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So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenced in strands afar remote.
55No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children’s blood.
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flow’rets with the armèd hoofs
Of hostile paces. Those opposèd eyes,
1010Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,
1515March all one way and be no more opposed
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies.
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathèd knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulcher of Christ—
2020Whose soldier now, under whose blessèd cross
We are impressèd and engaged to fight—
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy,
Whose arms were molded in their mothers’ womb
To chase these pagans in those holy fields
2525Over whose acres walked those blessèd feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed
For our advantage on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose now is twelve month old,
And bootless ’tis to tell you we will go.
3030Therefor we meet not now. Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree
In forwarding this dear expedience.
My liege, this haste was hot in question,
3535And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight, when all athwart there came
A post from Wales loaden with heavy news,
Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
4040Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
A thousand of his people butcherèd,
Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,
Such beastly shameless transformation
4545By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
Without much shame retold or spoken of.
It seems then that the tidings of this broil
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
This matched with other did, my gracious lord.
5050For more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did import:
On Holy-rood Day the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever valiant and approvèd Scot,
5555At Holmedon met, where they did spend
A sad and bloody hour—
As by discharge of their artillery
And shape of likelihood the news was told,
For he that brought them, in the very heat
6060And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.
Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stained with the variation of each soil
6565Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours,
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
The Earl of Douglas is discomfited;
Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balked in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
7070On Holmedon’s plains. Of prisoners Hotspur took
Mordake, Earl of Fife and eldest son
To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Atholl,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honorable spoil?
7575A gallant prize? Ha, cousin, is it not?
In faith, it is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
Yea, there thou mak’st me sad, and mak’st me sin
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son,
8080A son who is the theme of Honor’s tongue,
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant,
Who is sweet Fortune’s minion and her pride;
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonor stain the brow
8585Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And called mine “Percy,” his “Plantagenet”!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
9090But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy’s pride? The prisoners
Which he in this adventure hath surprised
To his own use he keeps, and sends me word
I shall have none but Mordake, Earl of Fife.
9595This is his uncle’s teaching. This is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspects,
Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.
But I have sent for him to answer this.
100100And for this cause awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor. So inform the lords.
But come yourself with speed to us again,
105105For more is to be said and to be done
Than out of anger can be utterèd.
I will, my liege.
They exit.Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old
110sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and
sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast
5forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst
truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with
the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of
115sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues
of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses,
10and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in
flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou
shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time
120of the day.
Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we
15that take purses go by the moon and the seven
stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that wand’ring
knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou
125art king, as God save thy Grace—Majesty, I should
say, for grace thou wilt have none—
20What, none?
No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to
be prologue to an egg and butter.
130Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
Marry then, sweet wag, when thou art king,
25let not us that are squires of the night’s body be
called thieves of the day’s beauty. Let us be Diana’s
foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the
135moon, and let men say we be men of good government,
being governed, as the sea is, by our noble
30and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance
we steal.
Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the
140fortune of us that are the moon’s men doth ebb and
flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by
35the moon. As for proof now: a purse of gold most
resolutely snatched on Monday night and most
dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning, got with
145swearing “Lay by” and spent with crying “Bring
in”; now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder,
40and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the
gallows.
By the Lord, thou sayst true, lad. And is not
150my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?
As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle.
45And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of
durance?
How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy
155quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to
do with a buff jerkin?
50Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess
of the tavern?
Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning
160many a time and oft.
Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
55No, I’ll give thee thy due. Thou hast paid all
there.
Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would
165stretch, and where it would not, I have used my
credit.
60Yea, and so used it that were it not here
apparent that thou art heir apparent—But I prithee,
sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in
170England when thou art king? And resolution thus
fubbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic
65the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a
thief.
No, thou shalt.
175Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave
judge.
70Thou judgest false already. I mean thou shalt
have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a
rare hangman.
180Well, Hal, well, and in some sort it jumps
with my humor as well as waiting in the court, I
75can tell you.
For obtaining of suits?
Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman
185hath no lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as
melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear.
80Or an old lion, or a lover’s lute.
Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy
190of Moorditch?
Thou hast the most unsavory similes, and
85art indeed the most comparative, rascaliest, sweet
young prince. But, Hal, I prithee trouble me no
more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew
195where a commodity of good names were to be
bought. An old lord of the council rated me the
90other day in the street about you, sir, but I marked
him not, and yet he talked very wisely, but I
regarded him not, and yet he talked wisely, and in
200the street, too.
Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out in the
95streets and no man regards it.
O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art
indeed able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done
205much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it.
Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing, and now
100am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than
one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I
will give it over. By the Lord, an I do not, I am a
210villain. I’ll be damned for never a king’s son in
Christendom.
105Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
Zounds, where thou wilt, lad. I’ll make one.
An I do not, call me villain and baffle me.
215I see a good amendment of life in thee, from
praying to purse-taking.
110Why, Hal, ’tis my vocation, Hal. ’Tis no sin
for a man to labor in his vocation.
Enter Poins.
Poins!—Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a
220match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what
hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the
115most omnipotent villain that ever cried “Stand!” to
a true man.
Good morrow, Ned.
225Good morrow, sweet Hal.—What says Monsieur
Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar?
120Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about
thy soul that thou soldest him on Good Friday last
for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon’s leg?
230Sir John stands to his word. The devil shall
have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of
125proverbs. He will give the devil his due.
Then art thou damned for keeping
thy word with the devil.
235Else he had been damned for cozening the
devil.
130But, my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning, by
four o’clock early at Gad’s Hill, there are pilgrims
going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders
240riding to London with fat purses. I have vizards for
you all. You have horses for yourselves. Gadshill lies
135tonight in Rochester. I have bespoke supper tomorrow
night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as
sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of
245crowns. If you will not, tarry at home and be
hanged.
140Hear you, Yedward, if I tarry at home and
go not, I’ll hang you for going.
You will, chops?
250Hal, wilt thou make one?
Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
145There’s neither honesty, manhood, nor
good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam’st not of
the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten
255shillings.
Well then, once in my days I’ll be a madcap.
150Why, that’s well said.
Well, come what will, I’ll tarry at home.
By the Lord, I’ll be a traitor then when thou
260art king.
I care not.
155Sir John, I prithee leave the Prince and me
alone. I will lay him down such reasons for this
adventure that he shall go.
265Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion,
and him the ears of profiting, that what thou
160speakest may move, and what he hears may be
believed, that the true prince may, for recreation
sake, prove a false thief, for the poor abuses of the
270time want countenance. Farewell. You shall find me
in Eastcheap.
165Farewell, thou latter spring. Farewell, Allhallown
summer.
Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us
275tomorrow. I have a jest to execute that I cannot
manage alone. Falstaff, Peto, Bardolph, and Gadshill
170shall rob those men that we have already
waylaid. Yourself and I will not be there. And when
they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them,
280cut this head off from my shoulders.
How shall we part with them in setting forth?
175Why, we will set forth before or after them, and
appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our
pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon
285the exploit themselves, which they shall have no
sooner achieved but we’ll set upon them.
180Yea, but ’tis like that they will know us by our
horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment
to be ourselves.
290Tut, our horses they shall not see; I’ll tie them
in the wood. Our vizards we will change after we
185leave them. And, sirrah, I have cases of buckram
for the nonce, to immask our noted outward
garments.
295Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
Well, for two of them, I know them to be as
190true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the
third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I’ll
forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be the
300incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will
tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty at least
195he fought with, what wards, what blows, what
extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this
lives the jest.
305Well, I’ll go with thee. Provide us all things
necessary and meet me tomorrow night in Eastcheap.
200There I’ll sup. Farewell.
Farewell, my lord.
Poins exits.
I know you all, and will awhile uphold
310The unyoked humor of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
205Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
315Being wanted, he may be more wondered at
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
210Of vapors that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work,
320But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
215So when this loose behavior I throw off
And pay the debt I never promisèd,
By how much better than my word I am,
325By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
220My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
330I’ll so offend to make offense a skill,
Redeeming time when men think least I will.
My blood hath been too cold and temperate,
Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me, for accordingly
335You tread upon my patience. But be sure
5I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty and to be feared, than my condition,
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title of respect
340Which the proud soul ne’er pays but to the proud.
10Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
The scourge of greatness to be used on it,
And that same greatness too which our own hands
Have holp to make so portly.
345My lord—
15Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see
Danger and disobedience in thine eye.
O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And majesty might never yet endure
350The moody frontier of a servant brow.
20You have good leave to leave us. When we need
Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.
Worcester exits.
You were about to speak.
Yea, my good lord.
355Those prisoners in your Highness’ name demanded,
25Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
As is delivered to your Majesty.
Either envy, therefore, or misprision
360Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
30My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
365Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dressed,
35Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reaped
Showed like a stubble land at harvest home.
He was perfumèd like a milliner,
And ’twixt his finger and his thumb he held
370A pouncet box, which ever and anon
40He gave his nose and took ’t away again,
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff; and still he smiled and talked.
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
375He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
45To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded
380My prisoners in your Majesty’s behalf.
50I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,
To be so pestered with a popinjay,
Out of my grief and my impatience
Answered neglectingly I know not what—
385He should, or he should not; for he made me mad
55To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
Of guns, and drums, and wounds—God save the
mark!—
390And telling me the sovereignest thing on Earth
60Was parmacety for an inward bruise,
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villainous saltpeter should be digged
Out of the bowels of the harmless Earth,
395Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
65So cowardly, and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answered indirectly, as I said,
400And I beseech you, let not his report
70Come current for an accusation
Betwixt my love and your high Majesty.
The circumstance considered, good my lord,
Whate’er Lord Harry Percy then had said
405To such a person and in such a place,
75At such a time, with all the rest retold,
May reasonably die and never rise
To do him wrong or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.
410Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners,
80But with proviso and exception
That we at our own charge shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer,
Who, on my soul, hath willfully betrayed
415The lives of those that he did lead to fight
85Against that great magician, damned Glendower,
Whose daughter, as we hear, that Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
420Shall we buy treason and indent with fears
90When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve,
For I shall never hold that man my friend
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
425To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
95Revolted Mortimer!
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war. To prove that true
Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds,
430Those mouthèd wounds, which valiantly he took
100When on the gentle Severn’s sedgy bank
In single opposition hand to hand
He did confound the best part of an hour
In changing hardiment with great Glendower.
435Three times they breathed, and three times did they
105drink,
Upon agreement, of swift Severn’s flood,
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds
440And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
110Blood-stainèd with these valiant combatants.
Never did bare and rotten policy
Color her working with such deadly wounds,
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
445Receive so many, and all willingly.
