The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Continuing to his Death, and Coronation of Henry the Fifth.

Open your ears; for which of you will stop

25The vent of hearing, when loud Rumor speaks?

36I from the orient to the drooping west

47(Making the wind my post-horse) still unfold

58The acts commencèd on this ball of earth.

69Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,

710The which in every language I pronounce,

811Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.

912I speak of peace while covert enmity

1013Under the smile of safety wounds the world;

1114And who but Rumor, who but only I,

1215Make fearful musters, and prepared defense,

1316Whiles the big year, swoll'n with some other grief,

1417Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,

1518And no such matter? Rumor is a pipe,

1619Blown by surmises, jealousy's conjectures,

1720And of so easy, and so plain a stop,

1821That the blunt monster, with uncounted heads,

1922The still discordant wav'ring multitude,

2023Can play upon it. But what need I thus

2124My well-known body to anatomize

2225Among my household? Why is Rumor here?

2326I run before King Harry's victory,

2427Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,

2528Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,

2629Quenching the flame of bold rebellion,

2730Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I

2831To speak so true at first? My office is

2932To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell

3033Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword,

3134And that the king before the Douglas' rage

3235Stooped his annointed head as low as death.

3336This have I rumored through the peasant towns

3437Between that royal field of Shrewsbury

3538And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,

3639Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,

3740Lies crafty sick, the posts come tiring on,

3841And not a man of them brings other news

3942Than they have learned of me. From Rumor's tongues

4043They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.

Who keeps the gate here, ho? Where is the earl?

What shall I say you are?

What shall I say you are? Tell thou the earl,

1.1.351That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.

His lordship is walked forth into the orchard,

1.1.553Please it your honor knock but at the gate

1.1.654And he himself will answer.

And he himself will answer. Here comes the earl.

What news Lord Bardolph? Every minute now

1.1.858Should be the father of some stratagem.

1.1.959The times are wild; contention like a horse,

1.1.1060Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,

1.1.1161And bears down all before him.

And bears down all before him. Noble earl,

1.1.1263I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

Good, an god will.

Good, an god will. As good as heart can wish:

1.1.1466The king is almost wounded to the death,

1.1.1567And, in the fortune of my lord your son,

1.1.1668Prince Harry slain outright, and both the Blunts

1.1.1769Killed by the hand of Douglas. Young Prince John,

1.1.1870And Westmorland and Stafford fled the field,

1.1.1971And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,

1.1.2072Is prisoner to your son. O such a day,

1.1.2173So fought, so followed, and so fairly won,

1.1.2274Came not till now to dignify the times

1.1.2375Since Caesar's fortunes.

Since Caesar's fortunes. How is this derived?

1.1.2477Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?

I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,

1.1.2679A gentleman well bred, and of good name,

1.1.2780That freely rendered me these news for true.

Here comes my servant Travers who I sent

1.1.2982On Tuesday last to listen after news.

My lord, I over-rode him on the way,

1.1.3185And he is furnished with no certainties,

1.1.3286More than he haply may retail from me.

Now Travers, what good tidings comes with you?

My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back

1.1.3589With joyful tidings, and, being better horsed,

1.1.3690Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard

1.1.3791A gentleman, almost forespent with speed,

1.1.3892That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse.

1.1.3993He asked the way to Chester, and of him

1.1.4094I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.

1.1.4195He told me that rebellion had bad luck,

1.1.4296And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.

1.1.4397With that he gave his able horse the head

1.1.4498And bending forward, struck his armèd heels

1.1.4599Against the panting sides of his poor jade

1.1.46100Up to the rowel head, and starting so,

1.1.47101He seemed in running to devour the way,

1.1.48102Staying no longer question.

Staying no longer question. Northumberland Ha? Again:

1.1.49104Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?

1.1.50105Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion

1.1.51106Had met ill luck?

Had met ill luck? My lord, I'll tell you what:

1.1.52108If my young lord your son have not the day,

1.1.53109Upon mine honor, for a silken point

1.1.54110I'll give my barony, never talk of it.

Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers

1.1.56112Give then such instances of loss?

Give then such instances of loss? Who he?

1.1.57114He was some hilding fellow that had stol'n

1.1.58115The horse he rode on, and upon my life

1.1.59116Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.

Yea this man's brow, like to a title leaf,

1.1.61119Foretells the nature of a tragic volume,

1.1.62120So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood

1.1.63121Hath left a witnessed usurpation.

1.1.64122Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?

I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,

1.1.66124Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask

1.1.67125To fright our party.

To fright our party. How doth my son and brother?

1.1.68127Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek

1.1.69128Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.

1.1.70129Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,

1.1.71130So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,

1.1.72131Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night

1.1.73132And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;

1.1.74133But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,

1.1.75134And I, my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.

1.1.76135This thou wouldst say: "Your son did thus and thus,

1.1.77136Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas,"

1.1.78137Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.

1.1.79138But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,

1.1.80139Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,

1.1.81140Ending with "brother, son, and all are dead."

Douglas is living, and your brother yet,

1.1.83142But for my lord your son --

But for my lord your son -- Why, he is dead.

1.1.84144See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!

1.1.85145He that but fears the thing he would not know

1.1.86146Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes

1.1.87147That what he feared is chanced. Yet speak, Morton,

1.1.88148Tell thou an Earl his divination lies,

1.1.89149And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,

1.1.90150And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.

You are too great to be by me gainsaid,

1.1.92152Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.

Yet for all this, say not that Percy's dead.

1.1.94154I see a strange confession in thine eye:

1.1.95155Thou shak'st thy head, and holdst it fear, or sin,

1.1.96156To speak a truth. If he be slain,

1.1.97157The tongue offends not that reports his death;

1.1.98158And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,

1.1.99159Not he which says the dead is not alive.

1.1.100160Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news

1.1.101161Hath but a losing office, and his tongue

1.1.102162Sounds ever after as a sullen bell

1.1.103163Remembered tolling a departing friend.

I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.

I am sorry I should force you to believe

1.1.106166That which I would to god I had not seen,

1.1.107167But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,

1.1.108168Rendering faint quittance, wearied, and out-breathed,

1.1.109169To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down

1.1.110170The never daunted Percy to the earth,

1.1.111171From whence with life he never more sprung up.

1.1.112172In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire

1.1.113173Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,

1.1.114174Being bruited once, took fire and heat away

1.1.115175From the best-tempered courage in his troops.

1.1.116176For from his metal was his party steeled,

1.1.117177Which once in him abated, all the rest

1.1.118178Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.

1.1.119179And as the thing that's heavy in itself

1.1.120180Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,

1.1.121181So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,

1.1.122182Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear

1.1.123183That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim

1.1.124184Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,

1.1.125185Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester

1.1.126186So soon ta'en prisoner, and that furious Scot,

1.1.127187The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword

1.1.128188Had three times slain th'appearance of the king,

1.1.129189Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame

1.1.130190Of those that turned their backs, and in his flight,

1.1.131191Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all

1.1.132192Is that the king hath won, and hath sent out

1.1.133193A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,

1.1.134194Under the conduct of young Lancaster

1.1.135195And Westmorland. This is the news at full.

For this I shall have time enough to mourn.

1.1.137197In poison there is physic, and these news,

1.1.138198Having been well, that would have made me sick,

1.1.139199Being sick, have (in some measure) made me well.

1.1.140200And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints,

1.1.141201Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,

1.1.142202Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire

1.1.143203Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,

1.1.144204Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief,

1.1.145205Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore thou nice crutch!

1.1.146206A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel

1.1.147207Must glove this hand. And hence thou sickly coif!

1.1.148208Thou art a guard too wanton for the head

1.1.149209Which princes fleshed with conquest aim to hit.

1.1.150210Now bind my brows with iron, and approach

1.1.151211The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring

1.1.152212To frown upon th'enraged Northumberland!

1.1.153213Let heaven kiss earth, now let not nature's hand

1.1.154214Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die,

1.1.155215And let this world no longer be a stage,

1.1.156216To feed contention in a ling'ring act;

1.1.157217But let one spirit of the first-born Cain

1.1.158218Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set

1.1.159219On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,

1.1.160220And darkness be the burier of the dead.

This strainèd passion doth you wrong, my lord.

Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honor.

The lives of all your loving complices

1.1.164223Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er

1.1.165224To stormy passion, must perforce decay.

1.1.166225You cast th'event of war, my noble lord,

1.1.167226And summed the account of chance before you said

1.1.168227"Let us make head." It was your presurmise

1.1.169228That in the dole of blows your son might drop.

1.1.170229You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge

1.1.171230More likely to fall in than to get o'er.

1.1.172231You were advised his flesh was capable

1.1.173232Of wounds, and scars, and that his forward spirit

1.1.174233Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged,

1.1.175234Yet did you say "go forth"; and none of this,

1.1.176235Though strongly apprehended, could restrain

1.1.177236The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n?

1.1.178237Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,

1.1.179238More than that being, which was like to be?

We all that are engagèd to this loss

1.1.181240Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas

1.1.182241That if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one;

1.1.183242And yet we ventured for the gain proposed,

1.1.184243Choked the respect of likely peril feared,

1.1.185244And since we are o'erset, venture again.

1.1.186245Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.

'Tis more than time; and my most noble lord,

1.1.188247I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth,

1.1.189248The gentle Archbishop of York is up

1.1.190249With well appointed powers. He is a man

1.1.191250Who with a double surety binds his followers.

1.1.192251My lord your son had only but the corpse,

1.1.193252But shadows and the shows of men to fight;

1.1.194253For that same word "rebellion" did divide

1.1.195254The action of their bodies from their souls,

1.1.196255And they did fight with queasiness, constrained,

1.1.197256As men drink potions, that their weapons only

1.1.198257Seemed on our side; but for their spirits and souls,

1.1.199258This word "rebellion," it had froze them up

1.1.200259As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop

1.1.201260Turns insurrection to religion.

1.1.202261Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,

1.1.203262He's followed both with body and with mind,

1.1.204263And doth enlarge his rising with the blood

1.1.205264Of fair King Richard scraped from Pomfret stones,

1.1.206265Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause,

1.1.207266Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,

1.1.208267Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke,

1.1.209268And more and less do flock to follow him.

I knew of this before, but, to speak truth,

1.1.211270This present grief had wiped it from my mind.

1.1.212271Go in with me and counsel every man

1.1.213272The aptest way for safety and revenge,

1.1.214273Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed;

1.1.215274Never so few, and never yet more need.

Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?

He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water, 279but for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than 280he knew for.

Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the brain 282of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything 283that intends to laughter, more then I invent, or is invented 284on me. I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is 285in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath 286overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into my 287service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I 289have no judgement. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to 290be worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was never 291manned with an agate till now, but I will inset you neither in gold 292nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to 293your master for a jewel -- the juvenal the prince your master, 294whose chin is not yet fledge. I will sooner have a beard grow 295in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one off his cheek, and 296yet he will not stick to say his face is a face royal. God may 298finish it when he will, 'tis not a hair amiss yet. He may keep it 299still at a face royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out 300of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever 301since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, 302but he's almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said master 303Dommelton about the satin for my short cloak and my 304slops?

He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance 306than Bardolph. He would not take his bond and yours; he liked 307not the security.

Let him be damned like the glutton! Pray god his 309tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel, a rascal, yea forsooth, 310knave: to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon 311security? The whoreson smoothy-pates do now wear nothing but 312high shoes and bunches of keys at their girdles, and if a man is 313through with them in honest taking up, then they must stand 314upon security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my 315mouth as offer to stop it with security. I looked 'a should have 317sent me two and twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, 318and he sends me "security." Well, he may sleep in security, for he 319hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife 320shines through it and yet cannot he see, though 321he have his own lantern to light him. Where's Bardolph?

He's gone in Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.

I bought him in Pauls, and he'll buy me a horse 326in Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in the stews, I 327were manned, horsed, and wived.

Sir, here comes the noble man that committed the prince 330for striking him about Bardolph.

Wait close, I will not see him.

[To the Servant] What's he that goes there?

Falstaff, an't please your lordship.

He that was in question for the robbery?

