Henry IV, Part 1 (Folio 1 1623)

5SO shaken as we are, so wan with care,

¶Finde we a time for frighted Peace to pant,

¶And breath shortwinded accents of new broils

¶To be commenc'd in Stronds a-farre remote:

¶No more the thirsty entrance of this Soile,

10Shall daube her lippes with her owne childrens blood:

¶No more shall trenching Warre channell her fields,

¶Nor bruise her Flowrets with the Armed hoofes

¶Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes,

¶Which like the Meteors of a troubled Heauen,

15All of one Nature, of one Substance bred,

¶Did lately meete in the intestine shocke,

¶And furious cloze of ciuill Butchery,

¶Shall now in mutuall well-beseeming rankes

¶March all one way, and be no more oppos'd

20Against Acquaintance, Kindred, and Allies.

¶The edge of Warre, like an ill-sheathed knife,

¶No more shall cut his Master. Therefore Friends,

¶As farre as to the Sepulcher of Christ,

¶Whose Souldier now vnder whose blessed Crosse

25We are impressed and ingag'd to fight,

¶Forthwith a power of English shall we leuie,

¶Whose armes were moulded in their Mothers wombe,

¶To chace these Pagans in those holy Fields,

¶Ouer whose Acres walk'd those blessed feete

30Which fourteene hundred yeares ago were nail'd

¶For our aduantage on the bitter Crosse.

¶But this our purpose is a tweluemonth old,

¶And bootlesse 'tis to tell you we will go:

¶Therefore we meete not now. Then let me heare

35Of you my gentle Cousin Westmerland,

¶What yesternight our Councell did decree,

¶In forwarding this deere expedience.

¶West. My Liege: This haste was hot in question,

¶And many limits of the Charge set downe

40But yesternight: when all athwart there came

¶A Post from Wales, loaden with heauy Newes;

¶Whose worst was, That the Noble Mortimer,

¶Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight

¶Against the irregular and wilde Glendower,

45Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,

¶And a thousand of his people butchered:

¶Vpon whose dead corpes there was such misuse,

¶Such beastly, shamelesse transformation,

¶By those Welshwomen done, as may not be

50(Without much shame) re-told or spoken of.

¶King. It seemes then, that the tidings of this broile,

¶Brake off our businesse for the Holy land.

¶West. This matcht with other like, my gracious Lord,

¶Farre more vneuen and vnwelcome Newes

55Came from the North, and thus it did report:

¶On Holy-roode day, the gallant Hotspurre there,

¶Young Harry Percy, and braue Archibald,

¶That euer-valiant and approoued Scot,

¶At Holmeden met, where they did spend

60A sad and bloody houre:

¶As by discharge of their Artillerie,

¶And shape of likely-hood the newes was told:

¶For he that brought them, in the very heate

¶And pride of their contention, did take horse,

65Vncertaine of the issue any way.

¶King. Heere is a deere and true industrious friend:

¶Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his Horse,

¶Strain'd with the variation of each soyle,

¶Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours:

70And he hath brought vs smooth and welcomes newes.

¶The Earle of Dowglas is discomfited,

¶Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights

¶Balk'd in their owne blood did Sir Walter see

¶On Holmedons Plaines. Of Prisoners, Hotspurre tooke

75Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldest sonne

¶To beaten Dowglas, and the Earle of Atholl,

¶Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith.

¶And is not this an honourable spoyle?

¶A gallant prize? Ha Cosin, is it not? Infaith it is.

80West. A Conquest for a Prince to boast of.

¶King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, & mak'st me sin,

¶In enuy, that my Lord Northumberland

¶Should be the Father of so blest a Sonne:

¶A Sonne, who is the Theame of Honors tongue;

85Among'st a Groue, the very straightest Plant,

¶Who is sweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride:

¶Whil'st I by looking on the praise of him,

¶See Ryot and Dishonor staine the brow

¶Of my yong Harry. O that it could be prou'd,

90That some Night-tripping-Faiery, had exchang'd

¶In Cradle-clothes, our Children where they lay,

¶And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet:

¶Then would I haue his Harry, and he mine:

¶But let him from my thoughts. What thinke you Coze

95Of this young Percies pride? The Prisoners

¶Which he in this aduenture hath surpriz'd,

¶To his owne vse he keepes, and sends me word

¶I shall haue none but Mordake Earle of Fife.

¶West. This is his Vnckles teaching. This is Worcester

100Maleuolent to you in all Aspects:

¶Which makes him prune himselfe, and bristle vp

¶The crest of Youth against your Dignity.

¶King. But I haue sent for him to answer this:

¶And for this cause a-while we must neglect

105Our holy purpose to Ierusalem.

¶Cosin, on Wednesday next, our Councell we will hold

¶At Windsor, and so informe the Lords:

¶But come your selfe with speed to vs againe,

¶For more is to be said, and to be done,

110Then out of anger can be vttered.

¶West. I will my Liege.

¶

staffe, and Pointz.

115Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?

¶Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of olde

¶Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping

¶vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten

¶to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know.

120What a diuell hast thou to do with the time of the day?

¶vnlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons,

¶and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes

¶of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire

¶hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason,

125why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the

¶time of the day.

¶Fal. Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that

¶take Purses, go by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not

¶by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I

130prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God saue

¶thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte

¶haue none.

¶Prin. What, none?

¶Fal. No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to

135an Egge and Butter.

¶Prin. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly.

¶Fal. Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King,

¶let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd

¶Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forre-

140sters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone;

¶and let men say, we be men of good Gouernment, being

¶gouerned as the Sea is, by our noble and chast mistris the

¶Moone, vnder whose countenance we steale.

¶Prin. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the

145fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and

¶flow like the Sea, beeing gouerned as the Sea is, by the

¶Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most reso-

¶lutely snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely

¶spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by:

150and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe

¶as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow

¶as the ridge of the Gallowes.

¶Fal. Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of

¶the Tauerne a most sweet Wench?

155Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is

¶not a Buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?

¶Fal. How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy

¶quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe

¶with a Buffe-Ierkin?

160Prin. Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Ho-

¶stesse of the Tauerne?

¶Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a

¶time and oft.

¶Prin. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?

165Fal. No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid al there.

¶Prin. Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would

¶stretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit.

¶Fal. Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it heere apparant,

¶that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag,

170shall there be Gallowes standing in England when thou

¶art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the ru-

¶stie curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou

¶when thou art a King, hang a Theefe.

¶Prin. No, thou shalt.

175Fal. Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge.

¶Prin. Thou iudgest false already. I meane, thou shalt

¶haue the hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare

¶Hangman.

¶Fal. Well Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with

180my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell

¶you.

¶Prin. For obtaining of suites?

¶Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hang-

¶man hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a

185Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beare.

¶Prin. Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute.

¶Fal. Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe.

¶Prin. What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly

¶of Moore Ditch?

190Fal. Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art in-

¶deed the most comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince.

¶But Hal, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I wold

¶thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good names

¶were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated

195me the other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd

¶him not, and yet hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded

¶him not, and yet he talkt wisely, and in the street too.

¶Prin. Thou didst well: for no man regards it.

¶Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeede

200able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vn-

¶to me Hall, God forgiue thee for it. Before I knew thee

¶Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (if a man shold speake

¶truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must giue o-

¶uer this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a

205Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Chri-

¶stendome.

¶Prin. Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke?

¶Fal. Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I doe

¶not, call me Villaine, and baffle me.

210Prin. I see a good amendment of life in thee: From

¶Praying, to Purse-taking.

¶Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a

¶man to labour in his Vocation.

¶Pointz. Now shall wee know if Gads hill haue set a

215Watch. O, if men were to be saued by merit, what hole

¶in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omni-

¶potent Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true man.

¶Prin. Good morrow Ned.

¶Poines. Good morrow sweet Hal. What saies Mon-

220sieur Remorse? What sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar:

¶Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee about thy Soule,

¶that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup of

¶Madera, and a cold Capons legge?

¶Prin. Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue

225his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs:

¶He will giue the diuell his due.

¶Poin. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with

¶the diuell.

¶Prin. Else he had damn'd for cozening the diuell.

230Poy. But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by

¶foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes go-

¶ing to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders ri-

¶ding to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards for you

¶all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads-hill lyes to

235night in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in

¶Eastcheape; we may doe it as secure as sleepe: if you will

¶go, I will stuffe your Purses full of Crownes: if you will

¶not, tarry at home and be hang'd.

¶Fal. Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not,

240Ile hang you for going.

¶Poy. You will chops.

¶Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

¶Prin. Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I.

¶Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fel-

245lowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royall,

¶if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings.

¶Prin. Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap.

¶Fal. Why, that's well said.

¶Prin. Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home.

250Fal. Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King.

¶Prin. I care not.

¶Poyn. Sir Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone,

¶I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that

¶he shall go.

255Fal. Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion;

¶and he the eares of profiting, that what thou speakest,

¶may moue; and what he heares may be beleeued, that the

¶true Prince, may (for recreation sake) proue a false theefe;

¶for the poore abuses of the time, want countenance. Far-

260well, you shall finde me in Eastcheape.

¶Prin. Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown

¶Summer.

¶Poy. Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs

¶to morrow. I haue a iest to execute, that I cannot man-

265nage alone. Falstaffe, Haruey, Rossill, and Gads-hill, shall

¶robbe those men that wee haue already way-layde, your

¶selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the boo-

¶ty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my

¶shoulders.

270Prin. But how shal we part with them in setting forth?

¶Poyn. Why, we wil set forth before or after them, and

¶appoint them a place of meeting, wherin it is at our plea-

¶sure to faile; and then will they aduenture vppon the ex-

¶ploit themselues, which they shall haue no sooner atchie-

275ued, but wee'l set vpon them.

¶Prin. I, but tis like that they will know vs by our

¶horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to

¶be our selues.

¶Poy. Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in

280the wood, our vizards wee will change after wee leaue

¶them: and sirrah, I haue Cases of Buckram for the nonce,

¶to immaske our noted outward garments.

¶Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for vs.

¶Poin. Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as

285true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third

¶if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes.

¶The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes

¶that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper:

¶how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what

290blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe

¶of this, lyes the iest.

¶Prin. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things

¶necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape,

¶there Ile sup. Farewell.

295Poyn. Farewell, my Lord.

¶The vnyoak'd humor of your idlenesse:

¶Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne,

¶Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes

300To smother vp his Beauty from the world,

¶That when he please againe to be himselfe,

¶Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,

¶By breaking through the foule and vgly mists

¶Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him.

305If all the yeare were playing holidaies,

¶To sport, would be as tedious as to worke;

¶But when they seldome come, they wisht-for come,

¶And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

¶So when this loose behauiour I throw off,

310And pay the debt I neuer promised;

¶By how much better then my word I am,

¶By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes,

¶And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground:

¶My reformation glittering o're my fault,

315Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes,

¶Then that which hath no foyle to set it off.

¶Ile so offend, to make offence a skill,

¶Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.

¶

Scœna Tertia.

320

Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspurre,

¶

Sir Walter Blunt, and others.

¶King. My blood hath beene too cold and temperate,

¶Vnapt to stirre at these indignities,

¶And you haue found me; for accordingly,

325You tread vpon my patience: But be sure,

¶I will from henceforth rather be my Selfe,

¶Mighty, and to be fear'd, then my condition

¶Which hath beene smooth as Oyle, soft as yong Downe,

¶And therefore lost that Title of respect,

330Which the proud soule ne're payes, but to the proud.