115Then let not him be slandered with revolt.
Thou dost belie him, Percy; thou dost belie him.
He never did encounter with Glendower.
I tell thee, he durst as well have met the devil alone
450As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
120Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer.
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
455As will displease you.—My lord Northumberland,
125We license your departure with your son.—
Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it.
An if the devil come and roar for them,
I will not send them. I will after straight
460And tell him so, for I will ease my heart,
130Albeit I make a hazard of my head.
What, drunk with choler? Stay and pause awhile.
Here comes your uncle.
Speak of Mortimer?
465Zounds, I will speak of him, and let my soul
135Want mercy if I do not join with him.
Yea, on his part I’ll empty all these veins
And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust,
But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer
470As high in the air as this unthankful king,
140As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke.
Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad.
Who struck this heat up after I was gone?
He will forsooth have all my prisoners,
475And when I urged the ransom once again
145Of my wife’s brother, then his cheek looked pale,
And on my face he turned an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
I cannot blame him. Was not he proclaimed
480By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood?
150He was; I heard the proclamation.
And then it was when the unhappy king—
Whose wrongs in us God pardon!—did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition;
485From whence he, intercepted, did return
155To be deposed and shortly murderèd.
And for whose death we in the world’s wide mouth
Live scandalized and foully spoken of.
But soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then
490Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
160Heir to the crown?
He did; myself did hear it.
Nay then, I cannot blame his cousin king
That wished him on the barren mountains starve.
495But shall it be that you that set the crown
165Upon the head of this forgetful man
And for his sake wear the detested blot
Of murderous subornation—shall it be
That you a world of curses undergo,
500Being the agents or base second means,
170The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?
O, pardon me that I descend so low
To show the line and the predicament
Wherein you range under this subtle king.
505Shall it for shame be spoken in these days,
175Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power
Did gage them both in an unjust behalf
(As both of you, God pardon it, have done)
510To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
180And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it in more shame be further spoken
That you are fooled, discarded, and shook off
By him for whom these shames you underwent?
515No, yet time serves wherein you may redeem
185Your banished honors and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again,
Revenge the jeering and disdained contempt
Of this proud king, who studies day and night
520To answer all the debt he owes to you
190Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore I say—
Peace, cousin, say no more.
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
525And to your quick-conceiving discontents
195I’ll read you matter deep and dangerous,
As full of peril and adventurous spirit
As to o’erwalk a current roaring loud
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
530If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim!
200Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honor cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
535Imagination of some great exploit
205Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
540Where fathom line could never touch the ground,
210And pluck up drownèd honor by the locks,
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
Without corrival all her dignities.
But out upon this half-faced fellowship!
545He apprehends a world of figures here,
215But not the form of what he should attend.—
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.
I cry you mercy.
Those same noble Scots
550That are your prisoners—
220I’ll keep them all.
By God, he shall not have a Scot of them.
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not.
I’ll keep them, by this hand!
555You start away
225And lend no ear unto my purposes:
Those prisoners you shall keep—
Nay, I will. That’s flat!
He said he would not ransom Mortimer,
560Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer.
230But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I’ll hollo “Mortimer.”
Nay, I’ll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but “Mortimer,” and give it him
565To keep his anger still in motion.
235Hear you, cousin, a word.
All studies here I solemnly defy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke.
And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales—
570But that I think his father loves him not
240And would be glad he met with some mischance—
I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale.
Farewell, kinsman. I’ll talk to you
When you are better tempered to attend.
575Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool
245Art thou to break into this woman’s mood,
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!
Why, look you, I am whipped and scourged with
rods,
580Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear
250Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard’s time—what do you call the place?
A plague upon it! It is in Gloucestershire.
’Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept,
585His uncle York, where I first bowed my knee
255Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke.
’Sblood, when you and he came back from
Ravenspurgh.
At Berkeley Castle.
590You say true.
260Why, what a candy deal of courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me:
“Look when his infant fortune came to age,”
And “gentle Harry Percy,” and “kind cousin.”
595O, the devil take such cozeners!—God forgive me!
265Good uncle, tell your tale. I have done.
Nay, if you have not, to it again.
We will stay your leisure.
I have done, i’ faith.
600Then once more to your Scottish prisoners:
270Deliver them up without their ransom straight,
And make the Douglas’ son your only mean
For powers in Scotland, which, for divers reasons
Which I shall send you written, be assured
605Will easily be granted.—You, my lord,
275Your son in Scotland being thus employed,
Shall secretly into the bosom creep
Of that same noble prelate well beloved,
The Archbishop.
610Of York, is it not?
280True, who bears hard
His brother’s death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation,
As what I think might be, but what I know
615Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,
285And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.
I smell it. Upon my life it will do well.
Before the game is afoot thou still let’st slip.
620Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot.
290And then the power of Scotland and of York
To join with Mortimer, ha?
And so they shall.
In faith, it is exceedingly well aimed.
625And ’tis no little reason bids us speed
295To save our heads by raising of a head,
For bear ourselves as even as we can,
The King will always think him in our debt,
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,
630Till he hath found a time to pay us home.
300And see already how he doth begin
To make us strangers to his looks of love.
He does, he does. We’ll be revenged on him.
Cousin, farewell. No further go in this
635Than I by letters shall direct your course.
305When time is ripe, which will be suddenly,
I’ll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer,
Where you and Douglas and our powers at once,
As I will fashion it, shall happily meet
640To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,
310Which now we hold at much uncertainty.
Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust.
Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short
Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport.
645Heigh-ho! An it be not four by the day,
I’ll be hanged. Charles’s Wain is over the new
chimney, and yet our horse not packed.—What,
ostler!
5Anon, anon.
650I prithee, Tom, beat Cut’s saddle. Put a
few flocks in the point. Poor jade is wrung in the
withers out of all cess.
Peas and beans are as dank here as a
10dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the
655bots. This house is turned upside down since Robin
ostler died.
Poor fellow never joyed since the price
of oats rose. It was the death of him.
15I think this be the most villainous
660house in all London road for fleas. I am stung like a
tench.
Like a tench? By the Mass, there is
ne’er a king christen could be better bit than I have
20been since the first cock.
665Why, they will allow us ne’er a jordan,
and then we leak in your chimney, and your
chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.
What, ostler, come away and be
25hanged. Come away.
670I have a gammon of bacon and two
races of ginger to be delivered as far as Charing
Cross.
God’s body, the turkeys in my pannier
30are quite starved.—What, ostler! A plague on thee!
675Hast thou never an eye in thy head? Canst not hear?
An ’twere not as good deed as drink to break the
pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be
hanged. Hast no faith in thee?
35Good morrow, carriers. What’s o’clock?
680I think it be two o’clock.
I prithee, lend me thy lantern to see my
gelding in the stable.
Nay, by God, soft. I know a trick worth
40two of that, i’ faith.
685I pray thee, lend me
thine.
Ay, when, canst tell? “Lend me thy
lantern,” quoth he. Marry, I’ll see thee hanged
45first.
690Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to
come to London?
Time enough to go to bed with a
candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbor Mugs,
50we’ll call up the gentlemen. They will along with
695company, for they have great charge.
What ho, chamberlain!
Enter Chamberlain.At hand, quoth pickpurse.
That’s even as fair as “at hand, quoth the
55Chamberlain,” for thou variest no more from
700picking of purses than giving direction doth from
laboring: thou layest the plot how.
Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds
current that I told you yesternight: there’s a franklin
60in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred
705marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it to one of
his company last night at supper—a kind of auditor,
one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows
what. They are up already and call for eggs and
65butter. They will away presently.
710Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas’
clerks, I’ll give thee this neck.
No, I’ll none of it. I pray thee, keep that
for the hangman, for I know thou worshipest Saint
70Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may.
715What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If
I hang, I’ll make a fat pair of gallows, for if I hang,
old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is
no starveling. Tut, there are other Troyans that
75thou dream’st not of, the which for sport sake are
720content to do the profession some grace, that
would, if matters should be looked into, for their
own credit sake make all whole. I am joined with no
foot-land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers,
80none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms,
725but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters
and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such
as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner
than drink, and drink sooner than pray, and yet,
85zounds, I lie, for they pray continually to their saint
730the commonwealth, or rather not pray to her but
prey on her, for they ride up and down on her and
make her their boots.
What, the commonwealth their boots?
90Will she hold out water in foul way?
735She will, she will. Justice hath liquored her.
We steal as in a castle, cocksure. We have the
receipt of fern seed; we walk invisible.
Nay, by my faith, I think you are more
95beholding to the night than to fern seed for your
740walking invisible.
Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in
our purchase, as I am a true man.
Nay, rather let me have it as you are a
100false thief.
745Go to. Homo is a common name to all men.
Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable.
Farewell, you muddy knave.
Come, shelter, shelter! I have removed Falstaff’s
horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet.
750Stand close.
Poins, Bardolph, and Peto exit.Enter Falstaff.Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!
5Peace, you fat-kidneyed rascal. What a brawling
dost thou keep!
Where’s Poins, Hal?
755He is walked up to the top of the hill. I’ll go
seek him.
10I am accursed to rob in that thief’s company.
The rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I
know not where. If I travel but four foot by the
760square further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I
doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I
15’scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn
his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty
years, and yet I am bewitched with the
765rogue’s company. If the rascal have not given me
medicines to make me love him, I’ll be hanged. It
20could not be else: I have drunk medicines.—Poins!
Hal! A plague upon you both.—Bardolph! Peto!—
I’ll starve ere I’ll rob a foot further. An ’twere not as
770good a deed as drink to turn true man and to leave
these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever
25chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground
is threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the
stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague
775upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
(They whistle, within.) Whew! A plague upon you
30all!
Enter the Prince, Poins, Peto, and Bardolph.
Give me my horse, you rogues. Give me my horse
and be hanged!
780Peace, you fat guts! Lie down, lay thine ear
close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the
35tread of travelers.
Have you any levers to lift me up again being
down? ’Sblood, I’ll not bear my own flesh so
785far afoot again for all the coin in thy father’s Exchequer.
What a plague mean you to colt me
40thus?
Thou liest. Thou art not colted; thou art
uncolted.
790I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my
horse, good king’s son.
45Out, you rogue! Shall I be your ostler?
Hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent
garters! If I be ta’en, I’ll peach for this. An I have
795not ballads made on you all and sung to filthy
tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison—when a jest
50is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it.
Stand.
So I do, against my will.
800O, ’tis our setter. I know his voice.
What news?
55Case you, case you. On with your vizards.
There’s money of the King’s coming down the hill.
’Tis going to the King’s Exchequer.
