shall goe. Mouldie,it is time you were spent
Moul. Spent?Shallow. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: Know youwhere you are? For the other sir Iohn: Let me see: SimonShadow
Fal. I marry, let me haue him to sit vnder: he's like tobe a cold souldier
Shal. Where's Shadow?Shad. Heere sir
Fal. Shadow, whose sonne art thou?Shad. My Mothers sonne, Sir
Falst. Thy Mothers sonne: like enough, and thy Fathers shadow: so the sonne of the Female, is the shadow of the Male: it is often so indeede, but not of the Fathers substance
Shal. Do you like him, sir Iohn?Falst. Shadow will serue for Summer: pricke him: Forwee haue a number of shadowes to fill vppe the Muster-Booke
Shal. Thomas Wart?Falst. Where's he?Wart. Heere sir
Falst. Is thy name Wart?Wart. Yea sir
Fal. Thou art a very ragged Wart
Shal. Shall I pricke him downe, Sir Iohn? Falst. It were superfluous: for his apparrel is built vpon his backe, and the whole frame stands vpon pins: prick him no more
Shal. Ha, ha, ha, you can do it sir: you can doe it: Icommend you well.Francis Feeble
Feeble. Heere sir
Shal. What Trade art thou Feeble?Feeble. A Womans Taylor sir
Shal. Shall I pricke him, sir? Fal. You may: But if he had beene a mans Taylor, he would haue prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemies Battaile, as thou hast done in a Womans petticote? Feeble. I will doe my good will sir, you can haue no more
Falst. Well said, good Womans Tailour: Well saydeCouragious Feeble: thou wilt bee as valiant as the wrathfullDoue, or most magnanimous Mouse. Pricke the womansTaylour well Master Shallow, deepe Maister Shallow
Feeble. I would Wart might haue gone sir
Fal. I would thou wert a mans Tailor, that y might'st mend him, and make him fit to goe. I cannot put him to a priuate souldier, that is the Leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most Forcible Feeble
Feeble. It shall suffice
Falst. I am bound to thee, reuerend Feeble. Who isthe next?Shal. Peter Bulcalfe of the Greene
Falst. Yea marry, let vs see Bulcalfe
Bul. Heere sir
Fal. Trust me, a likely Fellow. Come, pricke me Bulcalfe till he roare againe
Bul. Oh, good my Lord Captaine
Fal. What? do'st thou roare before th'art prickt
Bul. Oh sir, I am a diseased man
Fal. What disease hast thou?Bul. A whorson cold sir, a cough sir, which I caughtwith Ringing in the Kings affayres, vpon his Coronationday, sir
Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the Warres in a Gowne: we will haue away thy Cold, and I will take such order, that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is heere all? Shal. There is two more called then your number: you must haue but foure heere sir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner
Fal. Come, I will goe drinke with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you in good troth, Master Shallow
Shal. O sir Iohn, doe you remember since wee lay allnight in the Winde-mill, in S[aint]. Georges Field
Falstaffe. No more of that good Master Shallow: Nomore of that
Shal. Ha? it was a merry night. And is Iane Nightworkealiue?Fal. She liues, M[aster]. Shallow
Shal. She neuer could away with me
Fal. Neuer, neuer: she would alwayes say shee couldnot abide M[aster]. Shallow
Shal. I could anger her to the heart: shee was then aBona-Roba. Doth she hold her owne well
Fal. Old, old, M[aster]. Shallow
Shal. Nay, she must be old, she cannot choose but be old: certaine shee's old: and had Robin Night-worke, by old Night-worke, before I came to Clements Inne
Sil. That's fiftie fiue yeeres agoe
Shal. Hah, Cousin Silence, that thou hadst seene that,that this Knight and I haue seene: hah, Sir Iohn, said Iwell?Falst. Wee haue heard the Chymes at mid-night, MasterShallow
Shal. That wee haue, that wee haue; in faith, Sir Iohn, wee haue: our watch-word was, Hem-Boyes. Come, let's to Dinner; come, let's to Dinner: Oh the dayes that wee haue seene. Come, come
Bul. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and heere is foure Harry tenne shillings in French Crownes for you: in very truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd sir, as goe: and yet, for mine owne part, sir, I do not care; but rather, because I am vnwilling, and for mine owne part, haue a desire to stay with my friends: else, sir, I did not care, for mine owne part, so much
Bard. Go-too: stand aside
Mould. And good Master Corporall Captaine, for my old Dames sake, stand my friend: shee hath no body to doe any thing about her, when I am gone: and she is old, and cannot helpe her selfe: you shall haue fortie, sir
Bard. Go-too: stand aside
Feeble. I care not, a man can die but once: wee owe a death. I will neuer beare a base minde: if it be my destinie, so: if it be not, so: no man is too good to serue his Prince: and let it goe which way it will, he that dies this yeere, is quit for the next
Bard. Well said, thou art a good fellow
Feeble. Nay, I will beare no base minde
Falst. Come sir, which men shall I haue?Shal. Foure of which you please
Bard. Sir, a word with you: I haue three pound, tofree Mouldie and Bull-calfe
Falst. Go-too: well
Shal. Come, sir Iohn, which foure will you haue?Falst. Doe you chuse for me
Shal. Marry then, Mouldie, Bull-calfe, Feeble, andShadow
Falst. Mouldie, and Bull-calfe: for you Mouldie, stay at home, till you are past seruice: and for your part, Bull-calfe, grow till you come vnto it: I will none of you
Shal. Sir Iohn, Sir Iohn, doe not your selfe wrong, they are your likelyest men, and I would haue you seru'd with the best
Falst. Will you tell me (Master Shallow) how to chuse a man? Care I for the Limbe, the Thewes, the stature, bulke, and bigge assemblance of a man? giue mee the spirit (Master Shallow.) Where's Wart? you see what a ragged appearance it is: hee shall charge you, and discharge you, with the motion of a Pewterers Hammer: come off, and on, swifter then hee that gibbets on the Brewers Bucket. And this same halfe-fac'd fellow, Shadow, giue me this man: hee presents no marke to the Enemie, the foe-man may with as great ayme leuell at the edge of a Pen-knife: and for a Retrait, how swiftly will this Feeble, the Womans Taylor, runne off. O, giue me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a Calyuer into Warts hand, Bardolph
Bard. Hold Wart, Trauerse: thus, thus, thus
Falst. Come, manage me your Calyuer: so: very well, go-too, very good, exceeding good. O, giue me alwayes a little, leane, old, chopt, bald Shot. Well said Wart, thou art a good Scab: hold, there is a Tester for thee
Shal. Hee is not his Crafts-master, hee doth not doe it right. I remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay at Clements Inne, I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthurs Show: there was a little quiuer fellow, and hee would manage you his Peece thus: and hee would about, and about, and come you in, and come you in: Rah, tah, tah, would hee say, Bownce would hee say, and away againe would hee goe, and againe would he come: I shall neuer see such a fellow
Falst. These fellowes will doe well, Master Shallow.Farewell Master Silence, I will not vse many wordes withyou: fare you well, Gentlemen both: I thanke you:I must a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, giue the SouldiersCoates
Shal. Sir Iohn, Heauen blesse you, and prosper yourAffaires, and send vs Peace. As you returne, visitmy house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peraduentureI will with you to the Court
Falst. I would you would, Master Shallow
Shal. Go-too: I haue spoke at a word. Fare youwell.Enter.