He, my lord, but he hath since done good service at 336Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to 337the Lord John of Lancaster.

What, to York? Call him back again.

Sir John Falstaff!

Boy, tell him I am deaf.

[To the Servant] You must speak louder, my master is deaf.

I am sure he is to the hearing of anything good. Go 343pluck him by the elbow, I must speak with him.

Sir John!

What? A young knave and begging? Is there not wars? 346Is there not employment? Doth not the king lack subjects? Do 347not the rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any 348side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst 349side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to 350make it.

You mistake me sir.

Why sir? Did I say you were an honest man? Setting my 353knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat 354if I had said so.

I pray you, Sir, then set your knighthood and your 356soldiership aside, and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your 357throat if you say I am any other than an honest man.

I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that which 360grows to me? If thou get'st any leave of me, hang me. If thou 361tak'st leave, thou wert better be hanged, you hunt-counter. Hence, 362avaunt!

Sir, my lord would speak with you.

Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.

My good lord, god give your lordship good time 366of day, I am glad to see your lordship abroad. I heard say your 367lordship was sick, I hope your lordship goes abroad by 368advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet 369some smack of an ague in you, some relish of the saltness of time in you, and I most humbly beseech your lordship to have a 371reverent care of your health.

Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to 373Shrewsbury.

An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is 375returned with some discomfort from Wales.

I talk not of his majesty. You would not come when I 377sent for you.

And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen into this 379same whoreson apoplexy.

Well, god mend him! I pray you, let me speak with you.

This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of lethargy, an't 382please your lordship, a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling.

What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.

It hath it original from much grief, from study, and 385perturbation of the brain. I have read the cause of his effects 386in Galen, it is a kind of deafness.

I think you are fallen into the disease, for you hear not 388what I say to you.

Very well my lord, very well. Rather, an't please you, it is 390the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I 391am troubled withal.

To punish you by the heels would amend the attention393 of your ears, and I care not if I do become your physician.

I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient. 395Your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to 396me, in respect of poverty, but how I should be your patient to 397follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of 398a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself.

I sent for you when there were matters against you for 400your life to come speak with me.

As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the 402laws of this land-service, I did not come.

Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.

He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live in less.

Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.

I would it were otherwise, I would my means were 407greater and my waist slender.

You have misled the youthful prince.

The young prince hath misled me, I am the fellow with 410the great belly, and he my dog.

Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound. Your day's 412service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's 413exploit on Gad's Hill. You may thank th'unquiet time for your 414quiet o'erposting that action.

My lord?

But since all is well, keep it so. Wake not a sleeping wolf.

To wake a wolf is as bad as smell a fox.

What? You are as a candle, the better part burnt out.

A wassail candle my lord, all tallow; if I did say of wax, 420my growth would approve the truth.

There is not a white hair in your face, but should 422have his effect of gravity.

His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.

You follow the young prince up and down, like his 425ill angel.

Not so my lord. Your ill angel is light, but I hope he 427that looks upon me will take me without weighing, and yet 428in some respects I grant I cannot go. I cannot tell: virtue is of 429so little regard in these costermongers' times, that true valor 430is turned bearherd, pregnancy is made a tapster, and his quick wit 431wasted in giving reckonings. All the other gifts appertinent 432to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a 433gooseberry. You that are old consider not the capacities of us that 435are young. You do measure the heat of our livers with the 436bitterness of your galls; and we that are in the vanguard of our 437youth, I must confess, are wags too.

Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, 439that are written down old with all the characters of age? Have 440you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, 441a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, 442your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and 443every part about you blasted with antiquity, and will you yet 444call your self young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John.

My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head and something a round 446belly; for my voice, I have lost it with hallooing and singing of 447anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not. The truth 448is, I am only old in judgement and understanding; and he 449that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me 450the money, and have at him! For the box of the ear that the 451prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, and you took 452it like a sensible lord. I have checked him for it, and the young 453lion repents -- marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk, 455and old sack.

Well, god send the prince a better companion.

God send the companion a better prince -- I cannot 458rid my hands of him.

Well, the king hath severed you. I hear you are 460going with Lord John of Lancaster, against the Archbishop and 461the Earl of Northumberland.

Yea, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look 463you pray, all you that kiss my lady peace at home, that our 464armies join not in a hot day, for, by the lord, I take but two 465shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily. 466If it be a hot day and I brandish anything but a bottle, I would 467I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action 468can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot 469last ever, but it was always yet the trick of our English nation, 469.1if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If ye will 469.2needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would 469.3to god my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I 469.4were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured 469.5to nothing with perpetual motion.

Well, be honest, be honest, and god bless your 471expedition.

Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to 473furnish me forth?

Not a penny, not a penny, you are too impatient to 475bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend me to my cousin 476Westmorland.

If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can 478no more separate age and covetousness than 'a can part young 479limbs and lechery; but the gout galls the one, and the pox 480pinches the other, and so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy!

Sir?

What money is in my purse?

Seven groats and two pence.

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the 486purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the 487disease is incurable. [Giving letters.] Go, bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster, 488this to the prince, this to the Earl of Westmorland, and this to 489old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry 490since I perceived the first white hair of my chin. About it, you 491know where to find me.

1.2.73A pox of this gout, or a gout of this 492pox, for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great 494toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt, I have the wars for my 495color and my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good 496wit will make use of anything. I will turn diseases to 497commodity.

Thus have you heard our cause and known our means,

1.3.2502And, my most noble friends, I pray you all

1.3.3503Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes;

1.3.4504And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?

I well allow the occasion of our arms,

1.3.6506But gladly would be better satisfied

1.3.7507How in our means we should advance ourselves,

1.3.8508To look with forehead bold and big enough

1.3.9509Upon the power and puissance of the king.

Our present musters grow upon the file

1.3.11511To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice,

1.3.12512And our supplies live largely in the hope

1.3.13513Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns

1.3.14514With an incensèd fire of injuries.

The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus:

1.3.16516Whether our present five and twenty thousand,

1.3.17517May hold up head without Northumberland?

With him we may.

With him we may. Yea, marry, there's the point.

1.3.19520But if without him we be thought too feeble,

1.3.20521My judgement is we should not step too far

1.3.21522Till we had his assistance by the hand;

1.3.22523For in a theme so bloody-faced as this,

1.3.23524Conjecture, expectation, and surmise

1.3.24525Of aids incertain should not be admitted.

'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph, for indeed

1.3.26527It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.

It was, my lord, who lined himself with hope,

1.3.28529Eating the air and promise of supply,

1.3.29530Flatt'ring himself in project of a power

1.3.30531Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts,

1.3.31532And so with great imagination,

1.3.32533Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,

1.3.33534And, winking, leapt into destruction.

But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt

1.3.35536To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.

Yes, if this present quality of war --

1.3.37538Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot --

1.3.38539Lives so in hope, as in an early spring

1.3.39540We see th'appearing buds, which to prove fruit

1.3.40541Hope gives not so much warrant as despair

1.3.41542That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,

1.3.42543We first survey the plot, then draw the model,

1.3.43544And when we see the figure of the house,

1.3.44545Then must we rate the cost of the erection,

1.3.45546Which if we find out-weighs ability,

1.3.46547What do we then, but draw anew the model

1.3.47548In fewer offices? Or, at least, desist

1.3.48549To build at all? Much more, in this great work --

1.3.49550Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down

1.3.50551And set another up -- should we survey

1.3.51552The plot of situation and the model,

1.3.52553Consent upon a sure foundation,

1.3.53554Question surveyors, know our own estate,

1.3.54555How able such a work to undergo,

1.3.55556To weigh against his opposite. Or else

1.3.56557We fortify in paper and in figures,

1.3.57558Using the names of men instead of men,

1.3.58559Like one that draws the model of an house

1.3.59560Beyond his power to build it, who, half through,

1.3.60561Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost

1.3.61562A naked subject to the weeping clouds,

1.3.62563And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.

Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,

1.3.64565Should be stillborn, and that we now possessed

1.3.65566The utmost man of expectation,

1.3.66567I think we are a body strong enough,

1.3.67568Even as we are, to equal with the king.

What, is the king but five and twenty thousand?

To us no more, nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph,

1.3.70571For his divisions, as the times do brawl,

1.3.71572Are in three heads: one power against the French,

1.3.72573And one against Glendower, perforce a third

1.3.73574Must take up us. So is the unfirm king

1.3.74575In three divided, and his coffers sound

1.3.75576With hollow poverty and emptiness.

That he should draw his several strengths together

1.3.77578And come against us in full puissance

1.3.78579Need not to be dreaded.

Need not to be dreaded. If he should do so,

1.3.79581He leaves his back unarmed, the French and Welsh

1.3.80582Baying him at the heels; never fear that.

Who is it like should lead his forces hither?

The Duke of Lancaster and Westmorland;

1.3.83585Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth;

1.3.84586But who is substituted against the French

1.3.85587I have no certain notice.

I have no certain notice. Let us on,

1.3.86589And publish the occasion of our arms.

1.3.87590The commonwealth is sick of their own choice,

1.3.88591Their over-greedy love hath surfeited:

1.3.89592An habitation giddy and unsure

1.3.90593Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

1.3.91594O thou fond many, with what loud applause

1.3.92595Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,

1.3.93596Before he was what thou would'st have him be!

1.3.94597And being now trimmed in thine own desires,

1.3.95598Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him

1.3.96599That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.

1.3.97600So, so, thou common dog, did'st thou disgorge

1.3.98601Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard,

1.3.99602And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,

1.3.100603And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times?

1.3.101604They, that when Richard lived would have him die,

1.3.102605Are now become enamoured on his grave.

1.3.103606Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head

1.3.104607When through proud London he came sighing on

1.3.105608After th'admirèd heels of Bolingbroke,

1.3.106609Criest now: "O Earth, yield us that king again

1.3.107610And take thou this!" O thoughts of men accursed!

1.3.108611Past and to come seems best; things present, worst.

Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

Master Fang, have you entered the action?

It is entered.

Where's your yeoman? Is't a lusty yeoman? Will 'a stand 619to't?

Sirrah! -- Where's Snare?

O lord, ay, good master Snare.

Here, here.

Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.

Yea good Master Snare, I have entered him and all.

It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab.

Alas the day, take heed of him: he stabbed me in mine 627own house, most beastly, in good faith. 'A cares not what 628mischief he does, if his weapon be out, he will foin like any 629devil, he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.

If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.

No, nor I neither, I'll be at your elbow.

An I but fist him once, an 'a come but within my 634view --

I am undone by his going, I warrant you; he's an 636infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, hold him 637sure; good Master Snare let him not 'scape. 'A comes continuantly 638to Pie Corner (saving your manhoods) to buy a saddle, and he 639is indited to dinner to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert Street to 640Master Smooth's, the silk man. I pray you, since my exion is 641entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be 642brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a 643poor lone woman to bear, and I have borne, and borne, and 644borne, and have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off, from 645this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is 646no honesty in such dealing, unless a woman should be made 647an ass and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong. Yonder he 649comes, and that errant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, with him. 650Do your offices, do your offices, Master Fang and Master Snare, 651do me, do me, do me your offices.

How now, whose mare's dead? What's the matter?

I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.

Away varlets! Draw Bardolph, cut me off the villain's 655head, throw the quean in the channel.

Throw me in the channel? I'll throw thee in the 657channel! Wilt thou, wilt thou, thou bastardly rogue? Murder murder! 658Ah, thou honeysuckle villain, wilt thou kill god's officers and the 659king's? Ah, thou honeyseed rogue, thou art a honeyseed, a 660man-queller, and a woman-queller.

Keep them off, Bardolph.

A rescue, a rescue!

Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wot, wot 663thou, thou wot, wot ta? Do, do, thou rogue, do, thou hempseed!

Away, you scullian, you rampallian, you fustilarian, I'll 665tickle your catastrophe!

What is the matter? Keep the peace here, ho!

Good my lord be good to me. I beseech you stand 668to me.

How now Sir John? What, are you brawling here? 670Doth this become your place, your time, and business? 671You should have been well on your way to York. 672Stand from him fellow; wherefore hang'st thou upon him?