¶Wor. Our house (my Soueraigne Liege) little deserues

¶The scourge of greatnesse to be vsed on it,

¶And that same greatnesse too, which our owne hands

¶Haue holpe to make so portly.

335Nor. My Lord.

¶King. Worcester get thee gone: for I do see

¶Danger and disobedience in thine eye.

¶O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,

¶And Maiestie might neuer yet endure

340The moody Frontier of a seruant brow,

¶You haue good leaue to leaue vs. When we need

¶Your vse and counsell, we shall send for you.

¶You were about to speake.

¶North. Yea, my good Lord.

345Those Prisoners in your Highnesse demanded,

¶Which Harry Percy heere at Holmedon tooke,

¶Were (as he sayes) not with such strength denied

¶As was deliuered to your Maiesty:

¶Who either through enuy, or misprision,

350Was guilty of this fault; and not my Sonne.

¶Hot. My Liege, I did deny no Prisoners.

¶But, I remember when the fight was done,

¶When I was dry with Rage, and extreame Toyle,

¶Breathlesse, and Faint, leaning vpon my Sword,

355Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly drest;

¶Fresh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapt,

¶Shew'd like a stubble Land at Haruest home.

¶He was perfumed like a Milliner,

¶And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held

360A Pouncet-box: which euer and anon

¶He gaue his Nose, and took't away againe:

¶Who therewith angry, when it next came there,

¶Tooke it in Snuffe. And still he smil'd and talk'd:

¶And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by,

365He call'd them vntaught Knaues, Vnmannerly,

¶To bring a slouenly vnhandsome Coarse

¶Betwixt the Winde, and his Nobility.

¶With many Holiday and Lady tearme

¶He question'd me: Among the rest, demanded

370My Prisoners, in your Maiesties behalfe.

¶I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold,

¶(To be so pestered with a Popingay)

¶Out of my Greefe, and my Impatience,

¶Answer'd (neglectingly) I know not what,

375He should, or should not: For he made me mad,

¶To see him shine so briske, and smell so sweet,

¶And talke so like a Waiting-Gentlewoman,

¶Of Guns, & Drums, and Wounds: God saue the marke;

¶And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth

380Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise:

¶And that it was great pitty, so it was,

¶That villanous Salt-peter should be digg'd

¶Out of the Bowels of the harmlesse Earth,

¶Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroy'd

385So Cowardly. And but for these vile Gunnes,

¶He would himselfe haue beene a Souldier.

¶This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord)

¶Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.)

¶And I beseech you, let not this report

390Come currant for an Accusation,

¶Betwixt my Loue, and your high Maiesty.

¶Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my Lord,

¶What euer Harry Percie then had said,

¶To such a person, and in such a place,

395At such a time, with all the rest retold,

¶May reasonably dye, and neuer rise

¶To do him wrong, or any way impeach

¶What then he said, so he vnsay it now.

¶King. Why yet doth deny his Prisoners,

400But with Prouiso and Exception,

¶That we at our owne charge, shall ransome straight

¶His Brother-in-Law, the foolish Mortimer,

¶Who (in my soule) hath wilfully betraid

¶The liues of those, that he did leade to Fight,

405Against the great Magitian, damn'd Glendower:

¶Whose daughter (as we heare) the Earle of March

¶Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then,

¶Be emptied, to redeeme a Traitor home?

¶Shall we buy Treason? and indent with Feares,

410When they haue lost and forfeyted themselues.

¶No: on the barren Mountaine let him sterue:

¶For I shall neuer hold that man my Friend,

¶Whose tongue shall aske me for one peny cost

¶To ransome home reuolted Mortimer.

415Hot. Reuolted Mortimer?

¶He neuer did fall off, my Soueraigne Liege,

¶But by the chance of Warre: to proue that true,

¶Needs no more but one tongue. For all those Wounds,

¶Those mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he tooke,

420When on the gentle Seuernes siedgie banke,

¶In single Opposition hand to hand,

¶He did confound the best part of an houre

¶In changing hardiment with great Glendower:

¶Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink

425Vpon agreement, of swift Seuernes flood;

¶Who then affrighted with their bloody lookes,

¶Ran fearefully among the trembling Reeds,

¶And hid his crispe-head in the hollow banke,

¶Blood-stained with these Valiant Combatants.

430Neuer did base and rotten Policy

¶Colour her working with such deadly wounds;

¶Nor neuer could the Noble Mortimer

¶Receiue so many, and all willingly:

¶Then let him not be sland'red with Reuolt.

435King. Thou do'st bely him Percy, thou dost bely him;

¶He neuer did encounter with Glendower:

¶I tell thee, he durst as well haue met the diuell alone,

¶As Owen Glendower for an enemy.

¶Art thou not asham'd? But Sirrah, henceforth

440Let me not heare you speake of Mortimer.

¶Send me your Prisoners with the speediest meanes,

¶Or you shall heare in such a kinde from me

¶As will displease ye. My Lord Northumberland,

¶We License your departure with your sonne,

445Send vs your Prisoners, or you'l heare of it.

Exit King.

¶Hot. And if the diuell come and roare for them

¶I will not send them. I will after straight

¶And tell him so: for I will ease my heart,

¶Although it be with hazard of my head.

450Nor. What? drunke with choller? stay & pause awhile,

¶Heere comes your Vnckle.

Enter Worcester.

¶Hot. Speake of Mortimer?

¶Yes, I will speake of him, and let my soule

¶Want mercy, if I do not ioyne with him.

455In his behalfe, Ile empty all these Veines,

¶And shed my deere blood drop by drop i'th dust,

¶But I will lift the downfall Mortimer

¶As high i'th Ayre, as this Vnthankfull King,

¶As this Ingrate and Cankred Bullingbrooke.

460Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad

¶Wor. Who strooke this heate vp after I was gone?

¶Hot. He will (forsooth) haue all my Prisoners:

¶And when I vrg'd the ransom once againe

¶Of my Wiues Brother, then his cheeke look'd pale,

465And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,

¶Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer.

¶Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd

¶By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?

¶Nor. He was: I heard the Proclamation,

470And then it was, when the vnhappy King

¶(Whose wrongs in vs God pardon) did set forth

¶Vpon his Irish Expedition:

¶From whence he intercepted, did returne

¶To be depos'd, and shortly murthered.

475Wor. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide mouth

¶Liue scandaliz'd, and fouly spoken of.

¶Hot. But soft I pray you; did King Richard then

¶Proclaime my brother Mortimer,

¶Heyre to the Crowne?

480Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it.

¶Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King,

¶That wish'd him on the barren Mountaines staru'd.

¶But shall it be, that you that set the Crowne

¶Vpon the head of this forgetfull man,

485And for his sake, wore the detested blot

¶Of murtherous subornation? Shall it be,

¶That you a world of curses vndergoe,

¶Being the Agents, or base second meanes,

¶The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather?

490O pardon, if that I descend so low,

¶To shew the Line, and the Predicament

¶Wherein you range vnder this subtill King.

¶Shall it for shame, be spoken in these dayes,

¶Or fill vp Chronicles in time to come,

495That men of your Nobility and Power,

¶Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe

¶(As Both of you, God pardon it, haue done)

¶To put downe Richard, that sweet louely Rose,

¶And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke?

500And shall it in more shame be further spoken,

¶That you are fool'd, discarded, and shooke off

¶By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent?

¶No: yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme

¶Your banish'd Honors, and restore your selues

505Into the good Thoughts of the world againe.

¶Reuenge the geering and disdain'd contempt

¶Of this proud King, who studies day and night

¶To answer all the Debt he owes vnto you,

¶Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths:

510Therefore I say---

¶Wor. Peace Cousin, say no more.

¶And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke,

¶And to your quicke conceyuing Discontents,

¶Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous,

515As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit,

¶As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud

¶On the vnstedfast footing of a Speare.

¶Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sinke or swimme:

¶Send danger from the East vnto the West,

520So Honor crosse it from the North to South,

¶And let them grapple: The blood more stirres

¶To rowze a Lyon, then to start a Hare.

¶Nor. Imagination of some great exploit,

¶Driues him beyond the bounds of Patience.

525Hot. By heauen, me thinkes it were an easie leap,

¶To plucke bright Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone,

¶Or diue into the bottome of the deepe,

¶Where Fadome-line could neuer touch the ground,

¶And plucke vp drowned Honor by the Lockes:

530So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare

¶Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities:

¶But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowship.

¶Wor. He apprehends a World of Figures here,

¶But not the forme of what he should attend:

535Good Cousin giue me audience for a-while,

¶And list to me.

¶Hot. I cry you mercy.

¶Wor. Those same Noble Scottes

¶That are your Prisoners.

540Hot. Ile keepe them all.

¶By heauen, he shall not haue a Scot of them:

¶No, if a Scot would saue his Soule, he shall not.

¶Ile keepe them, by this Hand.

¶Wor. You start away,

545And lend no eare vnto my purposes.

¶Those Prisoners you shall keepe.

¶Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat:

¶He said, he would not ransome Mortimer:

¶Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer.

550But I will finde him when he lyes asleepe,

¶And in his eare, Ile holla Mortimer.

¶Nay, Ile haue a Starling shall be taught to speake

¶Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him,

¶To keepe his anger still in motion.

555Wor. Heare you Cousin: a word.

¶Hot. All studies heere I solemnly defie,

¶Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke,

¶And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales.

¶But that I thinke his Father loues him not,

560And would be glad he met with some mischance,

¶I would haue poyson'd him with a pot of Ale.

¶Wor. Farewell Kinsman: Ile talke to you

¶When you are better temper'd to attend.

¶Nor. Why what a Waspe-tongu'd & impatient foole

565Art thou, to breake into this Womans mood,

¶Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne?

¶Hot. Why look you, I am whipt & scourg'd with rods,

¶Netled, and stung with Pismires, when I heare

¶Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke.

570In Richards time: What de'ye call the place?

¶A plague vpon't, it is in Gloustershire:

¶'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept,

¶His Vncle Yorke, where I first bow'd my knee

¶Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke:

575When you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh.

¶Nor. At Barkley Castle.

¶Hot. You say true:

¶Why what a caudie deale of curtesie,

¶This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me.

580Looke when his infant Fortune came to age,

¶And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Cousin:

¶O, the Diuell take such Couzeners, God forgiue me,

¶Good Vncle tell your tale, for I haue done.

¶Wor. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe,

585Wee'l stay your leysure.

¶Hot. I haue done insooth.

¶Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners.

¶Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight,

¶And make the Dowglas sonne your onely meane

590For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reasons

¶Which I shall send you written, be assur'd

¶Will easily be granted you, my Lord.

¶Your Sonne in Scotland being thus impl y'd,

¶Shall secretly into the bosome creepe

595Of that same noble Prelate, well belou'd,

¶The Archbishop.

¶Hot. Of Yorke, is't not?

¶Wor. True, who beares hard

¶His Brothers death at Bristow, the Lord Scroope.

600I speake not this in estimation,

¶As what I thinke might be, but what I know

¶Is ruminated, plotted, and set downe,

¶And onely stayes but to behold the face

¶Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

605Hot. I smell it:

¶Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well.