Falst. Fare you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph, leade the men away. As I returne, I will fetch off these Iustices: I doe see the bottome of Iustice Shallow. How subiect wee old men are to this vice of Lying? This same staru'd Iustice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildenesse of his Youth, and the Feates hee hath done about Turnball-street, and euery third word a Lye, duer pay'd to the hearer, then the Turkes Tribute. I doe remember him at Clements Inne, like a man made after Supper, of a Cheese-paring. When hee was naked, hee was, for all the world, like a forked Radish, with a Head fantastically caru'd vpon it with a Knife. Hee was so forlorne, that his Dimensions (to any thicke sight) were inuincible. Hee was the very Genius of Famine: hee came euer in the rere-ward of the Fashion: And now is this Vices Dagger become a Squire, and talkes as familiarly of Iohn of Gaunt, as if hee had beene sworne Brother to him: and Ile be sworne hee neuer saw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his Head, for crowding among the Marshals men. I saw it, and told Iohn of Gaunt, hee beat his owne Name, for you might haue truss'd him and all his Apparrell into an Eele-skinne: the Case of a Treble Hoeboy was a Mansion for him: a Court: and now hath hee Land, and Beeues. Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I returne: and it shall goe hard, but I will make him a Philosophers two Stones to me. If the young Dace be a Bayt for the old Pike, I see no reason, in the Law of Nature, but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter the Arch-bishop, Mowbray, Hastings, Westmerland,Coleuile.
Bish. What is this Forrest call'd?Hast. 'Tis Gaultree Forrest, and't shall please yourGrace
Bish. Here stand (my Lords) and send discouerers forth,To know the numbers of our Enemies
Hast. Wee haue sent forth alreadie
Bish. 'Tis well done.My Friends, and Brethren (in these great Affaires)I must acquaint you, that I haue receiu'dNew-dated Letters from Northumberland:Their cold intent, tenure, and substance thus.Here doth hee wish his Person, with such PowersAs might hold sortance with his Qualitie,The which hee could not leuie: whereuponHee is retyr'd, to ripe his growing Fortunes,To Scotland; and concludes in heartie prayers,That your Attempts may ouer-liue the hazard,And fearefull meeting of their Opposite
Mow. Thus do the hopes we haue in him, touch ground,And dash themselues to pieces.Enter a Messenger.
Hast. Now? what newes?Mess. West of this Forrest, scarcely off a mile,In goodly forme, comes on the Enemie:And by the ground they hide, I iudge their numberVpon, or neere, the rate of thirtie thousand
Mow. The iust proportion that we gaue them out.Let vs sway-on, and face them in the field.Enter Westmerland.
Bish. What well-appointed Leader fronts vs here?Mow. I thinke it is my Lord of Westmerland
West. Health, and faire greeting from our Generall,The Prince, Lord Iohn, and Duke of Lancaster
Bish. Say on (my Lord of Westmerland) in peace:What doth concerne your comming?West. Then (my Lord)Vnto your Grace doe I in chiefe addresseThe substance of my Speech. If that RebellionCame like it selfe, in base and abiect Routs,Led on by bloodie Youth, guarded with Rage,And countenanc'd by Boyes, and Beggerie:I say, if damn'd Commotion so appeare,In his true, natiue, and most proper shape,You (Reuerend Father, and these Noble Lords)Had not beene here, to dresse the ougly formeOf base, and bloodie Insurrection,With your faire Honors. You, Lord Arch-bishop,Whose Sea is by a Ciuill Peace maintain'd,Whose Beard, the Siluer Hand of Peace hath touch'd,Whose Learning, and good Letters, Peace hath tutor'd,Whose white Inuestments figure Innocence,The Doue, and very blessed Spirit of Peace.Wherefore doe you so ill translate your selfe,Out of the Speech of Peace, that beares such grace,Into the harsh and boystrous Tongue of Warre?Turning your Bookes to Graues, your Inke to Blood,Your Pennes to Launces, and your Tongue diuineTo a lowd Trumpet, and a Point of Warre
Bish. Wherefore doe I this? so the Question stands.Briefely to this end: Wee are all diseas'd,And with our surfetting, and wanton howres,Haue brought our selues into a burning Feuer,And wee must bleede for it: of which Disease,Our late King Richard (being infected) dy'd.But (my most Noble Lord of Westmerland)I take not on me here as a Physician,Nor doe I, as an Enemie to Peace,Troope in the Throngs of Militarie men:But rather shew a while like fearefull Warre,To dyet ranke Mindes, sicke of happinesse,And purge th' obstructions, which begin to stopOur very Veines of Life: heare me more plainely.I haue in equall ballance iustly weigh'd,What wrongs our Arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,And finde our Griefes heauier then our Offences.Wee see which way the streame of Time doth runne,And are enforc'd from our most quiet there,By the rough Torrent of Occasion,And haue the summarie of all our Griefes(When time shall serue) to shew in Articles;Which long ere this, wee offer'd to the King,And might, by no Suit, gayne our Audience:When wee are wrong'd, and would vnfold our Griefes,Wee are deny'd accesse vnto his Person,Euen by those men, that most haue done vs wrong.The dangers of the dayes but newly gone,Whose memorie is written on the EarthWith yet appearing blood; and the examplesOf euery Minutes instance (present now)Hath put vs in these ill-beseeming Armes:Not to breake Peace, or any Branch of it,But to establish here a Peace indeede,Concurring both in Name and Qualitie
West. When euer yet was your Appeale deny'd?Wherein haue you beene galled by the King?What Peere hath beene suborn'd, to grate on you,That you should seale this lawlesse bloody BookeOf forg'd Rebellion, with a Seale diuine?Bish. My Brother generall, the Common-wealth,I make my Quarrell, in particular
West. There is no neede of any such redresse:Or if there were, it not belongs to you
Mow. Why not to him in part, and to vs all,That feele the bruizes of the dayes before,And suffer the Condition of these TimesTo lay a heauie and vnequall Hand vpon our Honors?West. O my good Lord Mowbray,Construe the Times to their Necessities,And you shall say (indeede) it is the Time,And not the King, that doth you iniuries.Yet for your part, it not appeares to me,Either from the King, or in the present Time,That you should haue an ynch of any groundTo build a Griefe on: were you not restor'dTo all the Duke of Norfolkes Seignories,Your Noble, and right well-remembred Fathers?Mow. What thing, in Honor, had my Father lost,That need to be reuiu'd, and breath'd in me?The King that lou'd him, as the State stood then,Was forc'd, perforce compell'd to banish him:And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and heeBeing mounted, and both rowsed in their Seates,Their neighing Coursers daring of the Spurre,Their armed Staues in charge, their Beauers downe,Their eyes of fire, sparkling through sights of Steele,And the lowd Trumpet blowing them together:Then, then, when there was nothing could haue stay'dMy Father from the Breast of Bullingbrooke;O, when the King did throw his Warder downe,(His owne Life hung vpon the Staffe hee threw)Then threw hee downe himselfe, and all their Liues,That by Indictment, and by dint of Sword,Haue since mis-carryed vnder Bullingbrooke
