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Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at mid- ther's beard is turned white with the news; you night? Shall I give him his answer.

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Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's sword so hacked?

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.

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass to make them bleed: and then to beslubber our garments with it, and to 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.

P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner 7, and ever since thou hast blushed extempore: Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st away; What instinct hast thou for it?

Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations?

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Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombast? 9 How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee?

Fal. 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 Amaimon the bastinado, What, a plague, call you him?

Poins. O, Glendower.


may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel. — But tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it?

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

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

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

Fal. Shall I? content: - - This chair shall be my state, this dagger my scepter, and this cushion my crown.

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

Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in king Cambyses'3 vein.

P. Hen. Well, here is my leg. 4

Fal. And here is my speech:-Stand aside, nobility.
Host. This is excellent sport, i'faith.

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

Host. O, the father, how he holds his countenance !
Fal. For heaven's sake, lords, convey my tristful


For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes.

Host. O rare! he doth it as like one of these harlotry players, as I ever see.

Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good ticklebrain. 5. - 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, yet 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 Fal. Owen, Owen; the same; and his son-in-pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove law, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that a micher, and eat blackberries? a question not to sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o'horse- be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief, back up a hill perpendicular. and take purses? a question to be asked. 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 keep'st: 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

P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying.

Fal. You have hit it.

P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow. Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him; he will not run.

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

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

P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps? more: Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy fa8 Drunkenness and poverty.

7 In the fact.

9 Bombast is the stuffing of clothes. A dæmon; who is described as one of the four kings, who rule over all the dæmons in the world.

2 Scotsh.en in blue bonnets.


is a virtuous man, whom have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.

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

Fal. A good portly man, 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

3 A character in a Tragedy by T. Preston, 1570.

4 Obeisance. 5 Name of a strong liquor. 6 A truant boy.

should be wantonly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month?

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

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

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

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

- nay, I'll

P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that huge bombard 7 of sack, that roasted Manningtree 8 ox, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villainy? wherein villainous, | but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? Fal. I would, your grace would take me with you; whom means your grace?

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

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

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

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

[Exeunt all but the PRINCE and POINS. P. Hen. Call in the Sheriff.

Enter Sheriff and Carrier.

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

Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord, A gross fat man.


As fat as butter.
P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here;
For I myself at this time have employ'd him.
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time,
Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg'd withal:

P. Hen. That villainous abominable misleader of And so let me entreat you leave the house. youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.

Fal. My lord, the man I know.

P. Hen. I know, thou dost.

Fal. But to say, I know more harm in him than in myself, were to say more than I know. That he is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do witness it but that he is villainous, 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 lost: 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 plump Jack, and banish all the world.

P. Hen. I do, I will. [A knocking heard. [Exeunt Hostess, FRANCIS, and BARDOLPH.

Re-enter BARDOLPH, running. Bard. O, my lord, my lord; the sheriff, with a most monstrous watch, is at the door.

Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play: I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.

Re-enter Hostess, hastily.

Host. O, my lord, my lord!
Fal. Heigh! heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddle-

stick: What's the matter?

Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the

7 A leather black-jack to hold beer.

8 In Essex, where a large ox was roasted whole.

Sher. I will, my lord: There are two gentlemen Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.

P. Hen. It may be so: if he have robb'd these men, He shall be answerable; and so, farewell. Sher. Good night, my noble lord.

P. Hen. I think it is good morrow; Is it not? Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier. P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go, call him forth. Poins. Falstaff! fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a horse.

P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: Search his pockets. [PoINS searches.] What hast thou found?

Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord.


P. Hen. Let's see what they be read them.
Poins. Item, A capon, 2s. 2d.

Item, Sauce, 4d.
Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d.

Item, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2s. 6d.
Item, Bread, a half-penny.

P. Hen. O monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! - What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning: we must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, his death The money will be a march of twelve-score. shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Poins.

Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt.

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A Room in the Archdeacon's House.

Hot. Why, so can I; or so can any man:
But will they come, when you do call for them?
Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command


Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure,
And our induction full of prosperous hope.

Hot. Lord Mortimer-and cousin Glendower-
Will you sit down?
And, uncle Worcester:
I have forgot the map.

A plague upon it!

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.

Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glend. I cannot blame him: at my nativity
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets 8: and at my birth,
The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shak'd like a coward.

Why, so it would have done
At the same season, if your mother's cat had
But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.
Glend. I say, the earth did shake when I was born.
Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my mind,
If you suppose, as fearing you it shook.

Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth
did tremble.

Hot. 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 colick pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples 9 down
Steeples, and moss-grown towers. At your birth,
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.


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 mark'd me extraordinary;
And all the courses of my life do show,
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipp'd 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.

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the

By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil.
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence.
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.
Mort. Come, come,

No more of this unprofitable chat.

Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke
made head

Against my power: thrice from the banks of Wye,
And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him,
Bootless home, and weather-beaten back.

Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name?
Glend. Come, here's the map; Shall we divide
our right,

According to our three-fold order ta'en?
Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally :
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east, is to my part assign'd:
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: - and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn:
Which being sealed interchangeably,

(A business that this night may execute,)
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,
And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father, and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:
Within that space, [To GLEND.] you may have
drawn together

Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.
Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you,


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.

Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton

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

It shall not wind with such a deep indent,

Hot. I think there is no man speaks better To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

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Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you see,
Mort. Yea,


But mark, how he bears his course, and runs me up
With like advantage on the other side;

1 Corner

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Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers:
I had rather hear a brazen canstick ~ turn'd,

Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree;

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

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

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

To any well-deserving friend;

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

Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone?

Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by night:

I'll haste the writer, and, withal,

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

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

A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,
He held me, but last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names,
That were his lacqueys: I cried, humph,—and well,
go to,

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

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
And 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 do cross his humour; faith, he does:
I warrant you, that man is not alive,

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

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame; And since your coming hither have done enough To put him quite beside 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.

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed!

Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

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

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

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

[GLENDOWER speaks to his daughter in Welsh, and she answers him in the same.

Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harlotry,

One no persuasion can do good upon.

[LADY M. speaks to MORTIMER in Welsh. Mort. I understand thy looks; that pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens,

I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,
In such a parley would I answer thee.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,

Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute."

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
[LADY MORTIMER speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
Glend. She bids you

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

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

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Lady P. Then be still.

Hot. Peace! she sings.

A Welsh SONG, sung by LADY MORTIMER.
Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth.

Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear
Like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good sooth;
And, As true as I live; and, As sure as day:
And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths,
As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury.7
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 8, and Sunday citizens.
Come, sing.

Lady P. I will not sing.

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

As hot lord Percy is on fire to go

By this our book's drawn; we'll but seal, and then To horse immediately.


With all my heart. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, and Lords. K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the prince of Wales, and I,

Must have some conference: But be near at hand, For we shall presently have need of you.

[Exeunt Lords.
I know not whether heaven 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 mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate, and low desires,

Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?

P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could
Quit all offences with such clear excuse,
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal :
Yet such extenuation let me beg,

As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,

6 Hound.
7 In Moorfields.
Laced velvet, the finery of cockneys.

Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,
By smiling pick-thanks 9 and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission

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

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 ruin'd; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does fore-think thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company;
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was 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 dress'd myself in such humility,
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen,
but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin' wits,
Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with capering fools;
Had his great name profaned with their scorns;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative: -
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:
That being daily swallow'd 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 sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eyelids down,
Slept in his face, and rendered such aspéct
As cloudy men use to their adversaries;
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

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