805You lie, you rogue. ’Tis going to the King’s
Tavern.
60There’s enough to make us all.
To be hanged.
Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow
810lane. Ned Poins and I will walk lower. If they ’scape
from your encounter, then they light on us.
65How many be there of them?
Some eight or ten.
Zounds, will they not rob us?
815What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?
Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather,
70but yet no coward, Hal.
Well, we leave that to the proof.
Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge.
820When thou need’st him, there thou shalt find him.
Farewell and stand fast.
75Now cannot I strike him, if I should be
hanged.
Ned, where are our disguises?
825Here, hard by. Stand close.
The Prince and Poins exit.
Now, my masters, happy man be his dole,
80say I. Every man to his business.
Come, neighbor, the boy shall lead
our horses down the hill. We’ll walk afoot awhile
830and ease our legs.
Stand!
85Jesus bless us!
Strike! Down with them! Cut the villains’
throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars, bacon-fed
835knaves, they hate us youth. Down with them!
Fleece them!
90O, we are undone, both we and ours
forever!
Hang, you gorbellied knaves! Are you undone?
840No, you fat chuffs. I would your store were
here. On, bacons, on! What, you knaves, young men
95must live. You are grandjurors, are you? We’ll jure
you, faith.
The thieves have bound the true men. Now
845could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to
London, it would be argument for a week, laughter
100for a month, and a good jest forever.
Stand close, I hear them coming.
They step aside.Enter the Thieves again.
Come, my masters, let us share, and then to
850horse before day. An the Prince and Poins be not
two arrant cowards, there’s no equity stirring.
105There’s no more valor in that Poins than in a wild
duck.
Your money!
855Villains!
They all run away, and Falstaff, after a blow or two,
Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse.
110The thieves are all scattered, and possessed with
fear
So strongly that they dare not meet each other.
860Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
115And lards the lean earth as he walks along.
Were ’t not for laughing, I should pity him.
How the fat rogue roared!
They exit.
865But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be
well contented to be there, in respect of the love I
bear your house. He could be contented; why is he
not, then? In respect of the love he bears our
5house—he shows in this he loves his own barn
870better than he loves our house. Let me see some
more. The purpose you undertake is dangerous.
Why, that’s certain. ’Tis dangerous to take a cold,
to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my Lord Fool, out
10of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.
875The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends
you have named uncertain, the time itself unsorted,
and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise
of so great an opposition. Say you so, say you so?
15I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly
880hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By
the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid,
our friends true and constant—a good plot,
good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent
20plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited
885rogue is this! Why, my Lord of York commends
the plot and the general course of the action.
Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain
him with his lady’s fan. Is there not my father, my
25uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my
890Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not
besides the Douglas? Have I not all their letters to
meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month,
and are they not some of them set forward already?
30What a pagan rascal is this—an infidel! Ha, you
895shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold
heart, will he to the King and lay open all our
proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to
buffets for moving such a dish of skim milk with so
35honorable an action! Hang him, let him tell the
900King. We are prepared. I will set forward tonight.
Enter his Lady.
How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two
hours.
O my good lord, why are you thus alone?
40For what offense have I this fortnight been
905A banished woman from my Harry’s bed?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is ’t that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth
45And start so often when thou sit’st alone?
910Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks
And given my treasures and my rights of thee
To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched,
50And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,
915Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,
Cry “Courage! To the field!” And thou hast talked
Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
55Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
920Of prisoners’ ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the currents of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep,
60That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
925Like bubbles in a late-disturbèd stream,
And in thy face strange motions have appeared,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are
65these?
930Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
What, ho!
Enter a Servant.
Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
70He is, my lord, an hour ago.
935Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?
One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
What horse? A roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
It is, my lord.
75That roan shall be my throne.
940Well, I will back him straight. O, Esperance!
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
But hear you, my lord.
What say’st thou, my lady?
80What is it carries you away?
945Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
As you are tossed with. In faith,
85I’ll know your business, Harry, that I will.
950I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title, and hath sent for you
To line his enterprise; but if you go—
So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
90Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
955Directly unto this question that I ask.
In faith, I’ll break thy little finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
Away!
95Away, you trifler. Love, I love thee not.
960I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world
To play with mammets and to tilt with lips.
We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns,
And pass them current too.—Gods me, my horse!—
100What say’st thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have
965with me?
Do you not love me? Do you not indeed?
Well, do not then, for since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
105Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.
970Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am a-horseback I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate,
I must not have you henceforth question me
110Whither I go, nor reason whereabout.
975Whither I must, I must; and to conclude
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no farther wise
Than Harry Percy’s wife; constant you are,
115But yet a woman; and for secrecy
980No lady closer, for I well believe
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.
How? So far?
120Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate,
985Whither I go, thither shall you go too.
Today will I set forth, tomorrow you.
Will this content you, Kate?
It must, of force.
They exit.
Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room and
990lend me thy hand to laugh a little.
Where hast been, Hal?
With three or four loggerheads amongst three
5or fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded the very
bass string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother
995to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their
Christian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They
take it already upon their salvation that though I be
10but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy,
and tell me flatly I am no proud jack, like Falstaff,
1000but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy—by
the Lord, so they call me—and when I am king of
England, I shall command all the good lads in
15Eastcheap. They call drinking deep “dyeing scarlet,”
and when you breathe in your watering, they
1005cry “Hem!” and bid you “Play it off!” To conclude, I
am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour
that I can drink with any tinker in his own language
20during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much
honor that thou wert not with me in this action; but,
1010sweet Ned—to sweeten which name of Ned, I give
thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now
into my hand by an underskinker, one that never
25spake other English in his life than “Eight shillings
and sixpence,” and “You are welcome,” with this
1015shrill addition, “Anon, anon, sir.—Score a pint of
bastard in the Half-moon,” or so. But, Ned, to
drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, do
30thou stand in some by-room while I question my
puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar, and
1020do thou never leave calling “Francis,” that his tale
to me may be nothing but “Anon.” Step aside, and
I’ll show thee a precedent.
35Francis!
Thou art perfect.
1025Francis!
Enter Francis, the Drawer.
Anon, anon, sir.—Look down into the Pomgarnet,
Ralph.
40Come hither, Francis.
My lord?
1030How long hast thou to serve, Francis?
Forsooth, five years, and as much as to—
Francis!
45Anon, anon, sir.
Five year! By ’r Lady, a long lease for the
1035clinking of pewter! But, Francis, darest thou be
so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture,
and show it a fair pair of heels, and run
50from it?
O Lord, sir, I’ll be sworn upon all the books
1040in England, I could find in my heart—
Francis!
Anon, sir.
55How old art thou, Francis?
Let me see. About Michaelmas next, I shall
1045be—
Francis!
Anon, sir.—Pray, stay a little, my lord.
60Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the sugar thou
gavest me—’twas a pennyworth, was ’t not?
1050O Lord, I would it had been two!
I will give thee for it a thousand pound. Ask
me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.
65Francis!
Anon, anon.
1055Anon, Francis? No, Francis. But tomorrow,
Francis; or, Francis, o’ Thursday; or indeed, Francis,
when thou wilt. But, Francis—
70My lord?
Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button,
1060not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter,
smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch—
O Lord, sir, who do you mean?
75Why then, your brown bastard is your only
drink, for look you, Francis, your white canvas
1065doublet will sully. In Barbary, sir, it cannot come to
so much.
What, sir?
80Francis!
Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them
1070call?
What, stand’st thou still and hear’st such a
calling? Look to the guests within. Francis exits.
85My lord, old Sir John with half a dozen more are at
the door. Shall I let them in?
1075Let them alone awhile, and then open the
door. Vintner exits. Poins!
Anon, anon, sir.
90Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are
at the door. Shall we be merry?
1080As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark you,
what cunning match have you made with this jest
of the drawer. Come, what’s the issue?
95I am now of all humors that have showed
themselves humors since the old days of Goodman
1085Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve
o’clock at midnight.
Enter Francis, in haste.
What’s o’clock, Francis?
100Anon, anon, sir.
Francis exits.
That ever this fellow should have fewer words
1090than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His
industry is upstairs and downstairs, his eloquence
the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy’s
105mind, the Hotspur of the north, he that kills me
some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast,
1095washes his hands, and says to his wife “Fie upon
this quiet life! I want work.” “O my sweet Harry,”
says she, “how many hast thou killed today?”
110“Give my roan horse a drench,” says he, and answers
“Some fourteen,” an hour after. “A trifle, a
1100trifle.” I prithee, call in Falstaff. I’ll play Percy,
and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer
his wife. “Rivo!” says the drunkard. Call in
115Ribs, call in Tallow.
Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?
1105A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance
too! Marry and amen!—Give me a cup of
sack, boy.—Ere I lead this life long, I’ll sew netherstocks
120and mend them, and foot them too. A plague
of all cowards!—Give me a cup of sack, rogue!—Is
1110there no virtue extant?
Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of
butter—pitiful-hearted Titan!—that melted at the
125sweet tale of the sun’s? If thou didst, then behold
that compound.
1115You rogue, here’s lime in this
sack too.—There is nothing but roguery to be
found in villainous man, yet a coward is worse than
130a cup of sack with lime in it. A villainous coward! Go
thy ways, old Jack. Die when thou wilt. If manhood,
1120good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the
Earth, then am I a shotten herring. There lives not
three good men unhanged in England, and one of
135them is fat and grows old, God help the while. A bad
world, I say. I would I were a weaver. I could sing
1125psalms, or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say
still.
How now, woolsack, what mutter you?
140A king’s son! If I do not beat thee out of thy
kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy
1130subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I’ll
never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of
Wales!
145Why, you whoreson round man, what’s the
matter?
1135Are not you a coward? Answer me to that—
and Poins there?
Zounds, you fat paunch, an you call me coward,
150by the Lord, I’ll stab thee.
I call thee coward? I’ll see thee damned ere
1140I 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
155sees your back. Call you that backing of your
friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them
1145that will face me.—Give me a cup of sack.—I am a
rogue if I drunk today.
O villain, thy lips are scarce wiped since thou
160drunk’st last.
All is one for that. (He drinketh.) A plague of
1150all cowards, still say I.
What’s the matter?
What’s the matter? There be four of us here
165have ta’en a thousand pound this day morning.
Where is it, Jack, where is it?
1155Where is it? Taken from us it is. A hundred
upon poor four of us.
What, a hundred, man?
170I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword
with a dozen of them two hours together. I have
1160’scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through
the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler
cut through and through, my sword hacked like
175a handsaw. Ecce signum! I never dealt better since
I was a man. All would not do. A plague of
1165all cowards! Let them speak. Pointing to Gadshill,
Bardolph, and Peto. If they speak more or
less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of
180darkness.