West. You speak (Lord Mowbray) now you know not what.The Earle of Hereford was reputed thenIn England the most valiant Gentleman.Who knowes, on whom Fortune would then haue smil'd?But if your Father had beene Victor there,Hee ne're had borne it out of Couentry.For all the Countrey, in a generall voyce,Cry'd hate vpon him: and all their prayers, and loue,Were set on Herford, whom they doted on,And bless'd, and grac'd, and did more then the King.But this is meere digression from my purpose.Here come I from our Princely Generall,To know your Griefes; to tell you, from his Grace,That hee will giue you Audience: and whereinIt shall appeare, that your demands are iust,You shall enioy them, euery thing set off,That might so much as thinke you Enemies
Mow. But hee hath forc'd vs to compell this Offer,And it proceedes from Pollicy, not Loue
West. Mowbray, you ouer-weene to take it so:This Offer comes from Mercy, not from Feare.For loe, within a Ken our Army lyes,Vpon mine Honor, all too confidentTo giue admittance to a thought of feare.Our Battaile is more full of Names then yours,Our Men more perfect in the vse of Armes,Our Armor all as strong, our Cause the best;Then Reason will, our hearts should be as good.Say you not then, our Offer is compell'd
Mow. Well, by my will, wee shall admit no Parley
West. That argues but the shame of your offence:A rotten Case abides no handling
Hast. Hath the Prince Iohn a full Commission,In very ample vertue of his Father,To heare, and absolutely to determineOf what Conditions wee shall stand vpon?West. That is intended in the Generals Name:I muse you make so slight a Question
Bish. Then take (my Lord of Westmerland) this Schedule,For this containes our generall Grieuances:Each seuerall Article herein redress'd,All members of our Cause, both here, and hence,That are insinewed to this Action,Acquitted by a true substantiall forme,And present execution of our wills,To vs, and to our purposes confin'd,Wee come within our awfull Banks againe,And knit our Powers to the Arme of Peace
West. This will I shew the Generall. Please you Lords,In sight of both our Battailes, wee may meeteAt either end in peace: which Heauen so frame,Or to the place of difference call the Swords,Which must decide it
Bish. My Lord, wee will doe so
Mow. There is a thing within my Bosome tells me,That no Conditions of our Peace can stand
Hast. Feare you not, that if wee can make our PeaceVpon such large termes, and so absolute,As our Conditions shall consist vpon,Our Peace shall stand as firme as Rockie Mountaines
Mow. I, but our valuation shall be such,That euery slight, and false-deriued Cause,Yea, euery idle, nice, and wanton Reason,Shall, to the King, taste of this Action:That were our Royall faiths, Martyrs in Loue,Wee shall be winnowed with so rough a winde,That euen our Corne shall seeme as light as Chaffe,And good from bad finde no partition
Bish. No, no (my Lord) note this: the King is wearieOf daintie, and such picking Grieuances:For hee hath found, to end one doubt by Death,Reuiues two greater in the Heires of Life.And therefore will hee wipe his Tables cleane,And keepe no Tell-tale to his Memorie,That may repeat, and Historie his losse,To new remembrance. For full well hee knowes,Hee cannot so precisely weede this Land,As his mis-doubts present occasion:His foes are so en-rooted with his friends,That plucking to vnfixe an Enemie,Hee doth vnfasten so, and shake a friend.So that this Land, like an offensiue wife,That hath enrag'd him on, to offer strokes,As he is striking, holds his Infant vp,And hangs resolu'd Correction in the Arme,That was vprear'd to execution
Hast. Besides, the King hath wasted all his Rods,On late Offenders, that he now doth lackeThe very Instruments of Chasticement:So that his power, like to a Fanglesse LionMay offer, but not hold
Bish. 'Tis very true:And therefore be assur'd (my good Lord Marshal)If we do now make our attonement well,Our Peace, will (like a broken Limbe vnited)Grow stronger, for the breaking
Mow. Be it so:Heere is return'd my Lord of Westmerland.Enter Westmerland.
West. The Prince is here at hand: pleaseth your LordshipTo meet his Grace, iust distance 'tweene our Armies?Mow. Your Grace of Yorke, in heauen's name thenforward
Bish. Before, and greet his Grace (my Lord) we come.Enter Prince Iohn.
Iohn. You are wel encountred here (my cosin Mowbray)Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop,And so to you Lord Hastings, and to all.My Lord of Yorke, it better shew'd with you,When that your Flocke (assembled by the Bell)Encircled you, to heare with reuerenceYour exposition on the holy Text,Then now to see you heere an Iron manChearing a rowt of Rebels with your Drumme,Turning the Word, to Sword; and Life to death:That man that sits within a Monarches heart,And ripens in the Sunne-shine of his fauor,Would hee abuse the Countenance of the King,Alack, what Mischiefes might hee set abroach,In shadow of such Greatnesse? With you, Lord Bishop,It is euen so. Who hath not heard it spoken,How deepe you were within the Bookes of Heauen?To vs, the Speaker in his Parliament;To vs, th' imagine Voyce of Heauen it selfe:The very Opener, and Intelligencer,Betweene the Grace, the Sanctities of Heauen;And our dull workings. O, who shall beleeue,But you mis-vse the reuerence of your Place,Employ the Countenance, and Grace of Heauen,As a false Fauorite doth his Princes Name,In deedes dis-honorable? You haue taken vp,Vnder the counterfeited Zeale of Heauen,The Subiects of Heauens Substitute, my Father,And both against the Peace of Heauen, and him,Haue here vp-swarmed them
Bish. Good my Lord of Lancaster,I am not here against your Fathers Peace:But (as I told my Lord of Westmerland)The Time (mis-order'd) doth in common senceCrowd vs, and crush vs, to this monstrous Forme,To hold our safetie vp. I sent your GraceThe parcels, and particulars of our Griefe,The which hath been with scorne shou'd from the Court:Whereon this Hydra-Sonne of Warre is borne,Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleepe,With graunt of our most iust and right desires;And true Obedience, of this Madnesse cur'd,Stoope tamely to the foot of Maiestie
Mow. If not, wee readie are to trye our fortunes,To the last man
Hast. And though wee here fall downe,Wee haue Supplyes, to second our Attempt:If they mis-carry, theirs shall second them.And so, successe of Mischiefe shall be borne,And Heire from Heire shall hold this Quarrell vp,Whiles England shall haue generation
Iohn. You are too shallow (Hastings)Much too shallow,To sound the bottome of the after-Times
West. Pleaseth your Grace, to answere them directly,How farre-forth you doe like their Articles
Iohn. I like them all, and doe allow them well:And sweare here, by the honor of my blood,My Fathers purposes haue beene mistooke,And some, about him, haue too lauishlyWrested his meaning, and Authoritie.My Lord, these Griefes shall be with speed redrest:Vpon my Life, they shall. If this may please you,Discharge your Powers vnto their seuerall Counties,As wee will ours: and here, betweene the Armies,Let's drinke together friendly, and embrace,That all their eyes may beare those Tokens home,Of our restored Loue, and Amitie
Bish. I take your Princely word, for these redresses
Iohn. I giue it you, and will maintaine my word:And thereupon I drinke vnto your Grace
Hast. Goe Captaine, and deliuer to the ArmieThis newes of Peace: let them haue pay, and part:I know, it will well please them.High thee Captaine.Enter.