O my most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, 674I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my 675suit.

For what sum?

It is more than for some, my lord, it is for all I have. He 677hath eaten me out of house and home. He hath put all my 678substance into that fat belly of his; [To Falstaff] but I will have some of it out 679again, or I will ride thee a-nights like the mare.

I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have any 682vantage of ground to get up.

How comes this Sir John? What man of good temper 684would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not 685ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come 686by her own?

[To the Hostess] What is the gross sum that I owe thee?

Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the 689money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, 690sitting in my Dolphin chamber, at the round table by a sea-coal 691fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the prince 692broke thy head, for liking his father to a singing man of 693Windsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, 694to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny 695it? Did not goodwife Keech the butcher's wife come in then and 696call me gossip Quickly, coming in to borrow a mess of 697vinegar, telling us she had a good dish of prawns, whereby thou 698didst desire to eat some, whereby I told thee they were ill 699for a green wound? And didst thou not, when she was gone 700downstairs, desire me, to be no more so familiarity with such 701poor people, saying that ere long they should call me madam? 703And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty 704shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath, deny it if thou canst.

My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up 706and down the town that her eldest son is like you. She 707hath been in good case, and the truth is poverty hath distracted 708her. But for these foolish officers, I beseech you I may have 709redress against them.

Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner 711of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a confident 712brow, nor the throng of words that come with such more than 713impudent sauciness from you can thrust me from a level 714consideration. You have, as it appears to me, practiced upon the 715easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your 715.1uses both in purse and in person.

Yea, in truth, my lord.

Pray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, and 718unpay the villainy you have done with her: the one you may do 719with sterling money, and the other with current repentance.

My lord I will not undergo this sneap without 721reply. You call honorable boldness, impudent sauciness; if a man 722will make curtsy and say nothing, he is virtuous. No, my lord, 723my humble duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say 724to you I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon 725hasty employment in the king's affairs.

You speak as having power to do wrong; but 727answer in th'effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor 728woman.

Come hither, hostess.

Now master Gower, what news?

The king, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales,

2.1.42732Are near at hand, the rest the paper tells.

As I am a gentleman!

Faith, you said so before.

As I am a gentleman. Come, no more words of it.

By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to 737pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining chambers.

Glasses, glasses is the only drinking, and for thy walls, 740a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the prodigal, or the 741German hunting in waterwork is worth a thousand of these 742bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pounds if thou 743canst. Come, and 'twere not for thy humors, there's not a better 745wench in England. Go wash thy face and draw the action. 746Come, thou must not be in this humor with me, dost not know 747me? Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this.

Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles, i'faith 749I am loath to pawn my plate so god save me, la.

Let it alone, I'll make other shift. You'll be a fool still.

Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. 753I hope you'll come to supper. You'll pay me all together?

Will I live? [To Bardolph] Go with her, with her, hook on, hook 756on.

Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?

No more words, let's have her.

[To Gower] I have heard better news.

What's the news my lord?

[To Gower] Where lay the king tonight?

At Basingstoke, my lord.

I hope, my lord, all's well. What is the news, my lord?

[To Gower] Come all his forces back?

No, fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse

2.1.61768Are marched up to my lord of Lancaster,

2.1.62769Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.

Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord?

You shall have letters of me presently.

2.1.65772Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.

My lord!

Whats the matter?

Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to 776dinner?

I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, 778good Sir John.

Sir John, you loiter here too long, 780being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go.

Will you sup with me, Master Gower?

What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir 783John?

Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a 785fool that taught them me. [To Justice] This is the right fencing grace, my 786lord, tap for tap, and so part fair.

Now the lord lighten thee, thou art a great 788fool.

Before god, I am exceeding weary.

Is't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not 794have attached one of so high blood.

Faith it does me, though it discolors the 796complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely 797in me to desire small beer?

Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as 799to remember so weak a composition.

Belike then my appetite was not princely got, for 801by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature small beer. 802But indeed these humble considerations make me out of love 803with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember 804thy name? Or to know thy face tomorrow? Or to take note how 805many pair of silk stockings thou hast -- with these, and those 806that were thy peach-colored ones -- or to bear the inventory of 807thy shirts -- as one for superfluity, and another for use? But that 809the tennis-court keeper knows better than I, for it is a low ebb 810of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there, as thou 811hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low 812countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland. And god knows whether those 812.1that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom. 812.2But the midwives say the children are not in the fault, 812.3whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily 812.4strengthened.

How ill it follows, after you have labored so hard, 815you should talk so idly! Tell me how many good young 816princes would do so, their fathers being so sick, as yours at this 816.1time is.

Shall I tell thee one thing Poins?

Yes faith, and let it be an excellent good thing.

It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding 821than thine.

Go to, I stand the push of your one thing that you 823will tell.

Marry, I tell thee it is not meet that I should be sad 825now my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it 826pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend, I could be sad, 827and sad indeed too.

Very hardly, upon such a subject.

By this hand, thou thinkst me as far in the devil's 830book, as thou and Falstaff, for obduracy and persistancy. 831Let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds 832inwardly that my father is so sick, and keeping such vile company as 833thou art, hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of 834sorrow.

The reason?

What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep?

I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.

It would be every man's thought, and thou art 839a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man's 840thought in the world keeps the roadway better than thine: 841every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what 842accites your most worshipful thought to think so?

Why because you have been so lewd and so much 845engrafted to Falstaff.

And to thee.

By this light I am well spoke on. I can hear it with 848mine own ears, the worst that they can say of me is that I am 849a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands, 850and those two things I confess I cannot help. By the mass, 851here comes Bardolph.

And the boy that I gave Falstaff. 'A had him from 853me Christian, and look if the fat villain have not transformed 854him ape.

God save your grace.

And yours, most noble Bardolph.

Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must 859you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly 860man at arms are you become! Is't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's861 maidenhead?

'A calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I 863could discern no part of his face from the window. At last I 864spied his eyes and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's 865petticoat and so peeped through.

Has not the boy profited?

Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away.

Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away.

Instruct us, boy: what dream, boy?

Marry, my lord, Althea dreamt she was delivered of 872a firebrand, and therefore I call him her dream.

A crown's worth of good interpretation! There 'tis, boy.

O that this blossom could be kept from cankers! 876Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.

An you do not make him hanged among you, the 878gallows shall have wrong.

And how doth thy master, Bardolph?

Well, my lord, he heard of your grace's coming to 881town. There's a letter for you.

Delivered with good respect. And how doth the 883Martlemas your master?

In bodily health, sir.

Marry, the immortal part needs a physician, but that 886moves not him; though that be sick, it dies not.

I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my 889dog, and he holds his place, for look you how he writes.

"John Falstaff, knight," -- every man must know that 892as oft as he has occasion to name himself, even like those that 893are kin to the king, for they never prick their finger but they 894say, "there's some of the king's blood spilt." "How comes that?" 895says he that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as 896ready as a borrowed cap: "I am the king's poor cousin, sir."

Nay they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from 899Japhet. But the letter: "Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of 900the king, nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting."

Why, this is a certificate.

Peace. 904"I will imitate the honorable Romans in brevity."

He sure means brevity in breath, short winded.

"I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave 907thee. Be not too familiar with Poins, for he misuses thy 908favors so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. 909Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell. 910Thine, by yea and no, which is as much as to say, as 911thou usest him, Jack Falstaff with my familiars, 912John with my brothers and sisters, and Sir John 913with all Europe."

My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him 915eat it.

That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do 917you use me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister?

God send the wench no worse fortune, but I never 919said so.

Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the 921spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. [To Bardolph] Is your 922master here in London?

Yea, my lord.

Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old 925frank?

At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.

What company?

Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.

Sup any women with him?

None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll 931Tearsheet.

What pagan may that be?

A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my 934master's.

Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the 936town bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?

I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you.

Sirrah, you, boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. There's for your silence.

I have no tongue sir.

And for mine sir, I will govern it.

Fare you well: go.

This Doll Tearsheet should be 945some road.

I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint 947Albans and London.

How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight 949in his true colors, and not ourselves be seen?

Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait 951upon him at his table as drawers.

From a god to a bull: a heavy descension -- it was Jove's 953case. From a prince to a prentice: a low transformation -- that shall 954be mine, for in everything the purpose must weigh with the 955folly. Follow me, Ned.

I pray thee, loving wife and gentle daughter,

2.3.2960Give even way unto my rough affairs,

2.3.3961Put not you on the visage of the times

2.3.4962And be like them to Percy troublesome.

I have given over, I will speak no more.

2.3.6964Do what you will, your wisdom be your guide.

Alas sweet wife, my honor is at pawn,

2.3.8966And but my going, nothing can redeem it.

O yet, for god's sake, go not to these wars,

2.3.10968The time was, father, that you broke your word

2.3.11969When you were more endeared to it than now,

2.3.12970When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,

2.3.13971Threw many a northward look, to see his father

2.3.14972Bring up his powers, but he did long in vain.

2.3.15973Who then persuaded you to stay at home?

2.3.16974There were two honors lost: yours, and your son's.

2.3.17975For yours, the god of heaven brighten it;

2.3.18976For his, it stuck upon him as the sun

2.3.19977In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light

2.3.20978Did all the chivalry of England move

2.3.21979To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass

2.3.22980Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.

2.3.23981He had no legs that practiced not his gait,

2.3.24982And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,

2.3.25983Became the accents of the valiant,

2.3.26984For those that could speak low and tardily

2.3.27985Would turn their own perfection to abuse

2.3.28986To seem like him. So that in speech, in gait,

2.3.29987In diet, in affections of delight,

2.3.30988In military rules, humors of blood,

2.3.31989He was the mark and glass, copy and book,

2.3.32990That fashioned others. And him -- O wondrous! -- him --

2.3.33991O miracle of men! Him, did you leave,

2.3.34992Second to none, unseconded by you,

2.3.35993To look upon the hideous god of war

2.3.36994In disadvantage, to abide a field

2.3.37995Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name

2.3.38996Did seem defensible; so you left him.

2.3.39997Never, O never do his ghost the wrong

2.3.40998To hold your honor more precise and nice

2.3.41999With others than with him. Let them alone.

2.3.421000The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong.

2.3.431001Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,

2.3.441002Today might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,

2.3.451003Have talked of Monmouth's grave.

Have talked of Monmouth's grave. Beshrew your heart,

2.3.461005Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me

2.3.471006With new lamenting ancient oversights,

2.3.481007But I must go and meet with danger there,

2.3.491008Or it will seek me in another place

2.3.501009And find me worse provided.

And find me worse provided. O fly to Scotland,

2.3.511011Till that the nobles and the armèd commons

2.3.521012Have of their puissance made a little taste.

If they get ground and vantage of the king,

2.3.541014Then join you with them like a rib of steel,

2.3.551015To make strength stronger; but for all our loves,

2.3.561016First let them try themselves. So did your son;

2.3.571017He was so suffered, so came I a widow,

2.3.581018And never shall have length of life enough

2.3.591019To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,

2.3.601020That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven

2.3.611021For recordation to my noble husband.

Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind

2.3.631023As with the tide swelled up unto his height,

2.3.641024That makes a still-stand, running neither way.

2.3.651025Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop,

2.3.661026But many thousand reasons hold me back.

2.3.671027I will resolve for Scotland. There am I

2.3.681028Till time and vantage crave my company.

What the devil hast thou brought there: apple-johns?1032 Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.

Mass, thou sayst true. The prince once set a dish of 1035apple-johns before him and told him there were five more Sir 1036Johns; and, putting off his hat, said, I will now take my leave of 1037these six dry, round, old, withered knights. It angered him to 1038the heart. But he hath forgot that.

Why then, cover, and set them down; and see if 1041thou canst find out Sneak's noise. Mistress Tearsheet would 1042fain hear some music.

Dispatch, the room where they supped is too hot, they'll come in straight.

Sirrah, here will be the prince and Master Poins 1044anon, and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir 1045John must not know of it, Bardolph hath brought word.