¶Nor. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip.

¶Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot,

¶And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke

610To ioyne with Mortimer, Ha.

¶Wor. And so they shall.

¶Hot. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd.

¶Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids vs speed,

¶To saue our heads, by raising of a Head:

615For, beare our selues as euen as we can,

¶The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt,

¶And thinke, we thinke our selues vnsatisfied,

¶Till he hath found a time to pay vs home.

¶And see already, how he doth beginne

620To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue.

¶Hot. He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him.

¶Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this,

¶Then I by Letters shall direct your course

¶When time is ripe, which will be sodainly:

625Ile steale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer,

¶Where you, and Dowglas, and our powres at once,

¶As I will fashion it, shall happily meete,

¶To beare our fortunes in our owne strong armes,

¶Which now we hold at much vncertainty.

630Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thriue, I trust.

¶Hot. Vncle, adieu: O let the houres be short,

¶Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our sport.

¶hang'd. Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet

¶our horse not packt. What Ostler?

¶Ost. Anon, anon.

¶1. Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few

640Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the wi-

¶thers, out of all cesse.

¶

Enter another Carrier.

¶2. Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog,

¶and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes:

645This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler

¶dyed.

¶1. Car. Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats

¶rose, it was the death of him.

¶2. Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al

650London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench.

¶1. Car. Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Chri-

¶stendome, could be better bit, then I haue beene since the

¶first Cocke.

¶2. Car. Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and

655then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye

¶breeds Fleas like a Loach.

¶1. Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come

¶away.

¶2. Car. I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of

660Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse.

¶1. Car. The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued.

¶What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in

¶thy head? Can'st not heare? And t'were not as good a

¶deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Vil-

665laine. Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee?

¶

Enter Gads-hill.

¶Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke?

¶Car. I thinke it be two a clocke.

¶Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gel-

670ding in the stable.

¶1. Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two

¶of that.

¶Gad. I prethee lend me thine.

¶2. Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne

675(quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first.

¶Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come

¶to London?

¶2. Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I

¶warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp

680the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they

¶haue great charge.

Exeunt

¶

Enter Chamberlaine.

¶Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine?

¶Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse.

685Gad. That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Cham-

¶berlaine: For thou variest no more from picking of Pur-

¶ses, then giuing direction, doth from labouring. Thou

¶lay'st the plot, how.

¶Cham. Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds cur-

690rant that I told you yesternight. There's a Franklin in the

¶wilde of Kent, hath brought three hundred Markes with

¶him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company last

¶night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abun-

¶dance of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp al-

695ready, and call for Egges and Butter. They will away

¶presently.

¶Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S. Nicholas Clarks,

¶Ile giue thee this necke.

¶Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the

700Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S. Nicholas as tru-

¶ly as a man of falshood may.

¶Gad. What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I

¶hang, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang,

¶old Sir Iohn hangs with mee, and thou know'st hee's no

705Starueling. Tut, there are other Troians that y dream'st

¶not of, the which (for sport sake) are content to doe the

¶Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee

¶look'd into) for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole.

¶I am ioyned with no Foot-land-Rakers, no Long-staffe

710six-penny strikers, none of these mad Mustachio-purple-

¶hu'd-Maltwormes, but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie;

¶Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can holde in,

¶such as will strike sooner then speake; and speake sooner

¶then drinke, and drinke sooner then pray: and yet I lye,

715for they pray continually vnto their Saint the Common-

¶wealth; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for

¶they ride vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots.

¶Cham. What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will

¶she hold out water in foule way?

720Gad. She will, she will; Iustice hath liquor'd her. We

¶steale as in a Castle, cocksure: we haue the receit of Fern-

¶seede, we walke inuisible.

¶Cham. Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding

¶to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking in-

725uisible.

¶Thou shalt haue a share in our purpose,

¶As I am a true man.

¶Cham. Nay, rather let mee haue it, as you are a false

730Theefe.

¶Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Fare-

¶well, ye muddy Knaue.

Exeunt.

¶

Scæna Secunda.

735

Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.

¶Poines. Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs

¶Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet.

¶Prin. Stand close.

¶

Enter Falstaffe.

740Fal. Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines.

¶Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling

¶dost thou keepe.

¶Fal. What Poines. Hal?

¶Prin. He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek

745him.

¶Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that

¶Rascall hath remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not

¶where. If I trauell but foure foot by the squire further a

¶foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but

750to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for kil-

¶ling that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely

¶any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht

¶with the Rogues company. If the Rascall haue not giuen

¶me medicines to make me loue him, Ile behang'd; it could

755not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a

¶Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I

¶rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to

¶drinke, to turne True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I

¶am the veriest Varlet that euer chewed with a Tooth.

760Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten miles

¶afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it

¶well enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be

¶true one to another.

They Whistle. _

¶Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you

765Rogues: giue me my Horse, and be hang'd.

¶Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare

¶close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of

¶Trauellers.

¶Fal. Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being

770downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again,

¶for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague

¶meane ye to colt me thus?

¶Prin. Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted.

¶Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse,

775good Kings sonne.

¶Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?

¶Fal. Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-

¶Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not

¶Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of

780Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote

¶too, I hate it.

¶

Enter Gads-hill.

¶Gad. Stand.

¶Fal. So I do against my will.

785Poin. O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce:

¶Bardolfe, what newes?

¶Bar. Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's

¶mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going

¶to the Kings Exchequer.

790Fal. You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern.

¶Gad. There's enough to make vs all.

¶Fal. To be hang'd.

¶Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane:

¶Ned and I, will walke lower; if they scape from your en-

795counter, then they light on vs.

¶Peto. But how many be of them?

¶Gad. Some eight or ten.

¶Fal. Will they not rob vs?

¶Prin. What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch?

800Fal. Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather;

¶but yet no Coward, Hal.

¶Prin. Wee'l leaue that to the proofe.

¶Poin. Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg,

¶when thou need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Fare-

805well, and stand fast.

¶Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.

¶Prin. Ned, where are our disguises?

¶Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close.

¶Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I:

810euery man to his businesse.

¶

Enter Trauellers.

¶Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses

¶downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our

¶Legges.

815Theeues. Stay.

¶Tra. Iesu blesse vs.

¶Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats;

¶a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs

¶youth; downe with them, fleece them.

820Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer.

¶Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No

¶ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Ba-

¶cons, on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are

¶Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.

825

Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the

¶

Prince and Poines.

¶Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now

¶could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to Lon-

¶don, it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a

830Moneth, and a good iest for euer.

¶Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming.

¶

Enter Theeues againe.

¶Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse

¶before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two ar-

835rand Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe

¶valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke.

¶Prin. Your money.

¶Poin. Villaines.

¶

As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them.

840_They all run away, leauing the booty behind them.

¶Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse:

¶The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strong-

¶ly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fel-

¶low for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to

845death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't

¶not for laughing, I should pitty him.

¶Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.

Exeunt._

¶

Scœna Tertia.

¶

Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.

850

But for mine owne part, my Lord, I could bee well contented to

¶be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.

¶He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of

¶the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues

¶his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me

855see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous.

¶Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to

¶sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of

¶this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The

¶purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue na-

860med vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole

¶Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition.

¶Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a

¶shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lacke-

¶braine is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer

865was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte,

¶good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot,

¶very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this?

¶Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the

¶generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now

870by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan.

¶Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord

¶Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour?

¶Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their let-

¶ters, to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Mo-

875neth? and are they not some of them set forward already?

¶What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall

¶see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he

¶to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could

¶diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish

880of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him,

¶let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards

¶to night.

¶

Enter his Lady.

¶How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours.

¶For what offence haue I this fortnight bin

¶A banish'd woman from my Harries bed?

¶Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee

¶Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe?

890Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth?

¶And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?

¶Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes?

¶And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee,

¶To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly?

895In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht,

¶And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres:

¶Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed,

¶Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd

¶Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,

900Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,

¶Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,

¶Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine,

¶And all the current of a headdy fight.

¶Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre,

905And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe,

¶That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow,

¶Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame;

¶And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd,

¶Such as we see when men restraine their breath

910On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these?

¶Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand,

¶And I must know it: else he loues me not.

¶Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone.

915Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses frõ the Sheriffe?

¶Ser. One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now.

¶Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not.

¶Ser. It is my Lord.

¶Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will

920backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth

¶into the Parke.

¶La. But heare you, my Lord.

¶Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?

¶La. What is it carries you away?

925Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse.

¶La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not

¶such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile

¶know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Bro-

¶ther Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent

930for you to line his enterprize. But if you go---

¶Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue.

¶La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly

¶vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake

¶thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true.

¶I care not for thee Kate: this is no world

¶To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.

¶We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,

¶And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.

940What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?

¶La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?

¶Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,

¶I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?

¶Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no.

945Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?

¶And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare

¶I loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate,

¶I must not haue you henceforth, question me,

¶Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.

950Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,

¶This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate.

¶I know you wise, but yet no further wise

¶Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,

¶But yet a woman: and for secrecie,

955No Lady closer. For I will beleeue

¶Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know,

¶And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate.

¶La. How so farre?

¶Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate,

960Whither I go, thither shall you go too:

¶To day will I set forth, to morrow you.

¶Will this content you Kate?

¶La. It must of force.

¶me thy hand to laugh a little.

¶Poines. Where hast bene Hall?

¶Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3.

970or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base

¶string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of

¶Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke,

¶and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence,

¶that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King

975of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Fal-

¶staffe, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and

¶when I am King of England, I shall command al the good

¶Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dy-

¶ing Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then

980they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am

¶so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can

¶drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my

¶life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou

¶wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to swee-

985ten which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Su-

¶gar, clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker,

¶one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight

¶shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril

¶addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the

990Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Fal-

¶staffe come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome,

¶while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue

¶me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his

¶Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile

995shew thee a President.

¶Poines. Francis.

¶Prin. Thou art perfect.

¶Poin. Francis.

¶

Enter Drawer.

1000Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgar-

¶net, Ralfe.

¶Prince. Come hither Francis.

¶Fran. My Lord.

¶Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?

1005Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to---

¶Poin. Francis.

¶Fran. Anon, anon sir.

¶Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clin-

¶king of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as

1010to play the coward with thy Indenture, & shew it a faire

¶paire of heeles, and run from it?

¶Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in

¶England, I could finde in my heart.

¶Poin. Francis.

1015Fran. Anon, anon sir.

¶Prin. How old art thou, Francis?

¶Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe---

¶Poin. Francis.

¶Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord.

1020Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou

¶gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?

¶Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two.

¶Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske

¶me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it.

1025Poin. Francis.

¶Fran. Anon, anon.

¶Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Fran-

¶cis: or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou

¶wilt. But Francis.

1030Fran. My Lord.

¶Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall

¶button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice

¶garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch.

¶Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane?

1035Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onely

¶drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doub-

¶let will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much.

¶Fran. What sir?

¶Poin. Francis.

1040Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?

¶

Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed,

¶not knowing which way to go.

¶

Enter Vintner.

¶Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a cal-

1045ling? Looke to the Guests within: My Lord, olde Sir

¶Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let

¶them in?

¶Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore.

¶Poines.

1050

Enter Poines.

¶Poin. Anon, anon sir.

¶Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at

¶the doore, shall we be merry?

¶Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee,

1055What cunning match haue you made this iest of the

¶Drawer? Come, what's the issue?

¶Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed them-

¶selues humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to

¶the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight.

