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Henry IV, Part I
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by William Shakespeare
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Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine
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with Michael Poston and Rebecca Niles
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Folger Shakespeare Library
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https://shakespeare.folger.edu/shakespeares-works/henry-iv-part-1/
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Created on Jul 31, 2015, from FDT version 0.9.2
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Characters in the Play
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======================
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KING HENRY IV, formerly Henry Bolingbroke
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PRINCE HAL, Prince of Wales and heir to the throne (also called Harry and Harry Monmouth)
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LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, younger son of King Henry
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EARL OF WESTMORELAND
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SIR WALTER BLUNT
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HOTSPUR (Sir Henry, or Harry, Percy)
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LADY PERCY (also called Kate)
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EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, Henry Percy, Hotspur's father
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EARL OF WORCESTER, Thomas Percy, Hotspur's uncle
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EDMUND MORTIMER, earl of March
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LADY MORTIMER (also called "the Welsh lady")
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OWEN GLENDOWER, a Welsh lord, father of Lady Mortimer
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DOUGLAS (Archibald, earl of Douglas)
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ARCHBISHOP (Richard Scroop, archbishop of York)
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SIR MICHAEL, a priest or knight associated with the archbishop
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SIR RICHARD VERNON, an English knight
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SIR JOHN FALSTAFF
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POINS (also called Edward, Yedward, and Ned)
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BARDOLPH
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PETO
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GADSHILL, setter for the robbers
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HOSTESS of the tavern (also called Mistress Quickly)
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VINTNER, or keeper of the tavern
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FRANCIS, an apprentice tapster
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Carriers, Ostlers, Chamberlain, Travelers, Sheriff, Servants, Lords, Attendants, Messengers, Soldiers
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ACT 1
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=====
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Scene 1
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=======
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[Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, and the Earl
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of Westmoreland, with others.]
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KING
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So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
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Find we a time for frighted peace to pant
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And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
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To be commenced in strands afar remote.
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No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
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Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood.
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No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
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Nor bruise her flow'rets with the armed hoofs
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Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes,
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Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
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All of one nature, of one substance bred,
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Did lately meet in the intestine shock
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And furious close of civil butchery,
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Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,
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March all one way and be no more opposed
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Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies.
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The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
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No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
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As far as to the sepulcher of Christ--
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Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
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We are impressed and engaged to fight--
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Forthwith a power of English shall we levy,
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Whose arms were molded in their mothers' womb
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To chase these pagans in those holy fields
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Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
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Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed
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For our advantage on the bitter cross.
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But this our purpose now is twelve month old,
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And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go.
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Therefor we meet not now. Then let me hear
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Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
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What yesternight our council did decree
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In forwarding this dear expedience.
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WESTMORELAND
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My liege, this haste was hot in question,
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And many limits of the charge set down
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But yesternight, when all athwart there came
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A post from Wales loaden with heavy news,
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Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer,
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Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
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Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
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Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
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A thousand of his people butchered,
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Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,
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Such beastly shameless transformation
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By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
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Without much shame retold or spoken of.
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KING
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It seems then that the tidings of this broil
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Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
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WESTMORELAND
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This matched with other did, my gracious lord.
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For more uneven and unwelcome news
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Came from the north, and thus it did import:
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On Holy-rood Day the gallant Hotspur there,
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Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
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That ever valiant and approved Scot,
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At Holmedon met, where they did spend
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A sad and bloody hour--
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As by discharge of their artillery
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And shape of likelihood the news was told,
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For he that brought them, in the very heat
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And pride of their contention did take horse,
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Uncertain of the issue any way.
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KING
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Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend,
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Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
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Stained with the variation of each soil
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Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours,
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And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
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The Earl of Douglas is discomfited;
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Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
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Balked in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
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On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners Hotspur took
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Mordake, Earl of Fife and eldest son
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To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Atholl,
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Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
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And is not this an honorable spoil?
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A gallant prize? Ha, cousin, is it not?
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WESTMORELAND
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In faith, it is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
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KING
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Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin
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In envy that my Lord Northumberland
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Should be the father to so blest a son,
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A son who is the theme of Honor's tongue,
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Amongst a grove the very straightest plant,
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Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride;
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Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
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See riot and dishonor stain the brow
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Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved
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That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
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In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
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And called mine "Percy," his "Plantagenet"!
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Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
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But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,
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Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners
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Which he in this adventure hath surprised
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To his own use he keeps, and sends me word
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I shall have none but Mordake, Earl of Fife.
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WESTMORELAND
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This is his uncle's teaching. This is Worcester,
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Malevolent to you in all aspects,
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Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
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The crest of youth against your dignity.
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KING
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But I have sent for him to answer this.
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And for this cause awhile we must neglect
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Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
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Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
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Will hold at Windsor. So inform the lords.
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But come yourself with speed to us again,
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For more is to be said and to be done
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Than out of anger can be uttered.
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WESTMORELAND I will, my liege.
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[They exit.]
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Scene 2
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=======
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[Enter Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falstaff.]
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FALSTAFF Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
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PRINCE Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old
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sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and
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sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast
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forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst
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truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with
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the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of
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sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues
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of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses,
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and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in
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flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou
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shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time
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of the day.
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FALSTAFF Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we
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that take purses go by the moon and the seven
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stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that wand'ring
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knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou
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art king, as God save thy Grace--Majesty, I should
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say, for grace thou wilt have none--
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PRINCE What, none?
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FALSTAFF No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to
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be prologue to an egg and butter.
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PRINCE Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
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FALSTAFF Marry then, sweet wag, when thou art king,
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let not us that are squires of the night's body be
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called thieves of the day's beauty. Let us be Diana's
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foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the
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moon, and let men say we be men of good government,
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being governed, as the sea is, by our noble
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and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance
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we steal.
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PRINCE Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the
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fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and
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flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by
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the moon. As for proof now: a purse of gold most
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resolutely snatched on Monday night and most
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dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning, got with
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swearing "Lay by" and spent with crying "Bring
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in"; now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder,
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and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the
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gallows.
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FALSTAFF By the Lord, thou sayst true, lad. And is not
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my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?
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PRINCE As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle.
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And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of
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durance?
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FALSTAFF How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy
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quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to
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do with a buff jerkin?
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PRINCE Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess
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of the tavern?
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FALSTAFF Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning
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many a time and oft.
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PRINCE Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
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FALSTAFF No, I'll give thee thy due. Thou hast paid all
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there.
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PRINCE Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would
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stretch, and where it would not, I have used my
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credit.
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FALSTAFF Yea, and so used it that were it not here
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apparent that thou art heir apparent--But I prithee,
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sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in
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England when thou art king? And resolution thus
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fubbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic
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the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a
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thief.
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PRINCE No, thou shalt.
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FALSTAFF Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave
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judge.
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PRINCE Thou judgest false already. I mean thou shalt
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have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a
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rare hangman.
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FALSTAFF Well, Hal, well, and in some sort it jumps
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with my humor as well as waiting in the court, I
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can tell you.
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PRINCE For obtaining of suits?
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FALSTAFF Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman
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hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as
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melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear.
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PRINCE Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.
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FALSTAFF Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
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PRINCE What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy
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of Moorditch?
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FALSTAFF Thou hast the most unsavory similes, and
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art indeed the most comparative, rascaliest, sweet
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young prince. But, Hal, I prithee trouble me no
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more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew
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where a commodity of good names were to be
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bought. An old lord of the council rated me the
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other day in the street about you, sir, but I marked
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him not, and yet he talked very wisely, but I
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regarded him not, and yet he talked wisely, and in
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the street, too.
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PRINCE Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out in the
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streets and no man regards it.
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FALSTAFF O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art
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indeed able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done
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much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it.
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Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing, and now
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am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than
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one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I
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will give it over. By the Lord, an I do not, I am a
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villain. I'll be damned for never a king's son in
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Christendom.
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PRINCE Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
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FALSTAFF Zounds, where thou wilt, lad. I'll make one.
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An I do not, call me villain and baffle me.
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PRINCE I see a good amendment of life in thee, from
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praying to purse-taking.
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FALSTAFF Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal. 'Tis no sin
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for a man to labor in his vocation.
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[Enter Poins.]
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Poins!--Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a
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match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what
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hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the
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most omnipotent villain that ever cried "Stand!" to
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a true man.
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PRINCE Good morrow, Ned.
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POINS Good morrow, sweet Hal.--What says Monsieur
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Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar?
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Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about
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thy soul that thou soldest him on Good Friday last
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for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg?
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PRINCE Sir John stands to his word. The devil shall
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have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of
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proverbs. He will give the devil his due.
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POINS, [to Falstaff] Then art thou damned for keeping
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thy word with the devil.
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PRINCE Else he had been damned for cozening the
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devil.
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POINS But, my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning, by
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four o'clock early at Gad's Hill, there are pilgrims
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going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders
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riding to London with fat purses. I have vizards for
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you all. You have horses for yourselves. Gadshill lies
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tonight in Rochester. I have bespoke supper tomorrow
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night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as
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sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of
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crowns. If you will not, tarry at home and be
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hanged.
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FALSTAFF Hear you, Yedward, if I tarry at home and
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go not, I'll hang you for going.
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POINS You will, chops?
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FALSTAFF Hal, wilt thou make one?
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PRINCE Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
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FALSTAFF There's neither honesty, manhood, nor
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good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of
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the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten
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shillings.
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PRINCE Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.
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FALSTAFF Why, that's well said.
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PRINCE Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.
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FALSTAFF By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then when thou
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art king.
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PRINCE I care not.
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POINS Sir John, I prithee leave the Prince and me
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alone. I will lay him down such reasons for this
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adventure that he shall go.
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FALSTAFF Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion,
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and him the ears of profiting, that what thou
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speakest may move, and what he hears may be
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believed, that the true prince may, for recreation
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sake, prove a false thief, for the poor abuses of the
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time want countenance. Farewell. You shall find me
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in Eastcheap.
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PRINCE Farewell, thou latter spring. Farewell, Allhallown
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summer. [Falstaff exits.]
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POINS Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us
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tomorrow. I have a jest to execute that I cannot
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manage alone. Falstaff, Peto, Bardolph, and Gadshill
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shall rob those men that we have already
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waylaid. Yourself and I will not be there. And when
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they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them,
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cut this head off from my shoulders.
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PRINCE How shall we part with them in setting forth?
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POINS Why, we will set forth before or after them, and
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appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our
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pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon
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the exploit themselves, which they shall have no
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sooner achieved but we'll set upon them.
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PRINCE Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our
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horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment
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to be ourselves.
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POINS Tut, our horses they shall not see; I'll tie them
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in the wood. Our vizards we will change after we
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leave them. And, sirrah, I have cases of buckram
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for the nonce, to immask our noted outward
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garments.
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PRINCE Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
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POINS Well, for two of them, I know them to be as
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true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the
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third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll
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forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be the
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incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will
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tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty at least
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he fought with, what wards, what blows, what
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extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this
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lives the jest.
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PRINCE Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things
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necessary and meet me tomorrow night in Eastcheap.
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There I'll sup. Farewell.
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POINS Farewell, my lord. [Poins exits.]
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PRINCE
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I know you all, and will awhile uphold
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The unyoked humor of your idleness.
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Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
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Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
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To smother up his beauty from the world,
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That, when he please again to be himself,
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Being wanted, he may be more wondered at
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By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
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Of vapors that did seem to strangle him.
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If all the year were playing holidays,
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To sport would be as tedious as to work,
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But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
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And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
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So when this loose behavior I throw off
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And pay the debt I never promised,
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By how much better than my word I am,
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By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
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And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
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My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault,
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Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
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Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
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I'll so offend to make offense a skill,
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Redeeming time when men think least I will.
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[He exits.]
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Scene 3
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=======
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[Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur,
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and Sir Walter Blunt, with others.]
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KING, [to Northumberland, Worcester, and Hotspur]
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My blood hath been too cold and temperate,
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Unapt to stir at these indignities,
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And you have found me, for accordingly
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You tread upon my patience. But be sure
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I will from henceforth rather be myself,
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Mighty and to be feared, than my condition,
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Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
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And therefore lost that title of respect
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Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud.
