Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Henry IV, Part 1 (Folio 1 1623)
  • Editor: Rosemary Gaby
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-371-7

    Copyright Rosemary Gaby. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Rosemary Gaby
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry IV, Part 1 (Folio 1 1623)

    The First Part of King Henry the Fourth.
    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.
    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.

    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