1060What's a clocke Francis?

¶Fran. Anon, anon sir.

¶Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words

¶then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His indu-

¶stry is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the par-

1065cell of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hot-

¶spurre of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen

¶dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies

¶to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my

¶sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day?

1070Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres,

¶some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee

¶call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne

¶shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the drun-

¶kard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.

1075

Enter Falstaffe.

¶Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?

¶Fal. A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance

¶too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere

¶I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend

1080them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of

¶Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant?

¶Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter,

¶pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of

¶the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound.

1085Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there

¶is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet

¶a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A vil-

¶lanous Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou

¶wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the

1090face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues

¶not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them

¶is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I

¶say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of

¶songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still.

1095Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mntter you?

¶Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy

¶Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Sub-

¶iects afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer

¶weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?

1100Prin. Why you horson round man? what's the matter?

¶Fal. Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and

¶Poines there?

¶Prin. Ye fatch paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile

¶stab thee.

1105Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call

¶the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could

¶run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the

¶shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you

¶that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such bac-

1110king: giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup

¶of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day.

¶Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since

¶thou drunk'st last.

¶Falst. All's one for that.

He drinkes. _

1115A plague of all Cowards still, say I.

¶Prince. What's the matter?

¶Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue

¶ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning.

¶Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?

1120Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred

¶vpon poore foure of vs.

¶Prince. What, a hundred, man?

¶Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with

¶a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by

1125miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,

¶foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and

¶through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum.

¶I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe.

¶A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake

1130more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes

¶of darknesse.

¶Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?

¶Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen.

¶Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord.

1135Gad. And bound them.

¶Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

¶Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of

¶them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew.

¶Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men

1140set vpon vs.

¶Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the

¶other.

¶Prince. What, fought yee with them all?

¶Falst. All? I know not what yee call all: but if I

1145fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish:

¶if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde

¶Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature.

¶Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of

¶them.

1150Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd

¶two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues

¶in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a

¶Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde

¶word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues

1155in Buckrom let driue at me.

¶Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now.

¶Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure.

¶Poin. I, I, he said foure.

¶Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust

1160at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen

¶points in my Targuet, thus.

¶Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now.

¶Falst. In Buckrom.

¶Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes.

1165Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else.

¶Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon.

¶Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal?

¶Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack.

¶Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these

1170nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of.

¶Prin. So, two more alreadie.

¶Falst. Their Points being broken.

¶Poin. Downe fell his Hose.

¶Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me

1175close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of

¶the eleuen I pay'd.

¶Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne

¶out of two?

¶Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-be-

1180gotten Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and

¶let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st

¶not see thy Hand.

¶Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them,

¶grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Clay-

1185brayn'd Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson ob-

¶scene greasie Tallow Catch.

¶Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the

¶truth, the truth?

¶Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in

1190Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not

¶see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou

¶to this?

¶Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason.

¶Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the

1195Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not

¶tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsi-

¶on? If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would

¶giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I.

¶Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This san-

1200guine Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker,

¶this huge Hill of Flesh.

¶Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried

¶Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth

¶to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath

1205you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke.

¶Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and

¶when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare

¶me speake but thus.

¶Poin. Marke Iacke.

1210Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound

¶them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how

¶a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set

¶on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your

¶prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House.

1215And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with

¶as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne

¶and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art

¶thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say

¶it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting

1220hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open

¶and apparant shame?

¶Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast

¶thou now?

¶Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare

1225ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant?

¶Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest

¶I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion

¶will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great matter.

¶I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of

1230my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion,

¶and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue

¶the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night,

¶pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold,

¶all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What,

1235shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory.

¶Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing

¶away.

¶Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.

¶

Enter Hostesse

1240Host. My Lord, the Prince?

¶Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st

¶thou to me?

¶Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the

¶Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee

1245comes from your Father.

¶Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall

¶man, and send him backe againe to my Mother.

¶Falst. What manner of man is hee?

¶Hostesse. An old man.

1250Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?

¶Shall I giue him his answere?

¶Prin. Prethee doe Iacke.

¶Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing.

Exit. _

¶Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you

1255Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne

¶away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince;

¶no, fie.

¶Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne.

¶Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes

1260Sword so hackt?

¶Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee

¶would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make

¶you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe

¶the like.

1265Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse,

¶to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments

¶with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did

¶that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare

¶his monstrous deuices.

1270Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eigh-

¶teene yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and

¶euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire

¶and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what

¶instinct hadst thou for it?

1275Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you

¶behold these Exhalations?

¶Prin. I doe

¶Bard. What thinke you they portend?

¶Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses.

1280Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken.

¶Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.

¶

Enter Falstaffe.

¶Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How

¶now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe,

1285Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee?

¶Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres

¶( Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could

¶haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague

¶of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder.

1290There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn

¶Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in

¶the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy;

¶and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado,

¶and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true

1295Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a

¶plague call you him?

¶Poin. O, Glendower.

¶Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law

¶Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly

1300Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a

¶Hill perpendicular.

¶Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll

¶kills a Sparrow flying.

¶Falst. You haue hit it.

1305Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow.

¶Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him,

¶hee will not runne.

¶Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him

¶so for running?

1310Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will

¶not budge a foot.

¶Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct.

¶Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too,

¶and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more.

1315Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is

¶turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now

¶as cheape as stinking Mackrell.

¶Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this

¶ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as

1320they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds.

¶Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee

¶shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art

¶not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant,

¶could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes a-

1325gaine, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that

¶Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth

¶not thy blood thrill at it?

¶Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct.

¶Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow,

1330when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me,

¶practise an answere.

¶Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee

¶vpon the particulars of my Life.

¶Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my

1335State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my

¶Crowne.

¶Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Gol-

¶den Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich

¶Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne.

1340Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of

¶thee, now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke

¶to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I

¶haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it

¶in King Cambyses vaine.

1345Prin. Well, heere is my Legge.

¶Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie.

¶Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith.

¶Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares

¶are vaine.

1350Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his counte-

¶nance?

¶Falst. For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen,

¶For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes.

¶Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry

1355Players, as euer I see.

¶Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine.

¶Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy

¶time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though

¶the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes;

1360yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares.

¶Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word,

¶partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of

¶thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that

¶doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere

1365lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so

¶poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a

¶Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee

¶askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and

¶take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing,

1370Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to

¶many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as

¶ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the com-

¶panie thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to

¶thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Pas-

1375sion; not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet

¶there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy

¶companie, but I know not his Name.

¶Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Ma-

¶iestie?

1380Falst. A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent,

¶of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble

¶Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady)

¶inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his

¶Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen,

1385hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes.

¶If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit

¶by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue

¶in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And

¶tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast

1390thou beene this moneth?

¶Prin. Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand

¶for mee, and Ile play my Father.

¶Falst. Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so

¶maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the

1395heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare.

¶Prin. Well, heere I am set.

¶Falst. And heere I stand: iudge my Masters.

¶Prin. Now Harry, whence come you?

¶Falst. My Noble Lord, from East-cheape.

1400Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous.

¶Falst. Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle

¶ye for a young Prince.

¶Prin. Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth

¶ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from

1405Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a

¶fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why

¶do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that

¶Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of

¶Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloake-

1410bagge of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the

¶Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey Ini-

¶quitie, that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? where-

¶in is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein

¶neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? where-

1415in Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villa-

¶nie? wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein wor-

¶thy, but in nothing?

¶Falst. I would your Grace would take me with you:

¶whom meanes your Grace?

1420Prince. That villanous abhominable mis-leader of

¶Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan.

¶Falst. My Lord, the man I know.

¶Prince. I know thou do'st.

¶Falst. But to say, I know more harme in him then in

1425my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde

¶(the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it:

¶but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-ma-

¶ster, that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault,

¶Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a

1430sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd:

¶if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are

¶to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish

¶Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe,

¶kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Fal-

1435staffe, and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack

¶Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish

¶not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and

¶banish all the World.

¶Prince. I doe, I will.

1440

Enter Bardolph running.

¶Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most

¶most monstrous Watch, is at the doore.

¶Falst. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much

¶to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe.

1445

Enter the Hostesse.

¶Hostesse. O, my Lord, my Lord.

¶Falst. Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddle-

¶sticke: what's the matter?

¶Hostesse. The Sherife and all the Watch are at the

1450doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let

¶them in?

¶Falst. Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of

¶Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without

¶seeming so.

1455Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without in-

¶stinct.

¶Falst. I deny your Maior: if you will deny the

¶Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart

¶as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I

1460hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as ano-

¶ther.

¶Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest

¶walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and

¶good Conscience.

1465Falst. Both which I haue had: but their date is out,

¶and therefore Ile hide me.

Exit. _

¶Prince. Call in the Sherife.

¶

Enter Sherife and the Carrier.

¶Prince. Now Master Sherife, what is your will with

1470mee?

¶She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath

¶followed certaine men vnto this house.

¶Prince. What men?

¶She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord,

1475a grosse fat man.

¶Car. As fat as Butter.

¶For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him:

¶And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee,

1480That I will by to morrow Dinner time,

¶Send him to answere thee, or any man,

¶For any thing he shall be charg'd withall:

¶And so let me entreat you, leaue the house.

¶She. I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen

1485Haue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes.

¶Prince. It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men,

¶He shall be answerable: and so farewell.

¶She. Good Night, my Noble Lord.

¶Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?

1490She. Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.

¶goe call him forth.

¶Peto. Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and

1495snorting like a Horse.

¶Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his

¶Pockets.

¶

He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth

¶certaine Papers.

1500Prince. What hast thou found?

¶Peto. Nothing but Papers, my Lord.

¶Prince. Let's see, what be they? reade them.

¶Peto. Item, a Capon.

ii.s.ii.d.

¶Item, Sawce

iiii.d.

1505Item, Sacke, two Gallons.

v.s.viii.d.

¶Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper.

ii.s.vi.d.

¶Item, Bread.

ob.

¶Prince. O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of

¶Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is

1510else, keepe close, wee'le reade it at more aduantage: there

¶let him sleepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning:

¶Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall be hono-

¶rable. Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot,

¶and I know his death will be a Match of Twelue-score.

1515The Money shall be pay'd backe againe with aduantage.

¶Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good mor-

¶row Peto.

¶Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.

¶And our induction full of prosperous hope.

¶Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,

1525Will you sit downe?

¶And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,

¶I haue forgot the Mappe.

¶Glend. No, here it is:

¶Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:

1530For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you,

¶His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh,

¶He wisheth you in Heauen.

¶dower spoke of.

¶The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,

¶Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,

¶The frame and foundation of the Earth

¶Shak'd like a Coward.

¶if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe

¶had neuer beene borne.

¶Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne.

¶Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde,

1545If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke.

¶Glend. The Heauens were all on fire, the Earth did

¶tremble.

¶To see the Heauens on fire,

1550And not in feare of your Natiuitie.

¶Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth

¶In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth

¶Is with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext,

¶By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde

1555Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing,

¶Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe

¶Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,

¶Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature,

¶In passion shooke.

1560Glend. Cousin: of many men

¶I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue

¶To tell you once againe, that at my Birth

¶The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,

¶The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards

1565Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:

¶These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,

¶And all the courses of my Life doe shew,

¶I am not in the Roll of common men.

¶Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,

1570That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,

¶Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?

¶And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,

¶Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,

¶And hold me pace in deepe experiments.

1575Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:

¶Ile to Dinner.