Bish. To you, my Noble Lord of Westmerland
West. I pledge your Grace:And if you knew what paines I haue bestow'd,To breede this present Peace,You would drinke freely: but my loue to ye,Shall shew it selfe more openly hereafter
Bish. I doe not doubt you
West. I am glad of it.Health to my Lord, and gentle Cousin Mowbray
Mow. You wish me health in very happy season,For I am, on the sodaine, something ill
Bish. Against ill Chances, men are euer merry,But heauinesse fore-runnes the good euent
West. Therefore be merry (Cooze) since sodaine sorrowSerues to say thus: some good thing comes to morrow
Bish. Beleeue me, I am passing light in spirit
Mow. So much the worse, if your owne Rule be true
Iohn. The word of Peace is render'd: hearke how they showt
Mow. This had been chearefull, after Victorie
Bish. A Peace is of the nature of a Conquest:For then both parties nobly are subdu'd,And neither partie looser
Iohn. Goe (my Lord)And let our Army be discharged too:And good my Lord (so please you) let our TrainesMarch by vs, that wee may peruse the menEnter.
Wee should haue coap'd withall
Bish. Goe, good Lord Hastings:And ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.Enter.
Iohn. I trust (Lords) wee shall lye to night together.Enter Westmerland.
Now Cousin, wherefore stands our Army still?West. The Leaders hauing charge from you to stand,Will not goe off, vntill they heare you speake
Iohn. They know their duties.Enter Hastings.
Hast. Our Army is dispers'd:Like youthfull Steeres, vnyoak'd, they tooke their courseEast, West, North, South: or like a Schoole, broke vp,Each hurryes towards his home, and sporting place
West. Good tidings (my Lord Hastings) for the which,I doe arrest thee (Traytor) of high Treason:And you Lord Arch-bishop, and you Lord Mowbray,Of Capitall Treason, I attach you both
Mow. Is this proceeding iust, and honorable?West. Is your Assembly so?Bish. Will you thus breake your faith?Iohn. I pawn'd thee none:I promis'd you redresse of these same GrieuancesWhereof you did complaine; which, by mine Honor,I will performe, with a most Christian care.But for you (Rebels) looke to taste the dueMeet for Rebellion, and such Acts as yours.Most shallowly did you these Armes commence,Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.Strike vp our Drummes, pursue the scatter'd stray,Heauen, and not wee, haue safely fought to day.Some guard these Traitors to the Block of Death,Treasons true Bed, and yeelder vp of breath.
Exeunt.
Enter Falstaffe and Colleuile.
Falst. What's your Name, Sir? of what Condition areyou? and of what place, I pray?Col. I am a Knight, Sir:And my Name is Colleuile of the Dale
Falst. Well then, Colleuile is your Name, a Knight is your Degree, and your Place, the Dale. Colleuile shall still be your Name, a Traytor your Degree, and the Dungeon your Place, a place deepe enough: so shall you be still Colleuile of the Dale
Col. Are not you Sir Iohn Falstaffe? Falst. As good a man as he sir, who ere I am: doe yee yeelde sir, or shall I sweate for you? if I doe sweate, they are the drops of thy Louers, and they weep for thy death, therefore rowze vp Feare and Trembling, and do obseruance to my mercy
Col. I thinke you are Sir Iohn Falstaffe, & in that thought yeeld me
Fal. I haue a whole Schoole of tongues in this belly of mine, and not a Tongue of them all, speakes anie other word but my name: and I had but a belly of any indifferencie, I were simply the most actiue fellow in Europe: my wombe, my wombe, my wombe vndoes mee. Heere comes our Generall. Enter Prince Iohn, and Westmerland.
Iohn. The heat is past, follow no farther now:Call in the Powers, good Cousin Westmerland.Now Falstaffe, where haue you beene all this while?When euery thing is ended, then you come.These tardie Tricks of yours will (on my life)One time, or other, breake some Gallowes back
Falst. I would bee sorry (my Lord) but it should bee thus: I neuer knew yet, but rebuke and checke was the reward of Valour. Doe you thinke me a Swallow, an Arrow, or a Bullet? Haue I, in my poore and olde Motion, the expedition of Thought? I haue speeded hither with the very extremest ynch of possibilitie. I haue fowndred nine score and odde Postes: and heere (trauell-tainted as I am) haue, in my pure and immaculate Valour, taken Sir Iohn Colleuile of the Dale, a most furious Knight, and valorous Enemie: But what of that? hee saw mee, and yeelded: that I may iustly say with the hooke-nos'd fellow of Rome, I came, saw, and ouer-came
Iohn. It was more of his Courtesie, then your deseruing
Falst. I know not: heere hee is, and heere I yeeld him: and I beseech your Grace, let it be book'd, with the rest of this dayes deedes; or I sweare, I will haue it in a particular Ballad, with mine owne Picture on the top of it (Colleuile kissing my foot:) To the which course, if I be enforc'd, if you do not all shew like gilt two-pences to me; and I, in the cleare Skie of Fame, o're-shine you as much as the Full Moone doth the Cynders of the Element (which shew like Pinnes-heads to her) beleeue not the Word of the Noble: therefore let mee haue right, and let desert mount
Iohn. Thine's too heauie to mount
Falst. Let it shine then
Iohn. Thine's too thick to shine
Falst. Let it doe something (my good Lord) that maydoe me good, and call it what you will
Iohn. Is thy Name Colleuile?Col. It is (my Lord.)Iohn. A famous Rebell art thou, Colleuile
Falst. And a famous true Subiect tooke him
Col. I am (my Lord) but as my Betters are,That led me hither: had they beene rul'd by me,You should haue wonne them dearer then you haue
Falst. I know not how they sold themselues, but thoulike a kinde fellow, gau'st thy selfe away; and I thankethee, for thee.Enter Westmerland.
Iohn. Haue you left pursuit?West. Retreat is made, and Execution stay'd
Iohn. Send Colleuile, with his Confederates,To Yorke, to present Execution.Blunt, leade him hence, and see you guard him sure.
