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, Fal. And here I stand :-judge, my masters. P. Hen. The complaints I hear of thee are 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. P. Hen. That villainous abominable misleader 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. Hot. Lord Mortimer,-and cousin Glendower,-Will you sit down? And, uncle Worcester :-A plague upon it! Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur · Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears 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? P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here; He shall be answerable; and so, farewell. P. Hen. I think it is good morrow; Is it not? Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier. P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go, call him forth. Poins. Falstaff!-fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a horse. P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath : Search his pockets. [Poins searches.] What hast thou found? Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord. P. Hen. Let's see what they be read them. Item, Sauce, 4d. Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d. P. Hen. O monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack !-What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning: we must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, his death will be a march of twelve-score. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Poins. Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. ACT III. [Exeunt. Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down Glend. I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. But will they come, when you do call for them? Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil.-. If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence. O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.Mort. Come, come, No more of this unprofitable chat. Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head 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, House. Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer, and Glendower. Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure, And our induction full of prosperous hope. Bootless home, and weather-beaten back. Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too! How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? Glend. Come, here's the map; Shall we divide According to our threefold order ta'en? [our right, Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it Into three limits, very equally : England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth, 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, For there will be a world of water shed, Break with your wives of your departure hence: Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me, A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven, And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? here, In quantity equals not one of yours: I'll have the current in this place damm'd up; It shall not wind with such a deep indent, He holds your temper in a high respect, I warrant you, that man is not alive, Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful. 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 Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him And on this north side win this cape of land; Hot. I'll have it so; a little charge will do it. Glend. No, nor you shall not. Will not you? Who shall say me nay? Let me not understand you then, 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, 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, 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, Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? I'll haste the writer, and, withal, You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault: (And that's the dearest grace it renders you,) Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your Re-enter Glendower, with the Ladies. She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. 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. Glend. She bids you Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. And those musicians that shall play to you, Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. Glendower speaks some Welsh words, and then the Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous. Lady P. Then should you be nothing but Lady P. Would'st thou have thy head broken ? 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; Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at- Such barren pleasures, rude society, As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to, And hold their level with thy princely heart? P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could K. Hen. God pardon thee !-yet let me wonder, At thy affections, which do hold a wing in Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth, 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, 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. With vile participation; not an eye But is a-weary of thy common sight, Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; Which now doth that I would not have it do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,- P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord, As ever offer'd foul play in a state. K. Hen. For all the world, As thou art to this hour, was Richard then Christ? Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes, But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so; K. H n. The earl of Westmoreland set forth toWith him my son, lord John of Lancaster; [day; For this advertisement is five days old :- On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set Our business valued, some twelve days hence, [Exeunt SCENE III-Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me. Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long. Fal. Why, there is it :-come, sing me a bawdy song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore little; diced, not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter-of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass and now I live out of all order, out of all compass. Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all rea. sonable compass, sir John. Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,-but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp. Bard. Why, sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuns, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven reward me for it! Burd. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this :-belly! Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein. Enter Blunt. Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned. Enter Hostess. 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? of. |