¶Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad.

¶Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe.

¶Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man:

1580But will they come, when you doe call for them?

¶Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the

¶Deuill.

¶Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,

¶By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.

1585If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither,

¶And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence.

¶Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill.

¶Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable

¶Chat.

1590Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head

¶Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,

¶And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent him

¶Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe.

¶Hotsp. Home without Bootes,

1595And in foule Weather too,

¶How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?

¶Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe:

¶Shall wee diuide our Right,

¶According to our three-fold order ta'ne?

1600Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it

¶Into three Limits, very equally:

¶England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto,

¶By South and East, is to my part assign'd:

¶All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore,

1605And all the fertile Land within that bound,

¶To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to you

¶The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.

¶And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne:

¶Which being sealed enterchangeably,

1610(A Businesse that this Night may execute)

¶To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,

¶And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,

¶To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power,

¶As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.

1615My Father Glendower is not readie yet,

¶Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes:

¶Within that space, you may haue drawne together

¶Your Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen.

¶Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, Lords:

1620And in my Conduct shall your Ladies come,

¶From whom you now must steale, and take no leaue,

¶For there will be a World of Water shed,

¶Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you.

¶Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here,

1625In quantitie equals not one of yours:

¶See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in,

¶And cuts me from the best of all my Land,

¶A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out.

¶Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp,

1630And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne,

¶In a new Channell, faire and euenly:

¶It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,

¶To rob me of so rich a Bottome here.

¶Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth.

1635Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course,

¶And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side,

¶Gelding the opposed Continent as much,

¶As on the other side it takes from you.

¶Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,

1640And on this North side winne this Cape of Land,

¶And then he runnes straight and euen.

¶Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it.

¶Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd.

¶Hotsp. Will not you?

1645Glend. No, nor you shall not.

¶Hotsp. Who shall say me nay?

¶Glend. Why, that will I.

¶Hotsp. Let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in

¶Welsh.

1650Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you:

¶For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court;

¶Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe

¶Many an English Dittie, louely well,

¶And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament;

1655A Vertue that was neuer seene in you.

¶Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,

¶I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,

¶Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:

¶I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,

1660Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,

¶And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,

¶Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;

¶'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge.

¶Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd.

1665Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land

¶To any well-deseruing friend;

¶But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,

¶Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.

¶Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?

1670Glend. The Moone shines faire,

¶You may away by Night:

¶Ile haste the Writer; and withall,

¶Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence:

¶I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde,

1675So much she doteth on her Mortimer.

¶ther.

¶With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,

1680Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;

¶And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,

¶A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen,

¶A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat,

¶And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,

1685As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,

¶He held me last Night, at least, nine howres,

¶In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names,

¶That were his Lacqueyes:

¶I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,

1690But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious

¶As a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife,

¶Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue

¶With Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre,

¶Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me,

1695In any Summer-House in Christendome.

¶Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,

¶Exceeding well read, and profited,

¶In strange Concealements:

¶Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,

1700And as bountifull, as Mynes of India.

¶Shall I tell you, Cousin,

¶He holds your temper in a high respect,

¶And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope,

¶When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does.

1705I warrant you, that man is not aliue,

¶Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done,

¶Without the taste of danger, and reproofe:

¶But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you.

¶Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame,

1710And since your comming hither, haue done enough,

¶To put him quite besides his patience.

¶You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault:

¶Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood,

¶And that's the dearest grace it renders you;

1715Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage,

¶Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment,

¶Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine:

¶The least of which, haunting a Nobleman,

¶Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne

1720Vpon the beautie of all parts besides,

¶Beguiling them of commendation.

¶Hotsp. Well, I am school'd:

¶Good-manners be your speede;

¶Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue.

1725

Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

¶Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me,

¶My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh.

¶Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you,

¶Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres.

1730Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy

¶Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.

1735A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,

¶One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.

¶Which thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens,

1740I am too perfect in: and but for shame,

¶In such a parley should I answere thee.

¶And that's a feeling disputation:

1745But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,

¶Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue

¶Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,

¶Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,

¶With rauishing Diuision to her Lute.

1750Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

¶Glend. She bids you,

¶On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,

1755And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe,

¶And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you,

¶And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,

¶Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse;

¶Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,

1760As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,

¶The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme

¶Begins his Golden Progresse in the East.

¶Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing:

¶By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne.

1765Glend. Doe so:

¶And those Musitians that shall play to you,

¶Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence;

¶And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend.

¶Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:

1770Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy

¶Lappe.

¶Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.

¶

The Musicke playes.

¶Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,

1775And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous:

¶Byrlady hee's a good Musitian.

¶Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall,

¶For you are altogether gouerned by humors:

¶Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh.

¶You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:

1795Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue;

¶And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day:

¶And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes,

¶As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury.

¶Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,

1800A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth,

¶And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,

¶To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.

¶Come, sing.

¶Lady. I will not sing.

¶brest teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away

¶within these two howres: and so come in, when yee

¶will.

1810As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe.

¶By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale,

¶And then to Horse immediately.

¶Mort. With all my heart.

Exeunt. _

¶

Scæna Secunda.

1815

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

¶King. Lords, giue vs leaue:

¶The Prince of Wales, and I,

¶Must haue some priuate conference:

¶But be neere at hand,

1820For wee shall presently haue neede of you.

¶

Exeunt Lords. _

¶I know not whether Heauen will haue it so,

¶For some displeasing seruice I haue done;

¶That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood,

1825Hee'le breede Reuengement, and a Scourge for me:

¶But thou do'st in thy passages of Life,

¶Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd

¶For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauen

¶To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,

1830Could such inordinate and low desires,

¶Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts,

¶Such barren pleasures, rude societie,

¶As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too,

¶Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood,

1835And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?

¶Prince. So please your Maiesty, I would I could

¶Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,

¶As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge

¶My selfe of many I am charg'd withall:

1840Yet such extenuation let me begge,

¶As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd,

¶Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare,

¶By smiling Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers;

¶I may for some things true, wherein my youth

1845Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,

¶Finde pardon on my true submission.

¶King. Heauen pardon thee:

¶Yet let me wonder, Harry,

¶At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing

1850Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.

¶Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost,

¶Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de;

¶And art almost an alien to the hearts

¶Of all the Court and Princes of my blood.

1855The hope and expectation of thy time

¶Is ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man

¶Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.

¶Had I so lauish of my presence beene,

¶So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,

1860So stale and cheape to vulgar Company;

¶Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne,

¶Had still kept loyall to possession,

¶And left me in reputelesse banishment,

¶A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood.

1865By being seldome seene, I could not stirre,

¶But like a Comet, I was wondred at,

¶That men would tell their Children, This is hee:

¶Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke.

¶And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen,

1870And drest my selfe in such Humilitie,

¶That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts,

¶Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes,

¶Euen in the presence of the Crowned King.

¶Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new,

1875My Presence like a Robe Pontificall,

¶Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State,

¶Seldome but sumptuous, shewed like a Feast,

¶And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie.

¶The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe,

1880With shallow Iesters, and rash Bauin Wits,

¶Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his State,

¶Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles,

¶Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes,

¶And gaue his Countenance, against his Name,

1885To laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the push

¶Of euery Beardlesse vaine Comparatiue;

¶Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,

¶Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie:

¶That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes,

1890They surfeted with Honey, and began to loathe

¶The taste of Sweetnesse, whereof a little

¶More then a little, is by much too much.

¶So when he had occasion to be seene,

¶He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune,

1895Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes,

¶As sicke and blunted with Communitie,

¶Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze,

¶Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie,

¶When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes:

1900But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe,

¶Slept in his Face, and rendred such aspect

¶As Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries,

¶Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.

¶And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou:

1905For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge,

¶With vile participation. Not an Eye

¶But is awearie of thy common sight,

¶Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more:

¶Which now doth that I would not haue it doe,

1910Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse.

¶Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,

¶Be more my selfe.

¶King. For all the World,

¶As thou art to this houre, was Richard then,

1915When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh;

¶And euen as I was then, is Percy now:

¶Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,

¶He hath more worthy interest to the State

¶Then thou, the shadow of Succession;

1920For of no Right, nor colour like to Right.

¶He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme,

¶Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes;

¶And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou,

¶Leades ancient Lords, and reuerent Bishops on

1925To bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes.

¶What neuer-dying Honor hath he got,

¶Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes,

¶Whose hot Incursions, and great Name in Armes,

¶Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie,

1930And Militarie Title Capitall.

¶Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ,

¶Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes,

¶This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises,

¶Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once,

1935Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,

¶To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp,

¶And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne.

¶And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,

¶The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas, Mortimer,

1940Capitulate against vs, and are vp.

¶But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee?

¶Why, Harry, doe I tell thee of my Foes,

¶Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie?

¶Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare,

1945Base Inclination, and the start of Spleene,

¶To fight against me vnder Percies pay,

¶To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes,

¶To shew how much thou art degenerate.

¶Prince. Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so:

1950And Heauen forgiue them, that so much haue sway'd

¶Your Maiesties good thoughts away from me:

¶I will redeeme all this on Percies head,

¶And in the closing of some glorious day,

¶Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne,

1955When I will weare a Garment all of Blood,

¶And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske:

¶Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it.

¶And that shall be the day, when ere it lights,

¶That this same Child of Honor and Renowne,

1960This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight,

¶And your vnthought-of Harry chance to meet:

¶For euery Honor sitting on his Helme,

¶Would they were multitudes, and on my head

¶My shames redoubled. For the time will come,

1965That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchange

¶His glorious Deedes for my Indignities:

¶Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord,

¶To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe:

¶And I will call him to so strict account,

1970That he shall render euery Glory vp,

¶Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time,

¶Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart.

¶This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here:

¶The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue,

1975I doe beseech your Maiestie, may salue

¶The long-growne Wounds of my intemperature:

¶If not, the end of Life cancells all Bands,

¶And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths,

¶Ere breake the smallest parcell of this Vow.

1980King. A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this:

¶Thou shalt haue Charge, and soueraigne trust herein.

¶

Enter Blunt.

¶How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed.

¶Blunt. So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of.

1985Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,

¶That Dowglas and the English Rebels met

¶The eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury:

¶A mightie and a fearefull Head they are,

¶(If Promises be kept on euery hand)

1990As euer offered foule play in a State.

¶King. The Earle of Westmerland set forth to day:

¶With him my sonne, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,

¶For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old.

¶On Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward:

1995On Thursday, wee our selues will march.

¶Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march

¶Through Glocestershire: by which account,

¶Our Businesse valued some twelue dayes hence,

¶Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete.

2000Our Hands are full of Businesse: let's away,

¶Aduantage feedes him fat, while men delay.

2005last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why

¶my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose

¶Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well,

¶Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking:

¶I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no

2010strength to repent. And I haue not forgotten what the

¶in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper-Corne, a

¶Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villa-

¶nous Company hath beene the spoyle of me.

¶Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue

2015long.

¶Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song,

¶make me merry: I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentle-

¶man need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not

¶aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not

2020aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I

¶borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good

¶compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of com-

¶passe.

¶Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must

2025needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable

¶compasse, Sir Iohn.

¶Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy

¶Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne

¶in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the

2030Knight of the burning Lampe.

¶Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme.

¶Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as

¶many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori.

¶I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues

2035that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning,

¶burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would

¶sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire:

¶But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede,

¶but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darke-

2040nesse. When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to

¶catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene

¶an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase

¶in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euer-

¶lasting Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand

2045Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the

¶Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that

¶thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as

¶good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue

¶maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time

2050this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it.