Exit with Colleuile.
And now dispatch we toward the Court (my Lords)I heare the King, my Father, is sore sicke.Our Newes shall goe before vs, to his Maiestie,Which (Cousin) you shall beare, to comfort him:And wee with sober speede will follow you
Falst. My Lord, I beseech you, giue me leaue to goe through Gloucestershire: and when you come to Court, stand my good Lord, 'pray, in your good report
Iohn. Fare you well, Falstaffe: I, in my condition,Shall better speake of you, then you deserue.Enter.
Falst. I would you had but the wit: 'twere better then your Dukedome. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded Boy doth not loue me, nor a man cannot make him laugh: but that's no maruaile, hee drinkes no Wine. There's neuer any of these demure Boyes come to any proofe: for thinne Drinke doth so ouer-coole their blood, and making many Fish-Meales, that they fall into a kinde of Male Greene-sicknesse: and then, when they marry, they get Wenches. They are generally Fooles, and Cowards; which some of vs should be too, but for inflamation. A good Sherris-Sack hath a two-fold operation in it: it ascends me into the Braine, dryes me there all the foolish, and dull, and cruddie Vapours, which enuiron it: makes it apprehensiue, quicke, forgetiue, full of nimble, fierie, and delectable shapes; which deliuer'd o're to the Voyce, the Tongue, which is the Birth, becomes excellent Wit. The second propertie of your excellent Sherris, is, the warming of the Blood: which before (cold, and setled) left the Liuer white, and pale; which is the Badge of Pusillanimitie, and Cowardize: but the Sherris warmes it, and makes it course from the inwards, to the parts extremes: it illuminateth the Face, which (as a Beacon) giues warning to all the rest of this little Kingdome (Man) to Arme: and then the Vitall Commoners, and in-land pettie Spirits, muster me all to their Captaine, the Heart; who great, and pufft vp with his 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-worke:) and Learning, a meere Hoord of Gold, kept by a Deuill, till Sack commences it, and sets it in act, and vse. Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry is valiant: for the cold blood hee did naturally inherite of his Father, hee hath, like leane, stirrill, and bare Land, manured, husbanded, and tyll'd, with excellent endeauour of drinking good, and good store of fertile Sherris, that hee is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand Sonnes, the first Principle I would teach them, should be to forsweare thinne Potations, and to addict themselues to Sack. Enter Bardolph.
How now Bardolph?Bard. The Armie is discharged all, and gone
Falst. Let them goe: Ile through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire: I haue him alreadie tempering betweene my finger and my thombe, and shortly will I seale with him. Come away.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter King, Warwicke, Clarence, Gloucester.
King. Now Lords, if Heauen doth giue successefull endTo this Debate, that bleedeth at our doores,Wee will our Youth lead on to higher Fields,And draw no Swords, but what are sanctify'd.Our Nauie is addressed, our Power collected,Our Substitutes, in absence, well inuested,And euery thing lyes leuell to our wish;Onely wee want a little personall Strength:And pawse vs, till these Rebels, now a-foot,Come vnderneath the yoake of Gouernment
War. Both which we doubt not, but your MaiestieShall soone enioy
King. Humphrey (my Sonne of Gloucester) where isthe Prince, your Brother?Glo. I thinke hee's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Windsor
King. And how accompanied?Glo. I doe not know (my Lord.)King. Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, withhim?Glo. No (my good Lord) hee is in presence heere
Clar. 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?Hee loues thee, and thou do'st neglect him (Thomas.)Thou hast a better place in his Affection,Then all thy Brothers: cherish it (my Boy)And Noble Offices thou may'st effectOf Mediation (after I am dead)Betweene his Greatnesse, and thy other Brethren.Therefore omit him not: blunt not his Loue,Nor loose the good aduantage of his Grace,By seeming cold, or carelesse of his will.For hee is gracious, if hee be obseru'd:Hee hath a Teare for Pitie, and a HandOpen (as Day) for melting Charitie:Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, hee's Flint,As humorous as Winter, and as sudden,As Flawes congealed in the Spring of day.His temper therefore must be well obseru'd:Chide him for faults, and doe it reuerently,When you perceiue his blood enclin'd to mirth:But being moodie, giue him Line, and scope,Till that his passions (like a Whale on ground)Confound themselues with working. Learne this Thomas,And thou shalt proue a shelter to thy friends,A Hoope of Gold, to binde thy Brothers in:That the vnited Vessell of their Blood(Mingled with Venome of Suggestion,As force, perforce, the Age will powre it in)Shall neuer leake, though it doe worke as strongAs Aconitum, or rash Gun-powder
Clar. I shall obserue him with all care, and loue
King. Why art thou not at Windsor with him (Thomas?)Clar. Hee is not there to day: hee dines in London
King. And how accompanyed? Canst thou tellthat?Clar. With Pointz, and other his continuall followers
King. Most subiect is the fattest Soyle to Weedes:And hee (the Noble Image of my Youth)Is ouer-spread with them: therefore my griefeStretches it selfe beyond the howre of death.The blood weepes from my heart, when I doe shape(In formes imaginarie) th' vnguided Dayes,And rotten Times, that you shall looke vpon,When I am sleeping with my Ancestors.For when his head-strong Riot hath no Curbe,When Rage and hot-Blood are his Counsailors,When Meanes and lauish Manners meete together;Oh, with what Wings shall his Affections flyeTowards fronting Perill, and oppos'd Decay?War. My gracious Lord, you looke beyond him quite:The Prince but studies his Companions,Like a strange Tongue: wherein, to gaine the Language,'Tis needfull, that the most immodest wordBe look'd vpon, and learn'd: which once attayn'd,Your Highnesse knowes, comes to no farther vse,But to be knowne, and hated. So, like grosse termes,The Prince will, in the perfectnesse of time,Cast off his followers: and their memorieShall as a Patterne, or a Measure, liue,By which his Grace must mete the liues of others,Turning past-euills to aduantages
King. 'Tis seldome, when the Bee doth leaue her CombeIn the dead Carrion.Enter Westmerland.
Who's heere? Westmerland?West. Health to my Soueraigne, and new happinesseAdded to that, that I am to deliuer.Prince Iohn, your Sonne, doth kisse your Graces Hand:Mowbray, the Bishop, Scroope, Hastings, and all,Are brought to the Correction of your Law.There is not now a Rebels Sword vnsheath'd,But Peace puts forth her Oliue euery where:The manner how this Action hath beene borne,Here (at more leysure) may your Highnesse reade,With euery course, in his particular
King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird,Which euer in the haunch of Winter singsThe lifting vp of day.Enter Harcourt.