Speak, sirs, how was it?
1170We four set upon some dozen.
Sixteen at least, my lord.
And bound them.
185No, no, they were not bound.
You rogue, they were bound, every man of
1175them, or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
As we were sharing, some six or seven
fresh men set upon us.
190And unbound the rest, and then come in the
other.
1180What, fought you with them all?
All? I know not what you call all, but if I
fought not with fifty of them I am a bunch of
195radish. If there were not two- or three-and-fifty
upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged
1185creature.
Pray God you have not murdered some of
them.
200Nay, that’s past praying for. I have peppered
two of them. Two I am sure I have paid, two rogues
1190in buckram suits. I tell thee 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
205rogues in buckram let drive at me.
What, four? Thou said’st but two even now.
1195Four, Hal, I told thee four.
Ay, ay, he said four.
These four came all afront, and mainly
210thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all
their seven points in my target, thus.
1200Seven? Why there were but four even now.
In buckram?
Ay, four in buckram suits.
215Seven by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
Prithee, let him alone. We shall have
1205more anon.
Dost thou hear me, Hal?
Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
220Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These
nine in buckram that I told thee of—
1210So, two more already.
Their points being broken—
Down fell their hose.
225Began to give me ground, but I followed me
close, came in foot and hand, and, with a thought,
1215seven of the eleven I paid.
O monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out
of two!
230But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten
knaves in Kendal green came at my back,
1220and let drive at me, for it was so dark, Hal, that thou
couldst not see thy hand.
These lies are like their father that begets
235them, gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why,
thou claybrained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou
1225whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-catch—
What, art thou mad? Art thou mad? Is not
the truth the truth?
240Why, how couldst thou know these men in
Kendal green when it was so dark thou couldst not
1230see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason. What sayest
thou to this?
Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.
245What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were
at the strappado or all the racks in the world, I
1235would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a
reason on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful
as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon
250compulsion, I.
I’ll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine
1240coward, this bed-presser, this horse-backbreaker,
this huge hill of flesh—
’Sblood, you starveling, you elfskin, you
255dried neat’s tongue, you bull’s pizzle, you stockfish!
O, for breath to utter what is like thee! You tailor’s
1245yard, you sheath, you bowcase, you vile standing
tuck—
Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again, and
260when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons,
hear me speak but this.
1250Mark, Jack.
We two saw you four set on four, and bound
them and were masters of their wealth. Mark now
265how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we
two set on you four and, with a word, outfaced you
1255from 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,
270and roared for mercy, and still run and roared, as
ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou to hack
1260thy 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
275and apparent shame?
Come, let’s hear, Jack. What trick hast thou
1265now?
By the Lord, I knew you as well as he that
made you. Why, hear you, my masters, was it for
280me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the
true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as
1270Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not
touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter.
I was now a coward on instinct. I shall think
285the better of myself, and thee, during my life—
I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince.
1275But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the
money.—Hostess, clap to the doors.—Watch tonight,
pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts
290of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to
you. What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play
1280extempore?
Content, and the argument shall be thy running
away.
295Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me.
Enter Hostess.O Jesu, my lord the Prince—
1285How now, my lady the hostess, what sayst thou
to me?
Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the
300court at door would speak with you. He says he
comes from your father.
1290Give him as much as will make him a royal
man and send him back again to my mother.
What manner of man is he?
305An old man.
What doth Gravity out of his bed at midnight?
1295Shall I give him his answer?
Prithee do, Jack.
Faith, and I’ll send him packing.
He exits.
310Now, sirs. To Gadshill. By ’r Lady, you fought
fair.—So did you, Peto.—So did you, Bardolph.—
1300You are lions too. You ran away upon instinct. You
will not touch the true prince. No, fie!
Faith, I ran when I saw others run.
315Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff’s
sword so hacked?
1305Why, 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
320us to do the like.
Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass
1310to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our
garments with it, and swear it was the blood of true
men. I did that I did not this seven year before: I
325blushed to hear his monstrous devices.
O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen
1315years 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.
330What instinct hadst thou for it?
My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you
1320behold these exhalations?
I do.
What think you they portend?
335Hot livers and cold purses.
Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
1325No. If rightly taken, halter.
Enter Falstaff.
Here comes lean Jack. Here comes bare-bone.—
How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long
340is ’t ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee?
My own knee? When I was about thy years,
1330Hal, 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
345bladder. There’s villainous news abroad. Here was
Sir John Bracy from your father. You must to the
1335court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the
north, Percy, and he of Wales that gave Amamon the
bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore
350the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a
Welsh hook—what a plague call you him?
1340Owen Glendower.
Owen, Owen, the same, and his son-in-law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that
355sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs a-horseback
up a hill perpendicular—
1345He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol
kills a sparrow flying.
You have hit it.
360So did he never the sparrow.
Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him. He
1350will not run.
Why, what a rascal art thou then to praise him
so for running?
365A-horseback, you cuckoo, but afoot he will
not budge a foot.
1355Yes, Jack, upon instinct.
I grant you, upon instinct. Well, he is there
too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps
370more. Worcester is stolen away tonight. Thy father’s
beard is turned white with the news. You may buy
1360land now as cheap as stinking mackerel.
Why then, it is like if there come a hot June,
and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads
375as they buy hobnails, by the hundreds.
By the Mass, thou sayest true. It is like we
1365shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal,
art not thou horrible afeard? Thou being heir
apparent, could the world pick thee out three such
380enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit
Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not
1370horribly afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it?
Not a whit, i’ faith. I lack some of thy instinct.
Well, thou wilt be horribly chid tomorrow
385when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me,
practice an answer.
1375Do thou stand for my father and examine me
upon the particulars of my life.
Shall I? Content. He sits down. This chair
390shall be my state, this dagger my scepter, and this
cushion my crown.
1380Thy state is taken for a joined stool, thy golden
scepter for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich
crown for a pitiful bald crown.
395Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of
thee, now shalt thou be moved.—Give me a cup of
1385sack to make my 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.
400Well, here is my leg.
And here is my speech. As King. Stand
1390aside, nobility.
O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i’ faith!
Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
405O the Father, how he holds his countenance!
For God’s sake, lords, convey my tristful queen,
1395For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.
O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry
players as ever I see.
410Peace, good pint-pot. Peace, good tickle-brain.—
As King. Harry, I do not only marvel
1400where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou
art accompanied. For though the camomile, the
more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, so youth,
415the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That
thou art my son I have partly thy mother’s word,
1405partly 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
420son to me, here lies the point: why, being son to
me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of
1410heaven 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
425asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast
often heard of, and it is known to many in our land
1415by the name of pitch. This pitch, as ancient writers
do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou
keepest. For, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in
430drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion;
not in words only, but in woes also. And yet there is
1420a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy
company, but I know not his name.
What manner of man, an it like your Majesty?
435A goodly portly man, i’ faith, and a
corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a
1425most 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
440should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me, for, Harry,
I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be
1430known 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
445now, thou naughty varlet, tell me where hast thou
been this month?
1435Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for
me, and I’ll play my father.
Depose me? If thou dost it half so
450gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter,
hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a
1440poulter’s hare.
Well, here I am set.
And here I stand.—Judge, my masters.
455Now, Harry, whence come you?
My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
1445The complaints I hear of thee are
grievous.
’Sblood, my lord, they are false.
460—Nay, I’ll tickle you for a young prince, i’ faith.
Swearest thou? Ungracious boy,
1450henceforth ne’er look on me. Thou art violently
carried away from grace. There is a devil haunts
thee in the likeness of an old fat man. A tun of man
465is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that
trunk of humors, that bolting-hutch of beastliness,
1455that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard
of sack, that stuffed cloakbag of guts, that roasted
Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that
470reverend Vice, that gray iniquity, that father ruffian,
that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste
1460sack 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
475but in all things? Wherein worthy but in
nothing?
1465I would your Grace would take
me with you. Whom means your Grace?
That villainous abominable misleader
480of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.
My lord, the man I know.
1470I know thou dost.
But to say I know more harm in
him than in myself were to say more than I know.
485That he is old, the more the pity; his white hairs do
witness it. But that he is, saving your reverence, a
1475whoremaster, 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
490damned. If to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh’s
lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord,
1480banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins, but for
sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack
Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more
495valiant being as he is old Jack Falstaff, banish not
him thy Harry’s company, banish not him thy
1485Harry’s company. Banish plump Jack, and banish
all the world.
I do, I will.
A loud knocking, and Bardolph, Hostess, and
500O my lord, my lord, the Sheriff with a most
monstrous watch is at the door.
1490Out, you rogue.—Play out the play. I have
much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.
O Jesu, my lord, my lord—
505Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fiddlestick.
What’s the matter?
1495The Sheriff and all the watch are at the door.
They are come to search the house. Shall I let them
in?
510Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece
of gold a counterfeit. Thou art essentially made
1500without seeming so.
And thou a natural coward without instinct.
I deny your major. If you will deny the
515Sheriff, so; if not, let him enter. If I become not a
cart as well as another man, a plague on my
1505bringing up. I hope I shall as soon be strangled with
a halter as another.
Go hide thee behind the arras. The
520rest walk up above.—Now, my masters, for a true
face and good conscience.
1510Both which I have had, but their date is out;
and therefore I’ll hide me.
Call in the Sheriff.
All but the Prince and Peto exit.Enter Sheriff and the Carrier.
525Now, Master Sheriff, what is your will with me?
First pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry
1515Hath followed certain men unto this house.
What men?
One of them is well known, my gracious lord.
530A gross fat man.
As fat as butter.
1520The man I do assure you is not here,
For I myself at this time have employed him.
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee
535That I will by tomorrow dinner time
Send him to answer thee or any man
1525For anything he shall be charged withal.
And so let me entreat you leave the house.
I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen
540Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.
It may be so. If he have robbed these men,
1530He shall be answerable; and so farewell.
Good night, my noble lord.
I think it is good morrow, is it not?
545Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o’clock.
This oily rascal is known as well as Paul’s. Go
1535call him forth.
Falstaff!—Fast asleep behind the arras, and
snorting like a horse.
550Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his
pockets. (He searcheth his pocket, and findeth certain
papers.) 1540What hast thou found?
Nothing but papers, my lord.
Let’s see what they be. Read them.
555Item, a capon,…2s. 2d.
Item, sauce,…4d.
1545Item, sack, two gallons,…5s. 8d.
Item, anchovies and sack after supper,…2s. 6d.