¶Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly.

¶Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.

¶

Enter Hostesse.

¶How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet

2055who pick'd my Pocket?

¶Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn?

¶doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue

¶search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by

¶Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a

2060hayre was neuer lost in my house before.

¶Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost

¶many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd:

¶goe to, you are a Woman, goe.

¶Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so

2065in mine owne house before.

¶Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough.

¶Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn:

¶I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and

¶now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought

2070you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe.

¶Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them

¶away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of

¶them.

¶Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight

2075shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn,

¶for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you,

¶foure and twentie pounds.

¶Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay.

¶Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath no-

2080thing.

¶Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call

¶you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his

¶Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a

¶Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne,

2085but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-

¶Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie Marke.

¶Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not

¶how oft, that that Ring was Copper.

¶Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe:

2090and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge,

¶if hee would say so.

¶

Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets

¶

him, playing on his Trunchion

¶

like a Fife.

2095Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore?

¶Must we all march?

¶Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.

¶Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me.

¶Prince. What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How

2100does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest

¶man.

¶Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee.

¶Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee.

¶Prince. What say'st thou, Iacke?

2105Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the

¶Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd

¶Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets.

¶Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke?

¶Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds

2110of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-

¶fathers.

¶Prince. A Trifle, some eight-penny matter.

¶Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your

¶Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of

2115you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee

¶would cudgell you.

¶Prince. What hee did not?

¶Host. There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood

¶in me else.

2120Falst. There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune;

¶nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for

¶Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife

¶of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go.

¶Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

2125Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on.

¶Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou

¶shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting

¶thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so.

¶Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast

2130to say otherwise.

¶Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?

¶Fal. What beast? Why an Otter.

¶Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?

¶Fal. Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes

2135not where to haue her.

¶Host. Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie

¶man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou.

¶Prince. Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee

¶most grossely.

2140Host. So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other

¶day, You ought him a thousand pound.

¶Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

¶Falst. A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is

¶worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue.

2145Host. Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee

¶would cudgell you.

¶Fal. Did I, Bardolph?

¶Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so.

¶Fal. Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper.

2150Prince. I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as

¶thy word now?

¶Fal. Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I

¶dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the

¶roaring of the Lyons Whelpe.

2155Prince. And why not as the Lyon?

¶Fal. The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon:

¶Do'st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay

¶if I do, let my Girdle breake.

¶Prin. O, if it should. how would thy guttes fall about

2160thy knees. But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth,

¶nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe

¶with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman

¶with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent

¶imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but

2165Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses,

¶and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee

¶long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with anie o-

¶ther iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will

¶stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not

2170asham'd?

¶Fal. Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state

¶of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke

¶Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue

¶more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty.

2175You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?

¶Prin. It appeares so by the Story.

¶Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband,

¶Looke to thy Seruants, and cherish thy Guests:

2180Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason:

¶Thou seest, I am pacified still.

¶Nay, I prethee be gone.

¶I must still be good Angell to thee.

¶The Monie is paid backe againe.

¶any thing.

¶Fal. Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st,

¶and do it with vnwash'd hands too.

2195Bard. Do my Lord.

¶Prin. I haue procured thee Iacke, a Charge of Foot.

¶Fal. I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde

¶one that can steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and

¶twentie, or thereabout: I am heynously vnprouided. Wel

2200God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but

¶the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them.

¶Prin. Bardolph.

¶Bar. My Lord.

2205To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland,

¶Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I,

¶Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time.

¶Iacke, meet me to morrow in the Temple Hall

¶At two a clocke in the afternoone,

2210There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue

¶Money and Order for their Furniture.

¶The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye,

¶And either they, or we must lower lye.

¶Fal. Rare words! braue world.

2215Hostesse, my breakfast, come:

¶Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.

¶

Exeunt omnes.

¶

Actus Quartus. Scœna Prima.

¶

Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester,

2220

and Dowglas.

¶Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth

¶In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie,

¶Such attribution should the Dowglas haue,

¶As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe,

2225Should go so generall currant through the world.

¶By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie

¶The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place

¶In my hearts loue, hath no man then your Selfe.

¶Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord.

2230Dow. Thou art the King of Honor:

¶No man so potent breathes vpon the ground,

¶But I will Beard him.

¶

Enter a Messenger.

¶Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What Letters hast there?

2235I can but thanke you.

¶Mess. These Letters come from your Father.

¶Hot. Letters from him?

¶Why comes he not himselfe?

¶Mes. He cannot come, my Lord,

2240He is greeuous sicke.

¶Hot. How? haz he the leysure to be sicke now,

¶In such a iustling time? Who leades his power?

¶Vnder whose Gonernment come they along?

¶Mess. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde.

2245Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?

¶Mess. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth:

¶And at the time of my departure thence,

¶He was much fear'd by his Physician.

¶Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole,

2250Ere he by sicknesse had beene visited:

¶His health was neuer better worth then now.

¶Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect

¶The very Life-blood of our Enterprise,

¶'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe.

2255He writes me here, that inward sicknesse,

¶And that his friends by deputation

¶Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet,

¶To lay so dangerous and deare a trust

¶On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne.

2260Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,

¶That with our small coniunction we should on,

¶To see how Fortune is dispos'd to vs:

¶For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,

¶Because the King is certainely possest

2265Of all our purposes. What say you to it?

¶Wor. Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs.

¶Hotsp. A perillous Gash, a very Limme lopt off:

¶And yet, in faith, it is not his present want

¶Seemes more then we shall finde it.

2270Were it good, to set the exact wealth of all our states

¶All at one Cast? To set so rich a mayne

¶On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre,

¶It were not good: for therein should we reade

¶The very Bottome, and the Soule of Hope,

2275The very List, the very vtmost Bound

¶Of all our fortunes.

¶Dowg. Faith, and so wee should,

¶Where now remaines a sweet reuersion.

¶We may boldly spend, vpon the hope

2280Of what is to come in:

¶A comfort of retyrement liues in this.

¶Hotsp. A Randeuous, a Home to flye vnto,

¶If that the Deuill and Mischance looke bigge

¶Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires.

2285Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here:

¶The Qualitie and Heire of our Attempt

¶Brookes no diuision: It will be thought

¶By some, that know not why he is away,

¶That wisedome, loyaltie, and meere dislike

2290Of our proceedings, kept the Earle from hence.

¶And thinke, how such an apprehension

¶May turne the tyde of fearefull Faction,

¶And breede a kinde of question in our cause:

¶For well you know, wee of the offring side,

2295Must keepe aloofe from strict arbitrement,

¶And stop all sight-holes, euery loope, from whence

¶The eye of reason may prie in vpon vs:

¶This absence of your Father drawes a Curtaine,

¶That shewes the ignorant a kinde of feare,

2300Before not dreamt of.

¶Hotsp. You strayne too farre.

¶I rather of his absence make this vse:

¶It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion,

¶A larger Dare to your great Enterprize,

2305Then if the Earle were here: for men must thinke,

¶If we without his helpe, can make a Head

¶To push against the Kingdome; with his helpe,

¶We shall o're-turne it topsie-turuy downe:

¶Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole.

2310Dowg. As heart can thinke:

¶There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland,

¶At this Dreame of Feare.

¶

Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

¶Hotsp. My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule.

2315Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord.

¶The Earle of Westmerland, seuen thousand strong,

¶Is marching hither-wards, with Prince Iohn.

¶Hotsp. No harme: what more?

¶Vern. And further, I haue learn'd,

2320The King himselfe in person hath set forth,

¶Or hither-wards intended speedily,

¶With strong and mightie preparation.

¶Hotsp. He shall be welcome too.

¶Where is his Sonne,

2325The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales,

¶And his Cumrades, that daft the World aside,

¶And bid it passe?

¶Vern. All furnisht, all in Armes,

¶All plum'd like Estridges, that with the Winde

2330Bayted like Eagles, hauing lately bath'd,

¶Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images,

¶As full of spirit as the Moneth of May,

¶And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-summer,

¶Wanton as youthfull Goates, wilde as young Bulls.

2335I saw young Harry with his Beuer on,

¶His Cushes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd,

¶Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,

¶And vaulted with such ease into his Seat,

¶As if an Angell dropt downe from the Clouds,

2340To turne and winde a fierie Pegasus,

¶And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship.

¶Hotsp. No more, no more,

¶Worse then the Sunne in March:

¶This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come.

2345They come like Sacrifices in their trimme,

¶And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre,

¶All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them:

¶The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit

¶Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,

2350To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh,

¶And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse,

¶Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt,

¶Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales.

¶Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse

2355Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse?

¶Oh, that Glendower were come.

¶Ver. There is more newes:

¶I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,

¶He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes.

¶yet.

¶Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound.

¶Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach

¶vnto?

¶Hot. Forty let it be,

¶My Father and Glendower being both away,

¶The powres of vs, may serue so great a day.

¶Come, let vs take a muster speedily:

2370Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily.

¶Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare

¶Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare.

¶Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le

¶to Sutton-cop-hill to Night.

¶Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine?

2380Falst. Lay out, lay out.

¶Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell.

¶Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it

¶make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage.

¶Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end.

2385Bard. I will Captaine: farewell.

Exit. _

¶Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a

¶sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse dam-

¶nably. I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie

¶Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me

2390none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire

¶me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd

¶twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues,

¶as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as

¶feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole,

2395or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes

¶and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then

¶Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices:

¶And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Cor-

¶porals, Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as

2400ragged as Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Glut-

¶tons Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were

¶neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, youn-

¶ger Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and

¶Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and

2405long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged,

¶then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the

¶roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that

¶you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd

¶Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating

2410Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way,

¶and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the

¶dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile

¶not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay,

¶and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if

2415they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them

¶out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my

¶Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt to-

¶gether, and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds

¶Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth,

2420stolne from my Host of S. Albones, or the Red-Nose

¶Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde

¶Linnen enough on euery Hedge.

¶

Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.

¶Prince. How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt?

2425Falst. What Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill

¶do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of West-

¶merland, I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had al-

¶ready beene at Shrewsbury.

¶West. 'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were

2430there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie.

¶The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away

¶all to Night.

¶Falst. Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to

¶steale Creame.

2435Prince. I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft

¶hath alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose

¶fellowes are these that come after?

¶Falst. Mine, Hal, mine.

¶Prince. I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals.

2440Falst. Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Pow-

¶der, foode for Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better:

¶tush man, mortall men, mortall men.

¶Westm. I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding

¶poore and bare, too beggarly.

2445Falst. Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they

¶had that; and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer

¶learn'd that of me.

¶Prince. No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers

¶on the Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already

2450in the field.

¶Falst. What, is the King encamp'd?

¶Westm. Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too

¶long.

¶Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the begin-

2455ning of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.

¶Worc. It may not be.

¶Dowg. You giue him then aduantage.

¶Vern. Not a whit.

¶Hotsp. Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?

2465Vern. So doe wee.

¶Hotsp. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull.

¶Worc. Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night.

¶Vern. Doe not, my Lord.

¶Dowg. You doe not counsaile well:

2470You speake it out of feare, and cold heart.

¶Vern. Doe me no slander, Dowglas: by my Life,

¶And I dare well maintaine it with my Life,

¶If well-respected Honor bid me on,

¶I hold as little counsaile with weake feare,

2475As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day liues.