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WORCESTER
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Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
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The scourge of greatness to be used on it,
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And that same greatness too which our own hands
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Have holp to make so portly.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND My lord--
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see
|
|
Danger and disobedience in thine eye.
|
|
O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
|
|
And majesty might never yet endure
|
|
The moody frontier of a servant brow.
|
|
You have good leave to leave us. When we need
|
|
Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.
|
|
[Worcester exits.]
|
|
You were about to speak.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, my good lord.
|
|
Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded,
|
|
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
|
|
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
|
|
As is delivered to your Majesty.
|
|
Either envy, therefore, or misprision
|
|
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
|
|
But I remember, when the fight was done,
|
|
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
|
|
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
|
|
Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dressed,
|
|
Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reaped
|
|
Showed like a stubble land at harvest home.
|
|
He was perfumed like a milliner,
|
|
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
|
|
A pouncet box, which ever and anon
|
|
He gave his nose and took 't away again,
|
|
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
|
|
Took it in snuff; and still he smiled and talked.
|
|
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
|
|
He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
|
|
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
|
|
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
|
|
With many holiday and lady terms
|
|
He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded
|
|
My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf.
|
|
I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,
|
|
To be so pestered with a popinjay,
|
|
Out of my grief and my impatience
|
|
Answered neglectingly I know not what--
|
|
He should, or he should not; for he made me mad
|
|
To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet
|
|
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
|
|
Of guns, and drums, and wounds--God save the
|
|
mark!--
|
|
And telling me the sovereignest thing on Earth
|
|
Was parmacety for an inward bruise,
|
|
And that it was great pity, so it was,
|
|
This villainous saltpeter should be digged
|
|
Out of the bowels of the harmless Earth,
|
|
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
|
|
So cowardly, and but for these vile guns
|
|
He would himself have been a soldier.
|
|
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
|
|
I answered indirectly, as I said,
|
|
And I beseech you, let not his report
|
|
Come current for an accusation
|
|
Betwixt my love and your high Majesty.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT
|
|
The circumstance considered, good my lord,
|
|
Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said
|
|
To such a person and in such a place,
|
|
At such a time, with all the rest retold,
|
|
May reasonably die and never rise
|
|
To do him wrong or any way impeach
|
|
What then he said, so he unsay it now.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners,
|
|
But with proviso and exception
|
|
That we at our own charge shall ransom straight
|
|
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer,
|
|
Who, on my soul, hath willfully betrayed
|
|
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
|
|
Against that great magician, damned Glendower,
|
|
Whose daughter, as we hear, that Earl of March
|
|
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
|
|
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
|
|
Shall we buy treason and indent with fears
|
|
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
|
|
No, on the barren mountains let him starve,
|
|
For I shall never hold that man my friend
|
|
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
|
|
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Revolted Mortimer!
|
|
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
|
|
But by the chance of war. To prove that true
|
|
Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds,
|
|
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took
|
|
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank
|
|
In single opposition hand to hand
|
|
He did confound the best part of an hour
|
|
In changing hardiment with great Glendower.
|
|
Three times they breathed, and three times did they
|
|
drink,
|
|
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood,
|
|
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
|
|
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds
|
|
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
|
|
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
|
|
Never did bare and rotten policy
|
|
Color her working with such deadly wounds,
|
|
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
|
|
Receive so many, and all willingly.
|
|
Then let not him be slandered with revolt.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Thou dost belie him, Percy; thou dost belie him.
|
|
He never did encounter with Glendower.
|
|
I tell thee, he durst as well have met the devil alone
|
|
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
|
|
Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth
|
|
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer.
|
|
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
|
|
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
|
|
As will displease you.--My lord Northumberland,
|
|
We license your departure with your son.--
|
|
Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it.
|
|
[King exits with Blunt and others.]
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
An if the devil come and roar for them,
|
|
I will not send them. I will after straight
|
|
And tell him so, for I will ease my heart,
|
|
Albeit I make a hazard of my head.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND
|
|
What, drunk with choler? Stay and pause awhile.
|
|
Here comes your uncle.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Worcester.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Speak of Mortimer?
|
|
Zounds, I will speak of him, and let my soul
|
|
Want mercy if I do not join with him.
|
|
Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins
|
|
And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust,
|
|
But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer
|
|
As high in the air as this unthankful king,
|
|
As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND
|
|
Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Who struck this heat up after I was gone?
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
He will forsooth have all my prisoners,
|
|
And when I urged the ransom once again
|
|
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek looked pale,
|
|
And on my face he turned an eye of death,
|
|
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
I cannot blame him. Was not he proclaimed
|
|
By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood?
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND
|
|
He was; I heard the proclamation.
|
|
And then it was when the unhappy king--
|
|
Whose wrongs in us God pardon!--did set forth
|
|
Upon his Irish expedition;
|
|
From whence he, intercepted, did return
|
|
To be deposed and shortly murdered.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth
|
|
Live scandalized and foully spoken of.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
But soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then
|
|
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
|
|
Heir to the crown?
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND He did; myself did hear it.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Nay then, I cannot blame his cousin king
|
|
That wished him on the barren mountains starve.
|
|
But shall it be that you that set the crown
|
|
Upon the head of this forgetful man
|
|
And for his sake wear the detested blot
|
|
Of murderous subornation--shall it be
|
|
That you a world of curses undergo,
|
|
Being the agents or base second means,
|
|
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?
|
|
O, pardon me that I descend so low
|
|
To show the line and the predicament
|
|
Wherein you range under this subtle king.
|
|
Shall it for shame be spoken in these days,
|
|
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
|
|
That men of your nobility and power
|
|
Did gage them both in an unjust behalf
|
|
(As both of you, God pardon it, have done)
|
|
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
|
|
And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
|
|
And shall it in more shame be further spoken
|
|
That you are fooled, discarded, and shook off
|
|
By him for whom these shames you underwent?
|
|
No, yet time serves wherein you may redeem
|
|
Your banished honors and restore yourselves
|
|
Into the good thoughts of the world again,
|
|
Revenge the jeering and disdained contempt
|
|
Of this proud king, who studies day and night
|
|
To answer all the debt he owes to you
|
|
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
|
|
Therefore I say--
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER Peace, cousin, say no more.
|
|
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
|
|
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
|
|
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous,
|
|
As full of peril and adventurous spirit
|
|
As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud
|
|
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim!
|
|
Send danger from the east unto the west,
|
|
So honor cross it from the north to south,
|
|
And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs
|
|
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND, [to Worcester]
|
|
Imagination of some great exploit
|
|
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
|
|
To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon,
|
|
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
|
|
Where fathom line could never touch the ground,
|
|
And pluck up drowned honor by the locks,
|
|
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
|
|
Without corrival all her dignities.
|
|
But out upon this half-faced fellowship!
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
He apprehends a world of figures here,
|
|
But not the form of what he should attend.--
|
|
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I cry you mercy.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER Those same noble Scots
|
|
That are your prisoners--
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR I'll keep them all.
|
|
By God, he shall not have a Scot of them.
|
|
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not.
|
|
I'll keep them, by this hand!
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER You start away
|
|
And lend no ear unto my purposes:
|
|
Those prisoners you shall keep--
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Nay, I will. That's flat!
|
|
He said he would not ransom Mortimer,
|
|
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer.
|
|
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
|
|
And in his ear I'll hollo "Mortimer."
|
|
Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
|
|
Nothing but "Mortimer," and give it him
|
|
To keep his anger still in motion.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER Hear you, cousin, a word.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
All studies here I solemnly defy,
|
|
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke.
|
|
And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales--
|
|
But that I think his father loves him not
|
|
And would be glad he met with some mischance--
|
|
I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Farewell, kinsman. I'll talk to you
|
|
When you are better tempered to attend.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND, [to Hotspur]
|
|
Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool
|
|
Art thou to break into this woman's mood,
|
|
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Why, look you, I am whipped and scourged with
|
|
rods,
|
|
Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear
|
|
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
|
|
In Richard's time--what do you call the place?
|
|
A plague upon it! It is in Gloucestershire.
|
|
'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept,
|
|
His uncle York, where I first bowed my knee
|
|
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke.
|
|
'Sblood, when you and he came back from
|
|
Ravenspurgh.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND At Berkeley Castle.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR You say true.
|
|
Why, what a candy deal of courtesy
|
|
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me:
|
|
"Look when his infant fortune came to age,"
|
|
And "gentle Harry Percy," and "kind cousin."
|
|
O, the devil take such cozeners!--God forgive me!
|
|
Good uncle, tell your tale. I have done.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Nay, if you have not, to it again.
|
|
We will stay your leisure.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR I have done, i' faith.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Then once more to your Scottish prisoners:
|
|
Deliver them up without their ransom straight,
|
|
And make the Douglas' son your only mean
|
|
For powers in Scotland, which, for divers reasons
|
|
Which I shall send you written, be assured
|
|
Will easily be granted.--You, my lord,
|
|
Your son in Scotland being thus employed,
|
|
Shall secretly into the bosom creep
|
|
Of that same noble prelate well beloved,
|
|
The Archbishop.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Of York, is it not?
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER True, who bears hard
|
|
His brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop.
|
|
I speak not this in estimation,
|
|
As what I think might be, but what I know
|
|
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,
|
|
And only stays but to behold the face
|
|
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I smell it. Upon my life it will do well.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND
|
|
Before the game is afoot thou still let'st slip.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot.
|
|
And then the power of Scotland and of York
|
|
To join with Mortimer, ha?
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER And so they shall.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
In faith, it is exceedingly well aimed.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
And 'tis no little reason bids us speed
|
|
To save our heads by raising of a head,
|
|
For bear ourselves as even as we can,
|
|
The King will always think him in our debt,
|
|
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,
|
|
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.
|
|
And see already how he doth begin
|
|
To make us strangers to his looks of love.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
He does, he does. We'll be revenged on him.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Cousin, farewell. No further go in this
|
|
Than I by letters shall direct your course.
|
|
When time is ripe, which will be suddenly,
|
|
I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer,
|
|
Where you and Douglas and our powers at once,
|
|
As I will fashion it, shall happily meet
|
|
To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,
|
|
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.
|
|
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND
|
|
Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short
|
|
Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 2
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER Heigh-ho! An it be not four by the day,
|
|
I'll be hanged. Charles's Wain is over the new
|
|
chimney, and yet our horse not packed.--What,
|
|
ostler!
|
|
|
|
OSTLER, [within] Anon, anon.
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle. Put a
|
|
few flocks in the point. Poor jade is wrung in the
|
|
withers out of all cess.
|
|
|
|
[Enter another Carrier, with a lantern.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
SECOND CARRIER Peas and beans are as dank here as a
|
|
dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the
|
|
bots. This house is turned upside down since Robin
|
|
ostler died.
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER Poor fellow never joyed since the price
|
|
of oats rose. It was the death of him.
|
|
|
|
SECOND CARRIER I think this be the most villainous
|
|
house in all London road for fleas. I am stung like a
|
|
tench.
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER Like a tench? By the Mass, there is
|
|
ne'er a king christen could be better bit than I have
|
|
been since the first cock.
|
|
|
|
SECOND CARRIER Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan,
|
|
and then we leak in your chimney, and your
|
|
chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER What, ostler, come away and be
|
|
hanged. Come away.
|
|
|
|
SECOND CARRIER I have a gammon of bacon and two
|
|
races of ginger to be delivered as far as Charing
|
|
Cross.
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER God's body, the turkeys in my pannier
|
|
are quite starved.--What, ostler! A plague on thee!
|
|
Hast thou never an eye in thy head? Canst not hear?
|
|
An 'twere not as good deed as drink to break the
|
|
pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be
|
|
hanged. Hast no faith in thee?
|
|
|
|
[Enter Gadshill.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock?
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER I think it be two o'clock.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL I prithee, lend me thy lantern to see my
|
|
gelding in the stable.
|
|
|
|
FIRST CARRIER Nay, by God, soft. I know a trick worth
|
|
two of that, i' faith.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL, [to Second Carrier] I pray thee, lend me
|
|
thine.
|
|
|
|
SECOND CARRIER Ay, when, canst tell? "Lend me thy
|
|
lantern," quoth he. Marry, I'll see thee hanged
|
|
first.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to
|
|
come to London?
|
|
|
|
SECOND CARRIER Time enough to go to bed with a
|
|
candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbor Mugs,
|
|
we'll call up the gentlemen. They will along with
|
|
company, for they have great charge.
|
|
[Carriers exit.]
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL What ho, chamberlain!
|
|
|
|
[Enter Chamberlain.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHAMBERLAIN At hand, quoth pickpurse.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL That's even as fair as "at hand, quoth the
|
|
Chamberlain," for thou variest no more from
|
|
picking of purses than giving direction doth from
|
|
laboring: thou layest the plot how.
|
|
|
|
CHAMBERLAIN Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds
|
|
current that I told you yesternight: there's a franklin
|
|
in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred
|
|
marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it to one of
|
|
his company last night at supper--a kind of auditor,
|
|
one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows
|
|
what. They are up already and call for eggs and
|
|
butter. They will away presently.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas'
|
|
clerks, I'll give thee this neck.
|
|
|
|
CHAMBERLAIN No, I'll none of it. I pray thee, keep that
|
|
for the hangman, for I know thou worshipest Saint
|
|
Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If
|
|
I hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows, for if I hang,
|
|
old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is
|
|
no starveling. Tut, there are other Troyans that
|
|
thou dream'st not of, the which for sport sake are
|
|
content to do the profession some grace, that
|
|
would, if matters should be looked into, for their
|
|
own credit sake make all whole. I am joined with no
|
|
foot-land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers,
|
|
none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms,
|
|
but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters
|
|
and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such
|
|
as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner
|
|
than drink, and drink sooner than pray, and yet,
|
|
zounds, I lie, for they pray continually to their saint
|
|
the commonwealth, or rather not pray to her but
|
|
prey on her, for they ride up and down on her and
|
|
make her their boots.
|
|
|
|
CHAMBERLAIN What, the commonwealth their boots?
|
|
Will she hold out water in foul way?