Item, bread,…ob.
560O monstrous! But one halfpennyworth of
bread to this intolerable deal of sack? What there is
1550else, 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
565shall be honorable. I’ll procure this fat rogue a
charge of foot, and I know his death will be a march
1555of twelve score. The money shall be paid back again
with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning,
and so good morrow, Peto.
570Good morrow, good my lord.
They exit.
These promises are fair, the parties sure,
1560And our induction full of prosperous hope.
Lord Mortimer and cousin Glendower,
Will you sit down? And uncle Worcester—
5A plague upon it, I have forgot the map.
No, here it is. Sit, cousin Percy,
1565Sit, good cousin Hotspur, for by that name
As oft as Lancaster doth speak of you
His cheek looks pale, and with a rising sigh
10He wisheth you in heaven.
And you in hell,
1570As oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.
I cannot blame him. At my nativity
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
15Of burning cressets, and at my birth
The frame and huge foundation of the Earth
1575Shaked like a coward.
Why, so it would have done
At the same season if your mother’s cat
20Had but kittened, though yourself had never been
born.
1580I say the Earth did shake when I was born.
And I say the Earth was not of my mind,
If you suppose as fearing you it shook.
25The heavens were all on fire; the Earth did tremble.
O, then the Earth shook to see the heavens on fire,
1585And not in fear of your nativity.
Diseasèd nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions; oft the teeming Earth
30Is with a kind of colic pinched and vexed
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
1590Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldam Earth and topples down
Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth
35Our grandam Earth, having this distemp’rature,
In passion shook.
1595Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
To tell you once again that at my birth
40The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
1600Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
45I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipped in with the sea
1605That 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
50Can trace me in the tedious ways of art
And hold me pace in deep experiments.
1610I think there’s no man speaks better Welsh.
I’ll to dinner.
Peace, cousin Percy. You will make him mad.
55I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Why, so can I, or so can any man,
1615But will they come when you do call for them?
Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the
devil.
60And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil
By telling truth. Tell truth and shame the devil.
1620If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I’ll be sworn I have power to shame him
hence.
65O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil!
Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat.
1625Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head
Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye
And sandy-bottomed Severn have I sent him
70Bootless home and weather-beaten back.
Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
1630How ’scapes he agues, in the devil’s name?
Come, here is the map. Shall we divide our right
According to our threefold order ta’en?
75The Archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits very equally:
1635England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east is to my part assigned;
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
80And all the fertile land within that bound
To Owen Glendower; and, dear coz, to you
1640The remnant northward lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn,
Which being sealèd interchangeably—
85A business that this night may execute—
Tomorrow, cousin Percy, you and I
1645And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth
To meet your father and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
90My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days.
1650To Glendower. Within that space you may have
drawn together
Your tenants, friends, and neighboring gentlemen.
95A shorter time shall send me to you, lords,
And in my conduct shall your ladies come,
1655From 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.
100Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here,
In quantity equals not one of yours.
1660See how this river comes me cranking in
And cuts me from the best of all my land
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.
105I’ll have the current in this place dammed up,
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run
1665In a new channel, fair and evenly.
It shall not wind with such a deep indent
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.
110Not wind? It shall, it must. You see it doth.
Yea, but mark how he bears his course, and runs
1670me up
With like advantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposèd continent as much
115As on the other side it takes from you.
Yea, but a little charge will trench him here
1675And on this north side win this cape of land,
And then he runs straight and even.
I’ll have it so. A little charge will do it.
120I’ll not have it altered.
Will not you?
1680No, nor you shall not.
Who shall say me nay?
Why, that will I.
125Let me not understand you, then; speak it in Welsh.
I can speak English, lord, as well as you,
1685For I was trained up in the English court,
Where being but young I framèd to the harp
Many an English ditty lovely well
130And gave the tongue a helpful ornament—
A virtue that was never seen in you.
1690Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart.
I had rather be a kitten and cry “mew”
Than one of these same meter balladmongers.
135I had rather hear a brazen can’stick turned,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree,
1695And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry.
’Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.
140Come, you shall have Trent turned.
I do not care. I’ll give thrice so much land
1700To any well-deserving friend;
But in the way of bargain, mark you me,
I’ll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
145Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone?
The moon shines fair. You may away by night.
1705I’ll haste the writer, and withal
Break with your wives of your departure hence.
I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
150So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father!
1710I cannot choose. Sometime he angers me
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies,
155And of a dragon and a finless fish,
A clip-winged griffin and a moulten raven,
1715A couching lion and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what—
160He held me last night at least nine hours
In reckoning up the several devils’ names
1720That were his lackeys. I cried “Hum,” and “Well, go
to,”
But marked him not a word. O, he is as tedious
165As a tired horse, a railing wife,
Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live
1725With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
In any summer house in Christendom.
170In faith, he is a worthy gentleman,
Exceedingly well read and profited
1730In strange concealments, valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable, and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
175He holds your temper in a high respect
And curbs himself even of his natural scope
1735When you come cross his humor. Faith, he does.
I warrant you that man is not alive
Might so have tempted him as you have done
180Without the taste of danger and reproof.
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.
1740In faith, my lord, you are too willful-blame,
And, since your coming hither, have done enough
To put him quite besides his patience.
185You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault.
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage,
1745blood—
And that’s the dearest grace it renders you—
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
190Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain,
1750The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men’s hearts and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
195Beguiling them of commendation.
Well, I am schooled. Good manners be your speed!
1755Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.
This is the deadly spite that angers me:
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
200My daughter weeps; she’ll not part with you.
She’ll be a soldier too, she’ll to the wars.
1760Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy
Shall follow in your conduct speedily.
She is desperate here, a peevish self-willed harlotry,
205One that no persuasion can do good upon.
I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh
1765Which thou pourest down from these swelling
heavens
I am too perfect in, and but for shame
210In such a parley should I answer thee.
The Lady speaks again in Welsh. They kiss.
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
1770And that’s a feeling disputation;
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue
215Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer’s bower,
1775With ravishing division, to her lute.
Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
O, I am ignorance itself in this!
220She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
1780And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,
225Making such difference ’twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night
1785The hour before the heavenly harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
With all my heart I’ll sit and hear her sing.
230By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
Do so, and those musicians that shall play to you
1790Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence,
And straight they shall be here. Sit and attend.
Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down.
235Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy
lap.
1795Go, you giddy goose.
The music plays.
Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh,
And ’tis no marvel he is so humorous.
240By ’r Lady, he is a good musician.
Then should you be nothing but musical,
1800for you are altogether governed by humors. Lie
still, you thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.
I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in
245Irish.
Wouldst thou have thy head broken?
1805No.
Then be still.
Neither; ’tis a woman’s fault.
250Now God help thee!
To the Welsh lady’s bed.
1810What’s that?
Peace, she sings.
Here the Lady sings a Welsh song.Come, Kate, I’ll have your song too.
255Not mine, in good sooth.
Not yours, in good sooth! Heart, you swear
1815like 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”—
260And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths
As if thou never walk’st further than Finsbury.
1820Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath, and leave “in sooth,”
And such protest of pepper-gingerbread
265To velvet-guards and Sunday citizens.
Come, sing.
1825I will not sing.
’Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast
teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I’ll
270away within these two hours, and so come in when
you will.
1830Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go.
By this our book is drawn. We’ll but seal,
275And then to horse immediately.
With all my heart.
They exit.
1835Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I
Must have some private conference, but be near at
hand,
For we shall presently have need of you.
Lords exit.
5I know not whether God will have it so
1840For 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
10Make me believe that thou art only marked
1845For 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
15attempts,
1850Such 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?
20So please your Majesty, I would I could
1855Quit all offenses 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
25As, in reproof of many tales devised,
1860Which 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,
30Find pardon on my true submission.
1865God 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,
35Which by thy younger brother is supplied,
1870And 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
40Prophetically do forethink thy fall.
1875Had 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,
45Had still kept loyal to possession
1880And 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,
50That men would tell their children “This is he.”
1885Others would say “Where? Which is Bolingbroke?”
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dressed myself in such humility
That I did pluck allegiance from men’s hearts,
55Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
1890Even in the presence of the crownèd king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh and new,
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne’er seen but wondered at, and so my state,
60Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast
1895And won by rareness such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state,
65Mingled his royalty with cap’ring fools,
1900Had his great name profanèd with their scorns,
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative;
70Grew a companion to the common streets,
1905Enfeoffed himself to popularity,
That, being daily swallowed by men’s eyes,
They surfeited with honey and began
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
75More than a little is by much too much.
1910So, 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,
80Afford no extraordinary gaze
1915Such as is bent on sunlike majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes,
But rather drowsed and hung their eyelids down,
Slept in his face, and rendered such aspect
85As cloudy men use to their adversaries,
1920Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou,
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With vile participation. Not an eye
90But is aweary of thy common sight,
1925Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more,
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord,
95Be more myself.
1930For all the world
As thou art to this hour was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh,
And even as I was then is Percy now.
100Now, by my scepter, and my soul to boot,
1935He hath more worthy interest to the state
Than thou, the shadow of succession.
For of no right, nor color like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm,
105Turns head against the lion’s armèd jaws,
1940And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on
To bloody battles and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honor hath he got
110Against renownèd Douglas, whose high deeds,
1945Whose hot incursions and great name in arms,
Holds from all soldiers chief majority
And military title capital
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.
115Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swaddling
1950clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomfited great Douglas, ta’en him once,
Enlargèd him, and made a friend of him,
120To fill the mouth of deep defiance up
1955And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The Archbishop’s Grace of York, Douglas,
Mortimer,
125Capitulate against us and are up.
1960But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my nearest and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
130Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
1965To fight against me under Percy’s pay,
To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.
Do not think so. You shall not find it so.
135And God forgive them that so much have swayed
1970Your Majesty’s good thoughts away from me.
I will redeem all this on Percy’s head,
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you that I am your son,
140When I will wear a garment all of blood
1975And stain my favors in a bloody mask,
Which, washed away, shall scour my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene’er it lights,
That this same child of honor and renown,
145This gallant Hotspur, this all-praisèd knight,
1980And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.
For every honor sitting on his helm,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled! For the time will come
150That I shall make this northern youth exchange
1985His 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
155That he shall render every glory up,
1990Yea, 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,
160I do beseech your Majesty may salve
1995The 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.
165A hundred thousand rebels die in this.
2000Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein.
Enter Blunt.
How now, good Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed.
So hath the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word
170That Douglas and the English rebels met
2005The 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.
175The Earl of Westmoreland set forth today,
2010With 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
180Is Bridgenorth. And, Harry, you shall march
2015Through Gloucestershire; by which account,
Our business valuèd, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business. Let’s away.
