Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;

Yet straight they shall be here. Sit and

attend.

Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down.

Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap.

Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.

[GLENDOWER speaks some Welsh words, and then the music plays.

Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh ;

And 'tis no marvel he's so humorous.

By 'r-lady, he's a good musician.

Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical for you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.

Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish.

Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken? Hot. No.

Lady P. Then be still.

Hot. Neither: 'tis a woman's fault.
Lady P. Now God help thee!

Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.
Lady P. What's that?

Hot. Peace! she sings.

[A Welsh Song sung by LADY 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 God shall mend me;" and "As sure as day:"

And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths
As if thou never walk'dst 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 P. I will not sing.

Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor or be red-breast 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

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 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?
P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would I
could

Quit all offences 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.

K. Hen. 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 does 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.

That this same child of honour and renown, This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet. For every honour 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.

K. Hen. 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.

K. Hen. 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, you shall set forward:
On Thursday we ourselves will march:

Our meeting is Bridgnorth. And, Harry, you Shall march through Glostershire. By which account,

Our business valued, some 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.

SCENE III.-Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern.

Enter FALSTAFF and BARDolph.

Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate; do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown: I am withered 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, villanous company, hath been the spoil

of me.

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

Fal. Why, there is it: come, sing me a bawdy song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be: virtuous enough: swor little diced not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house not above once in a quarterof an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass!

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

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,-but 't is in the nose of thee: thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

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

Fal. No, I'll be sworn: I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's-head or a memento mori. I never see thy face but I think on hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple: for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face my oath should be, "By this fire :" but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'st up Gads-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: Heaven reward me for it!

Bard. 'S blood, I would my face were in your belly!

Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned.

Enter Hostess.

How now, Dame Partlet the hen: have you inquired yet who picked my pocket?

Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired (so has my husband), man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant. The tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

Fal. You lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked. Go to, you are a woman; go. Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Host. No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John: I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them.

Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell! You owe money

here besides, Sir John, for your diet and bydrinkings; and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound.

Fal. He had his part of it: let him pay. Host. He! alas, he is poor: he hath nothing. Fal. How! poor? look upon his face what call you rich? Let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks: I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark.

Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell

him, I know not how oft that that ring was copper.

Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup: and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so.

Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINs, marching. FALSTAFF meets the PRINCE playing on his truncheon like a fife.

Fal. How now, lad: is the wind in that door, i' faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two-and-two, Newgate-fashion.
Host. My lord, I pray you hear me.

P. Hen. What sayst thou, mistress Quickly ? How does thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man.

Host. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Pr'y thee let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What sayst thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked. This house is turned bawdy-house; they pick pockets.

P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack?

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Hen. A trifle: some eight-penny matter. Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said 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.

P. Hen. What! he did not?

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune, nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing; go.

Host. Say, what thing; what thing?

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it. I am an honest man's wife and setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?
Fal. What beast? why, an otter.

P. Hen. An otter, Sir John! why an otter? Fal. Why, she's neither fish nor flesh: a man knows not where to have her.

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so: thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!

P. Hen. Thou say st true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.

Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you ought him a thousand pound.

P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal! a million. Thy love is worth a million: thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?
Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so.

Fal. Yea, if he said my ring was copper. P. Hen. I say 't is copper. Darest thou be as good as thy word now?

Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but

man, I dare: but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Hen. And why not as the lion?

Fal. The King himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break!

P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine: it is 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?

Fal. Dost thou hear. Hal? thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.-You confess, then, you picked my pocket?

P. Hen. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee. Go, make ready breakfast: love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests. Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest I am pacified. -Still!-Nay, pr'y thee be gone. [Exit Hostess. Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad, how is that answered?

P. Hen. O my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee the money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back; 't is a double labour.

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do anything.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest; and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

Fal. I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief of the age of two-and-twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels; they offend none but the virtuous: I laud them, I praise them.