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL She will, she will. Justice hath liquored her.
|
|
We steal as in a castle, cocksure. We have the
|
|
receipt of fern seed; we walk invisible.
|
|
|
|
CHAMBERLAIN Nay, by my faith, I think you are more
|
|
beholding to the night than to fern seed for your
|
|
walking invisible.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in
|
|
our purchase, as I am a true man.
|
|
|
|
CHAMBERLAIN Nay, rather let me have it as you are a
|
|
false thief.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Go to. Homo is a common name to all men.
|
|
Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable.
|
|
Farewell, you muddy knave.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Prince, Poins, Bardolph, and Peto.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
POINS Come, shelter, shelter! I have removed Falstaff's
|
|
horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Stand close. [Poins, Bardolph, and Peto exit.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Falstaff.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Peace, you fat-kidneyed rascal. What a brawling
|
|
dost thou keep!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Where's Poins, Hal?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE He is walked up to the top of the hill. I'll go
|
|
seek him. [Prince exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I am accursed to rob in that thief's company.
|
|
The rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I
|
|
know not where. If I travel but four foot by the
|
|
square further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I
|
|
doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I
|
|
'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn
|
|
his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty
|
|
years, and yet I am bewitched with the
|
|
rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me
|
|
medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged. It
|
|
could not be else: I have drunk medicines.--Poins!
|
|
Hal! A plague upon you both.--Bardolph! Peto!--
|
|
I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere not as
|
|
good a deed as drink to turn true man and to leave
|
|
these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever
|
|
chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground
|
|
is threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the
|
|
stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague
|
|
upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
|
|
[(They whistle, within.)] Whew! A plague upon you
|
|
all!
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Prince, Poins, Peto, and Bardolph.]
|
|
|
|
Give me my horse, you rogues. Give me my horse
|
|
and be hanged!
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Peace, you fat guts! Lie down, lay thine ear
|
|
close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the
|
|
tread of travelers.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Have you any levers to lift me up again being
|
|
down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear my own flesh so
|
|
far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's Exchequer.
|
|
What a plague mean you to colt me
|
|
thus?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Thou liest. Thou art not colted; thou art
|
|
uncolted.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my
|
|
horse, good king's son.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Out, you rogue! Shall I be your ostler?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent
|
|
garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have
|
|
not ballads made on you all and sung to filthy
|
|
tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison--when a jest
|
|
is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Gadshill.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Stand.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF So I do, against my will.
|
|
|
|
POINS O, 'tis our setter. I know his voice.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH What news?
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Case you, case you. On with your vizards.
|
|
There's money of the King's coming down the hill.
|
|
'Tis going to the King's Exchequer.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF You lie, you rogue. 'Tis going to the King's
|
|
Tavern.
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL There's enough to make us all.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF To be hanged.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow
|
|
lane. Ned Poins and I will walk lower. If they 'scape
|
|
from your encounter, then they light on us.
|
|
|
|
PETO How many be there of them?
|
|
|
|
GADSHILL Some eight or ten.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Zounds, will they not rob us?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather,
|
|
but yet no coward, Hal.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Well, we leave that to the proof.
|
|
|
|
POINS Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge.
|
|
When thou need'st him, there thou shalt find him.
|
|
Farewell and stand fast.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Now cannot I strike him, if I should be
|
|
hanged.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [aside to Poins] Ned, where are our disguises?
|
|
|
|
POINS, [aside to Prince] Here, hard by. Stand close.
|
|
[The Prince and Poins exit.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Now, my masters, happy man be his dole,
|
|
say I. Every man to his business.
|
|
[They step aside.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Travelers.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FIRST TRAVELER Come, neighbor, the boy shall lead
|
|
our horses down the hill. We'll walk afoot awhile
|
|
and ease our legs.
|
|
|
|
THIEVES, [advancing] Stand!
|
|
|
|
TRAVELERS Jesus bless us!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Strike! Down with them! Cut the villains'
|
|
throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars, bacon-fed
|
|
knaves, they hate us youth. Down with them!
|
|
Fleece them!
|
|
|
|
TRAVELERS O, we are undone, both we and ours
|
|
forever!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Hang, you gorbellied knaves! Are you undone?
|
|
No, you fat chuffs. I would your store were
|
|
here. On, bacons, on! What, you knaves, young men
|
|
must live. You are grandjurors, are you? We'll jure
|
|
you, faith.
|
|
[Here they rob them and bind them. They all exit.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Prince and Poins, disguised.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE The thieves have bound the true men. Now
|
|
could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to
|
|
London, it would be argument for a week, laughter
|
|
for a month, and a good jest forever.
|
|
|
|
POINS Stand close, I hear them coming.
|
|
[They step aside.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Thieves again.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Come, my masters, let us share, and then to
|
|
horse before day. An the Prince and Poins be not
|
|
two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring.
|
|
There's no more valor in that Poins than in a wild
|
|
duck.
|
|
[As they are sharing, the Prince
|
|
and Poins set upon them.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Your money!
|
|
|
|
POINS Villains!
|
|
[They all run away, and Falstaff, after a blow or two,
|
|
runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse.
|
|
The thieves are all scattered, and possessed with
|
|
fear
|
|
So strongly that they dare not meet each other.
|
|
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
|
|
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
|
|
And lards the lean earth as he walks along.
|
|
Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him.
|
|
|
|
POINS How the fat rogue roared!
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Hotspur alone, reading a letter.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be
|
|
well contented to be there, in respect of the love I
|
|
bear your house. He could be contented; why is he
|
|
not, then? In respect of the love he bears our
|
|
house--he shows in this he loves his own barn
|
|
better than he loves our house. Let me see some
|
|
more. The purpose you undertake is dangerous.
|
|
Why, that's certain. 'Tis dangerous to take a cold,
|
|
to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my Lord Fool, out
|
|
of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.
|
|
The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends
|
|
you have named uncertain, the time itself unsorted,
|
|
and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise
|
|
of so great an opposition. Say you so, say you so?
|
|
I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly
|
|
hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By
|
|
the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid,
|
|
our friends true and constant--a good plot,
|
|
good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent
|
|
plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited
|
|
rogue is this! Why, my Lord of York commends
|
|
the plot and the general course of the action.
|
|
Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain
|
|
him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my
|
|
uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my
|
|
Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not
|
|
besides the Douglas? Have I not all their letters to
|
|
meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month,
|
|
and are they not some of them set forward already?
|
|
What a pagan rascal is this--an infidel! Ha, you
|
|
shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold
|
|
heart, will he to the King and lay open all our
|
|
proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to
|
|
buffets for moving such a dish of skim milk with so
|
|
honorable an action! Hang him, let him tell the
|
|
King. We are prepared. I will set forward tonight.
|
|
|
|
[Enter his Lady.]
|
|
|
|
How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two
|
|
hours.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY
|
|
O my good lord, why are you thus alone?
|
|
For what offense have I this fortnight been
|
|
A banished woman from my Harry's bed?
|
|
Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from thee
|
|
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
|
|
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth
|
|
And start so often when thou sit'st alone?
|
|
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks
|
|
And given my treasures and my rights of thee
|
|
To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?
|
|
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched,
|
|
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,
|
|
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,
|
|
Cry "Courage! To the field!" And thou hast talked
|
|
Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,
|
|
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
|
|
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
|
|
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
|
|
And all the currents of a heady fight.
|
|
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
|
|
And thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep,
|
|
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
|
|
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream,
|
|
And in thy face strange motions have appeared,
|
|
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
|
|
On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are
|
|
these?
|
|
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
|
|
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
What, ho!
|
|
|
|
[Enter a Servant.]
|
|
|
|
Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
|
|
|
|
SERVANT He is, my lord, an hour ago.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?
|
|
|
|
SERVANT
|
|
One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
What horse? A roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
|
|
|
|
SERVANT
|
|
It is, my lord.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR That roan shall be my throne.
|
|
Well, I will back him straight. O, Esperance!
|
|
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
|
|
[Servant exits.]
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY But hear you, my lord.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR What say'st thou, my lady?
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY What is it carries you away?
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY Out, you mad-headed ape!
|
|
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
|
|
As you are tossed with. In faith,
|
|
I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
|
|
I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
|
|
About his title, and hath sent for you
|
|
To line his enterprise; but if you go--
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY
|
|
Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
|
|
Directly unto this question that I ask.
|
|
In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
|
|
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Away!
|
|
Away, you trifler. Love, I love thee not.
|
|
I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world
|
|
To play with mammets and to tilt with lips.
|
|
We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns,
|
|
And pass them current too.--Gods me, my horse!--
|
|
What say'st thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have
|
|
with me?
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY
|
|
Do you not love me? Do you not indeed?
|
|
Well, do not then, for since you love me not,
|
|
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
|
|
Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Come, wilt thou see me ride?
|
|
And when I am a-horseback I will swear
|
|
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate,
|
|
I must not have you henceforth question me
|
|
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout.
|
|
Whither I must, I must; and to conclude
|
|
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
|
|
I know you wise, but yet no farther wise
|
|
Than Harry Percy's wife; constant you are,
|
|
But yet a woman; and for secrecy
|
|
No lady closer, for I well believe
|
|
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,
|
|
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY How? So far?
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate,
|
|
Whither I go, thither shall you go too.
|
|
Today will I set forth, tomorrow you.
|
|
Will this content you, Kate?
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY It must, of force.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 4
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Prince and Poins.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room and
|
|
lend me thy hand to laugh a little.
|
|
|
|
POINS Where hast been, Hal?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE With three or four loggerheads amongst three
|
|
or fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded the very
|
|
bass string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother
|
|
to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their
|
|
Christian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They
|
|
take it already upon their salvation that though I be
|
|
but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy,
|
|
and tell me flatly I am no proud jack, like Falstaff,
|
|
but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy--by
|
|
the Lord, so they call me--and when I am king of
|
|
England, I shall command all the good lads in
|
|
Eastcheap. They call drinking deep "dyeing scarlet,"
|
|
and when you breathe in your watering, they
|
|
cry "Hem!" and bid you "Play it off!" To conclude, I
|
|
am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour
|
|
that I can drink with any tinker in his own language
|
|
during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much
|
|
honor that thou wert not with me in this action; but,
|
|
sweet Ned--to sweeten which name of Ned, I give
|
|
thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now
|
|
into my hand by an underskinker, one that never
|
|
spake other English in his life than "Eight shillings
|
|
and sixpence," and "You are welcome," with this
|
|
shrill addition, "Anon, anon, sir.--Score a pint of
|
|
bastard in the Half-moon," or so. But, Ned, to
|
|
drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, do
|
|
thou stand in some by-room while I question my
|
|
puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar, and
|
|
do thou never leave calling "Francis," that his tale
|
|
to me may be nothing but "Anon." Step aside, and
|
|
I'll show thee a precedent. [Poins exits.]
|
|
|
|
POINS, [within] Francis!
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Thou art perfect.
|
|
|
|
POINS, [within] Francis!
|
|
|
|
[Enter Francis, the Drawer.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir.--Look down into the Pomgarnet,
|
|
Ralph.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Come hither, Francis.
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS My lord?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE How long hast thou to serve, Francis?
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS Forsooth, five years, and as much as to--
|
|
|
|
POINS, [within] Francis!
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Five year! By 'r Lady, a long lease for the
|
|
clinking of pewter! But, Francis, darest thou be
|
|
so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture,
|
|
and show it a fair pair of heels, and run
|
|
from it?
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books
|
|
in England, I could find in my heart--
|
|
|
|
POINS, [within] Francis!
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS Anon, sir.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE How old art thou, Francis?
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS Let me see. About Michaelmas next, I shall
|
|
be--
|
|
|
|
POINS, [within] Francis!
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS Anon, sir.--Pray, stay a little, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the sugar thou
|
|
gavest me--'twas a pennyworth, was 't not?
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS O Lord, I would it had been two!
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I will give thee for it a thousand pound. Ask
|
|
me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.
|
|
|
|
POINS, [within] Francis!
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS Anon, anon.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Anon, Francis? No, Francis. But tomorrow,
|
|
Francis; or, Francis, o' Thursday; or indeed, Francis,
|
|
when thou wilt. But, Francis--
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS My lord?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button,
|
|
not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter,
|
|
smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch--
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS O Lord, sir, who do you mean?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why then, your brown bastard is your only
|
|
drink, for look you, Francis, your white canvas
|
|
doublet will sully. In Barbary, sir, it cannot come to
|
|
so much.
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS What, sir?
|
|
|
|
POINS, [within] Francis!
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them
|
|
call?
|
|
[Here they both call him. The Drawer stands amazed,
|
|
not knowing which way to go.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Vintner.]
|
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VINTNER What, stand'st thou still and hear'st such a
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calling? Look to the guests within. [Francis exits.]
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My lord, old Sir John with half a dozen more are at
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the door. Shall I let them in?
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PRINCE Let them alone awhile, and then open the
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door. [Vintner exits.] Poins!