185Advantage feeds him fat while men delay.
2020Bardolph, 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 applejohn.
5Well, I’ll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in
2025some 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 peppercorn, a brewer’s horse. The inside of a
10church! Company, villainous company, hath been
2030the spoil of me.
Sir John, you are so fretful you cannot live
long.
Why, there is it. Come, sing me a bawdy
15song, make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a
2035gentleman 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 money that I borrowed—three or four
20times; lived well and in good compass; and now I
2040live out of all order, out of all compass.
Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must
needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable
compass, Sir John.
25Do thou amend thy face, and I’ll amend my
2045life. 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.
Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.
30No, I’ll be sworn, I make as good use of it as
2050many a man doth of a death’s-head or a memento
mori. I never see thy face but I think upon hellfire
and Dives that lived in purple, for there he is in his
robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given
35to virtue, I would swear by thy face. My oath should
2055be “By this fire, that’s God’s angel.” 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 Gad’s Hill in the night to catch my
40horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis
2060fatuus, 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
45night betwixt tavern and tavern, but the sack that
2065thou 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, God reward me
50for it.
2070’Sblood, I would my face were in your
belly!
Godamercy, so should I be sure to be
heartburned!
Enter Hostess.
55How now, Dame Partlet the hen, have you enquired
2075yet who picked my pocket?
Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John,
do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have
searched, I have enquired, so has my husband,
60man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant.
2080The tithe of a hair was never lost in my house
before.
You lie, hostess. Bardolph was shaved and
lost many a hair, and I’ll be sworn my pocket was
65picked. Go to, you are a woman, go.
2085Who, I? No, I defy thee! God’s light, I was
never called so in mine own house before.
Go to, I know you well enough.
No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John. I
70know you, Sir John. You owe me money, Sir John,
2090and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. I
bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.
Dowlas, filthy dowlas. I have given them
away to bakers’ wives; they have made bolters of
75them.
2095Now, 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.
80He had his part of it.
2100Let him pay.
He? Alas, he is poor. He hath nothing.
How, poor? Look upon his face. What call
you rich? Let them coin his nose. Let them coin his
85cheeks. I’ll not pay a denier. What, will you make a
2105younker 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.
O Jesu, I have heard the Prince
90tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was
2110copper.
How? The Prince is a jack, a sneak-up.
’Sblood, an he were here, I would cudgel him like a
dog if he would say so.
Enter the Prince marching, with Peto, and Falstaff
meets him playing upon his truncheon like a fife.
95How now, lad, is the wind in that door, i’ faith? Must
2115we all march?
Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.
My lord, I pray you, hear me.
What say’st thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth
100thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man.
2120Good my lord, hear me.
Prithee, let her alone, and list to me.
What say’st thou, Jack?
The other night I fell asleep here, behind the
105arras, and had my pocket picked. This house is
2125turned bawdy house; they pick pockets.
What didst thou lose, Jack?
Wilt thou believe me, Hal, three or four
bonds of forty pound apiece, and a seal ring of my
110grandfather’s.
2130A trifle, some eightpenny matter.
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
115said he would cudgel you.
2135What, he did not!
There’s neither faith, truth, nor womanhood
in me else.
There’s no more faith in thee than in a
120stewed prune, nor no more truth in thee than in a
2140drawn fox, and for womanhood, Maid Marian may
be the deputy’s wife of the ward to thee. Go, you
thing, go.
Say, what thing, what thing?
125What thing? Why, a thing to thank God on.
2145I 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.
130Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a
2150beast to say otherwise.
Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
What beast? Why, an otter.
An otter, Sir John. Why an otter?
135Why, she’s neither fish nor flesh; a man
2155knows not where to have her.
Thou art an unjust man in saying so. Thou or
any man knows where to have me, thou knave,
thou.
140Thou sayst true, hostess, and he slanders thee
2160most grossly.
So he doth you, my lord, and said this other
day you owed him a thousand pound.
Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
145A thousand pound, Hal? A million. Thy love is
2165worth a million; thou owest me thy love.
Nay, my lord, he called you “jack,” and said
he would cudgel you.
Did I, Bardolph?
150Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
2170Yea, if he said my ring was copper.
I say ’tis copper. Darest thou be as good as thy
word now?
Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but
155man, I dare, but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I
2175fear the roaring of the lion’s whelp.
And why not as the lion?
The King himself is to be feared as the lion.
Dost thou think I’ll fear thee as I fear thy father?
160Nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break.
2180O, 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 all
filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest
165woman with picking thy pocket? Why, thou whoreson,
2185impudent, 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,
170if thy pocket were enriched with any other
2190injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will
stand to it! You will not pocket up wrong! Art thou
not ashamed?
Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou knowest in the
175state of innocency Adam fell, and what should poor
2195Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy? Thou seest I
have more flesh than another man and therefore
more frailty. You confess, then, you picked my
pocket.
180It appears so by the story.
2200Hostess, 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.
185Nay, prithee, begone. (Hostess exits.) Now, Hal, to
2205the news at court. For the robbery, lad, how is that
answered?
O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to
thee. The money is paid back again.
190O, I do not like that paying back. ’Tis a double
2210labor.
I am good friends with my father and may do
anything.
Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou
195dost, and do it with unwashed hands too.
2215Do, my lord.
I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.
I would it had been of horse. Where shall I
find one that can steal well? O, for a fine thief of
200the age of two-and-twenty or thereabouts! I am heinously
2220unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these
rebels. They offend none but the virtuous. I laud
them; I praise them.
Bardolph.
205My lord.
2225Go, bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster,
To my brother John; this to my Lord of
Westmoreland.Bardolph exits.
Go, Peto, to horse, to horse, for thou and I
210Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
Peto exits.
2230Jack, meet me tomorrow in the Temple hall
At two o’clock in the afternoon;
There shalt thou know thy charge, and there receive
Money and order for their furniture.
215The land is burning. Percy stands on high,
2235And either we or they must lower lie.
Rare words, brave world!—Hostess, my breakfast,
come.—
O, I could wish this tavern were my drum.
Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truth
2240In this fine age were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have
As not a soldier of this season’s stamp
5Should go so general current through the world.
By God, I cannot flatter. I do defy
2245The tongues of soothers. But a braver place
In my heart’s love hath no man than yourself.
Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.
10Thou art the king of honor.
No man so potent breathes upon the ground
2250But I will beard him.
Do so, and ’tis well.
Enter a Messenger with letters.
What letters hast thou there? To Douglas. I can but
15thank you.
These letters come from your father.
2255Letters from him! Why comes he not himself?
He cannot come, my lord. He is grievous sick.
Zounds, how has he the leisure to be sick
20In such a justling time? Who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?
2260His letters bears his mind, not I, my lord.
I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?
He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth,
25And, at the time of my departure thence,
He was much feared by his physicians.
2265I would the state of time had first been whole
Ere he by sickness had been visited.
His health was never better worth than now.
30Sick now? Droop now? This sickness doth infect
The very lifeblood of our enterprise.
2270’Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
He writes me here that inward sickness—
And that his friends by deputation
35Could not so soon be drawn, nor did he think it
meet
2275To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul removed but on his own;
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement
40That with our small conjunction we should on
To see how fortune is disposed to us,
2280For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the King is certainly possessed
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
45Your father’s sickness is a maim to us.
A perilous gash, a very limb lopped off!
2285And yet, in faith, it is not. His present want
Seems more than we shall find it. Were it good
To set the exact wealth of all our states
50All at one cast? To set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
2290It were not good, for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope,
The very list, the very utmost bound
55Of all our fortunes.
Faith, and so we should, where now remains
2295A sweet reversion. We may boldly spend
Upon the hope of what is to come in.
A comfort of retirement lives in this.
60A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,
If that the devil and mischance look big
2300Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.
But yet I would your father had been here.
The quality and hair of our attempt
65Brooks no division. It will be thought
By some that know not why he is away
2305That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike
Of our proceedings kept the Earl from hence.
And think how such an apprehension
70May turn the tide of fearful faction
And breed a kind of question in our cause.
2310For well you know, we of the off’ring side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrament,
And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence
75The eye of reason may pry in upon us.
This absence of your father’s draws a curtain
2315That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.
You strain too far.
80I rather of his absence make this use:
It lends a luster and more great opinion,
2320A larger dare, to our great enterprise
Than if the Earl were here, for men must think
If we without his help can make a head
85To push against a kingdom, with his help
We shall o’erturn it topsy-turvy down.
2325Yet all goes well; yet all our joints are whole.
As heart can think. There is not such a word
Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear.
90My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul.
Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord.
2330The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherwards, with him Prince John.
No harm, what more?
95And further I have learned
The King himself in person is set forth,
2335Or hitherwards intended speedily,
With strong and mighty preparation.
He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
100The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daffed the world aside
2340And bid it pass?
All furnished, all in arms,
All plumed like estridges that with the wind
105Bated like eagles having lately bathed,
Glittering in golden coats like images,
2345As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer,
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
110I saw young Harry with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed,
2350Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury
And vaulted with such ease into his seat
As if an angel dropped down from the clouds,
115To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus
And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
2355No more, no more! Worse than the sun in March
This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come.
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
120And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war
All hot and bleeding will we offer them.
2360The mailèd Mars shall on his altar sit
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh
125And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse,
Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt
2365Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,
Meet and ne’er part till one drop down a corse.
130O, that Glendower were come!
There is more news.
2370I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
That’s the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
135Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
What may the King’s whole battle reach unto?
2375To thirty thousand.
Forty let it be.
My father and Glendower being both away,
140The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us take a muster speedily.
2380Doomsday is near. Die all, die merrily.
Talk not of dying. I am out of fear
Of death or death’s hand for this one half year.
Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry. Fill
me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall march
2385through. We’ll to Sutton Coldfield tonight.
Will you give me money, captain?
5Lay out, lay out.
This bottle makes an angel.
An if it do, take it for thy labor. An if it make
2390twenty, take them all. I’ll answer the coinage. Bid
my lieutenant Peto meet me at town’s end.
10I will, captain. Farewell.
He exits.
If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a
soused gurnet. I have misused the King’s press
2395damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred
and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I
15press me none but good householders, yeomen’s
sons, inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as
had been asked twice on the banns—such a commodity
2400of warm slaves as had as lief hear the devil
as a drum, such as fear the report of a caliver worse
20than 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
2405bought out their services, and now my whole
charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants,
25gentlemen 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
2410soldiers, but discarded, unjust servingmen, younger
sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and
30ostlers tradefallen, the cankers of a calm world and
a long peace, ten times more dishonorable-ragged
than an old feazed ancient; and such have I to fill up
2415the rooms of them as have bought out their services,
that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty
35tattered prodigals lately come from swine-keeping,
from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me
on the way and told me I had unloaded all the
2420gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath
seen such scarecrows. I’ll not march through Coventry
40with them, that’s flat. Nay, and the villains
march wide betwixt the legs as if they had gyves on,
for indeed I had the most of them out of prison.
