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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    Not Peer Reviewed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 Henry the fourth.
    worde outfac't you from your prize, & haue it, yea & can shew
    it you here in the house: and Falstalffe you carried your guts a-
    1215way as nimbly, with as quicke dexteritie, & roard for mercy, and
    stil run and roard, as euer I heard bul-calf. What a slaue art thou
    to hacke thy sworde as thou hast done? and then say it was in
    fight. What tricke? what deuice? what starting hole canst thou
    1220now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparant shame?
    Po. Come, lets heare iacke, what tricke hast thou now?
    Falst. By the Lord, I knew ye as wel as he that made ye. Why
    1225heare you my maisters, 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 now a cowarde
    on instinct, I shall thinke the better of my selfe, and thee during
    1230my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince: but by
    the Lord, lads, I am glad you haue the money, Hostesse clap to
    the doores, watch to night, pray to morrowe, gallants, lads,
    boyes, hearts of golde, all the titles of good fellowship come
    to you. What shall wee bee merrie, shall wee haue a play ex-
    1235tempore?
    Prin. Content, and the argument shall bee thy running away.
    Falst. A, no more of that Hal and thou louest me. Enter hostesse
    1240Ho. O Iesu, my Lord the prince!
    Prin. How now my lady the hostesse, what saist thou to me?
    Ho. Marry my Lo. there is a noble man of the court at doore
    would speake with you: he saies he commes from your father.
    Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a royall man, and
    send him backe againe to my mother.
    Fal. What maner of man is he?
    Host. An olde man.
    1250Falst. What doth grauitie out of his bed at midnight? Shall I
    giue him his answere?
    Prin. Preethe do iacke.
    Fa. Faith and ile send him packing.
    Exit.
    Prin. Now sirs, birlady you fought faire, so did you Peto, so
    1255did you Bardol, you are lions, to you ran away vpon instinct, you
    will not touch the true prince, no fie.
    Bar. Faith I ran when I saw others runne.
    E Prin.
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