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[Enter Poins.]
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POINS Anon, anon, sir.
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PRINCE Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are
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at the door. Shall we be merry?
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POINS As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark you,
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what cunning match have you made with this jest
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of the drawer. Come, what's the issue?
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PRINCE I am now of all humors that have showed
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themselves humors since the old days of Goodman
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Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve
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o'clock at midnight.
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[Enter Francis, in haste.]
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What's o'clock, Francis?
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FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. [Francis exits.]
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PRINCE That ever this fellow should have fewer words
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than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His
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industry is upstairs and downstairs, his eloquence
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the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's
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mind, the Hotspur of the north, he that kills me
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some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast,
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washes his hands, and says to his wife "Fie upon
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this quiet life! I want work." "O my sweet Harry,"
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says she, "how many hast thou killed today?"
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"Give my roan horse a drench," says he, and answers
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"Some fourteen," an hour after. "A trifle, a
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trifle." I prithee, call in Falstaff. I'll play Percy,
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and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer
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his wife. "Rivo!" says the drunkard. Call in
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Ribs, call in Tallow.
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[Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Peto, Bardolph;
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and Francis, with wine.]
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POINS Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?
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FALSTAFF A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance
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too! Marry and amen!--Give me a cup of
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sack, boy.--Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew netherstocks
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and mend them, and foot them too. A plague
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of all cowards!--Give me a cup of sack, rogue!--Is
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there no virtue extant? [He drinketh.]
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PRINCE Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of
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butter--pitiful-hearted Titan!--that melted at the
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sweet tale of the sun's? If thou didst, then behold
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that compound.
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FALSTAFF, [to Francis] You rogue, here's lime in this
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sack too.--There is nothing but roguery to be
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found in villainous man, yet a coward is worse than
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a cup of sack with lime in it. A villainous coward! Go
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thy ways, old Jack. Die when thou wilt. If manhood,
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good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the
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Earth, then am I a shotten herring. There lives not
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three good men unhanged in England, and one of
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them is fat and grows old, God help the while. A bad
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world, I say. I would I were a weaver. I could sing
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psalms, or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say
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still.
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PRINCE How now, woolsack, what mutter you?
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FALSTAFF A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy
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kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy
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subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll
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never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of
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Wales!
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PRINCE Why, you whoreson round man, what's the
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matter?
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FALSTAFF Are not you a coward? Answer me to that--
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and Poins there?
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POINS Zounds, you fat paunch, an you call me coward,
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by the Lord, I'll stab thee.
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FALSTAFF I call thee coward? I'll see thee damned ere
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I call thee coward, but I would give a thousand
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pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are
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straight enough in the shoulders you care not who
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sees your back. Call you that backing of your
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friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them
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that will face me.--Give me a cup of sack.--I am a
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rogue if I drunk today.
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PRINCE O villain, thy lips are scarce wiped since thou
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drunk'st last.
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FALSTAFF All is one for that. [(He drinketh.)] A plague of
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all cowards, still say I.
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PRINCE What's the matter?
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FALSTAFF What's the matter? There be four of us here
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have ta'en a thousand pound this day morning.
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PRINCE Where is it, Jack, where is it?
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FALSTAFF Where is it? Taken from us it is. A hundred
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upon poor four of us.
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PRINCE What, a hundred, man?
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FALSTAFF I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword
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with a dozen of them two hours together. I have
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'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through
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the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler
|
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cut through and through, my sword hacked like
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a handsaw. Ecce signum! I never dealt better since
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I was a man. All would not do. A plague of
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all cowards! Let them speak. [Pointing to Gadshill,
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Bardolph, and Peto.] If they speak more or
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less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of
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darkness.
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PRINCE Speak, sirs, how was it?
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BARDOLPH We four set upon some dozen.
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FALSTAFF Sixteen at least, my lord.
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BARDOLPH And bound them.
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PETO No, no, they were not bound.
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FALSTAFF You rogue, they were bound, every man of
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them, or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
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BARDOLPH As we were sharing, some six or seven
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fresh men set upon us.
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FALSTAFF And unbound the rest, and then come in the
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other.
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PRINCE What, fought you with them all?
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FALSTAFF All? I know not what you call all, but if I
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fought not with fifty of them I am a bunch of
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radish. If there were not two- or three-and-fifty
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upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged
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creature.
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PRINCE Pray God you have not murdered some of
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them.
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FALSTAFF Nay, that's past praying for. I have peppered
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two of them. Two I am sure I have paid, two rogues
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in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
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|
lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my
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old ward. Here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four
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rogues in buckram let drive at me.
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PRINCE What, four? Thou said'st but two even now.
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FALSTAFF Four, Hal, I told thee four.
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POINS Ay, ay, he said four.
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FALSTAFF These four came all afront, and mainly
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thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all
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their seven points in my target, thus.
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PRINCE Seven? Why there were but four even now.
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FALSTAFF In buckram?
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POINS Ay, four in buckram suits.
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FALSTAFF Seven by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
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PRINCE, [to Poins] Prithee, let him alone. We shall have
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more anon.
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FALSTAFF Dost thou hear me, Hal?
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PRINCE Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
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FALSTAFF Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These
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nine in buckram that I told thee of--
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PRINCE So, two more already.
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FALSTAFF Their points being broken--
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POINS Down fell their hose.
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FALSTAFF Began to give me ground, but I followed me
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|
close, came in foot and hand, and, with a thought,
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seven of the eleven I paid.
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PRINCE O monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out
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of two!
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FALSTAFF But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten
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knaves in Kendal green came at my back,
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and let drive at me, for it was so dark, Hal, that thou
|
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couldst not see thy hand.
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PRINCE These lies are like their father that begets
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them, gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why,
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|
thou claybrained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou
|
|
whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-catch--
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FALSTAFF What, art thou mad? Art thou mad? Is not
|
|
the truth the truth?
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PRINCE Why, how couldst thou know these men in
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|
Kendal green when it was so dark thou couldst not
|
|
see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason. What sayest
|
|
thou to this?
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POINS Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.
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FALSTAFF What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were
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|
at the strappado or all the racks in the world, I
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|
would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a
|
|
reason on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful
|
|
as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon
|
|
compulsion, I.
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PRINCE I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine
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coward, this bed-presser, this horse-backbreaker,
|
|
this huge hill of flesh--
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FALSTAFF 'Sblood, you starveling, you elfskin, you
|
|
dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stockfish!
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O, for breath to utter what is like thee! You tailor's
|
|
yard, you sheath, you bowcase, you vile standing
|
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tuck--
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PRINCE Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again, and
|
|
when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons,
|
|
hear me speak but this.
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POINS Mark, Jack.
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PRINCE We two saw you four set on four, and bound
|
|
them and were masters of their wealth. Mark now
|
|
how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we
|
|
two set on you four and, with a word, outfaced you
|
|
from your prize, and have it, yea, and can show it
|
|
you here in the house. And, Falstaff, you carried
|
|
your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity,
|
|
and roared for mercy, and still run and roared, as
|
|
ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou to hack
|
|
thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in
|
|
fight! What trick, what device, what starting-hole
|
|
canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open
|
|
and apparent shame?
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POINS Come, let's hear, Jack. What trick hast thou
|
|
now?
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FALSTAFF By the Lord, I knew you as well as he that
|
|
made you. Why, hear you, my masters, was it for
|
|
me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the
|
|
true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as
|
|
Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not
|
|
touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter.
|
|
I was now a coward on instinct. I shall think
|
|
the better of myself, and thee, during my life--
|
|
I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince.
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|
But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the
|
|
money.--Hostess, clap to the doors.--Watch tonight,
|
|
pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts
|
|
of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to
|
|
you. What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play
|
|
extempore?
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PRINCE Content, and the argument shall be thy running
|
|
away.
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FALSTAFF Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me.
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|
[Enter Hostess.]
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HOSTESS O Jesu, my lord the Prince--
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PRINCE How now, my lady the hostess, what sayst thou
|
|
to me?
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HOSTESS Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the
|
|
court at door would speak with you. He says he
|
|
comes from your father.
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PRINCE Give him as much as will make him a royal
|
|
man and send him back again to my mother.
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FALSTAFF What manner of man is he?
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HOSTESS An old man.
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FALSTAFF What doth Gravity out of his bed at midnight?
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Shall I give him his answer?
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PRINCE Prithee do, Jack.
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FALSTAFF Faith, and I'll send him packing. [He exits.]
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PRINCE Now, sirs. [To Gadshill.] By 'r Lady, you fought
|
|
fair.--So did you, Peto.--So did you, Bardolph.--
|
|
You are lions too. You ran away upon instinct. You
|
|
will not touch the true prince. No, fie!
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BARDOLPH Faith, I ran when I saw others run.
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PRINCE Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's
|
|
sword so hacked?
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PETO Why, he hacked it with his dagger and said he
|
|
would swear truth out of England but he would
|
|
make you believe it was done in fight, and persuaded
|
|
us to do the like.
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BARDOLPH Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass
|
|
to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our
|
|
garments with it, and swear it was the blood of true
|
|
men. I did that I did not this seven year before: I
|
|
blushed to hear his monstrous devices.
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PRINCE O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen
|
|
years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever
|
|
since thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire
|
|
and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st away.
|
|
What instinct hadst thou for it?
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BARDOLPH My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you
|
|
behold these exhalations?
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PRINCE I do.
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BARDOLPH What think you they portend?
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PRINCE Hot livers and cold purses.
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BARDOLPH Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
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PRINCE No. If rightly taken, halter.
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|
|
[Enter Falstaff.]
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|
|
|
Here comes lean Jack. Here comes bare-bone.--
|
|
How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long
|
|
is 't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee?
|
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FALSTAFF My own knee? When I was about thy years,
|
|
Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist. I could
|
|
have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring. A
|
|
plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a
|
|
bladder. There's villainous news abroad. Here was
|
|
Sir John Bracy from your father. You must to the
|
|
court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the
|
|
north, Percy, and he of Wales that gave Amamon the
|
|
bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore
|
|
the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a
|
|
Welsh hook--what a plague call you him?
|
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POINS Owen Glendower.
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FALSTAFF Owen, Owen, the same, and his son-in-law
|
|
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that
|
|
sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs a-horseback
|
|
up a hill perpendicular--
|
|
|
|
PRINCE He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol
|
|
kills a sparrow flying.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF You have hit it.
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|
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|
PRINCE So did he never the sparrow.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him. He
|
|
will not run.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why, what a rascal art thou then to praise him
|
|
so for running?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF A-horseback, you cuckoo, but afoot he will
|
|
not budge a foot.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Yes, Jack, upon instinct.
|
|
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|
FALSTAFF I grant you, upon instinct. Well, he is there
|
|
too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps
|
|
more. Worcester is stolen away tonight. Thy father's
|
|
beard is turned white with the news. You may buy
|
|
land now as cheap as stinking mackerel.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why then, it is like if there come a hot June,
|
|
and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads
|
|
as they buy hobnails, by the hundreds.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF By the Mass, thou sayest true. It is like we
|
|
shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal,
|
|
art not thou horrible 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?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Not a whit, i' faith. I lack some of thy instinct.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Well, thou wilt be horribly chid tomorrow
|
|
when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me,
|
|
practice an answer.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Do thou stand for my father and examine me
|
|
upon the particulars of my life.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Shall I? Content. [He sits down.] This chair
|
|
shall be my state, this dagger my scepter, and this
|
|
cushion my crown.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Thy state is taken for a joined stool, thy golden
|
|
scepter for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich
|
|
crown for a pitiful bald crown.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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 my 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [bowing] Well, here is my leg.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF And here is my speech. [As King.] Stand
|
|
aside, nobility.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as King]
|
|
Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS O the Father, how he holds his countenance!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as King]
|
|
For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen,
|
|
For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry
|
|
players as ever I see.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Peace, good pint-pot. Peace, good tickle-brain.--
|
|
[As King.] Harry, I do not only marvel
|
|
where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou
|
|
art accompanied. For though the camomile, the
|
|
more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, so youth,
|
|
the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That
|
|
thou art my son I have partly thy mother's word,
|
|
partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villainous
|
|
trick of thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy
|
|
nether lip that doth warrant me. If then thou be
|
|
son to me, here lies the point: why, being son to
|
|
me, art 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. And yet there is
|
|
a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy
|
|
company, but I know not his name.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What manner of man, an it like your Majesty?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as King] A goodly 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?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for
|
|
me, and I'll play my father.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [rising] 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [sitting down] Well, here I am set.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF And here I stand.--Judge, my masters.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [as King] Now, Harry, whence come you?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as Prince] My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [as King] The complaints I hear of thee are
|
|
grievous.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as Prince] 'Sblood, my lord, they are false.
|
|
--Nay, I'll tickle you for a young prince, i' faith.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [as King] 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 an old fat man. A tun of man
|
|
is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that
|
|
trunk of humors, that bolting-hutch of beastliness,
|
|
that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard
|
|
of sack, that stuffed cloakbag of guts, that roasted
|
|
Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that
|
|
reverend Vice, that gray 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?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as Prince] I would your Grace would take
|
|
me with you. Whom means your Grace?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [as King] That villainous abominable misleader
|
|
of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as Prince] My lord, the man I know.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [as King] I know thou dost.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [as Prince] 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 I know is
|
|
damned. If to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's
|
|
lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord,
|
|
banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins, but for
|
|
sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack
|
|
Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more
|
|
valiant being as he is old Jack Falstaff, banish not
|
|
him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy
|
|
Harry's company. Banish plump Jack, and banish
|
|
all the world.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I do, I will.
|
|
[A loud knocking, and Bardolph, Hostess, and
|
|
Francis exit.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Bardolph running.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH O my lord, my lord, the Sheriff with a most
|
|
monstrous watch is at the door.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Out, you rogue.--Play out the play. I have
|
|
much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Hostess.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS O Jesu, my lord, my lord--
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fiddlestick.
|
|
What's the matter?
