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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. 67

    Scaena Secunda.

    2375 Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

    Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a
    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.
    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
    Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the begin-
    2455ning of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.

    Scoena Tertia.

    Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and

    2460Hotsp. Wee'le fight with him to Night.
    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.
    f3 Wor. The