Looke, heere's more newes
Harc. From Enemies, Heauen keepe your Maiestie:And when they stand against you, may they fall,As those that I am come to tell you of.The Earle Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolfe,With a great Power of English, and of Scots,Are by the Sherife of Yorkeshire ouerthrowne:The manner, and true order of the fight,This Packet (please it you) containes at large
King. And wherefore should these good newesMake me sicke?Will Fortune neuer come with both hands full,But write her faire words still in foulest Letters?Shee eyther giues a Stomack, and no Foode,(Such are the poore, in health) or else a Feast,And takes away the Stomack (such are the Rich,That haue aboundance, and enioy it not.)I should reioyce now, at this happy newes,And now my Sight fayles, and my Braine is giddie.O me, come neere me, now I am much ill
Glo. Comfort your Maiestie
Cla. Oh, my Royall Father
West. My Soueraigne Lord, cheare vp your selfe, lookevp
War. Be patient (Princes) you doe know, these FitsAre with his Highnesse very ordinarie.Stand from him, giue him ayre:Hee'le straight be well
Clar. No, no, hee cannot long hold out: these pangs,Th' incessant care, and labour of his Minde,Hath wrought the Mure, that should confine it in,So thinne, that Life lookes through, and will breake out
Glo. The people feare me: for they doe obserueVnfather'd Heires, and loathly Births of Nature:The Seasons change their manners, as the YeereHad found some Moneths asleepe, and leap'd them ouer
Clar. The Riuer hath thrice flow'd, no ebbe betweene:And the old folke (Times doting Chronicles)Say it did so, a little time beforeThat our great Grand-sire Edward sick'd, and dy'de
War. Speake lower (Princes) for the King recouers
Glo. This Apoplexie will (certaine) be his end
King. I pray you take me vp, and beare me henceInto some other Chamber: softly 'pray.Let there be no noyse made (my gentle friends)Vnlesse some dull and fauourable handWill whisper Musicke to my wearie Spirit
War. Call for the Musicke in the other Roome
King. Set me the Crowne vpon my Pillow here
Clar. His eye is hollow, and hee changes much
War. Lesse noyse, lesse noyse.Enter Prince Henry.
P.Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?Clar. I am here (Brother) full of heauinesse
P.Hen. How now? Raine within doores, and noneabroad? How doth the King?Glo. Exceeding ill
P.Hen. Heard hee the good newes yet?Tell it him
Glo. Hee alter'd much, vpon the hearing it
P.Hen. If hee be sicke with Ioy,Hee'le recouer without Physicke
War. Not so much noyse (my Lords)Sweet Prince speake lowe,The King, your Father, is dispos'd to sleepe
Clar. Let vs with-draw into the other Roome
War. Wil't please your Grace to goe along with vs?P.Hen. No: I will sit, and watch here, by the King.Why doth the Crowne lye there, vpon his Pillow,Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow?O pollish'd Perturbation! Golden Care!That keep'st the Ports of Slumber open wide,To many a watchfull Night: sleepe with it now,Yet not so sound, and halfe so deepely sweete,As hee whose Brow (with homely Biggen bound)Snores out the Watch of Night. O Maiestie!When thou do'st pinch thy Bearer, thou do'st sitLike a rich Armor, worne in heat of day,That scald'st with safetie: by his Gates of breath,There lyes a dowlney feather, which stirres not:Did hee suspire, that light and weightlesse dowlnePerforce must moue. My gracious Lord, my Father,This sleepe is sound indeede: this is a sleepe,That from this Golden Rigoll hath diuorc'dSo many English Kings. Thy due, from me,Is Teares, and heauie Sorrowes of the Blood,Which Nature, Loue, and filiall tendernesse,Shall (O deare Father) pay thee plenteously.My due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne,Which (as immediate from thy Place, and Blood)Deriues it selfe to me. Loe, heere it sits,Which Heauen shall guard:And put the worlds whole strength into one gyant Arme,It shall not force this Lineall Honor from me.This, from thee, will I to mine leaue,As 'tis left to me.Enter.
Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.
King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence
Clar. Doth the King call?War. What would your Maiestie? how fares yourGrace?King. Why did you leaue me here alone (my Lords?)Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege)Who vndertooke to sit and watch by you
King. The Prince of Wales? where is hee? let meesee him
War. This doore is open, hee is gone this way
Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where weestayd
King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from myPillow?War. When wee with-drew (my Liege) wee left itheere
King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence:Goe seeke him out.Is hee so hastie, that hee doth supposeMy sleepe, my death? Finde him (my Lord of Warwick)Chide him hither: this part of his conioynesWith my disease, and helpes to end me.See Sonnes, what things you are:How quickly Nature falls into reuolt,When Gold becomes her Obiect?For this, the foolish ouer-carefull FathersHaue broke their sleepes with thoughts,Their braines with care, their bones with industry.For this, they haue ingrossed and pyl'd vpThe canker'd heapes of strange-atchieued Gold:For this, they haue beene thoughtfull, to inuestTheir Sonnes with Arts, and Martiall Exercises:When, like the Bee, culling from euery flowerThe vertuous Sweetes, our Thighes packt with Wax,Our Mouthes with Honey, wee bring it to the Hiue;And like the Bees, are murthered for our paines.This bitter taste yeelds his engrossements,To the ending Father.Enter Warwicke.
Now, where is hee, that will not stay so long,Till his Friend Sicknesse hath determin'd me?War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Roome,Washing with kindly Teares his gentle Cheekes,With such a deepe demeanure, in great sorrow,That Tyranny, which neuer quafft but blood,Would (by beholding him) haue wash'd his KnifeWith gentle eye-drops. Hee is comming hither
King. But wherefore did hee take away the Crowne?Enter Prince Henry.
Loe, where hee comes. Come hither to me (Harry.)Depart the Chamber, leaue vs heere alone.Enter.