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS The Sheriff and all the watch are at the door.
|
|
They are come to search the house. Shall I let them
|
|
in?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece
|
|
of gold a counterfeit. Thou art essentially made
|
|
without seeming so.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And thou a natural coward without instinct.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [standing] Go hide thee behind the arras. The
|
|
rest walk up above.--Now, my masters, for a true
|
|
face and good conscience.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Both which I have had, but their date is out;
|
|
and therefore I'll hide me. [He hides.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Call in the Sheriff.
|
|
[All but the Prince and Peto exit.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Sheriff and the Carrier.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Now, Master Sheriff, what is your will with me?
|
|
|
|
SHERIFF
|
|
First pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry
|
|
Hath followed certain men unto this house.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What men?
|
|
|
|
SHERIFF
|
|
One of them is well known, my gracious lord.
|
|
A gross fat man.
|
|
|
|
CARRIER As fat as butter.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
The man I do assure you is not here,
|
|
For I myself at this time have employed him.
|
|
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee
|
|
That I will by tomorrow dinner time
|
|
Send him to answer thee or any man
|
|
For anything he shall be charged withal.
|
|
And so let me entreat you leave the house.
|
|
|
|
SHERIFF
|
|
I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen
|
|
Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
It may be so. If he have robbed these men,
|
|
He shall be answerable; and so farewell.
|
|
|
|
SHERIFF Good night, my noble lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
I think it is good morrow, is it not?
|
|
|
|
SHERIFF
|
|
Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock.
|
|
[He exits with the Carrier.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go
|
|
call him forth.
|
|
|
|
PETO Falstaff!--Fast asleep behind the arras, and
|
|
snorting like a horse.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his
|
|
pockets. [(He searcheth his pocket, and findeth certain
|
|
papers.)] What hast thou found?
|
|
|
|
PETO Nothing but papers, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Let's see what they be. Read them.
|
|
|
|
PETO [reads]
|
|
Item, a capon,...2s. 2d.
|
|
Item, sauce,...4d.
|
|
Item, sack, two gallons,...5s. 8d.
|
|
Item, anchovies and sack after supper,...2s. 6d.
|
|
Item, bread,...ob.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE O monstrous! But one halfpennyworth 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 honorable. 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, Peto.
|
|
|
|
PETO Good morrow, good my lord.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 3
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, and Owen
|
|
Glendower.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
These promises are fair, the parties sure,
|
|
And our induction full of prosperous hope.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Lord Mortimer and cousin Glendower,
|
|
Will you sit down? And uncle Worcester--
|
|
A plague upon it, I have forgot the map.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
No, here it is. Sit, cousin Percy,
|
|
Sit, good cousin Hotspur, for by that name
|
|
As oft as Lancaster doth speak of you
|
|
His cheek looks pale, and with a rising sigh
|
|
He wisheth you in heaven.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR And you in hell,
|
|
As oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
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
|
|
Shaked like a coward.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Why, so it would have done
|
|
At the same season if your mother's cat
|
|
Had but kittened, though yourself had never been
|
|
born.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
I say the Earth did shake when I was born.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
And I say the Earth was not of my mind,
|
|
If you suppose as fearing you it shook.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
The heavens were all on fire; the Earth did tremble.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
O, then the Earth shook to see the heavens on fire,
|
|
And not in fear of your nativity.
|
|
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
|
|
In strange eruptions; oft the teeming Earth
|
|
Is with a kind of colic pinched and vexed
|
|
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
|
|
Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving,
|
|
Shakes the old beldam Earth and topples down
|
|
Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth
|
|
Our grandam Earth, having this distemp'rature,
|
|
In passion shook.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER Cousin, of many men
|
|
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
|
|
To tell you once again that at my birth
|
|
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
|
|
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
|
|
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
|
|
These signs have marked me extraordinary,
|
|
And all the courses of my life do show
|
|
I am not in the roll of common men.
|
|
Where is he living, clipped in with the sea
|
|
That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales,
|
|
Which calls me pupil or hath read to me?
|
|
And bring him out that is but woman's son
|
|
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art
|
|
And hold me pace in deep experiments.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I think there's no man speaks better Welsh.
|
|
I'll to dinner.
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
Peace, cousin Percy. You will make him mad.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Why, so can I, or so can any man,
|
|
But will they come when you do call for them?
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the
|
|
devil.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
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!
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head
|
|
Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye
|
|
And sandy-bottomed Severn have I sent him
|
|
Bootless home and weather-beaten back.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
|
|
How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name?
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
Come, here is the map. Shall we divide our right
|
|
According to our threefold order ta'en?
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
The Archdeacon hath divided it
|
|
Into three limits very equally:
|
|
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
|
|
By south and east is to my part assigned;
|
|
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--
|
|
Tomorrow, 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.
|
|
[To Glendower.] Within that space you may have
|
|
drawn together
|
|
Your tenants, friends, and neighboring gentlemen.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR, [looking at the map]
|
|
Methinks my moiety, north from Burton 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 dammed 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.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
Not wind? It shall, it must. You see it doth.
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER, [to Hotspur]
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I'll have it so. A little charge will do it.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER I'll not have it altered.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Will not you?
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER No, nor you shall not.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Who shall say me nay?
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER Why, that will I.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Let me not understand you, then; speak it in Welsh.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
I can speak English, lord, as well as you,
|
|
For I was trained 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.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart.
|
|
I had rather be a kitten and cry "mew"
|
|
Than one of these same meter balladmongers.
|
|
I had rather hear a brazen can'stick turned,
|
|
Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree,
|
|
And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
|
|
Nothing so much as mincing poetry.
|
|
'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER Come, you shall have Trent turned.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I do not care. I'll give thrice so much land
|
|
To any well-deserving friend;
|
|
But in the way of bargain, mark you me,
|
|
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
|
|
Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone?
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
The moon shines fair. You may away by night.
|
|
I'll haste the writer, and withal
|
|
Break with your wives of your departure hence.
|
|
I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
|
|
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father!
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I cannot choose. Sometime 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-winged 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 last night at least nine hours
|
|
In reckoning up the several devils' names
|
|
That were his lackeys. I cried "Hum," and "Well, go
|
|
to,"
|
|
But marked him not a word. O, he is as tedious
|
|
As a tired horse, a railing wife,
|
|
Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live
|
|
With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far,
|
|
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
|
|
In any summer house in Christendom.
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
In faith, he is a worthy gentleman,
|
|
Exceedingly well read and profited
|
|
In strange concealments, valiant as a lion,
|
|
And wondrous affable, and as bountiful
|
|
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
|
|
He holds your temper in a high respect
|
|
And curbs himself even of his natural scope
|
|
When you come cross his humor. 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.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER, [to Hotspur]
|
|
In faith, my lord, you are too willful-blame,
|
|
And, since your coming hither, have done enough
|
|
To put him quite besides his patience.
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Well, I am schooled. Good manners be your speed!
|
|
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Glendower with the Ladies.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
This is the deadly spite that angers me:
|
|
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
My daughter weeps; she'll not part with you.
|
|
She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy
|
|
Shall follow in your conduct speedily.
|
|
[Glendower speaks to her in Welsh,
|
|
and she answers him in the same.]
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
She is desperate here, a peevish self-willed harlotry,
|
|
One that no persuasion can do good upon.
|
|
[The Lady speaks in Welsh.]
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh
|
|
Which thou pourest down from these swelling
|
|
heavens
|
|
I am too perfect in, and but for shame
|
|
In such a parley should I answer thee.
|
|
[The Lady speaks again in Welsh. They kiss.]
|
|
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
|
|
And that's a feeling disputation;
|
|
But I will never be a truant, love,
|
|
Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue
|
|
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned,
|
|
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
|
|
With ravishing division, to her lute.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
|
|
[The Lady speaks again in Welsh.]
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
O, I am ignorance itself in this!
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
She bids you on 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 eyelids 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 harnessed team
|
|
Begins his golden progress in the east.
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER
|
|
With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing.
|
|
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
Do so, and those musicians that shall play to you
|
|
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence,
|
|
And straight they shall be here. Sit and attend.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down.
|
|
Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy
|
|
lap.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY Go, you giddy goose.
|
|
[The music plays.]
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh,
|
|
And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous.
|
|
By 'r Lady, he is a good musician.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY Then should you be nothing but musical,
|
|
for you are altogether governed by humors. Lie
|
|
still, you thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in
|
|
Irish.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY Wouldst thou have thy head broken?
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR No.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY Then be still.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY Now God help thee!
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR To the Welsh lady's bed.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY What's that?
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Peace, she sings.
|
|
[Here the Lady sings a Welsh song.]
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
|
|
|
|
LADY PERCY Not mine, in good sooth.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Not yours, in good sooth! Heart, you swear
|
|
like a comfit-maker's wife! "Not you, in good
|
|
sooth," and "as true as I live," and "as God shall
|
|
mend me," and "as sure as day"--
|
|
And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths
|
|
As if thou never walk'st 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 PERCY I will not sing.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR '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
|
|
you will. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
GLENDOWER
|
|
Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow
|
|
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go.
|
|
By this our book is drawn. We'll but seal,
|
|
And then to horse immediately.
|
|
|
|
MORTIMER With all my heart.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I
|
|
Must have some private conference, but be near at
|
|
hand,
|
|
For we shall presently have need of you.
|
|
[Lords exit.]
|
|
I know not whether God will have it so
|
|
For some displeasing service I have done,
|
|
That, in His secret doom, out of my blood
|
|
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me.
|
|
But thou dost in thy passages of life
|
|
Make me believe that thou art only marked
|
|
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven
|
|
To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else,
|
|
Could such inordinate and low desires,
|
|
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean
|
|
attempts,
|
|
Such barren pleasures, rude society
|
|
As thou art matched withal, and grafted to,
|
|
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
|
|
And hold their level with thy princely heart?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
So please your Majesty, I would I could
|
|
Quit all offenses with as clear excuse
|
|
As well as I am doubtless I can purge
|
|
Myself of many I am charged withal.
|
|
Yet such extenuation let me beg
|
|
As, in reproof of many tales devised,
|
|
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,
|
|
By smiling pickthanks and base newsmongers,
|
|
I may for some things true, wherein my youth
|
|
Hath faulty wandered and irregular,
|
|
Find pardon on my true submission.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
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.
|
|
The hope and expectation of thy time
|
|
Is ruined, and the soul of every man
|
|
Prophetically do forethink thy fall.
|
|
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
|
|
So common-hackneyed 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 wondered 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 dressed 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 wondered 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 burnt; carded his state,
|
|
Mingled his royalty with cap'ring 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,
|
|
Enfeoffed himself to popularity,
|
|
That, being daily swallowed by men's eyes,
|
|
They surfeited with honey and began
|
|
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
|
|
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 sunlike majesty
|
|
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes,
|
|
But rather drowsed and hung their eyelids down,
|
|
Slept in his face, and rendered such aspect
|
|
As cloudy men use to their adversaries,
|
|
Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full.
|
|
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou,
|
|
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
|
|
With vile participation. Not an eye
|
|
But is aweary of thy common sight,
|
|
Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more,
|
|
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
|
|
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord,
|
|
Be more myself.
|
|
|
|
KING For all the world
|
|
As thou art to this hour was Richard then
|
|
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh,
|
|
And even as I was then is Percy now.
|
|
Now, by my scepter, and my soul to boot,
|
|
He hath more worthy interest to the state
|
|
Than thou, the shadow of succession.
|
|
For of no right, nor color like to right,
|
|
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm,
|
|
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws,
|
|
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
|
|
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on
|
|
To bloody battles and to bruising arms.
|
|
What never-dying honor hath he got
|
|
Against renowned Douglas, whose high deeds,
|
|
Whose hot incursions and great name in arms,
|
|
Holds from all soldiers chief majority
|
|
And military title capital
|
|
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.
|
|
Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swaddling
|
|
clothes,
|
|
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
|
|
Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once,
|
|
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
|
|
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up
|
|
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
|
|
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
|
|
The Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas,
|
|
Mortimer,
|
|
Capitulate against us and are up.
|
|
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
|
|
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
|
|
Which art my nearest and dearest enemy?