¶Let it be seene to morrow in the Battell,

¶Which of vs feares.

¶Dowg. Yea, or to night.

¶Vern. Content.

2480Hotsp. To night, say I.

¶Vern. Come, come, it may not be.

¶I wonder much, being mẽ of such great leading as you are

¶That you fore-see not what impediments

¶Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horse

2485Of my Cousin Vernons are not yet come vp,

¶Your Vnckle Worcesters Horse came but to day,

¶And now their pride and mettall is asleepe,

¶Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,

¶That not a Horse is halfe the halfe of himselfe.

2490Hotsp. So are the Horses of the Enemie

¶In generall iourney bated, and brought low:

¶The better part of ours are full of rest.

¶Worc. The number of the King exceedeth ours:

¶For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in.

2495

The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir

¶

Walter Blunt.

¶Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King,

¶If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.

¶Hotsp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt:

2500And would to God you were of our determination.

¶Some of vs loue you well: and euen those some

¶Enuie your great deseruings, and good name,

¶Because you are not of our qualitie,

¶But stand against vs like an Enemie.

2505Blunt. And Heauen defend, but still I should stand so,

¶So long as out of Limit, and true Rule,

¶You stand against anoynted Maiestie.

¶But to my Charge.

¶The King hath sent to know

2510The nature of your Griefes, and whereupon

¶You coniure from the Brest of Ciuill Peace,

¶Such bold Hostilitie, teaching his dutious Land

¶Audacious Crueltie. If that the King

¶Haue any way your good Deserts forgot,

2515Which he confesseth to be manifold,

¶He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed

¶You shall haue your desires, with interest;

¶And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these,

¶Herein mis-led, by your suggestion.

2520Hotsp. The King is kinde:

¶And well wee know, the King

¶Knowes at what time to promise, when to pay.

¶My Father, my Vnckle, and my selfe,

¶Did giue him that same Royaltie he weares:

2525And when he was not sixe and twentie strong,

¶Sicke in the Worlds regard, wretched, and low,

¶A poore vnminded Out-law, sneaking home,

¶My Father gaue him welcome to the shore:

¶And when he heard him sweare, and vow to God,

2530He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,

¶To sue his Liuerie, and begge his Peace,

¶With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale;

¶My Father, in kinde heart and pitty mou'd,

¶Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.

2535Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realme

¶Perceiu'd Northumberland did leane to him,

¶The more and lesse came in with Cap and Knee,

¶Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages,

¶Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes,

2540Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes,

¶Gaue him their Heires, as Pages followed him,

¶Euen at the heeles, in golden multitudes.

¶He presently, as Greatnesse knowes it selfe,

¶Step me a little higher then his Vow

2545Made to my Father, while his blood was poore,

¶Vpon the naked shore at Rauenspurgh:

¶And now (forsooth) takes on him to reforme

¶Some certaine Edicts, and some strait Decrees,

¶That lay too heauie on the Common-wealth;

2550Cryes out vpon abuses, seemes to weepe

¶Ouer his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face,

¶This seeming Brow of Iustice, did he winne

¶The hearts of all that hee did angle for.

¶Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads

2555Of all the Fauorites, that the absent King

¶In deputation left behinde him heere,

¶When hee was personall in the Irish Warre.

¶Blunt. Tut, I came not to heare this.

¶Hotsp. Then to the point.

2560In short time after, hee depos'd the King.

¶Soone after that, depriu'd him of his Life:

¶And in the neck of that, task't the whole State.

¶To make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March,

¶Who is, if euery Owner were plac'd,

2565Indeede his King, to be engag'd in Wales,

¶There, without Ransome, to lye forfeited:

¶Disgrac'd me in my happie Victories,

¶Sought to intrap me by intelligence,

¶Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord,

2570In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court,

¶Broke Oath on Oath, committed Wrong on Wrong,

¶And in conclusion, droue vs to seeke out

¶This Head of safetie; and withall, to prie

¶Into his Title: the which wee finde

2575Too indirect, for long continuance.

¶Blunt. Shall I returne this answer to the King?

¶Hotsp. Not so, Sir Walter.

¶Wee'le with-draw a while:

¶Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd

2580Some suretie for a safe returne againe,

¶And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle

¶Bring him our purpose: and so farewell.

¶Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Loue.

¶Hotsp. And't may be, so wee shall.

2585Blunt. Pray Heauen you doe.

Exeunt. _

¶

Scena Quarta.

¶

Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.

¶Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this sealed Briefe

¶With winged haste to the Lord Marshall,

2590This to my Cousin Scroope, and all the rest

¶To whom they are directed.

¶If you knew how much they doe import,

¶You would make haste.

¶Sir Mich. My good Lord, I guesse their tenor.

2595Arch. Like enough you doe.

¶To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day,

¶Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men

¶Must bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury,

¶As I am truly giuen to vnderstand,

2600The King, with mightie and quick-raysed Power,

¶Meetes with Lord Harry: and I feare, Sir Michell,

¶What with the sicknesse of Northumberland,

¶Whose Power was in the first proportion;

¶And what with Owen Glendowers absence thence,

2605Who with them was rated firmely too,

¶And comes not in, ouer-rul'd by Prophecies,

¶I feare the Power of Percy is too weake,

¶To wage an instant tryall with the King.

¶Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, you need not feare,

2610There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer.

¶Arch. No, Mortimer is not there.

¶Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,

¶And there is my Lord of Worcester,

¶And a Head of gallant Warriors,

2615Noble Gentlemen.

¶Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath drawne

¶The speciall head of all the Land together:

¶The Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,

¶The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt;

2620And many moe Corriuals, and deare men

¶Of estimation, and command in Armes.

¶Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd

¶Arch. I hope no lesse? Yet needfull 'tis to feare,

¶And to preuent the worst, Sir Michell speed;

2625For if Lord Percy thriue not, ere the King

¶Dismisse his power, he meanes to visit vs:

¶For he hath heard of our Confederacie,

¶And, 'tis but Wisedome to make strong against him:

¶Therefore make hast, I must go write againe

2630To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michell.

Exeunt.

¶

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

¶

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,

¶

Earle of Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt,

¶

and Falstaffe.

2635King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere

¶Aboue yon busky hill: the day lookes pale

¶At his distemperature.

¶Prin. The Southerne winde

¶Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes,

2640And by his hollow whistling in the Leaues,

¶Fortels a Tempest, and a blust'ring day.

¶King. Then with the losers let it sympathize,

¶For nothing can seeme foule to those that win.

¶

The Trumpet sounds.

2645

Enter Worcester.

¶King. How now my Lord of Worster? 'Tis not well

¶That you and I should meet vpon such tearmes,

¶As now we meet. You haue deceiu'd our trust,

¶And made vs doffe our easie Robes of Peace,

2650To crush our old limbes in vngentle Steele:

¶This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.

¶What say you to it? Will you againe vnknit

¶This churlish knot of all-abhorred Warre?

¶And moue in that obedient Orbe againe,

2655Where you did giue a faire and naturall light,

¶And be no more an exhall'd Meteor,

¶A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent

¶Of broached Mischeefe, to the vnborne Times?

¶Wor. Heare me, my Liege:

2660For mine owne part, I could be well content

¶To entertaine the Lagge-end of my life

¶With quiet houres: For I do protest,

¶I haue not sought the day of this dislike.

¶King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then?

2665Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

¶Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace.

¶Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookes

¶Of Fauour, from my Selfe, and all our House;

¶And yet I must remember you my Lord,

2670We were the first, and dearest of your Friends:

¶For you, my staffe of Office did I breake

¶In Richards time, and poasted day and night

¶To meete you on the way, and kisse your hand,

¶When yet you were in place, and in account

2675Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I;

¶It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne,

¶That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare

¶The danger of the time. You swore to vs,

¶And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster,

2680That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State,

¶Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right,

¶The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster,

¶To this, we sware our aide: But in short space,

¶It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your head,

2685And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you,

¶What with our helpe, what with the absent King.

¶What with the iniuries of wanton time,

¶The seeming sufferances that you had borne,

¶And the contrarious Windes that held the King

2690So long in the vnlucky Irish Warres,

¶That all in England did repute him dead:

¶And from this swarme of faire aduantages,

¶You tooke occasion to be quickly woo'd,

¶To gripe the generall sway into your hand,

2695Forgot your Oath to vs at Doncaster,

¶And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so,

¶As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,

¶Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our Nest,

¶Grew by our Feeding, to so great a bulke,

2700That euen our Loue durst not come neere your sight

¶For feare of swallowing: But with nimble wing

¶We were inforc'd for safety sake, to flye

¶Out of your sight, and raise this present Head,

¶Whereby we stand opposed by such meanes

2705As you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe,

¶By vnkinde vsage, dangerous countenance,

¶And violation of all faith and troth

¶Sworne to vs in yonger enterprize.

¶Kin. These things indeede you haue articulated,

2710Proclaim'd at Market Crosses, read in Churches,

¶To face the Garment of Rebellion

¶With some fine colour, that may please the eye

¶Of fickle Changelings, and poore Discontents,

¶Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes

2715Of hurly burly Innouation:

¶And neuer yet did Insurrection want

¶Such water-colours, to impaint his cause:

¶Nor moody Beggars, staruing for a time

¶Of pell-mell hauocke, and confusion.

2720Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a soule

¶Shall pay full dearely for this encounter,

¶If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your Nephew,

¶The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the world

¶In praise of Henry Percie: By my Hopes,

2725This present enterprize set off his head,

¶I do not thinke a brauer Gentleman,

¶More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong,

¶More daring, or more bold, is now aliue,

¶To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds.

2730For my part, I may speake it to my shame,

¶I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry,

¶And so I heare, he doth account me too:

¶Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty,

¶I am content that he shall take the oddes

2735Of his great name and estimation,

¶And will, to saue the blood on either side,

¶Try fortune with him, in a Single Fight.

¶King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee,

¶Albeit, considerations infinite

2740Do make against it: No good Worster, no,

¶We loue our people well; euen those we loue

¶That are misled vpon your Cousins part:

¶And will they take the offer of our Grace:

¶Both he, and they, and you; yea euery man

2745Shall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his.

¶So tell your Cousin, and bring me word,

¶What he will do. But if he will not yeeld,

¶Rebuke and dread correction waite on vs,

¶And they shall do their Office. So bee gone,

2750We will not now be troubled with reply,

¶We offer faire, take it aduisedly.

¶

Exit Worcester. _

¶Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life,

¶The Dowglas and the Hotspurre both together,

2755Are confident against the world in Armes.

¶King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge,

¶For on their answer will we set on them;

¶And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.

Exeunt.

¶

Manet Prince and Falstaffe.

2760Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell,

¶And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

¶Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendship

¶Say thy prayers, and farewell.

¶Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well.

2765Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death.

¶before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him,

¶that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes

¶me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come

2770on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an

¶arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No.

¶Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Ho-

¶nour? A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A

¶trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednes-

2775day. Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it

¶insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with

¶the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, ther-

¶fore Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so

¶ends my Catechisme.

Exit.

2780

Scena Secunda.

¶

Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

¶Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,

¶The liberall kinde offer of the King.

¶Ver. 'Twere best he did.

2785Wor. Then we are all vndone.