By the mass here will be old utis! It will be an excellent 1048stratagem.

I'll see if I can find out Sneak.

I'faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an 1052excellent good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as 1053extraordinarily as heart would desire, and your color, I warrant you, 1054is as red as any rose, in good truth, la; but i'faith, you have 1055drunk too much canaries, and that's a marvelous searching 1056wine, and it perfumes the blood ere one can say, "what's this?" 1057How do you now?

Better then I was -- hem.

Why that's well said. A good heart's worth gold. Lo, 1060here comes Sir John.

[Singing]"When Arthur first in court," -- empty the jordan!

-- "and 1063was a worthy king" -- how now, Mistress Doll?

Sick of a calm, yea, good faith.

So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm they are 1066sick.

A pox damn you, you muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?

You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.

I make them? Gluttony and diseases make them, I make 1071them not.

If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to 1073make the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; 1074grant that, my poor virtue, grant that.

Yea joy, our chains and our jewels.

Your brooches, pearls, and ouches -- for to serve bravely 1077is to come halting off, you know; to come off the breach with 1078his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon 1079the charged chambers bravely --

Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang 1079.2yourself.

By my troth, this is the old fashion. You two never meet 1082but you fall to some discord. You are both, i'good truth, as 1083rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another's 1084confirmities. What the goodyear! [To Doll] One must bear, and that must be 1086you; you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.

Can a weak, empty vessel bear such a huge full 1089hogshead? There's a whole merchant's venture of Bordeaux stuff 1090in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold. 1091Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the 1092wars, and whether I shall ever see thee again or no there is nobody1093 cares.

Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak with 1097you.

Hang him, swaggering rascal, let him not come hither. 1099It is the foul-mouthedst rogue in England.

If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith, I must 1102live among my neighbours. I'll no swaggerers. I am in 1103good name and fame with the very best. Shut the door: there 1104comes no swaggerers here. I have not lived all this while to have 1105swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you.

Dost thou hear, hostess?

Pray ye pacify yourself Sir John, there comes no 1109swaggerers here.

Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.

Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me. And your ancient 1112swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick, 1113the deputy, t'other day, and, as he said to me -- 'twas no longer ago 1114than Wednesday last, i'good faith -- "neighbor Quickly," says he -- 1115Master Dumb our minister was by then -- "neighbor Quickly," 1116says he, "receive those that are civil, for," said he, "you are in an 1117ill name." Now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon. "For," says he, 1118"you are an honest woman, and well thought on, therefore take 1119heed what guests you receive. Receive," says he, "no 1121swaggering companions." There comes none here. You would bless 1122you to hear what he said. No, I'll no swaggerers.

He's no swaggerer, hostess: a tame cheater i'faith. You 1125may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound, he'll not 1126swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any 1127show of resistance. Call him up, Drawer.

Cheater call you him? I will bar no honest man my 1130house, nor no cheater, but I do not love swaggering, by my troth. 1131I am the worse when one says "swagger." Feel, masters, how I 1132shake, look you, I warrant you.

So you do, hostess.

Do I? Yea, in very truth do I, an 'twere an aspen 1135leaf. I cannot abide swaggerers.

God save you, Sir John.

Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here Pistol, I charge you 1139with a cup of sack; do you discharge upon mine hostess.

I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.

She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly offend 1144her.

Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets. I'll drink 1146no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.

Then, to you, Mistress Dorothy: I will charge you.

Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, 1151you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you 1152mouldy rogue, away; I am meat for your master.

I know you, Mistress Dorothy.

Away, you cutpurse rascal, you filthy bung, away! 1156By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps an 1157you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale 1158rascal, you basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when, I pray 1159you sir? God's light, with two points on your shoulder? Much!

God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this.

No more, Pistol. I would not have you go off here: 1161.2discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.

No, good Captain Pistol, not here, sweet captain.

Captain? Thou abominable damned cheater, art thou 1165not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were of my 1166mind, they would truncheon you out for taking their names 1167upon you before you have earned them. You, a captain? You 1168slave, for what? For tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy 1169house? He, a captain? Hang him, rogue, he lives upon mouldy 1170stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain? God's light, these 1171villains will make the word as odious as the word "occupy," which 1171.1was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted. Therefore 1172captains had need look to't.

Pray thee go down, good ancient.

Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.

Not I! I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could 1177tear her. I'll be revenged of her.

Pray thee go down.

2.4.52I'll see her damned first --

2.4.53To Pluto's damned lake by this 1180hand,

2.4.54To th'infernal deep,

2.4.55With Erebus and tortures vile also.

2.4.56Hold 1181hook and line, say I.

2.4.57Down, down, dogs, down, faitours!

Have 1182we not Hiren here?

Good Captain Peesel be quiet, 'tis very late i'faith. I 1184beseek you now, aggravate your choler.

2.4.61These be good humors indeed. Shall packhorses

2.4.62And 1186hollow pampered jades of Asia,

2.4.63Which cannot go but thirty 1187mile a day,

2.4.64Compare with Caesars and with cannibals,

2.4.65And 1188Trojan Greeks?

2.4.66Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus,

2.4.67And 1189let the welkin roar. Shall we fall foul for toys?

By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.

Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a brawl 1194anon.

Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins!

2.4.71Have we not 1196Hiren here?

O' my word, captain, there's none such here. What 1198the goodyear, do you think I would deny her? For god's sake, 1199be quiet.

Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis.

2.4.74Come, give's 1201some sack,

2.4.75Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento.

2.4.76Fear we 1202broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire!

2.4.77Give me some sack; and, 1203sweetheart, lie thou there.

2.4.78Come we to full points here? And are 1204etceteras nothings?

Pistol, I would be quiet.

Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What, we have seen 1208the seven stars.

For god's sake thrust him downstairs. I cannot endure 1210such a fustian rascal.

Thrust him downstairs? Know we not Galloway 1212nags?

Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat 1214shilling. Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be 1215nothing here.

Come, get you downstairs.

What shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?

2.4.86Then 1218death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days.

2.4.87Why then, 1219let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds

2.4.88Untwine the sisters three. 1220Come, Atropos, I say!

Here's goodly stuff toward!

Give me my rapier, boy.

I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.

[To Pistol] Get you downstairs.

Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house 1226afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So, murder, I warrant now. 1227Alas, alas, put up your naked weapons, put up your naked 1228weapons!

I pray thee, Jack, be quiet. The rascal's gone. Ah, you 1230whoreson, little, valiant villain, you!

Are you not hurt i'th' groin? Methought 'a made a 1232shrewd thrust at your belly.

Have you turned him out o'doors?

Yea, sir; the rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i'th' 1235shoulder.

A rascal, to brave me!

Ah, you sweet little rogue, you. Alas, poor ape, how thou 1238sweatst. Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson 1239chops. Ah, rogue, i'faith I love thee. Thou art as valorous as 1240Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better 1241than the nine Worthies. Ah, villain!

Ah, rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.

Do, an thou dar'st for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll 1246canvas thee between a pair of sheets.

The music is come sir.

Let them play -- play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal 1250bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quicksilver.

I'faith, and thou followdst him like a church, thou 1253whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boarpig. When wilt thou 1254leave fighting a days and foining a nights, and begin to patch 1255up thine old body for heaven?

Peace good Doll, do not speak like a death's head; do 1258not bid me remember mine end.

Sirrah, what humor's the prince of?

A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have made a 1261good pantler; 'a would ha' chipped bread well.

They say Poins has a good wit.

He, a good wit? Hang him, baboon. His wit's as thick 1265as Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is 1266in a mallet.

Why does the prince love him so then?

Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a plays 1269at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off 1270candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare 1271with the boys, and jumps upon joint-stools, and swears 1272with a good grace, and wears his boots very smooth like 1273unto the sign of the leg, and breeds no bate with 1274telling of discreet stories, and such other gambol faculties 'a has 1275that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the 1276prince admits him; for the prince himself is such another: the 1278weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.

[Aside to Poins] Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut 1281off?

Let's beat him before his whore.

Look whe'er the withered elder hath not his poll 1284clawed like a parrot.

Is it not strange that desire should so many years 1286outlive performance?

Kiss me, Doll.

Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction? What 1289says th'almanac to that?

And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not 1291lisping to his master's old tables, his notebook, his counsel-1292keeper?

Thou dost give me flattering busses.

By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.

I am old, I am old.

I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of 1298them all.

What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money 1300o'Thursday; shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song! Come, it 1301grows late; we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me when I am gone.

By my troth, thou'lt set me a weeping an thou sayst so. 1305Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return! Well, 1306hearken a'th'end.

Some sack, Francis.

[Revealing themselves] Anon, anon, sir!

Ha? A bastard son of the king's? And art not thou 1310Poins, his brother?

Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life 1312dost thou lead?

A better than thou: I am a gentleman, thou art a 1314drawer.

Very true sir, and I come to draw you out by the 1316ears.

O the lord preserve thy grace! By my troth, welcome 1318to London. Now the lord bless that sweet face of thine. O 1319Jesu, are you come from Wales?

Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty! By this 1321light flesh, and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.

How? You fat fool, I scorn you!

My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, 1324and turn all to a merriment if you take not the heat.

[To Falstaff] You whoreson candlemine you, how vilely did you 1327speak of me now, before this honest, virtuous, civil 1328gentlewoman!

God's blessing of your good heart, and so she is by my 1330troth.

Didst thou hear me?

Yea, and you knew me as you did when you ran 1333away by Gad's Hill; you knew I was at your back, and spoke it 1334on purpose to try my patience.

No, no, no, not so; I did not think thou wast within 1336hearing.

I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse, 1338and then I know how to handle you.

No abuse, Hal, o'mine honor, no abuse.

Not to dispraise me, and call me pantler and 1341breadchipper, and I know not what?

No abuse, Hal.

No abuse?

No abuse, Ned, i'th'world, honest Ned, none. I 1345dispraised him before the wicked, [To the prince] that the wicked might not fall 1346in love with thee; in which doing, I have done the part of a 1347careful friend and a true subject, and thy father is to give me 1348thanks for it. No abuse Hal, none Ned, none, no -- faith, boys, 1349none.

See now whether pure fear and entire cowardice, 1351doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close 1352with us. Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the 1353wicked? Or is thy boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal 1354burns in his nose, of the wicked?

Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable, 1358and his face is Lucifer's privy kitchen, where he doth nothing 1359but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about 1360him, but the devil blinds him too.

For the women?

For one of them, she's in hell already, and burns 1364poor souls. For th'other, I owe her money, and whether she be 1365damned for that I know not.

No, I warrant you.

No, I think thou art not. I think thou art quit for 1369that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering 1370flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law, for the which 1371I think thou wilt howl.

All victuallers do so, what's a joint of mutton or two in a 1373whole Lent?

You, gentlewoman --

What says your grace?

His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

Who knocks so loud at door? Look to'th'door 1379there, Francis.

Peto, how now, what news?

The king your father is at Westminster,

2.4.1601383And there are twenty weak and wearied posts

2.4.1611384Come from the north, and as I came along

2.4.1621385I met and overtook a dozen captains,

2.4.1631386Bareheaded, sweating, knocking at the taverns,

2.4.1641387And asking everyone for Sir John Falstaff.

By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame

2.4.1661389So idly to profane the precious time,

2.4.1671390When tempest of commotion, like the south,

2.4.1681391Born with black vapor, doth begin to melt

2.4.1691392And drop upon our bare unarmèd heads.

2.4.1701393Give me my sword and cloak. -- Falstaff, good night.

Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we 1396must hence and leave it unpicked. [Knocking. Exit Bardolph.] More knocking at the door? 1397How now, what's the matter?

You must away to court, sir, presently.

2.4.1731400A dozen captains stay at door for you.

[To Page] Pay the musicians, sirrah. Farewell, hostess. Farewell Doll. 1402You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought 1403after. The undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called 1404on. Farewell, good wenches, if I be not sent away post, I will 1405see you again ere I go.

I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst! Well, 1408sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.

Farewell, farewell.

Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty 1412nine years come peasecod-time, but an honester and truer-1413hearted man -- well, fare thee well.

[Within] Mistress Tearsheet!

What's the matter?

[Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.

O run Doll, run, run, good Doll. Come, she 1418.1comes blubbered, yea! Will you come Doll?

Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;

3.1.21423But ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters

3.1.31424And well consider of them. Make good speed.

3.1.41425How many thousand of my poorest subjects

3.1.51426Are at this hour asleep? O sleep! O gentle sleep!

3.1.61427Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,

3.1.71428That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down

3.1.81429And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

3.1.91430Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,

3.1.101431Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee

3.1.111432And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,

3.1.121433Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,

3.1.131434Under the canopies of costly state,

3.1.141435And lulled with sound of sweetest melody?

3.1.151436O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile

3.1.161437In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch

3.1.171438A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?

3.1.181439Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast

3.1.191440Seal up the ship-boy's eyes and rock his brains

3.1.201441In cradle of the rude imperious surge

3.1.211442And in the visitation of the winds,

3.1.221443Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

3.1.231444Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them

3.1.241445With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds,

3.1.251446That with the hurly death itself awakes?

3.1.261447Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose,

3.1.271448To the wet sea's son in an hour so rude,

3.1.281449And in the calmest and most stillest night,

3.1.291450With all appliances and means to boot,

3.1.301451Deny it to a king? Then happy low lie down,

3.1.311452Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Many good morrows to your majesty.

Is it good morrow lords?

Is it good morrow lords? 'Tis one o'clock, and past.

Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.

3.1.351458Have you read o'er the letter that I sent you?

We have my liege.

Then you perceive the body of our kingdom,

3.1.381461How foul it is, what rank diseases grow,

3.1.391462And with what danger near the heart of it.

It is but as a body yet distempered,

3.1.411464Which to his former strength may be restored,

3.1.421465With good advice and little medicine.

3.1.431466My Lord Northumberland will soon be cooled.

O god, that one might read the book of fate,

3.1.451468And see the revolution of the times

3.1.461469Make mountains level, and the continent,

3.1.471470Weary of solid firmness, melt itself

3.1.481471Into the sea; and other times to see

3.1.491472The beachy girdle of the ocean,

3.1.501473Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chance's mocks

3.1.511474And changes fill the cup of alteration

3.1.521475With divers liquors! O if this were seen,

3.1.531475.1The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,

3.1.541475.2What perils past, what crosses to ensue,

3.1.551475.3Would shut the book and sit him down and die.

3.1.561475.4'Tis not ten years gone

3.1.571476Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends,

3.1.581477Did feast together, and in two year after

3.1.591478Were they at wars. It is but eight years since

3.1.601479This Percy was the man nearest my soul,

3.1.611480Who like a brother toiled in my affairs

3.1.621481And laid his love and life under my foot,

3.1.631482Yea for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard,

3.1.641483Gave him defiance. But which of you was by?

3.1.651484[To Warwick] You, cousin Neville, as I may remember,

3.1.661485When Richard with his eye brimful of tears,

3.1.671486Then checked and rated by Northumberland,

3.1.681487Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy:

3.1.691488"Northumberland, thou ladder by the which

3.1.701489My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne" --

3.1.711490Though then (god knows) I had no such intent,

3.1.721491But that necessity so bowed the state,

3.1.731492That I and greatness were compelled to kiss --

3.1.741493"The time shall come" -- thus did he follow it --

3.1.751494"The time will come that foul sin, gathering head,

3.1.761495Shall break into corruption" -- so went on,

3.1.771496Fortelling this same time's condition,

3.1.781497And the division of our amity.

There is a history in all men's lives

3.1.801499Figuring the natures of the times deceased;

3.1.811500The which observed, a man may prophesy

3.1.821501With a near aim of the main chance of things

3.1.831502As yet not come to life, who in their seeds

3.1.841503And weak beginning lie intreasurèd.

3.1.851504Such things become the hatch and brood of time,

3.1.861505And by the necessary form of this

3.1.871506King Richard might create a perfect guess

3.1.881507That great Northumberland, then false to him,

3.1.891508Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness,

3.1.901509Which should not find a ground to root upon

3.1.911510Unless on you.

Unless on you. Are these things then necessities?

3.1.921512Then let us meet them like necessities,

3.1.931513And that same word even now cries out on us.

3.1.941514They say the Bishop and Northumberland,

3.1.951515Are fifty thousand strong.

Are fifty thousand strong. It cannot be my lord.

3.1.961517Rumor doth double, like the voice and echo,

3.1.971518The numbers of the feared. Please it your grace

3.1.981519To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord,

3.1.991520The powers that you already have sent forth

3.1.1001521Shall bring this prize in very easily.

3.1.1011522To comfort you the more, I have received,

3.1.1021523A certain instance that Glendower is dead.

3.1.1031524Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill,

3.1.1041525And these unseasoned hours perforce must add

3.1.1051526Unto your sickness.

Unto your sickness. I will take your counsel,

3.1.1061528And were these inward wars once out of hand,

3.1.1071529We would, dear lords, unto the holy land.

Come on, come on, come on, sir, give me your 1535hand, sir, give me your hand sir. An early stirrer, by 1536the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

And how doth my cousin your bedfellow? 1539And your fairest daughter and mine, my goddaughter 1540Ellen?

Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

By yea and no sir. I dare say my cousin 1543William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford still, is he 1544not?

Indeed, sir, to my cost.

'A must then to the Inns o'Court shortly. I was 1547once of Clement's Inn, where I think they will talk of mad 1548Shallow yet.

You were called "lusty Shallow" then, cousin.

By the mass I was called anything, and I would have done 1551anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and 1552little John Doit of Staffordshire, and Black George Barnes, 1553and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold man. You 1554had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the Inns 1555o'Court again. And I may say to you, we knew where 1556the bona robas were and had the best of them all at 1557commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, 1558a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about 1561soldiers?

The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break 1563Skoggin's head at the Court gate, when 'a was a crack, not 1564thus high; and the very same day did I fight with one Samson 1565Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the 1566mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old 1567acquaintance are dead.

We shall all follow, cousin.

Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the 1570psalmist saith, is certain to all. All shall die. How a good yoke 1571of bullocks at Stamford fair?

By my troth, I was not there.

Death is certain. Is old Double of your town 1574living yet?

Dead sir.

Jesu, Jesu, dead! 'A drew a good bow, and dead? 'A shot 1577a fine shoot. John o'Gaunt loved him well, and betted much 1578money on his head. Dead! 'A would have clapped i'th'clout at 1579twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a'fourteen and 1580fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart 1582good to see. How a score of ewes now?

Thereafter as they be; a score of good ewes may be 1584worth ten pounds.

And is old Double dead?

Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I 1588think.

3.2.211589ShallowGood morrow, honest gentlemen.

I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?

I am Robert Shallow sir, a poor esquire of this 1592county, and one of the king's justices of the peace. What is 1593your pleasure with me?

My captain, sir, commends him to you -- my 1595captain, Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most 1596gallant leader.

He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword 1598man. How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady 1599his wife doth?

Sir, pardon, a soldier is better accommodated than 1601with a wife.

It is well said, in faith sir, and it is well said indeed too. "Better accommodated" -- it is good, yea indeed is 1604it. Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very 1605commendable. "Accommodated" -- it comes of accommodo -- very good, a 1606good phrase.

Pardon me sir, I have heard the word -- "phrase" 1608call you it? By this good day, I know not the phrase, but 1609I will maintain the word with my sword to be a 1610soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, 1611by heaven. "Accommodated": that is, when a man is, as they 1612say, accommodated, or when a man is being whereby 'a 1613may be thought to be accommodated, which is an excellent 1614thing.

It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John, give 1617me your good hand, give me your worship's good hand. 1618By my troth you like well and bear your years very well. 1619Welcome, good Sir John.

I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert 1621Shallow. [To Silence] Master Surecard, as I think?

No, Sir John, it is my cousin Silence, in commission with 1623me.

Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of 1625the peace.

Your good worship is welcome.

Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you 1628provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?

Marry have we sir, will you sit?

Let me see them, I beseech you.

Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Where's the 1632roll? Let me see, let me see, so, so, so, so, so, so, so. Yea, marry, sir -- 1633Rafe Moldy! -- let them appear as I call, let them do so, let them 1634do so. Let me see, where is Moldy?

Here, an it please you.

What think you Sir John? A good limbed fellow, young, 1638strong, and of good friends.

Is thy name Moldy?

Yea, an't please you.

'Tis the more time thou wert used.

Ha, ha, ha, most excellent i'faith: things that are 1643moldy lack use. Very singular good, in faith. Well said, Sir John, 1644 very well said.

Prick him.

I was pricked well enough before, an you could have 1647let me alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do 1648her husbandry, and her drudgery. You need not to have pricked 1649me: there are other men fitter to go out than I.

Go to; peace Moldy, you shall go, Moldy. It is time 1652you were spent.

Spent?

Peace fellow, peace, stand aside. Know you where you 1655are? For th'other, Sir John. Let me see -- Simon Shadow!

Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under, he's like to be 1658a cold soldier.

Where's Shadow?

Here sir.

Shadow, whose son art thou?

My mother's son sir.

Thy mother's son! Like enough, and thy father's 1664shadow: so the son of the female is the shadow of the male -- it is 1665often so indeed -- but not of the father's substance.

Do you like him Sir John?

Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him, for we have 1669a number of shadows fill up the muster book.

Thomas Wart!

Where's he?

Here sir.

Is thy name Wart?

Yea sir.

Thou art a very ragged wart.

Shall I prick him, Sir John?

It were superfluous, for his apparel is built upon his back, 1680and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more.

Ha, ha, ha, you can do it sir, you can do it. I commend 1683you well. Francis Feeble!

Here sir.

What trade art thou, Feeble?

A woman's tailor, sir.

Shall I prick him, sir?

You may, but if he had been a man's tailor he'd ha'pricked 1691you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle, as 1692thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?

I will do my good will sir, you can have no more.

Well said, good woman's tailor. Well said, courageous 1696Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove, or most 1697magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor well, Master 1698Shallow, deep, Master Shallow.

I would Wart might have gone, sir.

I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst 1702mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a 1703private soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that 1704suffice, most forcible Feeble.

It shall suffice, sir.

I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?

Peter Bullcalf o'th'green.

Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.

Here sir.

'Fore god a likely fellow! Come, prick Bullcalf 1712till he roar again.

O lord, good my lord captain.

What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?

O lord, sir, I am a diseased man.

What disease hast thou?

A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught with 1718ringing in the king's affairs upon his coronation day, sir.

Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will 1721have away thy cold, and I will take such order that thy friends 1722shall ring for thee. Is here all?

Here is two more called than your number, you must 1724have but four here sir, and so I pray you go in with me to 1725dinner.

Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. 1727I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.

O Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night 1730in the Windmill in Saint George's Field?

No more of that Master Shallow.

Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork 1734alive?

She lives, Master Shallow.

She never could away with me.

Never never, she would always say, she could not abide 1738Master Shallow.

By the mass, I could anger her to th'heart. She was 1740then a bona roba. Doth she hold her own well?

Old, old, Master Shallow.

Nay she must be old, she cannot choose but be old. 1743certain she's old, and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork, 1744before I came to Clement's Inn.

That's fifty-five year ago.

Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this 1747knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?

We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.

That we have, that we have, that we have. In faith, Sir 1752John, we have. Our watch-word was "Hem, boys." Come, let's to 1753dinner, come let's to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have seen! 1754Come, come.

Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, 1756and here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In 1757very truth sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go; and yet for mine 1758own part, sir, I do not care, but rather, because I am unwilling 1759and for mine own part have a desire to stay with my friends, 1760else, sir, I did not care for mine own part so much.

Go to, stand aside.

And good master corporal captain, for my old dame's 1764sake, stand my friend, she has nobody to do anything about 1765her when I am gone, and she is old and cannot help herself. 1766You shall have forty, sir.

Go to, stand aside.