2425There’s not a shirt and a half in all my company,
and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together
45and thrown over the shoulders like a herald’s coat
without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth,
stolen from my host at Saint Albans or the red-nose
2430innkeeper of Daventry. But that’s all one; they’ll find
linen enough on every hedge.
50How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt?
What, Hal, how now, mad wag? What a devil
dost thou in Warwickshire?—My good Lord of
2435Westmoreland, I cry you mercy. I thought your
Honor had already been at Shrewsbury.
55Faith, Sir John, ’tis more than time
that I were there and you too, but my powers are
there already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us
2440all. We must away all night.
Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to
60steal cream.
I think to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath
already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose
2445fellows are these that come after?
Mine, Hal, mine.
65I did never see such pitiful rascals.
Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder,
food for powder. They’ll fill a pit as well as
2450better. Tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are
70exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly.
Faith, for their poverty, I know not where
they had that, and for their bareness, I am sure they
2455never learned that of me.
No, I’ll be sworn, unless you call three fingers
75in the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy is
already in the field.
What, is the King encamped?
2460He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too
long.
80Well,
To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a
feast
2465Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.
We’ll fight with him tonight.
It may not be.
You give him then advantage.
Not a whit.
52470Why say you so? Looks he not for supply?
So do we.
His is certain; ours is doubtful.
Good cousin, be advised. Stir not tonight.
Do not, my lord.
102475You do not counsel well.
You speak it out of fear and cold heart.
Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life
(And I dare well maintain it with my life),
If well-respected honor bid me on,
152480I hold as little counsel with weak fear
As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives.
Let it be seen tomorrow in the battle
Which of us fears.
Yea, or tonight.
202485Content.
Tonight, say I.
Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much,
Being men of such great leading as you are,
That you foresee not what impediments
252490Drag back our expedition. Certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon’s are not yet come up.
Your uncle Worcester’s horse came but today,
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labor tame and dull,
302495That not a horse is half the half of himself.
So are the horses of the enemy
In general journey-bated and brought low.
The better part of ours are full of rest.
The number of the King exceedeth ours.
352500For God’s sake, cousin, stay till all come in.
I come with gracious offers from the King,
If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect.
Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt, and would to God
You were of our determination.
402505Some of us love you well, and even those some
Envy your great deservings and good name
Because you are not of our quality
But stand against us like an enemy.
And God defend but still I should stand so,
452510So long as out of limit and true rule
You stand against anointed majesty.
But to my charge. The King hath sent to know
The nature of your griefs, and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
502515Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty. If that the King
Have any way your good deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,
He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed
552520You shall have your desires with interest
And pardon absolute for yourself and these
Herein misled by your suggestion.
The King is kind, and well we know the King
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
602525My father and my uncle and myself
Did give him that same royalty he wears,
And when he was not six-and-twenty strong,
Sick in the world’s regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,
652530My father gave him welcome to the shore;
And when he heard him swear and vow to God
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery, and beg his peace
With tears of innocency and terms of zeal,
702535My father, in kind heart and pity moved,
Swore him assistance and performed it too.
Now when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceived Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less came in with cap and knee,
752540Met him in boroughs, cities, villages,
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs as pages, followed him
Even at the heels in golden multitudes.
802545He presently, as greatness knows itself,
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father while his blood was poor
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh,
And now forsooth takes on him to reform
852550Some certain edicts and some strait decrees
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth,
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep
Over his country’s wrongs, and by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
902555The hearts of all that he did angle for,
Proceeded further—cut me off the heads
Of all the favorites that the absent king
In deputation left behind him here
When he was personal in the Irish war.
952560Tut, I came not to hear this.
Then to the point.
In short time after, he deposed the King,
Soon after that deprived him of his life
And, in the neck of that, tasked the whole state.
1002565To make that worse, suffered his kinsman March
(Who is, if every owner were well placed,
Indeed his king) to be engaged in Wales,
There without ransom to lie forfeited,
Disgraced me in my happy victories,
1052570Sought to entrap me by intelligence,
Rated mine uncle from the council board,
In rage dismissed my father from the court,
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong,
And in conclusion drove us to seek out
1102575This head of safety, and withal to pry
Into his title, the which we find
Too indirect for long continuance.
Shall I return this answer to the King?
Not so, Sir Walter. We’ll withdraw awhile.
1152580Go to the King, and let there be impawned
Some surety for a safe return again,
And in the morning early shall mine uncle
Bring him our purposes. And so farewell.
I would you would accept of grace and love.
1202585And maybe so we shall.
Pray God you do.
They exit.
Hie, good Sir Michael, bear this sealèd brief
With wingèd haste to the Lord Marshal,
This to my cousin Scroop, and all the rest
2590To whom they are directed. If you knew
5How much they do import, you would make haste.
My good lord, I guess their tenor.
Like enough you do.
Tomorrow, good Sir Michael, is a day
2595Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
10Must bide the touch. For, sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly given to understand,
The King with mighty and quick-raisèd power
Meets with Lord Harry. And I fear, Sir Michael,
2600What with the sickness of Northumberland,
15Whose power was in the first proportion,
And what with Owen Glendower’s absence thence,
Who with them was a rated sinew too
And comes not in, o’erruled by prophecies,
2605I fear the power of Percy is too weak
20To wage an instant trial with the King.
Why, my good lord, you need not fear.
There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer.
No, Mortimer is not there.
2610But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
25And there is my Lord of Worcester, and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.
And so there is. But yet the King hath drawn
The special head of all the land together:
2615The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
30The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt,
And many more corrivals and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.
Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed.
2620I hope no less, yet needful ’tis to fear;
35And to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed.
For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King
Dismiss his power he means to visit us,
For he hath heard of our confederacy,
2625And ’tis but wisdom to make strong against him.
40Therefore make haste. I must go write again
To other friends. And so farewell, Sir Michael.
How bloodily the sun begins to peer
Above yon bulky hill. The day looks pale
2630At his distemp’rature.
The southern wind
5Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
Foretells a tempest and a blust’ring day.
2635Then with the losers let it sympathize,
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
The trumpet sounds.
Enter Worcester and Vernon.
10How now, my Lord of Worcester? ’Tis not well
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet. You have deceived our trust
2640And made us doff our easy robes of peace
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.
15This is not well, my lord; this is not well.
What say you to it? Will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorrèd war
2645And move in that obedient orb again
Where you did give a fair and natural light,
20And be no more an exhaled meteor,
A prodigy of fear, and a portent
Of broachèd mischief to the unborn times?
2650Hear me, my liege:
For mine own part I could be well content
25To entertain the lag end of my life
With quiet hours. For I protest
I have not sought the day of this dislike.
2655You have not sought it. How comes it then?
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
30Peace, chewet, peace.
It pleased your Majesty to turn your looks
Of favor from myself and all our house;
2660And yet I must remember you, my lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends.
35For you my staff of office did I break
In Richard’s time, and posted day and night
To meet you on the way and kiss your hand
2665When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
40It was myself, my brother, and his son
That brought you home and boldly did outdare
The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
2670And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing purpose ’gainst the state,
45Nor claim no further than your new-fall’n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster.
To this we swore our aid. But in short space
2675It rained down fortune show’ring on your head,
And such a flood of greatness fell on you—
50What with our help, what with the absent king,
What with the injuries of a wanton time,
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
2680And the contrarious winds that held the King
So long in his unlucky Irish wars
55That all in England did repute him dead—
And from this swarm of fair advantages
You took occasion to be quickly wooed
2685To gripe the general sway into your hand,
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster;
60And being fed by us, you used us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo’s bird,
Useth the sparrow—did oppress our nest,
2690Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk
That even our love durst not come near your sight
65For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enforced for safety sake to fly
Out of your sight and raise this present head,
2695Whereby we stand opposèd by such means
As you yourself have forged against yourself
70By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.
2700These things indeed you have articulate,
Proclaimed at market crosses, read in churches,
75To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine color that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
2705Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation.
80And never yet did insurrection want
Such water colors to impaint his cause,
Nor moody beggars starving for a time
2710Of pellmell havoc and confusion.
In both your armies there is many a soul
85Shall pay full dearly for this encounter
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
2715In praise of Henry Percy. By my hopes,
This present enterprise set off his head,
90I do not think a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring or more bold, is now alive
2720To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
95I have a truant been to chivalry,
And so I hear he doth account me too.
Yet this before my father’s majesty:
2725I am content that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation,
100And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.
And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,
2730Albeit considerations infinite
Do make against it.—No, good Worcester, no.
105We love our people well, even those we love
That are misled upon your cousin’s part.
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
2735Both he and they and you, yea, every man
Shall be my friend again, and I’ll be his.
110So tell your cousin, and bring me word
What he will do. But if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
2740And they shall do their office. So begone.
We will not now be troubled with reply.
115We offer fair. Take it advisedly.
It will not be accepted, on my life.
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
2745Are confident against the world in arms.
Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge,
120For on their answer will we set on them,
And God befriend us as our cause is just.
Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and
2750bestride me, so; ’tis a point of friendship.
Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
125Say thy prayers, and farewell.
I would ’twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.
Why, thou owest God a death.
He exits.
2755’Tis not due yet. I would be loath to pay Him
before His day. What need I be so forward with
130Him that calls not on me? Well, ’tis no matter.
Honor pricks me on. Yea, but how if honor prick me
off when I come on? How then? Can honor set to a
2760leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a
wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then?
135No. What is honor? A word. What is in that word
“honor”? What is that “honor”? Air. A trim reckoning.
Who hath it? He that died o’ Wednesday. Doth
2765he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. ’Tis insensible,
then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the
140living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore,
I’ll none of it. Honor is a mere scutcheon. And
so ends my catechism.
2770O no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
The liberal and kind offer of the King.
’Twere best he did.
Then are we all undone.
5It is not possible, it cannot be
2775The King should keep his word in loving us.
He will suspect us still and find a time
To punish this offense in other faults.
Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of
10eyes,
2780For treason is but trusted like the fox,
Who, never so tame, so cherished and locked up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
Look how we can, or sad or merrily,
15Interpretation will misquote our looks,
2785And we shall feed like oxen at a stall,
The better cherished still the nearer death.
