P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with often noted in thy company, but I know not his his pistol kills a sparrow flying.

Fal. You have hit it.

P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow.

Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him: he will not run.

P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running.

Fal O'horseback, ye cuckoo! but, afoot, he will not budge a foot.

P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more: Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father's beard is turned white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel. P. Hen. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds.

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like, we shall have good trading that way.-But, tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard; thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it ?

P. Hen. Not a whit, i'faith; I lack some of thy instinct.

Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, when thou comest to thy father: if thou love me, practise an answer.

P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life.

Fal. Shall ? content -This chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my

crown.

P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown!

Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved.-Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in king Cambyses' vein.

P. Hen. Well, here is my leg.

Fal. And here is my speech :-Stand aside, bility.

Host. This is excellent sport, i'faith.

name.

P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your majesty ?

Fal. A good portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r-lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month?

P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father.

Fal. Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely,
so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me
up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker, or a poulter's
hare.
P. Hen. Well, here I am set.

Fal. And here I stand :-judge, my masters.
P. Hen. Now, Harry? whence come you?
Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.

P. Hen. The complaints I hear of thee are
grievous.
Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false :-nay, I'll
tickle ye for a young prince, i'faith.

P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bom. bard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years! Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villainy? wherein villainous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?

Fal. I would, your grace would take me with no-you; Whom means your grace?

Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.

Host. O, the father, how he holds his countenance !

Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful

queen,

For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes.
Host. O rare! he doth it as like one of these
harlotry players, as I ever see.

P. Hen. That villainous abominable misleader
of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.
Fal. My lord, the man I know.
P. Hen. I know, thou dost.

Fal. But to say, I know more harm in him than in myself, were to say more than I know. That he is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do witness it: but that he is (saving your reverence,) a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-I know, is damned: if to be fat be to be hated, brain. Harry, I do not only marvel where thou then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my spendest thy time, but also how thou art accom-good lord; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish panied for though the camomile, the more it is Poins: but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art and therefore more valiant, being as he is, old my son, I have partly thy mother's word, partly Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's commy own opinion; but chiefly, a villainous trick of pany, banish not him thy Harry's company; banish thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, plump Jack, and banish all the world. that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me, P. Hen. I do, I will. [A knocking heard. here lies the point;-Why, being son to me, art [Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph. thou so pointed at ? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries? a question not to be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief, and take purses? a question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest: for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only, but in woes also:d yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have

Re-enter Bardolph, running. Bard. O, my lord, my lord; the sheriff, with a most monstrous watch, is at the door. Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play: I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.

Re-enter Hostess, hastily.

Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord! Fal. Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddle stick: What's the matter?

Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door: they are come to search the house; Shall I let them in ?

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece of gold, a counterfeit thou art essentially mad, without seeming so.

P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without instinct.

Fal. I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, so; if not, let him enter: if I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! I hope, I shall as soon be strangled with a halter, as another.

P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras ;-the rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true face, and good conscience.

Glend. I cannot blame him at my nativity, The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets; and, at my birth, The frame and huge foundation of the earth Shak'd like a coward. Hot. Why, so it would have done At the same season, if your mother's cat had [Exeunt all but the Prince and Poins. But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. P. Hen. Call in the sheriff.Glend. I say, the earth did shake when I was born.

Fal. Both which I have had but their date is out, and therefore I'll hide me.

Enter Sheriff and Carrier.

Now, master sheriff; what's your will with me?
Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry
Hath follow'd certain men unto this house.

Against my power: thrice from the banks of Wye, SCENE I.-Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacon's And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him,

Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it Into three limits, very equally :

England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east, is to my part assign'd:
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower :-and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn:
Which being sealed interchangeably,
(A business that this night may execute,)
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,

And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father, and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.

My father Glendower is not ready yet,

Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:Within that space, [to Glend.] you may have drawn together

Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentle

men.

Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords,
And in my conduct shall your ladies come :
From whom you now must steal, and take no
leave;

For there will be a world of water shed,
Upon the parting of your wives and you.

Break with your wives of your departure hence:
I am afraid, my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit.
Mort. Fye, cousin Percy! how you cross my
father!

Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me,
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish,

A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat,

And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,
He held me, but last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names,
That were his lackeys: I cried, humph,-and
well,-go to,-

But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;
Worse than a smoky house-I had rather live
With cheese and garlick, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
And wond'rous affable; and as bountiful

Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?

here,

In quantity equals not one of yours:
See how this river comes me cranking in,
And cuts me, from the best of all my land,
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.

I'll have the current in this place damm'd up;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run,
In a new channel, fair and evenly:

It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humour; 'faith, he does:

I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof;
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful.
blame;

And since your coming hither, have done enough

Glend. Not wind ? it shall, it must; you see, it To put him quite beside his patience.

doth. Mort. Yea,

But mark how he bears his course, and runs me up
With like advantage on the other side;
Gelding the opposed continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you.

Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him
here,

And on this north side win this cape of land;
And then he runs straight and even.

Hot. I'll have it so; a little charge will do it.
Glend. I will not have it alter'd.
Hot.

Glend. No, nor you shall not.
Hot.

Will not you?

Who shall say me nay?
Glend. Why, that will I.
Hot.

Let me not understand you then,
Speak it in Welsh.

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you : For I was train'd up in the English court: Where, being but young, I framed to the harp Many an English ditty, lovely well,

And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;

A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of 't with all my

heart:

I had rather be a kitten and cry-mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers:

I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd,

Or a dry wheel grate on an axle tree;

And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry;
'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.

Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.

Hot. I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land

To any well-deserving friend:

But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone?
Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by
night:

I'll haste the writer, and, withal,

You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage,
blood,

(And that's the dearest grace it renders you,)
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain :
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your
speed!
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

Re-enter Glendower, with the Ladies.
Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me,-
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
Glend. My daughter weeps; she will not part
with you,

She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.
Mort. Good father, tell her, that she, and my
aunt Percy,

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

[Glendower speaks to his daughter in Welsh, and she answers him in the same. Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harlotry,

One no persuasion can do good upon.

[Lady M. speaks to Mortimer in Welsh. Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling

heavens,

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
[Lady M. speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.

Glend. She bids you
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her
sing:

By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
Glend. Do so;

And those musicians that shall play to you,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
Yet straight they shall be here: sit, and attend.
Hot. Čome, Kate, thou art perfect in lying
down: Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my
head in thy lap.

Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.

Glendower speaks some Welsh words, and then the
Musick plays.

Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands
Welsh ;

And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous.
By'r-lady, he's a good musician.

Lady P. Then should you be nothing but
cal; for you are altogether governed by humours.
Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.
Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in
Irish.

Lady P. Would'st thou have thy head broken ?
Hot. No.

Lady P. Then be still.

Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.

Lady P. Now God help thee!

Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.

Lady P. What's that?

Hot. Peace! she sings.

A Welsh SONG, sung by Lady M.

He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me;
But thou dost, in thy passages of life,
Make me believe,-that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate, and low desires,

Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at-
tempts,

Such barren pleasures, rude society,

As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,

And hold their level with thy princely heart?

P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could
Quit all offences with as clear excuse,
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,-
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,—
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

K. Hen. God pardon thee !-yet let me wonder,
Harry,

At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood:
musi-The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does forethink thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company;
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:
That men would tell their children, This is he:
Others would say,- Where? which is Bolingbroke
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility,
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with capering fools;
Had his great name profaned with their scorns :
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative:
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:

in

Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth.
Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you
swear like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you,
good sooth; and, As true as I live; and, As God
shall mend me; and, As sure as day:
And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths,
As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury.
Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art,

A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth,
And such protest of pepper-gingerbread,
To velvet-guards, and sunday-citizens.
Come, sing.

Lady P. I will not sing.

Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will. [Exit. Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow,

As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.

That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey; and began

By this our book's drawn; we'll but seal, and then To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little To horse immediately.

More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,
Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries;
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,

Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,-
That Douglas, and the English rebels, met,
The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury :
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,

P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord, As ever offer'd foul play in a state.
Be more myself.

K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this :-belly! Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein.

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak How now, dame Partlet the hen? have you in¡quired yet, who picked my pocket?