|
|
Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
|
|
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
|
|
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
|
|
To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns,
|
|
To show how much thou art degenerate.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Do not think so. You shall not find it so.
|
|
And God forgive them that so much have swayed
|
|
Your Majesty's good thoughts away from me.
|
|
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
|
|
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
|
|
Be bold to tell you that I am your son,
|
|
When I will wear a garment all of blood
|
|
And stain my favors in a bloody mask,
|
|
Which, washed away, shall scour my shame with it.
|
|
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
|
|
That this same child of honor and renown,
|
|
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
|
|
And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.
|
|
For every honor sitting on his helm,
|
|
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
|
|
My shames redoubled! For the time will come
|
|
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
|
|
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
|
|
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
|
|
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf.
|
|
And I will call him to so strict account
|
|
That he shall render every glory up,
|
|
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
|
|
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
|
|
This in the name of God I promise here,
|
|
The which if He be pleased I shall perform,
|
|
I do beseech your Majesty may salve
|
|
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance.
|
|
If not, the end of life cancels all bands,
|
|
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths
|
|
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
A hundred thousand rebels die in this.
|
|
Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Blunt.]
|
|
|
|
How now, good Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT
|
|
So hath the business that I come to speak of.
|
|
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,
|
|
As ever offered foul play in a state.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
The Earl of Westmoreland set forth today,
|
|
With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster,
|
|
For this advertisement is five days old.--
|
|
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward.
|
|
On Thursday we ourselves will march. Our meeting
|
|
Is Bridgenorth. And, Harry, you shall march
|
|
Through Gloucestershire; by which account,
|
|
Our business valued, some twelve days hence
|
|
Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet.
|
|
Our hands are full of business. Let's away.
|
|
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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 withered like an old applejohn.
|
|
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 peppercorn, a brewer's horse. The inside of a
|
|
church! Company, villainous company, hath been
|
|
the spoil of me.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Sir John, you are so fretful you cannot live
|
|
long.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must
|
|
needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable
|
|
compass, Sir John.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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 hellfire
|
|
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, that's God's angel." 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 Gad's Hill in the night to catch my
|
|
horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis
|
|
fatuus, 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, God reward me
|
|
for it.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH 'Sblood, I would my face were in your
|
|
belly!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Godamercy, so should I be sure to be
|
|
heartburned!
|
|
|
|
[Enter Hostess.]
|
|
|
|
How now, Dame Partlet the hen, have you enquired
|
|
yet who picked my pocket?
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John,
|
|
do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have
|
|
searched, I have enquired, 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Who, I? No, I defy thee! God's light, I was
|
|
never called so in mine own house before.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Go to, I know you well enough.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Dowlas, filthy dowlas. I have given them
|
|
away to bakers' wives; they have made bolters of
|
|
them.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [pointing to Bardolph] He had his part of it.
|
|
Let him pay.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS He? Alas, he is poor. He hath nothing.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS, [to Bardolph] O Jesu, I have heard the Prince
|
|
tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was
|
|
copper.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF How? The Prince is a jack, a sneak-up.
|
|
'Sblood, an he were here, I would cudgel him like a
|
|
dog if he would say so.
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Prince marching, with Peto, and Falstaff
|
|
meets him playing upon his truncheon like a fife.]
|
|
|
|
How now, lad, is the wind in that door, i' faith? Must
|
|
we all march?
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS, [to Prince] My lord, I pray you, hear me.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth
|
|
thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Good my lord, hear me.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Prithee, let her alone, and list to me.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What say'st thou, Jack?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF The other night I fell asleep here, behind the
|
|
arras, and had my pocket picked. This house is
|
|
turned bawdy house; they pick pockets.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What didst thou lose, Jack?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Wilt thou believe me, Hal, three or four
|
|
bonds of forty pound apiece, and a seal ring of my
|
|
grandfather's.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE A trifle, some eightpenny matter.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS So I told him, my lord, and I said I 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE What, he did not!
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood
|
|
in me else.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Say, what thing, what thing?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What thing? Why, a thing to thank God on.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou
|
|
shouldst know it! I am an honest man's wife, and,
|
|
setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to
|
|
call me so.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a
|
|
beast to say otherwise.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What beast? Why, an otter.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE An otter, Sir John. Why an otter?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man
|
|
knows not where to have her.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Thou art an unjust man in saying so. Thou or
|
|
any man knows where to have me, thou knave,
|
|
thou.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Thou sayst true, hostess, and he slanders thee
|
|
most grossly.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS So he doth you, my lord, and said this other
|
|
day you owed him a thousand pound.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF A thousand pound, Hal? A million. Thy love is
|
|
worth a million; thou owest me thy love.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Nay, my lord, he called you "jack," and said
|
|
he would cudgel you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Did I, Bardolph?
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Yea, if he said my ring was copper.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I say 'tis copper. Darest thou be as good as thy
|
|
word now?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE And why not as the lion?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE 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
|
|
anything in thy pocket but tavern reckonings,
|
|
memorandums of bawdy houses, and one poor
|
|
pennyworth of sugar candy to make thee long-winded,
|
|
if thy pocket were enriched with any other
|
|
injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will
|
|
stand to it! You will not pocket up wrong! Art thou
|
|
not ashamed?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE It appears so by the story.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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, prithee, begone. [(Hostess exits.)] Now, Hal, to
|
|
the news at court. For the robbery, lad, how is that
|
|
answered?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to
|
|
thee. The money is paid back again.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF O, I do not like that paying back. 'Tis a double
|
|
labor.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I am good friends with my father and may do
|
|
anything.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou
|
|
dost, and do it with unwashed hands too.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Do, my lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Bardolph.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH My lord.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [handing Bardolph papers]
|
|
Go, bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster,
|
|
To my brother John; this to my Lord of
|
|
Westmoreland. [Bardolph exits.]
|
|
Go, Peto, to horse, to horse, for thou and I
|
|
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
|
|
[Peto exits.]
|
|
Jack, meet me tomorrow in the Temple hall
|
|
At two o'clock in the afternoon;
|
|
There shalt thou know thy charge, and there receive
|
|
Money and order for their furniture.
|
|
The land is burning. Percy stands on high,
|
|
And either we or they must lower lie. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF
|
|
Rare words, brave world!--Hostess, my breakfast,
|
|
come.--
|
|
O, I could wish this tavern were my drum.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 4
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truth
|
|
In this fine age were not thought flattery,
|
|
Such attribution should the Douglas have
|
|
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
|
|
Should go so general current through the world.
|
|
By God, I cannot flatter. I do defy
|
|
The tongues of soothers. But a braver place
|
|
In my heart's love hath no man than yourself.
|
|
Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS Thou art the king of honor.
|
|
No man so potent breathes upon the ground
|
|
But I will beard him.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Do so, and 'tis well.
|
|
|
|
[Enter a Messenger with letters.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
What letters hast thou there? [To Douglas.] I can but
|
|
thank you.
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER These letters come from your father.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Letters from him! Why comes he not himself?
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER
|
|
He cannot come, my lord. He is grievous sick.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Zounds, how has he the leisure to be sick
|
|
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?
|
|
Under whose government come they along?
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER, [handing letter to Hotspur, who begins
|
|
reading it]
|
|
His letters bears his mind, not I, my lord.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER
|
|
He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth,
|
|
And, at the time of my departure thence,
|
|
He was much feared by his physicians.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
I would the state of time had first been whole
|
|
Ere he by sickness had been visited.
|
|
His health was never better worth than now.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Sick now? Droop now? This sickness doth infect
|
|
The very lifeblood of our enterprise.
|
|
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
|
|
He writes me here that inward sickness--
|
|
And that his friends by deputation
|
|
Could not so soon be drawn, nor did he think it
|
|
meet
|
|
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
|
|
On any soul removed but on his own;
|
|
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement
|
|
That with our small conjunction we should on
|
|
To see how fortune is disposed to us,
|
|
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
|
|
Because the King is certainly possessed
|
|
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
A perilous gash, a very limb lopped off!
|
|
And yet, in faith, it is not. His present want
|
|
Seems more than we shall find it. Were it good
|
|
To set the exact wealth of all our states
|
|
All at one cast? To set so rich a main
|
|
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
|
|
It were not good, for therein should we read
|
|
The very bottom and the soul of hope,
|
|
The very list, the very utmost bound
|
|
Of all our fortunes.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
Faith, and so we should, where now remains
|
|
A sweet reversion. We may boldly spend
|
|
Upon the hope of what is to come in.
|
|
A comfort of retirement lives in this.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,
|
|
If that the devil and mischance look big
|
|
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
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 off'ring side
|
|
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrament,
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR You strain too far.
|
|
I rather of his absence make this use:
|
|
It lends a luster and more great opinion,
|
|
A larger dare, to our great enterprise
|
|
Than if the Earl were here, for men must think
|
|
If we without his help can make a head
|
|
To push against a kingdom, with his help
|
|
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.
|
|
Yet all goes well; yet all our joints are whole.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
As heart can think. There is not such a word
|
|
Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Sir Richard Vernon.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul.
|
|
|
|
VERNON
|
|
Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord.
|
|
The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
|
|
Is marching hitherwards, with him Prince John.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
No harm, what more?
|
|
|
|
VERNON And further I have learned
|
|
The King himself in person is set forth,
|
|
Or hitherwards intended speedily,
|
|
With strong and mighty preparation.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
|
|
The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales,
|
|
And his comrades, that daffed the world aside
|
|
And bid it pass?
|
|
|
|
VERNON All furnished, all in arms,
|
|
All plumed like estridges that with the wind
|
|
Bated like eagles having lately bathed,
|
|
Glittering in golden coats like images,
|
|
As full of spirit as the month of May,
|
|
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer,
|
|
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
|
|
I saw young Harry with his beaver on,
|
|
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed,
|
|
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury
|
|
And vaulted with such ease into his seat
|
|
As if an angel dropped down from the clouds,
|
|
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus
|
|
And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
No more, no more! Worse than the sun in March
|
|
This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come.
|
|
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
|
|
And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war
|
|
All hot and bleeding will we offer them.
|
|
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit
|
|
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire
|
|
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh
|
|
And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse,
|
|
Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt
|
|
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.
|
|
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,
|
|
Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse.
|
|
O, that Glendower were come!
|
|
|
|
VERNON There is more news.
|
|
I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,
|
|
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
What may the King's whole battle reach unto?
|
|
|
|
VERNON
|
|
To thirty thousand.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Forty let it be.
|
|
My father and Glendower being both away,
|
|
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
|
|
Come, let us take a muster speedily.
|
|
Doomsday is near. Die all, die merrily.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
Talk not of dying. I am out of fear
|
|
Of death or death's hand for this one half year.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry. Fill
|
|
me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall march
|
|
through. We'll to Sutton Coldfield tonight.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Will you give me money, captain?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Lay out, lay out.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH This bottle makes an angel.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF An if it do, take it for thy labor. An if it make
|
|
twenty, take them all. I'll answer the coinage. Bid
|
|
my lieutenant Peto meet me at town's end.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH I will, captain. Farewell. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a
|
|
soused 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 banns--such a commodity
|
|
of warm slaves as had as lief hear the devil
|
|
as a drum, such as fear the report of a caliver worse
|
|
than a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me
|
|
none but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their
|
|
bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have
|
|
bought out their services, and now my whole
|
|
charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants,
|
|
gentlemen of companies--slaves as ragged as Lazarus
|
|
in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs
|
|
licked his sores; and such as indeed were never
|
|
soldiers, but discarded, unjust servingmen, younger
|
|
sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and
|
|
ostlers tradefallen, the cankers of a calm world and
|
|
a long peace, ten times more dishonorable-ragged
|
|
than an old feazed ancient; and such have I to fill up
|
|
the rooms of them as 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 scarecrows. 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 not 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 Albans or the red-nose
|
|
innkeeper of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find
|
|
linen enough on every hedge.
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Prince and the Lord of Westmoreland.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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
|
|
Honor had already been at Shrewsbury.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to
|
|
steal cream.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE 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?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Mine, Hal, mine.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I did never see such pitiful rascals.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are
|
|
exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Faith, for their poverty, I know not where
|
|
they had that, and for their bareness, I am sure they
|
|
never learned that of me.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE No, I'll be sworn, unless you call three fingers
|
|
in the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy is
|
|
already in the field. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What, is the King encamped?
