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  • Title: Henry IV, Part 1 (Quarto 1, 1598)
  • 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
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry IV, Part 1 (Quarto 1, 1598)

    of Henrie the fourth.
    1045to the guests within. My Lord, old sir Iohn with halfe a douzen
    more are at the doore, shal I let them in?
    Pri. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore: Poines.
    Poi. Anon, anon sir.
    Enter Poines.
    Prince. Sirrha, Falstalffe and the rest of the theeues are at the
    doore, shall we be merrie?
    Po. As merry as Crickets my lad, but harke ye, what cunning
    1055match haue you made with this iest of the Drawer: come whats
    the issue?
    Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues
    humors since the oulde dayes of good man Adam, to the pupill
    age of this present twelue a clocke at midnight. Whats a clocke
    Fran. Anon, anon sir.
    Pr. That euer this fellowe should haue fewer wordes then a
    Parrat, and yet the sonne of a woman. His industrie is vp staires
    and down staires, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am
    1065not yet of Percyes minde, the Hotspur of the North, he that kils
    mee some sixe or seuen douzen of Scots at a breakefast: washes
    his handes, and saies to his wife, fie vpon this quiet life, I want
    worke. O my sweet Harry saies she! how manie hast thou kild
    to day? Giue my roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and aun-
    1070sweres some foureteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I preethe
    call in Falstalffe, ile play Percy, and that damnde brawne shall
    play dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo saies the drunkarde: call in
    Ribs, cal in Tallow.

    Enter Falstaffe.

    Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou bin?
    Falst. A plague of al cowards I say, and a vengeance too, mar-
    ry and Amen: giue me a cup of sacke boy. Eare I lead this life
    long, ile sow neatherstocks and mend them, and foote them too.
    1080A plague of all cowards. Giue me a cup of sacke rogue, is there
    no vertue extant?
    he drinketh.
    Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of butter, pittifull
    harted Titan that melted at the sweet tale of the sonnes, if thou
    didst, then behold that compound.