Page images

If not, the end of life cancels all bonds;
And I will die an hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

K. Henry. 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 is the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Douglas and the Enlis rebels met
Th'eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a State.

K. Henry. The Earl of Westmorland set forth to day,
With him my son, lord John of Lancaster ;
For this advertisement is five days old.
On Wednesday next, Harry, thou shalt set forward :
On Thursday, we ourselves will march : our meeting
Is at Bridgnorth; and, Harry, you shall march
Through Glostershire : by which fome twelve days

hence Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet. Our hands are full of business : let's away, Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. (Exeunt,

[blocks in formation]

Changes to the Boar's-bead Tavern in East-cheap.

Eriter Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal. D Ardolph, am not I fall'n away vilely, finco

dwindle ? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown ; I am wither'd, like an old apple


John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, - a brewer's horse. The inside of a church! --Company, villainous company hath been the spoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are fo fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it ; come, sing me a bawdy song, to 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 mony that I borrow'd, three or four times; liv'd well, and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. I hou art our Admiral, thou beareft the lanthorn in the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lanıp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.

Fal. No, I'll be tworn; I make as good use of it, as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori. I never fic tly face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that liv’d in purple ; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning --If thou weit any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath


2. A Brewer's hori.] I fun- however, like this merry knight, pose a briwei's horse was apt to he


affect to make sport with be lcan with hard work..

it among those whom it is his in3 Tie knigine of the burning tereli to please, is ready to re

lan:p.] This is a natural venge any hint of contempt upon picture. Every man who lee's one whom he can use with freein himself the pain of deformity, donı.


should be, by this fire; but thou art altogether given over ; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'st up Gadsbill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think, thou had'It been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wild fire, there's no purchase in mony. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire light; thou haft saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the fack, that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as 4 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, heav'n reward me for it!

Berd. 'Sblood, I would, my face were in your belly. Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heartburn'd.

Enter Hostess. How now, dame Partlet the hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Hojt. Why, Sir John! what do you think, Sir John ? do you think, I keep thieves in my house? I have search'd, I have enquired, fo has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by fervant. The title of a hair was never loft in my house before.

Fal. Ye lie, hostess; Bardolph was shav'd, and lost many a hair ; and I'll be sworn, my pocket was pick’d; go to, you are a woman, go.

Hoft. Who I? I defie thee; I was never callid so in mine own house before.

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Host. No, Sir John : you do not know me, Sir John; I know you, Sir John; you owe me mony, Sir John,

4 Good cheap] Cheap is market, and good cheap therefore is a bon marche.


and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen of Mirts to your back.

fal. Dowl:s, filthy dowlas ; I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made boulters of them.

Hojt. Now as I am a true woman, Holland of eight shillings an ell : you owe mony here besides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and mony you, four and twenty pounds.

Fal. He had his part of it, let him pay.
Hoft. He ? alas ! he is poor, he hath nothing.

Fal. How! poor? look upon his face: s what call you rich? let him coin his nose, let him coin his cheeks: l'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a yonker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket pick’d? I have lost a feal-ring of my grand-father's, worth forty mark.

Hlojt. Jesu! I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

Fal. How? the Prince is a fack, a sneak cup; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.


Enter Prince Henry marching, and Falstaff meets him

playing on bis Truncheon like a Fife. Fal. How now, lad ? is the wind in that door? muit we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion."
Hot. My lord, I pray you, hear me.
P. Henry. What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? how


what call


rich?] - Newgate fashion. As A face fet with ca buncles is prisoners are conveyed to News called a rich face.

fate, fastened two and two toI gent of Cat. Jones, gether


does thy husband ? I love him well, he is an honest


Hoff. Good my lord, hear me.
Fal. Pr’ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Henry. What say'st thou, Jack ?

Fal. The other night I fell aseep here behind the arras, and had my pocket pickt. This house is turn'd bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Henry. What didst thou lose, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hol? three or four bonds of forty pounds a piece, and a fial-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Henry. A trifle, fome eight-penny matter. Hot. So I told him, my lord ; and I said, I heard your grace say fo; and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and said, he would cudgel you. P. Herry. What! he did not ? Hot. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman-hood in me else.

Fdl. There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd prune ; ? no more truth in thee than in a drawn Fox; and for woman-hood, 8 Maid Marion may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.

Hoji. Say, what thing? what thing?
Fal. What thing ? why, a thing to thank God on.

Hojt. I am nothing to thank God on, I would thou should't know it. I am an honest man's wife; and,

? There's no more faith in thee mean, a fox often hunted; though iban in a fiew'd prune, &c.] The to draw is a hunters term for propriety of thele fimilies I am perfuit by the track. My internot fure that I fully understand. A pretation makes the fox fuit better feved prure has the

appearance to the frame. These are very llenof a prune, but has no talte. A der xilquifitions, but such is the draun

fox, that is, an exerti task of a commentator. raudfonhas the form of a fox

Mlaid Marian may be, without his powers. I think Dr. &c.] Maid Marian is a man Warburton's explication wrong, dressed like a woman, who atwhich makes a drawn fox to tends the dancers of the morris. 2



« PreviousContinue »