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too
|
|
long. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Well,
|
|
To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a
|
|
feast
|
|
Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
We'll fight with him tonight.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER It may not be.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
You give him then advantage.
|
|
|
|
VERNON Not a whit.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Why say you so? Looks he not for supply?
|
|
|
|
VERNON So do we.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR His is certain; ours is doubtful.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
Good cousin, be advised. Stir not tonight.
|
|
|
|
VERNON, [to Hotspur]
|
|
Do not, my lord.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS You do not counsel well.
|
|
You speak it out of fear and cold heart.
|
|
|
|
VERNON
|
|
Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life
|
|
(And I dare well maintain it with my life),
|
|
If well-respected honor bid me on,
|
|
I hold as little counsel with weak fear
|
|
As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives.
|
|
Let it be seen tomorrow in the battle
|
|
Which of us fears.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS Yea, or tonight.
|
|
|
|
VERNON Content.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Tonight, say I.
|
|
|
|
VERNON
|
|
Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much,
|
|
Being men of such great leading as you are,
|
|
That you foresee not what impediments
|
|
Drag back our expedition. Certain horse
|
|
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up.
|
|
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but today,
|
|
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
|
|
Their courage with hard labor tame and dull,
|
|
That not a horse is half the half of himself.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
So are the horses of the enemy
|
|
In general journey-bated and brought low.
|
|
The better part of ours are full of rest.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
The number of the King exceedeth ours.
|
|
For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.
|
|
[The trumpet sounds a parley.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Sir Walter Blunt.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLUNT
|
|
I come with gracious offers from the King,
|
|
If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt, and would to God
|
|
You were of our determination.
|
|
Some of us love you well, and even those some
|
|
Envy your great deservings and good name
|
|
Because you are not of our quality
|
|
But stand against us like an enemy.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT
|
|
And God defend but still I should stand so,
|
|
So long as out of limit and true rule
|
|
You stand against anointed majesty.
|
|
But to my charge. The King hath sent to know
|
|
The nature of your griefs, and whereupon
|
|
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
|
|
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land
|
|
Audacious cruelty. If that the King
|
|
Have any way your good deserts forgot,
|
|
Which he confesseth to be manifold,
|
|
He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed
|
|
You shall have your desires with interest
|
|
And pardon absolute for yourself and these
|
|
Herein misled by your suggestion.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
The King is kind, and well we know the King
|
|
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
|
|
My father and my uncle and myself
|
|
Did give him that same royalty he wears,
|
|
And when he was not six-and-twenty strong,
|
|
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,
|
|
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,
|
|
My father gave him welcome to the shore;
|
|
And when he heard him swear and vow to God
|
|
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
|
|
To sue his livery, and beg his peace
|
|
With tears of innocency and terms of zeal,
|
|
My father, in kind heart and pity moved,
|
|
Swore him assistance and performed it too.
|
|
Now when the lords and barons of the realm
|
|
Perceived Northumberland did lean to him,
|
|
The more and less came in with cap and knee,
|
|
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages,
|
|
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
|
|
Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths,
|
|
Gave him their heirs as pages, followed him
|
|
Even at the heels in golden multitudes.
|
|
He presently, as greatness knows itself,
|
|
Steps me a little higher than his vow
|
|
Made to my father while his blood was poor
|
|
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh,
|
|
And now forsooth takes on him to reform
|
|
Some certain edicts and some strait decrees
|
|
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth,
|
|
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep
|
|
Over his country's wrongs, and by this face,
|
|
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
|
|
The hearts of all that he did angle for,
|
|
Proceeded further--cut me off the heads
|
|
Of all the favorites that the absent king
|
|
In deputation left behind him here
|
|
When he was personal in the Irish war.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT
|
|
Tut, I came not to hear this.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Then to the point.
|
|
In short time after, he deposed the King,
|
|
Soon after that deprived him of his life
|
|
And, in the neck of that, tasked the whole state.
|
|
To make that worse, suffered his kinsman March
|
|
(Who is, if every owner were well placed,
|
|
Indeed his king) to be engaged in Wales,
|
|
There without ransom to lie forfeited,
|
|
Disgraced me in my happy victories,
|
|
Sought to entrap me by intelligence,
|
|
Rated mine uncle from the council board,
|
|
In rage dismissed my father from the court,
|
|
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong,
|
|
And in conclusion drove us to seek out
|
|
This head of safety, and withal to pry
|
|
Into his title, the which we find
|
|
Too indirect for long continuance.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT
|
|
Shall I return this answer to the King?
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Not so, Sir Walter. We'll withdraw awhile.
|
|
Go to the King, and let there be impawned
|
|
Some surety for a safe return again,
|
|
And in the morning early shall mine uncle
|
|
Bring him our purposes. And so farewell.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT
|
|
I would you would accept of grace and love.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
And maybe so we shall.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT Pray God you do.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 4
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Archbishop of York and Sir Michael.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP, [handing papers]
|
|
Hie, good Sir Michael, bear this sealed brief
|
|
With winged haste to the Lord Marshal,
|
|
This to my cousin Scroop, and all the rest
|
|
To whom they are directed. If you knew
|
|
How much they do import, you would make haste.
|
|
|
|
SIR MICHAEL
|
|
My good lord, I guess their tenor.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP Like enough you do.
|
|
Tomorrow, good Sir Michael, is a day
|
|
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
|
|
Must bide the touch. For, sir, at Shrewsbury,
|
|
As I am truly given to understand,
|
|
The King with mighty and quick-raised power
|
|
Meets with Lord Harry. And I fear, Sir Michael,
|
|
What with the sickness of Northumberland,
|
|
Whose power was in the first proportion,
|
|
And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence,
|
|
Who with them was a rated sinew too
|
|
And comes not in, o'erruled by prophecies,
|
|
I fear the power of Percy is too weak
|
|
To wage an instant trial with the King.
|
|
|
|
SIR MICHAEL
|
|
Why, my good lord, you need not fear.
|
|
There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP No, Mortimer is not there.
|
|
|
|
SIR MICHAEL
|
|
But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
|
|
And there is my Lord of Worcester, and a head
|
|
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
And so there is. But yet the King hath drawn
|
|
The special head of all the land together:
|
|
The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
|
|
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt,
|
|
And many more corrivals and dear men
|
|
Of estimation and command in arms.
|
|
|
|
SIR MICHAEL
|
|
Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear;
|
|
And to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed.
|
|
For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King
|
|
Dismiss his power he means to visit us,
|
|
For he hath heard of our confederacy,
|
|
And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him.
|
|
Therefore make haste. I must go write again
|
|
To other friends. And so farewell, Sir Michael.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 5
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
|
|
Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaff.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
How bloodily the sun begins to peer
|
|
Above yon bulky hill. The day looks pale
|
|
At his distemp'rature.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE The southern wind
|
|
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
|
|
And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
|
|
Foretells a tempest and a blust'ring day.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Then with the losers let it sympathize,
|
|
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
|
|
[The trumpet sounds.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Worcester and Vernon.]
|
|
|
|
How now, my Lord of Worcester? 'Tis not well
|
|
That you and I should meet upon such terms
|
|
As now we meet. You have deceived our trust
|
|
And made us doff our easy robes of peace
|
|
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.
|
|
This is not well, my lord; this is not well.
|
|
What say you to it? Will you again unknit
|
|
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war
|
|
And move in that obedient orb again
|
|
Where you did give a fair and natural light,
|
|
And be no more an exhaled meteor,
|
|
A prodigy of fear, and a portent
|
|
Of broached mischief to the unborn times?
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER Hear me, my liege:
|
|
For mine own part I could be well content
|
|
To entertain the lag end of my life
|
|
With quiet hours. For I protest
|
|
I have not sought the day of this dislike.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
You have not sought it. How comes it then?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Peace, chewet, peace.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
It pleased your Majesty to turn your looks
|
|
Of favor from myself and all our house;
|
|
And yet I must remember you, my lord,
|
|
We were the first and dearest of your friends.
|
|
For you my staff of office did I break
|
|
In Richard's time, and posted day and night
|
|
To meet you on the way and kiss your hand
|
|
When yet you were in place and in account
|
|
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
|
|
It was myself, my brother, and his son
|
|
That brought you home and boldly did outdare
|
|
The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
|
|
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
|
|
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state,
|
|
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
|
|
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster.
|
|
To this we swore our aid. But in short space
|
|
It rained down fortune show'ring on your head,
|
|
And such a flood of greatness fell on you--
|
|
What with our help, what with the absent king,
|
|
What with the injuries of a wanton time,
|
|
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
|
|
And the contrarious winds that held the King
|
|
So long in his unlucky Irish wars
|
|
That all in England did repute him dead--
|
|
And from this swarm of fair advantages
|
|
You took occasion to be quickly wooed
|
|
To gripe the general sway into your hand,
|
|
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster;
|
|
And being fed by us, you used us so
|
|
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
|
|
Useth the sparrow--did oppress our nest,
|
|
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk
|
|
That even our love durst not come near your sight
|
|
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
|
|
We were enforced for safety sake to fly
|
|
Out of your sight and raise this present head,
|
|
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
|
|
As you yourself have forged against yourself
|
|
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
|
|
And violation of all faith and troth
|
|
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
These things indeed you have articulate,
|
|
Proclaimed at market crosses, read in churches,
|
|
To face the garment of rebellion
|
|
With some fine color that may please the eye
|
|
Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
|
|
Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
|
|
Of hurlyburly innovation.
|
|
And never yet did insurrection want
|
|
Such water colors to impaint his cause,
|
|
Nor moody beggars starving for a time
|
|
Of pellmell havoc and confusion.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
In both your armies there is many a soul
|
|
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter
|
|
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
|
|
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
|
|
In praise of Henry Percy. By my hopes,
|
|
This present enterprise set off his head,
|
|
I do not think a braver gentleman,
|
|
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
|
|
More daring or more bold, is now alive
|
|
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
|
|
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
|
|
I have a truant been to chivalry,
|
|
And so I hear he doth account me too.
|
|
Yet this before my father's majesty:
|
|
I am content that he shall take the odds
|
|
Of his great name and estimation,
|
|
And will, to save the blood on either side,
|
|
Try fortune with him in a single fight.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture 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.
|
|
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
|
|
Both he and they and you, yea, every man
|
|
Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his.
|
|
So tell your cousin, and bring me word
|
|
What he will do. But if he will not yield,
|
|
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
|
|
And they shall do their office. So begone.
|
|
We will not now be troubled with reply.
|
|
We offer fair. Take it advisedly.
|
|
[Worcester exits with Vernon.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
It will not be accepted, on my life.
|
|
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
|
|
Are confident against the world in arms.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge,
|
|
For on their answer will we set on them,
|
|
And God befriend us as our cause is just.
|
|
[They exit. Prince and Falstaff remain.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and
|
|
bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
|
|
Say thy prayers, and farewell.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I would 'twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why, thou owest God a death. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF '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 matter.
|
|
Honor pricks me on. Yea, but how if honor prick me
|
|
off when I come on? How then? Can honor set to a
|
|
leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a
|
|
wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then?
|
|
No. What is honor? A word. What is in that word
|
|
"honor"? What is that "honor"? Air. A trim reckoning.
|
|
Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth
|
|
he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. 'Tis 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. Honor is a mere scutcheon. And
|
|
so ends my catechism.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Worcester and Sir Richard Vernon.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
O no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
|
|
The liberal and kind offer of the King.
|
|
|
|
VERNON
|
|
'Twere best he did.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER Then are we all undone.
|
|
It is not possible, it cannot be
|
|
The King should keep his word in loving us.
|
|
He will suspect us still and find a time
|
|
To punish this offense in other faults.
|
|
Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of
|
|
eyes,
|
|
For treason is but trusted like the fox,
|
|
Who, never so tame, so cherished and locked up,
|
|
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
|
|
Look how we can, or sad or merrily,
|
|
Interpretation will misquote our looks,
|
|
And we shall feed like oxen at a stall,
|
|
The better cherished still the nearer death.
|
|
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot;
|
|
It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood,
|
|
And an adopted name of privilege--
|
|
A harebrained Hotspur governed by a spleen.
|
|
All his offenses live upon my head
|
|
And on his father's. We did train him on,
|
|
And his corruption being ta'en from us,
|
|
We as the spring of all shall pay for all.
|
|
Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know
|
|
In any case the offer of the King.
|
|
|
|
VERNON
|
|
Deliver what you will; I'll say 'tis so.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Hotspur, Douglas, and their army.]
|
|
|
|
Here comes your cousin.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR, [to Douglas] My uncle is returned.
|
|
Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland.--
|
|
Uncle, what news?
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
The King will bid you battle presently.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS, [to Hotspur]
|
|
Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
Marry, and shall, and very willingly. [Douglas exits.]
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
There is no seeming mercy in the King.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Did you beg any? God forbid!