By my troth, I care not, a man can die but once. We 1769owe god a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind: an't be my 1770destiny, so; an't be not, so. No man's too good to serve's prince, 1771and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for 1772the next.

Well said, th'art a good fellow.

Faith, I'll bear no base mind.

Come sir, which men shall I have?

Four of which you please.

Sir, a word with you, I have three pound to free 1778Moldy and Bullcalf.

Go to, well.

Come, Sir John, which four will you have?

Do you choose for me.

Marry then: Moldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.

Moldy and Bullcalf: for you, Moldy, stay at home, till 1785you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow till you 1786come unto it. I will none of you.

Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are 1788your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the 1789best.

Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose 1791a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, 1792bulk, and big assemblance of a man? Give me the 1793spirit, Master Shallow. Here's Wart, you see what 1794a ragged appearance it is. 'A shall charge you and 1795discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer, come 1796off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket. 1797And this same half-faced fellow, Shadow, give me this man. He 1798presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great 1799aim level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat, how 1800swiftly will this Feeble the woman's Tailor run off? O give 1802me the spare men, and spare me the great ones! Put me a 1803caliver into Wart's hand, Bardolph.

[Giving Wart the caliver] Hold Wart, travers thus, thus, thus.

Come, manage me your caliver. So, very well. Go to, very 1806good, exceeding good. O give me always a little lean, old, 1807chopped, bald shot. Well said, i'faith, Wart. Th'art a good scab. 1808[Giving Wart a coin] Hold, there's a tester for thee.

He is not his craft's master; he doth not do it right. I 1810remember at Mile-End Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn, 1811I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show. There was a little 1812quiver fellow and 'a would manage you his piece thus, and 'a 1813would about and about, and come you in, and come you in. 1815"Rah, tah, tah" would 'a say; "bounce" would 'a say, and away again 1816would 'a go, and again would 'a come. I shall ne'er see such a 1817fellow.

These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God keep 1819you, Master Silence. I will not use many words with you. Fare you 1820well gentlemen both. I thank you. I must a dozen mile tonight. 1821Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.

Sir John, the lord bless you. God prosper your 1824affairs; god send us peace! At your return, visit our house; let 1825our old acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye 1826to the court.

Fore god, would you would.

Go to, I have spoke at a word. God keep you.

Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On Bardolph, lead the men away.

3.2.1271831As I return I will fetch off 1832these justices. I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. 1833Lord, lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying! 1834This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me 1835of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done 1836about Turnbull Street; and every third word a lie, duer paid 1837to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him 1838at Clement's Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese 1839paring. When 'a was naked, he was for all the world like a forked 1841radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. 1842'A was so forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were 1843invisible. 'A was the very genius of famine, yet lecherous as a 1843.1monkey, and the whores called him mandrake. 'A came ever in the 1844rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the 1844.1overscutched housewives that he heard the Carmen whistle, and 1844.2swore they were his fancies or his good-nights. And now is 1845this vice's dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of 1846John o'Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him. And 1847I'll be sworn 'a ne'er saw him but once in the tilt-yard, and then 1849he burst his head for crowding among the marshal's men. I 1850saw it and told John o'Gaunt he beat his own name, for you 1851might have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin. The 1852case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him a'court, and 1853now has he land and beefs. Well, I'll be acquainted with him 1855if I return, and't shall go hard, but I'll make him a philosopher's 1856two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait for the old pike, 1857I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him, till 1858time shape, and there an end.

What is this forest called?

'Tis Gaultree forest, an't shall please your grace.

Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth,

4.1.41867To know the numbers of our enemies.

We have sent forth already.

We have sent forth already. 'Tis well done.

4.1.61870My friends and brethren in these great affairs,

4.1.71871I must acquaint you that I have received

4.1.81872New dated letters from Northumberland,

4.1.91873Their cold intent, tenure, and substance thus:

4.1.101874Here doth he wish his person, with such powers,

4.1.111875As might hold sortance with his quality,

4.1.121876The which he could not levy; whereupon

4.1.131877He is retired to ripe his growing fortunes

4.1.141878To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers

4.1.151879That your attempts may over-live the hazard

4.1.161880And fearful meeting of their opposite.

Thus do the hopes we have in him, touch ground,

4.1.181882And dash themselves to pieces.

And dash themselves to pieces. Now, what news?

West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,

4.1.201886In goodly form comes on the enemy;

4.1.211887And by the ground they hide, I judge their number

4.1.221888Upon, or near the rate of thirty thousand.

The just proportion that we gave them out.

4.1.241890Let us sway on and face them in the field.

What well-appointed leader fronts us here?

I think it is my lord of Westmorland.

Health and fair greeting from our general,

4.1.281895The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.

Say on, my lord of Westmorland, in peace.

4.1.301897What doth concern your coming?

What doth concern your coming? Then, my lord,

4.1.311899Unto your grace do I in chief address

4.1.321900The substance of my speech. If that rebellion

4.1.331901Came like itself, in base and abject routs,

4.1.341902Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage,

4.1.351903And countenanced by boys and beggary;

4.1.361904I say, if damned commotion so appeared,

4.1.371905In his true, native, and most proper shape,

4.1.381906You, reverend father, and these noble lords,

4.1.391907Had not been here to dress the ugly form

4.1.401908Of base and bloody insurrection

4.1.411909With your fair honors. You, Lord Archbishop,

4.1.421910Whose see is by a civil peace maintained,

4.1.431911Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched,

4.1.441912Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored,

4.1.451913Whose white investments figure innocence,

4.1.461914The dove, and very blessed spirit of peace,

4.1.471915Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself

4.1.481916Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace,

4.1.491917Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war,

4.1.501918Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,

4.1.511919Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine

4.1.521920To a loud trumpet, and a point of war?

Wherefore do I this? So the question stands.

4.1.541922Briefly, to this end: we are all diseased,

4.1.551923And with our surfeiting and wanton hours

4.1.561924Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,

4.1.571925And we must bleed for it; of which disease

4.1.581926Our late King Richard, being infected, died.

4.1.591927But, my most noble Lord of Westmorland,

4.1.601928I take not on me here as a physician,

4.1.611929Nor do I, as an enemy to peace

4.1.621930Troop in the throngs of military men,

4.1.631931But rather show a while like fearful war

4.1.641932To diet rank minds sick of happiness,

4.1.651933And purge th'obstructions which begin to stop

4.1.661934Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.

4.1.671935I have in equal balance justly weighed

4.1.681936What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,

4.1.691937And find our griefs heavier than our offences.

4.1.701938We see which way the stream of time doth run,

4.1.711939And are enforced from our most quiet there

4.1.721940By the rough torrent of occasion,

4.1.731941And have the summary of all our griefs,

4.1.741942When time shall serve, to show in articles,

4.1.751943Which long ere this, we offered to the king,

4.1.761944And might by no suit gain our audience.

4.1.771945When we are wronged and would unfold our griefs,

4.1.781946We are denied access unto his person,

4.1.791947Even by those men that most have done us wrong.

4.1.801948The dangers of the days but newly gone,

4.1.811949Whose memory is written on the earth

4.1.821950With yet appearing blood, and the examples

4.1.831951Of every minute's instance, present now,

4.1.841952Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms,

4.1.851953Not to break peace, or any branch of it,

4.1.861954But to establish here a peace indeed,

4.1.871955Concurring both in name and quality.

When ever yet was your appeal denied?

4.1.891957Wherein have you been gallèd by the king?

4.1.901958What peer hath been suborned to grate on you,

4.1.911959That you should seal this lawless bloody book

4.1.921960Of forged rebellion with a seal divine?

My brother general, the commonwealth,

4.1.941962I make my quarrel in particular.

There is no need of any such redress,

4.1.961964Or, if there were, it not belongs to you.

Why not to him in part, and to us all

4.1.981966That feel the bruises of the days before

4.1.991967And suffer the condition of these times

4.1.1001968To lay a heavy and unequal hand

4.1.101Upon our honors?

Upon our honors? O my good Lord Mowbray,

4.1.1021970Construe the times to their necessities,

4.1.1031971And you shall say indeed it is the time

4.1.1041972And not the king that doth you injuries.

4.1.1051973Yet for your part, it not appears to me,

4.1.1061974Either from the king or in the present time,

4.1.1071975That you should have an inch of any ground

4.1.1081976To build a grief on. Were you not restored

4.1.1091977To all the Duke of Norfolk's signories,

4.1.1101978Your noble and right well-remembered father's?

What thing, in honor, had my father lost

4.1.1121980That need to be revived and breathed in me?

4.1.1131981The king that loved him, as the state stood then,

4.1.1141982Was forced, perforce compelled, to banish him;

4.1.1151983And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he

4.1.1161984Being mounted and both rousèd in their seats,

4.1.1171985Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,

4.1.1181986Their armèd staves in charge, their beavers down,

4.1.1191987Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel,

4.1.1201988And the loud trumpet blowing them together,

4.1.1211989Then, then, when there was nothing could have stayed

4.1.1221990My father from the breast of Bolingbroke;

4.1.1231991Oh, when the king did throw his warder down,

4.1.1241992His own life hung upon the staff he threw,

4.1.1251993Then threw he down himself and all their lives,

4.1.1261994That by indictment and by dint of sword,

4.1.1271995Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what.

4.1.1291997The Earl of Hereford was reputed then

4.1.1301998In England the most valiant gentleman.

4.1.1311999Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled?

4.1.1322000But if your father had been victor there,

4.1.1332001He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry.

4.1.1342002For all the country in a general voice

4.1.1352003Cried hate upon him, and all their prayers and love

4.1.1362004Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on

4.1.1372005And blessed and graced, indeed more than the king.

4.1.1382006But this is mere digression from my purpose.

4.1.1392007Here come I from our princely general

4.1.1402008To know your griefs, to tell you from his grace

4.1.1412009That he will give you audience, and wherein

4.1.1422010It shall appear that your demands are just,

4.1.1432011You shall enjoy them, everything set off

4.1.1442012That might so much as think you enemies.

But he hath forced us to compel this offer,

4.1.1462014And it proceeds from policy, not love.

Mowbray, you overween to take it so.

4.1.1482016This offer comes from mercy, not from fear;

4.1.1492017For lo, within a ken our army lies,

4.1.1502018Upon mine honor, all too confident

4.1.1512019To give admittance to a thought of fear.

4.1.1522020Our battle is more full of names than yours,

4.1.1532021Our men more perfect in the use of arms,

4.1.1542022Our armor all as strong, our cause the best;

4.1.1552023Then reason will our hearts should be as good.

4.1.1562024Say you not then our offer is compelled.

Well, by my will we shall admit no parley.

That argues but the shame of your offence:

4.1.1592027A rotten case abides no handling.

Hath the Prince John a full commission,

4.1.1612029In very ample virtue of his father,

4.1.1622030To hear and absolutely to determine

4.1.1632031Of what conditions we shall stand upon?

That is intended in the general's name.

4.1.1652033I muse you make so slight a question.

Then take, my lord of Westmorland, this schedule,

4.1.1672035For this contains our general grievances.

4.1.1682036Each several article herein redressed,

4.1.1692037All members of our cause both here and hence

4.1.1702038That are ensinewed to this action

4.1.1712039Acquitted by a true substantial form

4.1.1722040And present execution of our wills,

4.1.1732041To us and our purposes confined

4.1.1742042We come within our awe-full banks again

4.1.1752043And knit our powers to the arm of peace.

This will I show the general. Please you, lords,

4.1.1772045In sight of both our battles we may meet,

4.1.1782046And either end in peace, which god so frame,

4.1.1792047Or to the place of difference call the swords

4.1.1802048Which must decide it.

Which must decide it. My lord, we will do so.

There is a thing within my bosom tells me

4.1.1822051That no conditions of our peace can stand.

Fear you not that. If we can make our peace

4.1.1842053Upon such large terms and so absolute

4.1.1852054As our conditions shall consist upon,

4.1.1862055Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.

Yea, but our valuation shall be such

4.1.1882057That every slight and false-derivèd cause,

4.1.1892058Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason,

4.1.1902059Shall to the king taste of this action;

4.1.1912060That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love,

4.1.1922061We shall be winnowed with so rough a wind

4.1.1932062That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,

4.1.1942063And good from bad find no partition.

