Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: | There is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man: Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it; a villanous coward.-Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt: if manhood, good manhood, be not forgotten upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say! I would, I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing: A plague of all cowards, I say still. P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? what mutter you? Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You prince of Wales! P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter? Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that; and Poins there? Poins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee. Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee damn'd ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me.-Give me a cup of sack: -I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day. P. Hen. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last. Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I. [He drinks. P. Hen. What's the matter? Fal. What's the matter? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Hen. Where is it Jack? where is it? Fal. Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us. P. Hen. What, a hundred, man? Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hack'd like a hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cowards!-Let them speak: if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness. P. Hen. Speak, sirs; how was it? Gads. We four set upon some dozen,Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord. Gads. And bound them. Peto. No, no, they were not bound. Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us, what, Hal,-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward;here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me, P. Hen. What, four? thou saidst but two, even now. Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four. Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus. P. Hen. Seven? why, there were but four, even now. Fal. In buckram. Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. Fal. Seven by these hilts, or I am a villain else. more anon. Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal? P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. Fal. Began to give me ground: But I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid. P. Hen. O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two! Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal' green, came at my back, and let drive at me;-for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-pated fool; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy, tallow-keech." Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth? P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? come tell us your reason; What sayest thou to this? Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-backbreaker, this huge hill of flesh; Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish,O, for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck; P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in comparisons, hear me speak but this. the other. P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all? Fal. All? I know not what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-legged creature. Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some of them. Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: for I have peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee Poins. Mark, Jack. P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you 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, out-faced 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 2 A town in Westmoreland famous for making cloth. A round lump of fat. still ran and roared, as ever I heard a 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? now, my sweet creature of bombast? 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 Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; What trick hast like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: thou now? Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, 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 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. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. -Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow.-Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we he merry? shall we have a play extempore? P. Hen. Content;-and the argument shall be thy running away. Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. Enter Hostess. Host. My lord the prince, P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? what sayst thou to me? Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door, would speak with you: he says, he comes from your father. P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother. Fal. What manner of man is he? Host. An old man. Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?-Shall I give him his answer? P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do, Jack. Fal. Faith, and I'll send him packing. [Exit. P. Hen. Now, sirs; 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,-fye! 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, 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? Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations? P. Hen. I do. 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, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook,—What, a plague, call you him? Poins. O, Glendower. Fal. Owen, Owen; the same; and his son-inlaw, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o'horseback up a hill perpendicular. 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 inettle 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 fa ther's beard is turned white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel. P. Hen. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundred. Fal. By the mass lad, thou sayest true; it is like, we shall have good trading that way.-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 P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre 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 vein. P. Hen. Well, here is my leg.' Fal. And here is my speech:-Stand aside, nobility. Host. This is excellent sport, i'faith. Bombast is the stuffing of clothes. A demon; who is described as one of the four kings, who rule over all the demons in the world. 8 Scotsmen in blue bonnets. A character in a Tragedy by T. Preston, 1570. 1 Obeisance. Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain. Host. O, the father, how he holds his countenance! Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen, 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.2-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 villanous 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 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 is a virtuous man, whom I 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, 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 three-score; 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? 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 rabbit-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 grie vous. Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false:-nay, I'll tickle ye for a young prince, i'faith. 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 humors, that bolting-hutch' of beastliness, that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father 2 Name of a strong liquor. A truant boy. The machine which separates flour from bran. A leather black-jack to hold beer. In Essex, where a large ox was roasted whole. 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 villany? wherein villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? Fal. I would your grace would take me with you; whom means your grace? P. Hen. That villanous abominable misleader of 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 (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 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 Jesu, 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 door: they are come to search the house. Shall I let them in? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece of gold, a counterfeit: thou art essentially mad, without seeming so. 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 man, a plague on my bringing 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 Poiss. 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 into this house. P. Hen. What men? Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord, A gross fat man. Car. 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, 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. Item, Sack, two gallons, 58. 8d. 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 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, Poins. Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I-Bangor. A room in the Archdea- | The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds con's House. Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; GLENDOWER. Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur: Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale: and, with Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears Glend. I cannot blame him; at my nativity Hot. 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. And all the courses of my life do show, I am not in the roll of common men. Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? I will to dinner. Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad. Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 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 The devil. Hot. 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. 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 taʼen? Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, Which being sealed interchangeably, And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth, Your tenants, friends, and neighboring gentlemen. Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords, And in my conduct shall your ladies come: Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton In quantity equals not one of yours: It shall not wind with such a deep indent, [Exit. I am afraid, my daughter will run mad, Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me, -go to, But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you see, it And curbs himself even of his natural scope, doth. Mort. Yea, When you do cross his humor; faith, he does: I warrant you, that man is not alive, But mark, how he bears his course, and runs me up Might so have tempted him as you have done, Without the taste of danger and reproof; Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him And since your coming hither have done enough Glend. Why that will I. Let me not understand you then, Speak it in Welsh. Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you; For I was train'd 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. Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart: And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 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 haste the writer, and, withal, Break' with your wives of your departure hence: To put him quite beside his patience; You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault: 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, [LADY MORTIMER speaks. 4 Mole. |