P.Hen. I neuer thought to heare you speake againe
King. Thy wish was Father (Harry) to that thought:I stay too long by thee, I wearie thee.Do'st thou so hunger for my emptie Chayre,That thou wilt needes inuest thee with mine Honors,Before thy howre be ripe? O foolish Youth!Thou seek'st the Greatnesse, that will ouer-whelme thee.Stay but a little: for my Cloud of DignitieIs held from falling, with so weake a winde,That it will quickly drop: my Day is dimme.Thou hast stolne that, which after some few howresWere thine, without offence: and at my deathThou hast seal'd vp my expectation.Thy Life did manifest, thou lou'dst me not,And thou wilt haue me dye assur'd of it.Thou hid'st a thousand Daggers in thy thoughts,Which thou hast whetted on thy stonie heart,To stab at halfe an howre of my Life.What? canst thou not forbeare me halfe an howre?Then get thee gone, and digge my graue thy selfe,And bid the merry Bels ring to thy eareThat thou art Crowned, not that I am dead.Let all the Teares, that should bedew my HearseBe drops of Balme, to sanctifie thy head:Onely compound me with forgotten dust.Giue that, which gaue thee life, vnto the Wormes:Plucke downe my Officers, breake my Decrees;For now a time is come, to mocke at Forme.Henry the fift is Crown'd: Vp Vanity,Downe Royall State: All you sage Counsailors, hence:And to the English Court, assemble nowFrom eu'ry Region, Apes of Idlenesse.Now neighbor-Confines, purge you of your Scum:Haue you a Ruffian that will sweare? drinke? dance?Reuell the night? Rob? Murder? and commitThe oldest sinnes, the newest kinde of wayes?Be happy, he will trouble you no more:England, shall double gill'd, his trebble guilt.England, shall giue him Office, Honor, Might:For the Fift Harry, from curb'd License pluckesThe muzzle of Restraint; and the wilde DoggeShall flesh his tooth in euery Innocent.O my poore Kingdome (sicke, with ciuill blowes)When that my Care could not with-hold thy Ryots,What wilt thou do, when Ryot is thy Care?O, thou wilt be a Wildernesse againe,Peopled with Wolues (thy old Inhabitants.)Prince. O pardon me (my Liege)But for my Teares,The most Impediments vnto my Speech,I had fore-stall'd this deere, and deepe Rebuke,Ere you (with greefe) had spoke, and I had heardThe course of it so farre. There is your Crowne,And he that weares the Crowne immortally,Long guard it yours. If I affect it more,Then as your Honour, and as your Renowne,Let me no more from this Obedience rise,Which my most true, and inward duteous SpiritTeacheth this prostrate, and exteriour bending.Heauen witnesse with me, when I heere came in,And found no course of breath within your Maiestie,How cold it strooke my heart. If I do faine,O let me, in my present wildenesse, dye,And neuer liue, to shew th' incredulous World,The Noble change that I haue purposed.Comming to looke on you, thinking you dead,(And dead almost (my Liege) to thinke you were)I spake vnto the Crowne (as hauing sense)And thus vpbraided it. The Care on thee depending,Hath fed vpon the body of my Father,Therefore, thou best of Gold, art worst of Gold.Other, lesse fine in Charract, is more precious,Preseruing life, in Med'cine potable:But thou, most Fine, most Honour'd, most Renown'd,Hast eate the Bearer vp.Thus (my Royall Liege)Accusing it, I put it on my Head,To try with it (as with an Enemie,That had before my face murdred my Father)The Quarrell of a true Inheritor.But if it did infect my blood with Ioy,Or swell my Thoughts, to any straine of Pride,If any Rebell, or vaine spirit of mine,Did, with the least Affection of a Welcome,Giue entertainment to the might of it,Let heauen, for euer, keepe it from my head,And make me, as the poorest Vassaile is,That doth with awe, and terror kneele to it
King. O my Sonne!Heauen put it in thy minde to take it hence,That thou might'st ioyne the more, thy Fathers loue,Pleading so wisely, in excuse of it.Come hither Harrie, sit thou by my bedde,And heare (I thinke, the very latest CounsellThat euer I shall breath: Heauen knowes, my Sonne)By what by-pathes, and indirect crook'd-wayesI met this Crowne: and I my selfe know wellHow troublesome it sate vpon my head.To thee, it shall descend with better Quiet,Better Opinion, better Confirmation:For all the soyle of the Atchieuement goesWith me, into the Earth. It seem'd in mee,But as an Honour snatch'd with boyst'rous hand,And I had many liuing, to vpbraideMy gaine of it, by their Assistances,Which dayly grew to Quarrell, and to Blood-shed,Wounding supposed Peace.All these bold Feares,Thou seest (with perill) I haue answered:For all my Reigne, hath beene but as a SceneActing that argument. And now my deathChanges the Moode: For what in me, was purchas'd,Falles vpon thee, in a more Fayrer sort.So thou, the Garland wear'st successiuely.Yet, though thou stand'st more sure, then I could do,Thou art not firme enough, since greefes are greene:And all thy Friends, which thou must make thy FriendsHaue but their stings, and teeth, newly tak'n out,By whose fell working, I was first aduanc'd,And by whose power, I well might lodge a FeareTo be againe displac'd. Which to auoyd,I cut them off: and had a purpose nowTo leade out many to the Holy Land;Least rest, and lying still, might make them lookeToo neere vnto my State.Therefore (my Harrie)Be it thy course to busie giddy MindesWith Forraigne Quarrels: that Action hence borne out,May waste the memory of the former dayes.More would I, but my Lungs are wasted so,That strength of Speech it vtterly deni'de mee.How I came by the Crowne, O heauen forgiue:And grant it may, with thee, in true peace liue
Prince. My gracious Liege:You wonne it, wore it: kept it, gaue it me,Then plaine and right must my possession be;Which I, with more, then with a Common paine,'Gainst all the World, will rightfully maintaine.Enter Lord Iohn of Lancaster, and Warwicke.
King. Looke, looke,Heere comes my Iohn of Lancaster:Iohn. Health, Peace, and Happinesse,To my Royall Father
King. Thou bring'st me happinesse and Peace(Sonne Iohn:)But health (alacke) with youthfull wings is flowneFrom this bare, wither'd Trunke. Vpon thy sightMy worldly businesse makes a period.Where is my Lord of Warwicke?Prin. My Lord of Warwicke
King. Doth any name particular, belongVnto the Lodging, where I first did swoon'd?War. 'Tis call'd Ierusalem, my Noble Lord
King. Laud be to heauen:Euen there my life must end.It hath beene prophesi'de to me many yeares,I should not dye, but in Ierusalem:Which (vainly) I suppos'd the Holy-Land.But beare me to that Chamber, there Ile lye:In that Ierusalem, shall Harry dye.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Page, and Dauie.