No, no, my lord, note this: the king is weary

4.1.1962065Of dainty and such picking grievances,

4.1.1972066For he hath found, to end one doubt by death

4.1.1982067Revives two greater in the heirs of life;

4.1.1992068And therefore will he wipe his tables clean

4.1.2002069And keep no tell-tale to his memory

4.1.2012070That may repeat and history his loss

4.1.2022071To new remembrance. For full well he knows

4.1.2032072He cannot so precisely weed this land

4.1.2042073As his misdoubts present occasion.

4.1.2052074His foes are so enrooted with his friends

4.1.2062075That, plucking to unfix an enemy,

4.1.2072076He doth unfasten so and shake a friend;

4.1.2082077So that this land, like an offensive wife

4.1.2092078That hath enraged him on to offer strokes,

4.1.2102079As he is striking, holds his infant up,

4.1.2112080And hangs resolved correction in the arm,

4.1.2122081That was upreared to execution.

Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods

4.1.2142083On late offenders, that he now doth lack

4.1.2152084The very instruments of chastisement;

4.1.2162085So that his power, like to a fangless lion,

4.1.2172086May offer, but not hold.

May offer, but not hold. 'Tis very true;

4.1.2182088And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal,

4.1.2192089If we do now make our atonement well,

4.1.2202090Our peace will, like a broken limb united,

4.1.2212091Grow stronger for the breaking.

Grow stronger for the breaking. Be it so.

4.1.222Here is returned my Lord of Westmorland.

The prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your lordship

4.1.2242096To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies?

Your grace of York, in god's name then set forward.

Before, and greet his grace. My lord, we come.

You are well encountered here, my cousin Mowbray;

4.1.2282102Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop,

4.1.2292103And so to you Lord Hastings, and to all.

4.1.2302104My lord of York, it better showed with you

4.1.2312105When that your flock, assembled by the bell,

4.1.2322106Encircled you to hear with reverence

4.1.2332107Your exposition on the holy text

4.1.2342108Than now to see you here, an iron man talking,

4.1.2352109Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,

4.1.2362110Turning the word to sword, and life to death.

4.1.2372111That man that sits within a monarch's heart

4.1.2382112And ripens in the sunshine of his favor,

4.1.2392113Would he abuse the countenance of the king,

4.1.2402114Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach

4.1.2412115In shadow of such greatness! With you, Lord Bishop,

4.1.2422116It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken

4.1.2432117How deep you were within the books of god,

4.1.2442118To us the speaker in his parliament,

4.1.2452119To us th'imagined voice of god himself,

4.1.2462120The very opener and intelligencer

4.1.2472121Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,

4.1.2482122And our dull workings? Oh, who shall believe

4.1.2492123But you misuse the reverence of your place,

4.1.2502124Imply the countenance and grace of heaven,

4.1.2512125As a false favorite doth his prince's name

4.1.2522126In deeds dishonorable? You have ta'en up,

4.1.2532127Under the counterfeited zeal of god,

4.1.2542128The subjects of his substitute, my father,

4.1.2552129And both against the peace of heaven and him

4.1.2562130Have here upswarmed them.

Have here upswarmed them. Good my lord of Lancaster,

4.1.2572132I am not here against your father's peace;

4.1.2582133But, as I told my lord of Westmorland,

4.1.2592134The time misordered doth in common sense

4.1.2602135Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form

4.1.2612136To hold our safety up. I sent your grace

4.1.2622137The parcels and particulars of our grief,

4.1.2632138The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court,

4.1.2642139Whereon this Hydra son of war is born,

4.1.2652140Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed asleep

4.1.2662141With grant of our most just and right desires,

4.1.2672142And true obedience, of this madness cured,

4.1.2682143Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

If not, we ready are to try our fortunes

4.1.2702145To the last man.

To the last man. And though we here fall down,

4.1.2712147We have supplies to second our attempt.

4.1.2722148If they miscarry, theirs shall second them,

4.1.2732149And so success of mischief shall be born,

4.1.2742150And heir from heir shall hold his quarrel up

4.1.2752151Whiles England shall have generation.

You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow

4.1.2772154To sound the bottom of the after-times.

Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly,

4.1.2792156How far forth you do like their articles.

I like them all, and do allow them well,

4.1.2812158And swear here by the honor of my blood,

4.1.2822159My father's purposes have been mistook,

4.1.2832160And some about him have too lavishly

4.1.2842161Wrested his meaning and authority.

4.1.2852162My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redressed,

4.1.2862163Upon my soul they shall. If this may please you,

4.1.2872164Discharge your powers unto their several counties,

4.1.2882165As we will ours; and here, between the armies,

4.1.2892166Let's drink together friendly and embrace,

4.1.2902167That all their eyes may bear those tokens home

4.1.2912168Of our restorèd love and amity.

I take your princely word for these redresses.

I give it you, and will maintain my word,

4.1.2942171And thereupon I drink unto your grace.

Go, captain, and deliver to the army

4.1.2962173This news of peace. Let them have pay and part.

4.1.2972174I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain.

To you my noble Lord of Westmorland.

I pledge your grace; and if you knew what pains,

4.1.3002178I have bestowed to breed this present peace,

4.1.3012180You would drink freely; but my love to ye

4.1.3022181Shall show itself more openly hereafter.

I do not doubt you.

I do not doubt you. I am glad of it.

4.1.3042184Health to my lord and gentle cousin Mowbray!

You wish me health in very happy season,

4.1.3062186For I am on the sudden something ill.

Against ill chances men are ever merry,

4.1.3082188But heaviness foreruns the good event.

Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow

4.1.3102190Serves to say thus: some good thing comes tomorrow.

Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.

So much the worse, if your own rule be true.

The word of peace is rendered. Hark how they shout.

This had been cheerful after victory.

A peace is of the nature of a conquest,

4.1.3162197For then both parties nobly are subdued,

4.1.3172198And neither party loser.

And neither party loser. [To Westmorland] Go my lord,

4.1.3182200And let our army be dischargèd too.

4.1.3192201[To the Archbishop] And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains

4.1.3202202March by us, that we may peruse the men

4.1.3212203We should have coped withal.

We should have coped withal. Go, good Lord Hastings,

4.1.3222205And ere they be dismissed, let them march by.

I trust, lords, we shall lie tonight together.

4.1.3242208Now cousin, wherefore stands our army still?

The leaders, having charge from you to stand,

4.1.3262210Will not go off until they hear you speak.

They know their duties.

My lord, our army is dispersed already.

4.1.3292213Like youthful steers unyoked they take their courses,

4.1.3302214East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up,

4.1.3312215Each hurries toward his home and sporting place.

Good tidings, my Lord Hastings, for the which

4.1.3332217I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason;

4.1.3342218And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray,

4.1.3352219Of capital treason I attach you both.

Is this proceeding just and honorable?

Is your assembly so?

Will you thus break your faith?

I pawned thee none.

4.1.3402224I promised you redress of these same grievances

4.1.3412225Whereof you did complain, which by mine honor

4.1.3422226I will perform with a most Christian care.

4.1.3432227But for you rebels, look to taste the due

4.1.3442228Meet for rebellion.

4.1.3452229Most shallowly did you these arms commence,

4.1.3462230Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.

4.1.3472231Strike up our drums, pursue the scattered stray.

4.1.3482232God, and not we, hath safely fought today.

4.1.3492233Some guard these traitors to the block of death,

4.1.3502234Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath.

What's your name sir? Of what condition are you, and 2237of what place?

I am a knight sir, and my name is Coleville of the 2239Dale.

Well then, Coleville is your name, a knight is your 2241degree, and your place the Dale. Coleville shall be still your name, 2242a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place -- a place deep 2243enough, so shall you be still Coleville of the Dale.

Are not you Sir John Falstaff?

As good a man as he sir, who ere I am. Do ye yield, 2247sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops 2248of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouse 2249up fear and trembling, and do observance2250 to my mercy.

I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought 2252yield me.

I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of 2254mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any other 2255word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, 2256I were simply the most active fellow in Europe. 2257My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. Here 2258comes our general.

The heat is past; follow no further now.

4.2.92261Call in the powers, good cousin Westmorland.

4.2.102262Now Falstaff, where have you been all this while?

4.2.112263When everything is ended, then you come.

4.2.122264These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,

4.2.132265One time or other break some gallow's back.

I would be sorry my lord, but it should be thus. I 2267never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of 2268valor. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have 2269I in my poor and old motion the expedition of thought? I 2270have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of 2271possibility; I have foundered ninescore and odd posts, and here, travel-2272tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valor 2273taken Sir John Coleville of the Dale, a most furious knight and 2275valorous enemy. But what of that? He saw me, and yielded, 2276that I may justly say with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, 2277"there cousin, I came, saw, and overcame."

It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I 2281beseech your grace let it be booked with the rest of this day's 2282deeds, or, by the lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, 2283with mine own picture on the top on't -- Coleville kissing my 2284foot. To the which course, if I be enforced, if you do not all 2285show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the clear sky of 2286fame o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the 2287cinders of the element, which show like pin's heads to her, 2288believe not the word of the noble. Therefore let me have right, 2290and let desert mount.

Thine's too heavy to mount.

Let it shine then.

Thine's too thick to shine.

Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me 2295good, and call it what you will.

Is thy name Coleville?

It is my lord.

A famous rebel art thou, Coleville.

And a famous true subject took him.

I am, my lord, but as my betters are

4.2.262301That led me hither, had they been ruled by me,

4.2.272302You should have won them dearer than you have.

I know not how they sold themselves, but thou, like a 2304kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis, and I thank thee for 2305thee.

Now, have you left pursuit?

Retreat is made, and execution stayed.

Send Coleville with his confederates

4.2.322310To York, to present execution.

4.2.332311Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.

4.2.342313And now dispatch we toward the court my lords.

4.2.352314I hear the king my father is sore sick.

4.2.362315Our news shall go before us to his majesty,

4.2.372316Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him,

4.2.382317And we with sober speed will follow you.

My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go through 2319Gloucestershire, and when you come to court, 2320stand my good lord in your good report.

Fare you well, Falstaff. I in my condition

4.2.41Shall better 2322speak of you than you deserve.

I would you had the wit; 'twere better than your 2324dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not 2325love me, nor a man cannot make him laugh. But that's no marvel: 2326he drinks no wine. There's never none of these demure boys 2328come to any proof, for thin drink doth so over-cool their 2329blood, and making many fish meals, that they fall into a kind 2330of male green-sickness; and then when they marry, they get 2331wenches. They are generally fools and cowards, which some 2332of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack 2333hath a twofold operation in it: it ascends me into the brain, 2334dries me there all the foolish and dull and cruddy vapors which 2336environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of 2337nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to 2338the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent 2339wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is the 2340warming of the blood, which before, cold and settled, left the liver 2341white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and 2343cowardice; but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the 2344inwards to the parts' extremes. It illumineth the face, which, 2345as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, 2346man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty 2347spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great and 2348puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage. And this 2350valor comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon 2351is nothing without sack, for that sets it awork; and 2352learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, 2353till sack commences it, and sets it in act and use. 2354Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry is valiant, for the cold blood 2355he did naturally inherit of his father he hath, like 2356lean, sterile and bare land, manured, husbanded and 2357tilled with excellent endeavor of drinking good 2358and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot 2359and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle 2360I would teach them should be to forswear thin 2361potations, and to addict themselves to sack.

2362How now Bardolph?

The army is dischargèd all and gone.

Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire and there will 2365I visit Master Robert Shallow Esquire. I have him already 2366tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I 2367seal with him. Come away.

Now, lords, if god doth give successful end

4.3.22372To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,

4.3.32373We will our youth lead on to higher fields,

4.3.42374And draw no swords but what are sanctified.

4.3.52375Our navy is addressed, our power collected,

4.3.62376Our substitutes in absence well invested,

4.3.72377And everything lies level to our wish;

4.3.82378Only we want a little personal strength,

4.3.92379And pause us till these rebels now afoot

4.3.102380Come underneath the yoke of government.

