Host. Why, sir John! what do you think, sir John? do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go. Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before. Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. Host. No, sir John; you do not know me, sir John: I know you, sir John: you owe me money, sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them. Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four and twenty pound. Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark. Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. Fal. How the prince is a Jack, a sneak cup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like dog, if he would say so. Fal. What beast? why an otter. P. Hen. An otter, sir John! why an otter? Fal. Why? she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her. Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou! P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly. Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound. P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you. Fal. Did I, Bardolph ? Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so. Fal. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper. P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as good as thy word now? Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. P. Hen. And why not, as the lion? Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God, my girdle break! P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is all filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny. Fal-if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries worth of sugar-candy, to make thee long-winded; but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed? Enter Prince Henry and Poins, marching. staff meets the Prince, playing on his truncheon, like a fife. Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i'faith? must we all march? Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion. P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man. Host. Good my lord, hear me. Fal. Pr'y thee, let her alone, and list to me. Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets. P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's. P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, 1 heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said he would cudgel you. P. Hen. What! he did not? Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Host. Say, what thing? what thing? Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so. Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise. Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.You confess, then, you picked my pocket? P. Hen. it appears so by the story. Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.— Still ?-Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: For the robbery, lad,-- How is that answered? P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee-The money is paid back again. Fal. I do not like that paying back, 'tis à double labour. P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing. Fal. Rob me the exchequer, the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord. P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them. P. Hen. Bardolph.--Bard. My lord.'" P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster, My brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland. Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I, Jack, Meet me to-morrow i'the Tempie-hall: At two o'clock i'the afternoon : There shalt thou know thy charge; and there re ceive Money, and order for their furniture. [Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. Fal. Rare words! brave world!Hostess, my breakfast; come: O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth, In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Hot. Do so, and 'tis well :Enter a Messenger, with letters. What letters hast thou there?-I can but thank you. Mess. These letters come from your father,Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not himse If ? Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous sick. Hot. 'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick, In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along? Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his physicians. Wor. I would, the state of time had first been whole, Ere he by sickness had been visited; doth The very life-blood of our enterprize : Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. Doug. 'Faith, and so we should; Where now remains a sweet reversion : We may boldly spend upon the hope of what A comfort of retirement lives in this. Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here. The quality and hair of our attempt Brooks no division: It will be thought By some, that know not why he is away, That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence; And think, how such an apprehension May turn the tide of fearful faction, And breed a kind of question in our cause: For, well you know, we of the offering side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement; And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence The eye of reason may pry in upon us : This absence of your father's draws a curtain, That shows the ignorant a kind of fear Before not dreamt of. Hot. You strain too far. I, rather, of his absence make this use ;- Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear. Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul. Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, lord. The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, And further, I have learn'd,-- Ver. Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come; There is more news I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. unto? Ver. To thirty thousand. Forty let it be; Doug. Talk not of dying; I am out of fear P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack; Whose fellows are these that come after ? Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss: food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly. Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty,-I know not where they had that: and for their bareness,-I am sure, [Exeunt.they never learned that of me. SCENE II-A publick Road near Coventry. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through: we'll to Sutton-Colefield to-night. Bard. Will you give me money, captain? Fal. Lay out, lay out. Bard. This bottle makes an angel. Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour: and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain: farewell. [Exit. P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, inake haste: Percy is already in the field. Ful. What, is the king encamped? West. He is, sir John; I fear we shall stay too long. Ful. Well, To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast, Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. Wor. It may not be. Ver. Hot. Ver. Doug. Content. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a souced gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the bans: such a commodity of warm slaves, as had lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, worse You do not counsel well; than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed You speak it out of fear, and cold heart. me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they (And I dare well maintain it with my life,) have bought out their services: and now my whole If well-respected honour bid me on, charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, I hold as little counsel with weak fear, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Laza-As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives :rus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle, licked his sores: and such as, indeed, were never Which of us fears. soldiers; but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think, that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat; -Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daintry: But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. Enter Prince Henry and Westmoreland. P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now quilt? Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?-My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy; I thought, your honour had already been at Shrewsbury. West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already: The king, I can tell you, looks for us all; we must away all night. Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant, as a cat to steal cream. Ver. Come, come, it may not be. Hot. So are the horses of the enemy Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours: Enter Sir Walter Blunt. Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, You were of our determination! Blunt. And God defend, but still I should stand Audacious cruelty: If that the king He bids you name your griefs; and, with all speed, Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. Did give him that same royalty he wears: To whom they are directed: if you knew I guess their tenor. The king, with mighty and quick-raised power, And,-when he heard him swear and vow to God, I fear, the power of Percy is too weak He came but to be duke of Lancaster, Then, to the point.- Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king? 'Pray heaven, you do! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-York. A Room in the Archbishop's House. Enter the Archbishop of York, and a Gentleman. With winged haste, to the lord mareschal ; To wage an instant trial with the king. Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear; there's Douglas, | And Mortimer. No, Mortimer's not there. Percy, And there's my lord of Worcester; and a head Arch. And so there is: but yet the king hath The special head of all the land together ;- Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well op- Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; ACT V. SCENE I.-The King's Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Prince John K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer P. Hen. The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes; K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize; Of broached mischief to the unborn times? For mine own part, I could be well content I have not sought the day of this dislike. K. Hen. You have not sought it! how comes it | And, will they take the offer of our grace, then? Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. Wor. It pleas'd your majesty, to turn your looks In Richard's time; and posted day and night That even our love durst not come near your sight, K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated, Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches; With some fine colour, that may please the eye And never yet did insurrection want Such water-colours, to impaint his cause; P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a sou! Of his great name and estimation; And will, to save the blood on either side, Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man [Exeunt Worcester and Vernon. P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life: The Douglas and the Hotspur both together Are confident against the world in arms. [charge, K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his For, on their answer, will we set on them: And God befriend us, as our cause is just ! [Exeunt King, Blunt, and Prince John. Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit. Fal. 'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward. with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no mat. ter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour ? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning!Who hath it? He that died o'Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it :-therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism. [Exit. SCENE II.-The Rebel Camp. The liberal kind offer of the king. Then are we all undone. It is not possible, it cannot be, A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen : Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so. Enter Hotspur and Douglas; and Officers and Hot. My uncle is return'd:-Deliver up K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we ven- My lord of Westmoreland.-Uncle, what news? ture thee, Albeit, considerations infinite Do make against it :-No, good Worcester, no, We love our people well; even those we love, That are misled upon your cousin's part: Wor. The king will bid you battle presently. |