My nephew’s trespass may be well forgot;
It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood,
20And an adopted name of privilege—
2790A harebrained Hotspur governed by a spleen.
All his offenses live upon my head
And on his father’s. We did train him on,
And his corruption being ta’en from us,
25We as the spring of all shall pay for all.
2795Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know
In any case the offer of the King.
Deliver what you will; I’ll say ’tis so.
Enter Hotspur, Douglas, and their army.
Here comes your cousin.
30My uncle is returned.
2800Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland.—
Uncle, what news?
The King will bid you battle presently.
Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland.
35Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.
2805Marry, and shall, and very willingly.
There is no seeming mercy in the King.
Did you beg any? God forbid!
I told him gently of our grievances,
40Of his oath-breaking, which he mended thus
2810By now forswearing that he is forsworn.
He calls us “rebels,” “traitors,” and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.
Arm, gentlemen, to arms. For I have thrown
45A brave defiance in King Henry’s teeth,
2815And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it,
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
The Prince of Wales stepped forth before the King,
And, nephew, challenged you to single fight.
50O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads,
2820And that no man might draw short breath today
But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me,
How showed his tasking? Seemed it in contempt?
No, by my soul. I never in my life
55Did hear a challenge urged more modestly,
2825Unless a brother should a brother dare
To gentle exercise and proof of arms.
He gave you all the duties of a man,
Trimmed up your praises with a princely tongue,
60Spoke your deservings like a chronicle,
2830Making you ever better than his praise
By still dispraising praise valued with you,
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital of himself,
65And chid his truant youth with such a grace
2835As if he mastered there a double spirit
Of teaching and of learning instantly.
There did he pause, but let me tell the world:
If he outlive the envy of this day,
70England did never owe so sweet a hope
2840So much misconstrued in his wantonness.
Cousin, I think thou art enamorèd
On his follies. Never did I hear
Of any prince so wild a liberty.
75But be he as he will, yet once ere night
2845I will embrace him with a soldier’s arm
That he shall shrink under my courtesy.—
Arm, arm with speed, and, fellows, soldiers,
friends,
80Better consider what you have to do
2850Than I that have not well the gift of tongue
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.
My lord, here are letters for you.
I cannot read them now.—
85O gentlemen, the time of life is short;
2855To spend that shortness basely were too long
If life did ride upon a dial’s point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
An if we live, we live to tread on kings;
90If die, brave death, when princes die with us.
2860Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair
When the intent of bearing them is just.
My lord, prepare. The King comes on apace.
I thank him that he cuts me from my tale,
95For I profess not talking. Only this:
2865Let each man do his best. And here draw I a sword,
Whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
100Now, Esperance! Percy! And set on.
2870Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace,
For, heaven to Earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.
What is thy name that in the battle thus
2875Thou crossest me? What honor dost thou seek
Upon my head?
Know then my name is Douglas,
5And I do haunt thee in the battle thus
Because some tell me that thou art a king.
2880They tell thee true.
The Lord of Stafford dear today hath bought
Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry,
10This sword hath ended him. So shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.
2885I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot,
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
Lord Stafford’s death.
15O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed upon a Scot.
2890All’s done, all’s won; here breathless lies the King.
Where?
Here.
20This, Douglas? No, I know this face full well.
A gallant knight he was; his name was Blunt,
2895Semblably furnished like the King himself.
A fool go with thy soul whither it goes!
A borrowed title hast thou bought too dear.
25Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
The King hath many marching in his coats.
2900Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats.
I’ll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
Until I meet the King.
30Up and away!
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day.
2905Though I could ’scape shot-free at London,
I fear the shot here. Here’s no scoring but upon
the pate.—Soft, who are you? Sir Walter Blunt.
35There’s honor for you. Here’s no vanity. I am as hot
as molten lead, and as heavy too. God keep lead out
2910of me; I need no more weight than mine own
bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are
peppered. There’s not three of my hundred and fifty
40left alive, and they are for the town’s end, to beg
during life. But who comes here?
2915What, stand’st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword.
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
45Whose deaths are yet unrevenged. I prithee
Lend me thy sword.
2920O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe
awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms
as I have done this day. I have paid Percy; I have
50made him sure.
He is indeed, and living to kill thee.
2925I prithee, lend me thy sword.
Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou
gett’st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou
55wilt.
Give it me. What, is it in the case?
2930Ay, Hal, ’tis hot, ’tis hot. There’s that will
sack a city.
What, is it a time to jest and dally now?
60Well, if Percy be alive, I’ll pierce him. If he do
come in my way, so; if he do not, if I come in his
2935willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not
such grinning honor as Sir Walter hath. Give me
life, which, if I can save, so: if not, honor comes
65unlooked for, and there’s an end.
I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself. Thou bleedest
2940too much.
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
5I beseech your Majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
2945I will do so.—My Lord of Westmoreland,
Lead him to his tent.
Come, my lord, I’ll lead you to your tent.
10Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help,
And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive
2950The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
Where stained nobility lies trodden on,
And rebels’ arms triumph in massacres.
15We breathe too long. Come, cousin Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies. For God’s sake, come.
2955By God, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster.
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit.
Before, I loved thee as a brother, John,
20But now I do respect thee as my soul.
I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point
2960With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.
O, this boy lends mettle to us all.
25Another king! They grow like Hydra’s heads.—
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
2965That wear those colors on them. What art thou
That counterfeit’st the person of a king?
The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart,
30So many of his shadows thou hast met
And not the very king. I have two boys
2970Seek Percy and thyself about the field,
But, seeing thou fall’st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee. And defend thyself.
35I fear thou art another counterfeit,
And yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king.
2975But mine I am sure thou art, whoe’er thou be,
And thus I win thee.
Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
40Never to hold it up again. The spirits
Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt are in my arms.
2980It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
Who never promiseth but he means to pay.
They fight. Douglas flieth.
To King. Cheerly, my lord. How fares your Grace?
45Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent,
And so hath Clifton. I’ll to Clifton straight.
2985Stay and breathe awhile.
Thou hast redeemed thy lost opinion
And showed thou mak’st some tender of my life
50In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
O God, they did me too much injury
2990That ever said I hearkened for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you,
55Which would have been as speedy in your end
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
2995And saved the treacherous labor of your son.
Make up to Clifton. I’ll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
60Thou speak’st as if I would deny my name.
My name is Harry Percy.
3000Why then I see
A very valiant rebel of the name.
I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
65To share with me in glory any more.
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere,
3005Nor can one England brook a double reign
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.
Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
70To end the one of us, and would to God
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine.
3010I’ll make it greater ere I part from thee,
And all the budding honors on thy crest
I’ll crop to make a garland for my head.
75I can no longer brook thy vanities.
Well said, Hal! To it, Hal! Nay, you shall find
3015no boys’ play here, I can tell you.
O Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth.
I better brook the loss of brittle life
80Than those proud titles thou hast won of me.
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my
3020flesh.
But thoughts, the slaves of life, and life, time’s fool,
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
85Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
3025Lies on my tongue. No, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for—
For worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well, great heart.
90Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
When that this body did contain a spirit,
3030A kingdom for it was too small a bound,
But now two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead
95Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
3035I should not make so dear a show of zeal.
But let my favors hide thy mangled face;
He covers Hotspur’s face.
And even in thy behalf I’ll thank myself
100For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven.
3040Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remembered in thy epitaph.
He spieth Falstaff on the ground.
What, old acquaintance, could not all this flesh
105Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell.
I could have better spared a better man.
3045O, I should have a heavy miss of thee
If I were much in love with vanity.
Death hath not struck so fat a deer today,
110Though many dearer in this bloody fray.
Emboweled will I see thee by and by;
3050Till then in blood by noble Percy lie.
Emboweled? If thou embowel me today, I’ll
give you leave to powder me and eat me too
115tomorrow. ’Sblood, ’twas time to counterfeit, or
that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot
3055too. Counterfeit? I lie. I am no counterfeit. To die is
to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counterfeit of a
man who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit
120dying when a man thereby liveth is to be no
counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life
3060indeed. The better part of valor is discretion, in the
which better part I have saved my life. Zounds, I am
afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead.
125How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? By my
faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit.
3065Therefore I’ll make him sure, yea, and I’ll swear
I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I?
Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me.
130Therefore, sirrah, stabbing him with a new wound
in your thigh, come you along with me.
3070Come, brother John. Full bravely hast thou fleshed
Thy maiden sword.
But soft, whom have we here?
135Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?
I did; I saw him dead,
3075Breathless and bleeding on the ground.—Art thou
alive?
Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight?
140I prithee, speak. We will not trust our eyes
Without our ears. Thou art not what thou seem’st.
3080No, that’s certain. I am not a double man.
But if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a jack. There
is Percy. If your father will do me any honor, so; if
145not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be
either earl or duke, I can assure you.
3085Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.
Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is
given to lying. I grant you, I was down and out of
150breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant
and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I
3090may be believed, so; if not, let them that should
reward valor bear the sin upon their own heads. I’ll
take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in
155the thigh. If the man were alive and would deny
it, zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my
3095sword.
This is the strangest tale that ever I heard.
This is the strangest fellow, brother John.—
160Come bring your luggage nobly on your back.
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
3100I’ll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
A retreat is sounded.
The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours.
Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field
165To see what friends are living, who are dead.
I’ll follow, as they say, for reward. He that
3105rewards me, God reward him. If I do grow great,
I’ll grow less, for I’ll purge and leave sack and live
cleanly as a nobleman should do.
Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.—
Ill-spirited Worcester, did not we send grace,
3110Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary,
5Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman’s trust?
Three knights upon our party slain today,
A noble earl, and many a creature else
3115Had been alive this hour
If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne
10Betwixt our armies true intelligence.
What I have done my safety urged me to.
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
3120Since not to be avoided it falls on me.
Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too.
15Other offenders we will pause upon.
Worcester and Vernon exit, under guard.
How goes the field?
The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw
3125The fortune of the day quite turned from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
20Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest,
And, falling from a hill, he was so bruised
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
3130The Douglas is, and I beseech your Grace
I may dispose of him.
25With all my heart.
Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you
This honorable bounty shall belong.
3135Go to the Douglas and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free.
30His valors shown upon our crests today
Have taught us how to cherish such high deeds,
Even in the bosom of our adversaries.
3140I thank your Grace for this high courtesy,
Which I shall give away immediately.
35Then this remains, that we divide our power.
You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
Towards York shall bend you with your dearest
3145speed
To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop,
40Who, as we hear, are busily in arms.
Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales
To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March.
3150Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day.
45And since this business so fair is done,
Let us not leave till all our own be won.