¶It is not possible, it cannot be,

¶The King would keepe his word in louing vs,

¶He will suspect vs still, and finde a time

¶To punish this offence in others faults:

2790Supposition, all our liues, shall be stucke full of eyes;

¶For Treason is but trusted like the Foxe,

¶Who ne're so tame, so cherisht, and lock'd vp,

¶Will haue a wilde tricke of his Ancestors:

¶Looke how he can, or sad or merrily,

2795Interpretation will misquote our lookes,

¶And we shall feede like Oxen at a stall,

¶The better cherisht, still the nearer death.

¶My Nephewes trespasse may be well forgot,

¶It hath the excuse of youth, and heate of blood,

2800And an adopted name of Ptiuiledge,

¶A haire-brain'd Hotspurre, gouern'd by a Spleene:

¶All his offences liue vpon my head,

¶And on his Fathers. We did traine him on,

¶And his corruption being tane from vs,

2805We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all:

¶Therefore good Cousin, let not Harry know

¶In any case, the offer of the King.

¶Ver. Deliuer what you will, Ile say 'tis so.

¶Heere comes your Cosin.

2810

Enter Hotspurre.

¶Hot. My Vnkle is return'd,

¶Deliuer vp my Lord of Westmerland.

¶Vnkle, what newe-?

¶Wor. The King will bid you battell presently.

2815Dow. Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland.

¶Hot. Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so.

¶Dow. Marry and shall, and verie willingly.

¶

Exit Dowglas.

¶Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King.

2820Hot. Did you begge any? God forbid.

¶Wor. I told him gently of our greeuances,

¶Of his Oath-breaking: which he mended thus,

¶By now forswearing that he is forsworne,

¶He cals vs Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge

2825With haughty armes, this hatefull name in vs.

¶

Enter Dowglas.

¶Dow. Arme Gentlemen, to Armes, for I haue thrown

¶A braue defiance in King Henries teeth:

¶And Westmerland that was ingag'd did beare it,

2830Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.

¶Wor. The Prince of Wales stept forth before the king,

¶And Nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.

¶Hot. O, would the quarrell lay vpon our heads,

¶And that no man might draw short breath to day,

2835But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell mee,

¶How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt?

¶Ver. No, by my Soule: I neuer in my life

¶Did heare a Challenge vrg'd more modestly,

¶Vnlesse a Brother should a Brother dare

2840To gentle exercise, and proofe of Armes.

¶He gaue you all the Duties of a Man,

¶Trimm'd vp your praises with a Princely tongue,

¶Spoke your deseruings like a Chronicle,

¶Making you euer better then his praise,

2845By still dispraising praise, valew'd with you:

¶And which became him like a Prince indeed,

¶He made a blushing citall of himselfe,

¶And chid his Trewant youth with such a Grace,

¶As if he mastred there a double spirit

2850Of teaching, and of learning instantly:

¶There did he pause. But let me tell the World,

¶If he out-liue the enuie of this day,

¶England did neuer owe so sweet a hope,

¶So much misconstrued in his Wantonnesse.

2855Hot. Cousin, I thinke thou art enamored

¶On his Follies: neuer did I heare

¶Of any Prince so wilde at Liberty.

¶But be he as he will, yet once ere night,

¶I will imbrace him with a Souldiers arme,

2860That he shall shrinke vnder my curtesie.

¶Arme, arme with speed. And Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends,

¶Better consider what you haue to do,

¶That I that haue not well the gift of Tongue,

¶Can lift your blood vp with perswasion.

2865

Enter a Messenger.

¶Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you.

¶Hot. I cannot reade them now.

¶O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;

¶To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long.

2870If life did ride vpon a Dials point,

¶Still ending at the arriuall of an houre,

¶And if we liue, we liue to treade on Kings:

¶If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs.

¶Now for our Consciences, the Armes is faire,

2875When the intent for bearing them is iust.

¶

Enter another Messenger.

¶Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace.

¶Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale:

¶For I professe not talking: Onely this,

2880Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword,

¶Whose worthy temper I intend to staine

¶With the best blood that I can meete withall,

¶In the aduenture of this perillous day.

¶Now Esperance Percy, and set on:

2885Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre,

¶And by that Musicke, Iet vs all imbrace:

¶For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall,

¶A second time do such a curtesie.

¶

They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth

2890

with his power, alarum vnto the battell. Then enter

¶

Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt._

¶Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus y^u crossest me?

¶What honor dost thou seeke vpon my head?

¶Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,

2895And I do haunt thee in the battell thus,

¶Because some tell me, that thou art a King.

¶Blunt. They tell thee true.

¶Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath bought

¶Thy likenesse: for insted of thee King Harry,

2900This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,

¶Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner.

¶Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot,

¶And thou shalt finde a King that will reuenge

¶Lords Staffords death.

2905

Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.

¶Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus

¶I neuer had triumphed o're a Scot.

¶Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king

¶Hot. Where?

2910Dow. Heere.

¶Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well:

¶A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,

¶Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe.

¶Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes,

2915A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere.

¶Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King?

¶Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats.

¶Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,

¶Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece,

2920Vntill I meet the King.

¶Hot. Vp, and away,

¶Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.

2925the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft

¶who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you:

¶here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as hea-

¶uy too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more

¶weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of

2930Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my

¶150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg du-

¶ring life. But who comes heere?

2935Many a Nobleman likes starke and stiffe

¶Vnder the hooues of vaunting enemies,

¶Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy sword

¶Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I haue

2940done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure.

¶I prethee lend me thy sword.

¶Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my

¶Sword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt.

2945Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the Case?

¶Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.

¶

The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke. _

¶Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.

¶my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let

¶him make a Carbonado of me. I like not such grinning

¶honour as Sir Walter hath: Giue mee life, which if I can

¶saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an

2955end.

Exit

¶

Scena Tertia.

¶

Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince,

¶

Lord Iohn of Lancaster, and Earle

¶

of Westmerland.

2960King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou blee-

¶dest too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him.

¶Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp,

¶Least you retirement do amaze your friends.

2965King. I will do so:

¶My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent.

¶West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent.

¶Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe;

¶And heauen forbid a shallow scratch should driue

2970The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,

¶Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on,

¶And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres.

¶Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland,

¶Our duty this way lies, for heauens sake come.

2975Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster,

¶I did not thinke thee Lord of such a spirit:

¶Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn;

¶But now, I do respect thee as my Soule.

¶King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,

2980With lustier maintenance then I did looke for

¶Of such an vngrowne Warriour.

¶Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all.

Exit.

¶

Enter Dowglas.

¶Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads:

2985I am the Dowglas, fatall to all those

¶That weare those colours on them. What art thou

¶That counterfeit'st the person of a King?

¶King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at hart

¶So many of his shadowes thou hast met,

2990And not the very King. I haue two Boyes

¶Seeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field:

¶But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,

¶I will assay thee: so defend thy selfe.

¶Dow. I feare thou art another counterfeit:

2995And yet infaith thou bear'st thee like a King:

¶But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be,

¶And thus I win thee.

They fight, the K. being in danger,

¶

Enter Prince.

¶Prin. Hold vp they head vile Scot, or thou art like

3000Neuer to hold it vp againe: the Spirits

¶Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Armes;

¶It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,

¶Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay.

¶

They Fight, Dowglas flyeth. _

3005Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace?

¶Sir Nicolas Gawsey hath for succour sent,

¶And so hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton straight.

¶King. Stay, and breath awhile.

¶Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion,

3010And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life

¶In this faire rescue thou hast brought to mee.

¶Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniury,

¶That euer said I hearkned to your death.

¶If it were so, I might haue let alone

3015The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,

¶Which would haue bene as speedy in your end,

¶As all the poysonous Potions in the world,

¶And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne.

¶K. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.

Exit

3020

Enter Hotspur.

¶Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.

¶Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.

¶Hot. My name is Harrie Percie.

¶Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name.

3025I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy,

¶To share with me in glory any more:

¶Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere,

¶Nor can one England brooke a double reigne,

¶Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales.

3030Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come

¶To end the one of vs; and would to heauen,

¶Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine.

¶Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee,

¶And all the budding Honors on thy Crest,

3035Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head.

¶Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.

Fight.

¶

Enter Falstaffe.

¶Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no

¶Boyes play heere, I can tell you.

3040

Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down

¶_as if he were dead. The Prince killeth Percie.

¶Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth:

¶I better brooke the losse of brittle life,

¶Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me,

3045They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh:

¶But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole;

¶And Time, that takes suruey of all the world,

¶Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie,

¶But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,

3050Lyes on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dust

¶And food for---

¶Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart:

¶Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke?

¶When that this bodie did containe a spirit,

3055A Kingdome for it was too small a bound:

¶But now two paces of the vilest Earth

¶Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead,

¶Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman.

¶If thou wer't sensible of curtesie,

3060I should not make so great a shew of Zeale.

¶But let my fauours hide thy mangled face,

¶And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe

¶For doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse.

¶Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heauen,

3065Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue,

¶But not remembred in thy Epitaph.

¶What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh

¶Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell:

¶I could haue better spar'd a better man.

3070O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee,

¶If I were much in loue with Vanity.

¶Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day,

¶Though many dearer in this bloody Fray:

¶Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by,

3075Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye.

¶giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow.

¶'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot,

3080had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no coun-

¶terfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the

¶counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But

¶to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be

¶no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life in-

3085deede. The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the

¶which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of

¶this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee

¶should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would

¶proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure:

3090yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as

¶well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie

¶sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh

¶come you along me.

Takes Hotspurre on his backe.

¶

Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.

3095Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht

¶thy Maiden sword.

¶Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?

¶Prin. I did, I saw him dead,

3100Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue?

¶Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight?

¶I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes

¶Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st.

3105if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Per-

¶cy, if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him

¶kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or

¶Duke, I can assure you.

¶Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead.

3110Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen

¶to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of Breath,

¶and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought

¶a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee belee-

¶ued, so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare

3115the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death

¶I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man vvere a-

¶liue, and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece

¶of my sword.

3120Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn.

¶Come bring your luggage Nobly on your backe:

¶For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,

¶Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.

¶

A Retreat is sounded.

3125The Trumpets sound Retreat, the day is ours:

¶Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field,

¶To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead.

¶wards me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again,

3130Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue

¶cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.

¶Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace,

¶Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you?

3140And would'st thou turne our offers contrary?

¶Misuse the tenor of thy Kinsmans trust?

¶Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day,

¶A Noble Earle, and many a creature else,

¶Had beene aliue this houre,

3145If like a Christian thou had'st truly borne

¶Betwixt our Armies, true Intelligence.

¶Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to,

¶And I embrace this fortune patiently,

¶Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee.

3150King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too:

¶Other offenders we will pause vpon.

¶

Exit Worcester and Vernon.

¶How goes the Field?

¶Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw

3155The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,

¶The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men,

¶Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest;

¶And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'd

¶That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent

3160The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace.

¶I may dispose of him.

¶King. With all my hcart.

¶Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster,

¶To you this honourable bounty shall belong:

3165Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer him

¶Vp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free:

¶His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day,

¶Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds,

¶Euen in the bosome of our Aduersaries.

3170King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power.

¶You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin Westmerland

¶Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speed

¶To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope,

¶Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes.

3175My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales,

¶To fight with Glendower, and the Earle of March.

¶Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way,

¶Meeting the Checke of such another day:

¶And since this Businesse so faire is done,

3180Let vs not leaue till all our owne be wonne.