Both which we doubt not but your majesty

4.3.122382Shall soon enjoy.

Shall soon enjoy. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,

4.3.13Where is the prince 2384your brother?

I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.

And how accompanied?

And how accompanied? I do not know, my lord.

Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?

No, my good lord, he is in presence here.

What would my lord and father?

Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence,

4.3.202394How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother?

4.3.212395He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas.

4.3.222396Thou hast a better place in his affection

4.3.232397Than all thy brothers. Cherish it, my boy,

4.3.242398And noble offices thou mayst effect

4.3.252399Of mediation after I am dead,

4.3.262400Between his greatness and thy other brethren.

4.3.272401Therefore omit him not, blunt not his love,

4.3.282402Nor lose the good advantage of his grace

4.3.292403By seeming cold or careless of his will;

4.3.302404For he is gracious if he be observed.

4.3.312405He hath a tear for pity and a hand

4.3.322406Open as day for meting charity.

4.3.332407Yet, notwithstanding, being incensed, he is flint,

4.3.342408As humorous as winter, and as sudden

4.3.352409As flaws congealèd in the spring of day.

4.3.362410His temper therefore must be well observed.

4.3.372411Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,

4.3.382412When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth;

4.3.392413But being moody, give him time and scope

4.3.402414Till that his passions, like a whale on ground

4.3.412415Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,

4.3.422416And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,

4.3.432417A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,

4.3.442418That the united vessel of their blood,

4.3.452419Mingled with venom of suggestion --

4.3.462420As force perforce the age will pour it in --

4.3.472421Shall never leak, though it do work as strong

4.3.482422As aconitum or rash gunpowder.

I shall observe him with all care and love.

Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?

He is not there today; he dines in London.

And how accompanied?

With Poins, and other his continual followers.

Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds,

4.3.552433And he, the noble image of my youth,

4.3.562434Is overspread with them; therefore my grief

4.3.572435Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.

4.3.582436The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape

4.3.592437In forms imaginary th'unguided days

4.3.602438And rotten times that you shall look upon,

4.3.612439When I am sleeping with my ancestors;

4.3.622440For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,

4.3.632441When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,

4.3.642442When means and lavish manners meet together,

4.3.652443Oh, with what wings shall his affections fly

4.3.662444Towards fronting peril and opposed decay?

My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite.

4.3.682446The prince but studies his companions,

4.3.692447Like a strange tongue wherein to gain the language.

4.3.702448'Tis needful that the most immodest word

4.3.712449Be looked upon and learnt, which once attained,

4.3.722450Your highness knows, comes to no further use

4.3.732451But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,

4.3.742452The prince will, in the perfectness of time,

4.3.752453Cast off his followers and their memory

4.3.762454Shall as a pattern or a measure live

4.3.772455By which his grace must mete the lives of other,

4.3.782456Turning past evils to advantages.

'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb

4.3.802458In the dead carrion. Who's here? Westmorland?

Health to my sovereign, and new happiness

4.3.822462Added to that that I am to deliver.

4.3.832463Prince John your son doth kiss your grace's hand.

4.3.842464Mowbray, the Bishop Scrope, Hastings, and all

4.3.852465Are brought to the correction of your law.

4.3.862466There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed,

4.3.872467But peace puts forth her olive everywhere.

4.3.882468The manner how this action hath been borne

4.3.892469Here at more leisure may your highness read,

4.3.902470With every course in his particular.

O Westmorland, thou art a summer bird,

4.3.922472Which ever in the haunch of winter sings

4.3.932473The lifting up of day.

The lifting up of day. Look here's more news.

From enemies, heavens keep your majesty,

4.3.952477And when they stand against you, may they fall

4.3.962478As those that I am come to tell you of.

4.3.972479The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph,

4.3.982480With a great power of English and of Scots,

4.3.992481Are by the Sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown,

4.3.1002482The manner and true order of the fight

4.3.1012483This packet, please it you, contains at large.

And wherefore should these good news make me sick?

4.3.1032486Will fortune never come with both hands full,

4.3.1042487But set her fair words still in foulest terms?

4.3.1052488She either gives a stomach and no food --

4.3.1062489Such are the poor, in health -- or else a feast

4.3.1072490And takes away the stomach -- such are the rich

4.3.1082491That have abundance and enjoy it not.

4.3.1092492I should rejoice now at this happy news

4.3.1102493And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy.

4.3.1112494O me! Come near me now, I am much ill.

Comfort, your majesty!

Comfort, your majesty! O my royal father!

My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.

Be patient princes, you do know these fits

4.3.1152500Are with his highness very ordinary.

4.3.1162501Stand from him, give him air, he'll straight be well.

No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs,

4.3.1182504Th'incessant care and labor of his mind

4.3.1192505Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in

4.3.1202506So thin that life looks through and will break out.

The people fear me, for they do observe

4.3.1222508Unfathered heirs, and loathly births of nature.

4.3.1232509The seasons change their manners, as the year

4.3.1242510Had found some months asleep and leaped them over.

The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between,

4.3.1262512And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,

4.3.1272513Say it did so a little time before

4.3.1282514That our great grandsire Edward sick'd and died.

Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.

This apoplexy will certain be his end.

I pray you take me up and bear me hence

4.3.1322519Into some other chamber.

4.3.1332520Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends,

4.3.1342521Unless some dull and favorable hand

4.3.1352522Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

Call for the music in the other room.

Set me the crown upon my pillow here.

His eye is hollow and he changes much.

Less noise, less noise.

Less noise, less noise. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

I am here brother, full of heaviness.

How now, rain within doors, and none abroad?

4.3.1422531How doth the king?

How doth the king? Exceeding ill.

Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

He altered much upon the hearing it.

If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic.

Not so much noise, my lords. Sweet prince, speak low.

4.3.1472539The king your father is disposed to sleep.

Let us withdraw into the other room.

Will't please your grace to go along with us?

No, I will sit and watch here by the king.

4.3.1512544Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,

4.3.1522545Being so troublesome a bedfellow?

4.3.1532546O polished perturbation! Golden care,

4.3.1542547That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide

4.3.1552548To many a watchful night! Sleep with it now,

4.3.1562549Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet

4.3.1572550As he whose brow, with homely biggen bound,

4.3.1582551Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!

4.3.1592552When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit

4.3.1602553Like a rich armor worn in heat of day

4.3.1612554That scald'st with safety. By his gates of breath

4.3.1622555There lies a downy feather which stirs not.

4.3.1632556Did he suspire, that light and weightless down

4.3.1642557Perforce must move. My gracious lord, my father!

4.3.1652558This sleep is sound indeed. This is a sleep,

4.3.1662559That from this golden rigol hath divorced

4.3.1672560So many English kings. Thy due from me

4.3.1682561Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,

4.3.1692562Which nature, love, and filial tenderness

4.3.1702563Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.

4.3.1712564My due from thee is this imperial crown,

4.3.1722565Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,

4.3.1732566Derives itself to me. Lo where it sits,

4.3.1742567Which god shall guard; and, put the world's whole strength

4.3.1752568Into one giant arm, it shall not force

4.3.1762569This lineal honor from me. This from thee

4.3.1772570Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.

Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence!

Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence! Doth the king call?

What would your majesty?

Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?

We left the prince my brother here, my liege,

4.3.1822579Who undertook to sit and watch by you.

The Prince of Wales? Where is he? Let me see him.

4.3.1842580.1He is not here.

This door is open; he is gone this way.

He came not through the chamber where we stayed.

Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?

When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.

The prince hath ta'en it hence. Go seek him out.

4.3.1902591Is he so hasty that he doth suppose

4.3.1912592My sleep my death?

4.3.192Find him, my lord of Warwick, chide him hither.

4.3.1932593This part of his conjoins with my disease,

4.3.1942594And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are,

4.3.1952596How quickly nature falls into revolt,

4.3.1962597When gold becomes her object?

4.3.1972598For this, the foolish over-careful fathers

4.3.1982599Have broke their sleep with thoughts,

4.3.1992600Their brains with care, their bones with industry.

4.3.2002601For this, they have engrossèd and piled up,

4.3.2012602The cankered heaps of strange-achievèd gold.

4.3.2022603For this they have been thoughtful to invest

4.3.2032604Their sons with arts and martial exercises,

4.3.2042605When like the bee tolling from every flower,

4.3.2052606Our thighs, packed with wax, our mouths with honey,

4.3.2062607We bring it to the hive, and like the bees,

4.3.2072608Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste

4.3.2082609Yields his engrossments to the ending father.

4.3.2092612Now where is he that will not stay so long,

4.3.2102613Till his friend sickness hath determined me?

My lord, I found the prince in the next room,

4.3.2122615Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,

4.3.2132616With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,

4.3.2142617That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood,

4.3.2152618Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife

4.3.2162619With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.

But wherefore did he take away the crown?

4.3.2182622Lo where he comes. Come hither to me Harry,

4.3.2192623Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

I never thought to hear you speak again.

Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.

4.3.2222626I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.

4.3.2232627Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair

4.3.2242628That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honors

4.3.2252629Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth,

4.3.2262630Thou seekst the greatness that will overwhelm thee.

4.3.2272631Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity

4.3.2282632Is held from falling with so weak a wind

4.3.2292633That it will quickly drop. My day is dim.

4.3.2302634Thou hast stolen that, which after some few hours

4.3.2312635Were thine without offence, and at my death

4.3.2322636Thou hast sealed up my expectation.

4.3.2332637Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not,

4.3.2342638And thou wilt have me die assured of it.

4.3.2352639Thou hidst a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,

4.3.2362640Whom thou hast whetted on thy stony heart

4.3.2372641To stab at half an hour of my life.

4.3.2382642What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour?

4.3.2392643Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,

4.3.2402644And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear

4.3.2412645That thou art crownèd, not that I am dead.

4.3.2422646Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse

4.3.2432647Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head.

4.3.2442648Only compound me with forgotten dust.

4.3.2452649Give that which gave thee life unto the worms,

4.3.2462650Pluck down my officers, break my decrees,

4.3.2472651For now a time is come to mock at form:

4.3.2482652Harry the fifth is crowned. Up vanity,

4.3.2492653Down royal state! All you sage counsellors, hence!

4.3.2502654And to the English court assemble now

4.3.2512655From every region apes of idleness.

4.3.2522656Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum.

4.3.2532657Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,

4.3.2542658Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit

4.3.2552659The oldest sins, the newest kind of ways?

4.3.2562660Be happy, he will trouble you no more.

4.3.2572661England shall double gild his treble guilt.

4.3.2582662England shall give him office, honor, might;

4.3.2592663For the fifth Harry from curbed licence plucks

4.3.2602664The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog

4.3.2612665Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.

4.3.2622666O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows.

4.3.2632667When that my care could not withhold thy riots,

4.3.2642668What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?

4.3.2652669O thou wilt be a wilderness again,

4.3.2662670Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.

O pardon me, my liege; but for my tears,

4.3.2682673The moist impediments unto my speech,

4.3.2692674I had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke,

4.3.2702675Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard

4.3.2712676The course of it so far. There is your crown;

4.3.2722677And he that wears the crown immortally,

4.3.2732678Long guard it yours. If I affect it more

4.3.2742679Than as your honor and as your renown,

4.3.2752680Let me no more from this obedience rise,

4.3.2762681Which my most inward true and duteous spirit

4.3.2772682Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending.

4.3.2782683God witness with me, when I here came in

4.3.2792684And found no course of breath within your majesty,

4.3.2802685How cold it struck my heart! If I do fain,

4.3.2812686O let me in my present wildness die,

4.3.2822687And never live to show th'incredulous world

4.3.2832688The noble change that I have purposèd.

4.3.2842689Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,

4.3.2852690And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,

4.3.2862691I spake unto this crown as having sense,

4.3.2872692And thus upbraided it: "The care on thee depending,

4.3.2882693Hath fed upon the body of my father,

4.3.2892694Therefore, thou best of gold art worse than gold.

4.3.2902695Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,