Shal. By Cocke and Pye, you shall not away to night.What Dauy, I say
Fal. You must excuse me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow
Shal. I will not excuse you: you shall not be excused.Excuses shall not be admitted: there is no excuse shallserue: you shall not be excus'd.Why Dauie
Dauie. Heere sir
Shal. Dauy, Dauy, Dauy, let me see (Dauy) let me see: William Cooke, bid him come hither. Sir Iohn, you shal not be excus'd
Dauy. Marry sir, thus: those Precepts cannot beeseru'd: and againe sir, shall we sowe the head-land withWheate?Shal. With red Wheate Dauy. But for William Cook:are there no yong Pigeons?Dauy. Yes Sir.Heere is now the Smithes note, for Shooing,And Plough-Irons
Shal. Let it be cast, and payde: Sir Iohn, you shallnot be excus'd
Dauy. Sir, a new linke to the Bucket must needes bee had: And Sir, doe you meane to stoppe any of Williams Wages, about the Sacke he lost the other day, at Hinckley Fayre? Shal. He shall answer it: Some Pigeons Dauy, a couple of short-legg'd Hennes: a ioynt of Mutton, and any pretty little tine Kickshawes, tell William Cooke
Dauy. Doth the man of Warre, stay all night sir?Shal. Yes Dauy:I will vse him well. A Friend i'th Court, is better then apenny in purse. Vse his men well Dauy, for they are arrantKnaues, and will backe-bite
Dauy. No worse then they are bitten, sir: For theyhaue maruellous fowle linnen
Shallow. Well conceited Dauy: about thy Businesse,Dauy
Dauy. I beseech you sir,To countenance William Visor of Woncot, against ClementPerkes of the hill
Shal. There are many Complaints Dauy, against thatVisor, that Visor is an arrant Knaue, on my knowledge
Dauy. I graunt your Worship, that he is a knaue (Sir:) But yet heauen forbid Sir, but a Knaue should haue some Countenance, at his Friends request. An honest man sir, is able to speake for himselfe, when a Knaue is not. I haue seru'd your Worshippe truely sir, these eight yeares: and if I cannot once or twice in a Quarter beare out a knaue, against an honest man, I haue but a very litle credite with your Worshippe. The Knaue is mine honest Friend Sir, therefore I beseech your Worship, let him bee Countenanc'd
Shal. Go too,I say he shall haue no wrong: Looke about Dauy.Where are you Sir Iohn? Come, off with your Boots.Giue me your hand M[aster]. Bardolfe
Bard. I am glad to see your Worship
Shal. I thanke thee, with all my heart, kinde MasterBardolfe: and welcome my tall Fellow:Come Sir Iohn
Falstaffe. Ile follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. Bardolfe, looke to our Horsses. If I were saw'de into Quantities, I should make foure dozen of such bearded Hermites staues, as Master Shallow. It is a wonderfull thing to see the semblable Coherence of his mens spirits, and his: They, by obseruing of him, do beare themselues like foolish Iustices: Hee, by conuersing with them, is turn'd into a Iustice-like Seruingman. Their spirits are so married in Coniunction, with the participation of Society, that they flocke together in consent, like so many Wilde-Geese. If I had a suite to Mayster Shallow, I would humour his men, with the imputation of beeing neere their Mayster. If to his Men, I would currie with Maister Shallow, that no man could better command his Seruants. It is certaine, that either wise bearing, or ignorant Carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another: therefore, let men take heede of their Companie. I will deuise matter enough out of this Shallow, to keepe Prince Harry in continuall Laughter, the wearing out of sixe Fashions (which is foure Tearmes) or two Actions, and he shall laugh with Interuallums. O it is much that a Lye (with a slight Oath) and a iest (with a sadde brow) will doe, with a Fellow, that neuer had the Ache in his shoulders. O you shall see him laugh, till his Face be like a wet Cloake, ill laid vp
Shal. Sir Iohn
Falst. I come Master Shallow, I come Master Shallow.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter the Earle of Warwicke, and the Lord Chiefe Iustice.
Warwicke. How now, my Lord Chiefe Iustice, whetheraway?Ch.Iust. How doth the King?Warw. Exceeding well: his CaresAre now, all ended
Ch.Iust. I hope, not dead
Warw. Hee's walk'd the way of Nature,And to our purposes, he liues no more
Ch.Iust. I would his Maiesty had call'd me with him,The seruice, that I truly did his life,Hath left me open to all iniuries
War. Indeed I thinke the yong King loues you not
Ch.Iust. I know he doth not, and do arme my selfeTo welcome the condition of the Time,Which cannot looke more hideously vpon me,Then I haue drawne it in my fantasie.Enter Iohn of Lancaster, Gloucester, and Clarence.
War. Heere come the heauy Issue of dead Harrie:O, that the liuing Harrie had the temperOf him, the worst of these three Gentlemen:How many Nobles then, should hold their places,That must strike saile, to Spirits of vilde sort?Ch.Iust. Alas, I feare, all will be ouer-turn'd
Iohn. Good morrow Cosin Warwick, good morrow
Glou. Cla. Good morrow, Cosin
Iohn. We meet, like men, that had forgot to speake
War. We do remember: but our ArgumentIs all too heauy, to admit much talke
Ioh. Well: Peace be with him, that hath made vs heauyCh.Iust. Peace be with vs, least we be heauier
Glou. O, good my Lord, you haue lost a friend indeed:And I dare sweare, you borrow not that faceOf seeming sorrow, it is sure your owne
Iohn. Though no man be assur'd what grace to finde,You stand in coldest expectation.I am the sorrier, would 'twere otherwise
Cla. Wel, you must now speake Sir Iohn Falstaffe faire,Which swimmes against your streame of Quality
Ch.Iust. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor,Led by th' Imperiall Conduct of my Soule,And neuer shall you see, that I will beggeA ragged, and fore-stall'd Remission.If Troth, and vpright Innocency fayle me,Ile to the King (my Master) that is dead,And tell him, who hath sent me after him
War. Heere comes the Prince.Enter Prince Henrie.
Ch.Iust. Good morrow: and heauen saue your MaiestyPrince. This new, and gorgeous Garment, Maiesty,Sits not so easie on me, as you thinke.Brothers, you mixe your Sadnesse with some Feare:This is the English, not the Turkish Court:Not Amurah, an Amurah succeeds,But Harry, Harry: Yet be sad (good Brothers)For (to speake truth) it very well becomes you:Sorrow, so Royally in you appeares,That I will deeply put the Fashion on,And weare it in my heart. Why then be sad,But entertaine no more of it (good Brothers)Then a ioynt burthen, laid vpon vs all.For me, by Heauen (I bid you be assur'd)Ile be your Father, and your Brother too:Let me but beare your Loue, Ile beare your Cares;But weepe that Harrie's dead, and so will I.But Harry liues, that shall conuert those TearesBy number, into houres of Happinesse
Iohn, &c. We hope no other from your Maiesty
Prin. You all looke strangely on me: and you most,You are (I thinke) assur'd, I loue you not
Ch.Iust. I am assur'd (if I be measur'd rightly)Your Maiesty hath no iust cause to hate mee
Pr. No? How might a Prince of my great hopes forgetSo great Indignities you laid vpon me?What? Rate? Rebuke? and roughly send to PrisonTh' immediate Heire of England? Was this easie?May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?Ch.Iust. I then did vse the Person of your Father:The Image of his power, lay then in me,And in th' administration of his Law,Whiles I was busie for the Commonwealth,Your Highnesse pleased to forget my place,The Maiesty, and power of Law, and Iustice,The Image of the King, whom I presented,And strooke me in my very Seate of Iudgement:Whereon (as an Offender to your Father)I gaue bold way to my Authority,And did commit you. If the deed were ill,Be you contented, wearing now the Garland,To haue a Sonne, set your Decrees at naught?To plucke downe Iustice from your awefull Bench?To trip the course of Law, and blunt the SwordThat guards the peace, and safety of your Person?Nay more, to spurne at your most Royall Image,And mocke your workings, in a Second body?Question your Royall Thoughts, make the case yours:Be now the Father, and propose a Sonne:Heare your owne dignity so much prophan'd,See your most dreadfull Lawes, so loosely slighted;Behold your selfe, so by a Sonne disdained:And then imagine me, taking your part,And in your power, soft silencing your Sonne:After this cold considerance, sentence me;And, as you are a King, speake in your State,What I haue done, that misbecame my place,My person, or my Lieges Soueraigntie