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
I told him gently of our grievances,
|
|
Of his oath-breaking, which he mended thus
|
|
By now forswearing that he is forsworn.
|
|
He calls us "rebels," "traitors," and will scourge
|
|
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Douglas.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
Arm, gentlemen, to arms. For I have thrown
|
|
A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,
|
|
And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it,
|
|
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
The Prince of Wales stepped forth before the King,
|
|
And, nephew, challenged you to single fight.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads,
|
|
And that no man might draw short breath today
|
|
But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me,
|
|
How showed his tasking? Seemed it in contempt?
|
|
|
|
VERNON
|
|
No, by my soul. I never in my life
|
|
Did hear a challenge urged more modestly,
|
|
Unless a brother should a brother dare
|
|
To gentle exercise and proof of arms.
|
|
He gave you all the duties of a man,
|
|
Trimmed up your praises with a princely tongue,
|
|
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle,
|
|
Making you ever better than his praise
|
|
By still dispraising praise valued with you,
|
|
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
|
|
He made a blushing cital of himself,
|
|
And chid his truant youth with such a grace
|
|
As if he mastered there a double spirit
|
|
Of teaching and of learning instantly.
|
|
There did he pause, but let me tell the world:
|
|
If he outlive the envy of this day,
|
|
England did never owe so sweet a hope
|
|
So much misconstrued in his wantonness.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Cousin, I think thou art enamored
|
|
On his follies. Never did I hear
|
|
Of any prince so wild a liberty.
|
|
But be he as he will, yet once ere night
|
|
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm
|
|
That he shall shrink under my courtesy.--
|
|
Arm, arm with speed, and, fellows, soldiers,
|
|
friends,
|
|
Better consider what you have to do
|
|
Than I that have not well the gift of tongue
|
|
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.
|
|
|
|
[Enter a Messenger.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER My lord, here are letters for you.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR I cannot read them now.--
|
|
O gentlemen, the time of life is short;
|
|
To spend that shortness basely were too long
|
|
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
|
|
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
|
|
An if we live, we live to tread on kings;
|
|
If die, brave death, when princes die with us.
|
|
Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair
|
|
When the intent of bearing them is just.
|
|
|
|
[Enter another Messenger.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
SECOND MESSENGER
|
|
My lord, prepare. The King comes on apace.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I thank him that he cuts me from my tale,
|
|
For I profess not talking. Only this:
|
|
Let each man do his best. And here draw I a sword,
|
|
Whose temper I intend to stain
|
|
With the best blood that I can meet withal
|
|
In the adventure of this perilous day.
|
|
Now, Esperance! Percy! And set on.
|
|
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
|
|
And by that music let us all embrace,
|
|
For, heaven to Earth, some of us never shall
|
|
A second time do such a courtesy.
|
|
[Here they embrace. The trumpets sound.]
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[The King enters with his power, crosses the stage and
|
|
exits. Alarum to the battle. Then enter Douglas, and Sir
|
|
Walter Blunt, disguised as the King.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLUNT, [as King]
|
|
What is thy name that in the battle thus
|
|
Thou crossest me? What honor dost thou seek
|
|
Upon my head?
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS Know then my name is Douglas,
|
|
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus
|
|
Because some tell me that thou art a king.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT, [as King] They tell thee true.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
The Lord of Stafford dear today hath bought
|
|
Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry,
|
|
This sword hath ended him. So shall it thee,
|
|
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.
|
|
|
|
BLUNT, [as King]
|
|
I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot,
|
|
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
|
|
Lord Stafford's death.
|
|
[They fight. Douglas kills Blunt.]
|
|
|
|
[Then enter Hotspur.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
|
|
I never had triumphed upon a Scot.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the King.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Where?
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS Here.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
This, Douglas? No, I know this face full well.
|
|
A gallant knight he was; his name was Blunt,
|
|
Semblably furnished like the King himself.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS, [addressing Blunt's corpse]
|
|
A fool go with thy soul whither it goes!
|
|
A borrowed title hast thou bought too dear.
|
|
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
The King hath many marching in his coats.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats.
|
|
I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
|
|
Until I meet the King.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR Up and away!
|
|
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
[Alarm. Enter Falstaff alone.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Though I could 'scape shot-free at London,
|
|
I fear the shot here. Here's no scoring but upon
|
|
the pate.--Soft, who are you? Sir Walter Blunt.
|
|
There's honor for you. Here's no vanity. I am as hot
|
|
as molten lead, and as heavy too. God keep lead out
|
|
of me; I need no more weight than mine own
|
|
bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are
|
|
peppered. There's not three of my hundred and fifty
|
|
left alive, and they are for the town's end, to beg
|
|
during life. But who comes here?
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Prince.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword.
|
|
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
|
|
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
|
|
Whose deaths are yet unrevenged. I prithee
|
|
Lend me thy sword.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe
|
|
awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms
|
|
as I have done this day. I have paid Percy; I have
|
|
made him sure.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
He is indeed, and living to kill thee.
|
|
I prithee, lend me thy sword.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou
|
|
gett'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou
|
|
wilt.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Give it me. What, is it in the case?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Ay, Hal, 'tis hot, 'tis hot. There's that will
|
|
sack a city.
|
|
[The Prince draws it out, and finds it
|
|
to be a bottle of sack.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
What, is it a time to jest and dally now?
|
|
[He throws the bottle at him and exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do
|
|
come in my way, so; if he do not, if I come in his
|
|
willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not
|
|
such grinning honor as Sir Walter hath. Give me
|
|
life, which, if I can save, so: if not, honor comes
|
|
unlooked for, and there's an end.
|
|
[He exits. Blunt's body is carried off.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 4
|
|
=======
|
|
[Alarm, excursions. Enter the King, the Prince, Lord John
|
|
of Lancaster, and the Earl of Westmoreland.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself. Thou bleedest
|
|
too much.
|
|
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
|
|
|
|
LANCASTER
|
|
Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
I beseech your Majesty, make up,
|
|
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
I will do so.--My Lord of Westmoreland,
|
|
Lead him to his tent.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help,
|
|
And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive
|
|
The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
|
|
Where stained nobility lies trodden on,
|
|
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres.
|
|
|
|
LANCASTER
|
|
We breathe too long. Come, cousin Westmoreland,
|
|
Our duty this way lies. For God's sake, come.
|
|
[Lancaster and Westmoreland exit.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
By God, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster.
|
|
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit.
|
|
Before, I loved thee as a brother, John,
|
|
But now I do respect thee as my soul.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point
|
|
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
|
|
Of such an ungrown warrior.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
O, this boy lends mettle to us all. [He exits.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Douglas.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
Another king! They grow like Hydra's heads.--
|
|
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
|
|
That wear those colors on them. What art thou
|
|
That counterfeit'st the person of a king?
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart,
|
|
So many of his shadows thou hast met
|
|
And not the very king. I have two boys
|
|
Seek Percy and thyself about the field,
|
|
But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
|
|
I will assay thee. And defend thyself.
|
|
|
|
DOUGLAS
|
|
I fear thou art another counterfeit,
|
|
And yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king.
|
|
But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be,
|
|
And thus I win thee.
|
|
|
|
[They fight. The King being in danger,
|
|
enter Prince of Wales.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
|
|
Never to hold it up again. The spirits
|
|
Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt are in my arms.
|
|
It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
|
|
Who never promiseth but he means to pay.
|
|
[They fight. Douglas flieth.]
|
|
[To King.] Cheerly, my lord. How fares your Grace?
|
|
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent,
|
|
And so hath Clifton. I'll to Clifton straight.
|
|
|
|
KING Stay and breathe awhile.
|
|
Thou hast redeemed thy lost opinion
|
|
And showed thou mak'st some tender of my life
|
|
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
O God, they did me too much injury
|
|
That ever said I hearkened for your death.
|
|
If it were so, I might have let alone
|
|
The insulting hand of Douglas over you,
|
|
Which would have been as speedy in your end
|
|
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
|
|
And saved the treacherous labor of your son.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Make up to Clifton. I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
|
|
[King exits.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Hotspur.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
My name is Harry Percy.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Why then I see
|
|
A very valiant rebel of the name.
|
|
I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
|
|
To share with me in glory any more.
|
|
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere,
|
|
Nor can one England brook a double reign
|
|
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
|
|
To end the one of us, and would to God
|
|
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
I'll make it greater ere I part from thee,
|
|
And all the budding honors on thy crest
|
|
I'll crop to make a garland for my head.
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
I can no longer brook thy vanities. [They fight.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Falstaff.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Well said, Hal! To it, Hal! Nay, you shall find
|
|
no boys' play here, I can tell you.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Douglas. He fighteth with Falstaff, who falls
|
|
down as if he were dead. Douglas exits. The Prince
|
|
killeth Percy.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOTSPUR
|
|
O Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth.
|
|
I better brook the loss of brittle life
|
|
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me.
|
|
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my
|
|
flesh.
|
|
But thoughts, the slaves of life, and life, time's fool,
|
|
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
|
|
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
|
|
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
|
|
Lies on my tongue. No, Percy, thou art dust,
|
|
And food for-- [He dies.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
For worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well, great heart.
|
|
Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
|
|
When that this body did contain a spirit,
|
|
A kingdom for it was too small a bound,
|
|
But now two paces of the vilest earth
|
|
Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead
|
|
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
|
|
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
|
|
I should not make so dear a show of zeal.
|
|
But let my favors hide thy mangled face;
|
|
[He covers Hotspur's face.]
|
|
And even in thy behalf I'll thank myself
|
|
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
|
|
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven.
|
|
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
|
|
But not remembered in thy epitaph.
|
|
[He spieth Falstaff on the ground.]
|
|
What, old acquaintance, could not all this flesh
|
|
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell.
|
|
I could have better spared a better man.
|
|
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee
|
|
If I were much in love with vanity.
|
|
Death hath not struck so fat a deer today,
|
|
Though many dearer in this bloody fray.
|
|
Emboweled will I see thee by and by;
|
|
Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. [He exits.]
|
|
[Falstaff riseth up.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Emboweled? If thou embowel me today, I'll
|
|
give you leave to powder me and eat me too
|
|
tomorrow. 'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or
|
|
that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot
|
|
too. Counterfeit? I lie. I am no counterfeit. To die is
|
|
to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counterfeit of a
|
|
man who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit
|
|
dying when a man thereby liveth is to be no
|
|
counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life
|
|
indeed. The better part of valor is discretion, in the
|
|
which better part I have saved my life. Zounds, I am
|
|
afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead.
|
|
How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? By my
|
|
faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit.
|
|
Therefore I'll make him sure, yea, and I'll swear
|
|
I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I?
|
|
Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me.
|
|
Therefore, sirrah, [stabbing him] with a new wound
|
|
in your thigh, come you along with me.
|
|
[He takes up Hotspur on his back.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter Prince and John of Lancaster.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Come, brother John. Full bravely hast thou fleshed
|
|
Thy maiden sword.
|
|
|
|
LANCASTER But soft, whom have we here?
|
|
Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE I did; I saw him dead,
|
|
Breathless and bleeding on the ground.--Art thou
|
|
alive?
|
|
Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight?
|
|
I prithee, speak. We will not trust our eyes
|
|
Without our ears. Thou art not what thou seem'st.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF No, that's certain. I am not a double man.
|
|
But if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a jack. There
|
|
is Percy. If your father will do me any honor, so; if
|
|
not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be
|
|
either earl or duke, I can assure you.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is
|
|
given to lying. I grant you, I was down and out of
|
|
breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant
|
|
and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I
|
|
may be believed, so; if not, let them that should
|
|
reward valor bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll
|
|
take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in
|
|
the thigh. If the man were alive and would deny
|
|
it, zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my
|
|
sword.
|
|
|
|
LANCASTER
|
|
This is the strangest tale that ever I heard.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
This is the strangest fellow, brother John.--
|
|
Come bring your luggage nobly on your back.
|
|
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
|
|
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
|
|
[A retreat is sounded.]
|
|
The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours.
|
|
Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field
|
|
To see what friends are living, who are dead.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that
|
|
rewards me, God reward him. If I do grow great,
|
|
I'll grow less, for I'll purge and leave sack and live
|
|
cleanly as a nobleman should do.
|
|
[He exits carrying Hotspur's body.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 5
|
|
=======
|
|
[The trumpets sound. Enter the King, Prince of Wales,
|
|
Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with
|
|
Worcester and Vernon prisoners, and Soldiers.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.--
|
|
Ill-spirited Worcester, did not we send grace,
|
|
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?
|
|
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary,
|
|
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust?
|
|
Three knights upon our party slain today,
|
|
A noble earl, and many a creature else
|
|
Had been alive this hour
|
|
If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne
|
|
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.
|
|
|
|
WORCESTER
|
|
What I have done my safety urged me to.
|
|
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
|
|
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too.
|
|
Other offenders we will pause upon.
|
|
[Worcester and Vernon exit, under guard.]
|
|
How goes the field?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw
|
|
The fortune of the day quite turned from him,
|
|
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
|
|
Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest,
|
|
And, falling from a hill, he was so bruised
|
|
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
|
|
The Douglas is, and I beseech your Grace
|
|
I may dispose of him.
|
|
|
|
KING With all my heart.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you
|
|
This honorable bounty shall belong.
|
|
Go to the Douglas and deliver him
|
|
Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free.
|
|
His valors shown upon our crests today
|
|
Have taught us how to cherish such high deeds,
|
|
Even in the bosom of our adversaries.
|
|
|
|
LANCASTER
|
|
I thank your Grace for this high courtesy,
|
|
Which I shall give away immediately.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Then this remains, that we divide our power.
|
|
You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
|
|
Towards York shall bend you with your dearest
|
|
speed
|
|
To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop,
|
|
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms.
|
|
Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales
|
|
To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March.
|
|
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
|
|
Meeting the check of such another day.
|
|
And since this business so fair is done,
|
|
Let us not leave till all our own be won.
|
|
[They exit.]
|