I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her sing: By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. And those musicians that shall play to you, 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. Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by humors. 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. 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, 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, iord Mortimer; you are as slow, A compliment to queen Elizabeth. In Moorfields. • Hound. Laced velvet, the finery of cockneys. [Exeunt Lords. I know not whether God will have it so, As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to, P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers, K. Hen. God pardon thee!—yet let me wonder, 1 Brushwood. Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: cared his stated; That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes, But rather drowz'd, and hung their eyelids down, Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; K. Hen. For all the world, As thou art to this hour, was Richard then Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ? And in the closing of some glorious day, 'Would they were multitudes; and on my head 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. K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to day: [Exeunt. Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes, SCENE III.-Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's This infant warrior, in his enterprizes P. Hen. Do not think so; you shall not find it so; 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 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, 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; swore little; diced, not above seven times a week; went Have some flesh. 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 'tis 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 upon 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 ran'st up Gadshill 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 these two-and-thirty years; Heaven reward me for it! Bard. 'Sblood, 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 by-drinkings, 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. P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man. Host. Good my lord, hear me. Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me. 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 should'st 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? 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 sayest 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? Ful. 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. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but A term of contempt frequently used by Shakspeare. • Admiral's ship. In the story-book of Reynard the Fox. | rally a man dressed like a woman. 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 any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth 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'ythee, begone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad. How is that answered? Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor. P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing. 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. P. Hen. BardolphBard. My lord. P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster, My brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland, Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I, Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall [Exeunt PRINCE, POINS, and BARDOLPH. Fal. Rare words! brave world!-Hostess, my breakfast; come: P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. angel to thee:-The money is paid back again. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. In this fine age, were not thought flattery, [Exit. Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his physicians. Wor. 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. The very life-blood of our enterprize; Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. To set the exact wealth of all our states Languishing. The very list, the very utmost bound Of all our fortunes. Doug. 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. Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come; All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them: And yet not ours:-Come, let me take my horse, Wor. But yet, I would your father had been Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, here, The quality and hair' of our attempt Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence; Hot. Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear. Enter Sir RICHARD VERNON. Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul. Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, lord. The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Hot. He shall be welcome, too. Where is his son, Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms, All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind; Bated like eagles having lately bath'd; 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 arm'd,Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun in March, The complexion, the character. 4 Limit, boundary. Threw contemptuously. • Fresh. 7 Ostriches. Armor for the thighs. Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.O, that Glendower were come! Ver. There is more news: I learn'd in Worcester as I rode along, Ver. To thirty thousand. SCENE II-A public Road near Coventry. Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night. Bard. Will you give me money, captain? Bard. This bottle makes an angel. Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labor; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain: farewell. [Exit. I Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am damnably. I have got in exchange of a hundred a souced gurnet. I have misused the king's press and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons, inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the bans; 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 serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonorably ragged than an old-faced ancient? and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that 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 told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. I'll not march through Coventry with |