Poins. Falstaff!-fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a horse. P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath : Search his pockets. [POINS searches.] What hast thou found! Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord. P. Hen. Let's see what they be read them. Poins. Item, A capon, 25. 2d. Item, Sauce 4d. Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d. P. Hen. O monstrous! but one half pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! -What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning: we must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, his death will be a march of twelvescore. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Ee with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Poins. Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt. ACT III. These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; I am not in the roll of common men. Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? SCENE 1.-Bangor.-A Room in the Arch- If thou have power to raise him, bring him deacon's House. Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and GLENDOWER. Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure, And our induction full of prosperous hope. And, uncle Worcester :-A plague upon it! Glend. No, here it is. Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur : Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and, with A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven. Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of. Glend. I cannot blame him at my nativity, The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, Of buruing cressets; and, at my birth, The frame and huge foundation of the earth Shak'd like a coward. Hot. Why, so it would have done At the same season, if your mother's cat had But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. Glen. I say the earth did shake when I was born. Hot. And I say the earth was not of my mind, If you suppose, as fearing you it shook. Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble. Hot. Oh! then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire, And not in fear of your nativity. Glend. Cousin, of many men I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave To tell you once again, that, at my birth, hither, vide our right, According to our three-fold order ta'en? England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, Within that space, [To GLEND.] you may have drawn together Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentle men. Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords, And in my conduct shall your ladies come: From whom you now must steal, and take no leave; For there will be a world of water shed, In quantity equals not one of your's: • Unsuccessful. A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle out. I'll have the current in this place damm'd up; It shall not wind with such a deep indent, Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must: you see Mort. Yea, In strange concealments; valiant as a lion, I warrant you, that man is not alive, But mark how he bears his course, and runs Without the taste of danger and reproof; me up With like advantage on the other side; Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him And on this north side win this cape of land; Hot. I'll have it so; a little charge will do it. Hot. Will not you? Glend. No, nor you shall not. Hot. Who shall say me nay? Glend. Why, that will 1. Hot. Let me not understand it then, Speak it in Welsh. But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful- And since your coming hither have done enough You must needs learn, lord, to amend this Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, (And that's the dearest grace it renders you,) Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as Upon the beauty of all parts besides, you : For I was train'd up in the English court: And gave the tongue a helpful ornament; Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew, Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. To any well-deserving friend; But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me, I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by night: I'll baste the writer, and, withal, Beguiling them of commendation. Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed! Here comes our wives, and let us take our Re-enter GLENDOWER, with the LADIES. me, My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. Shall follow in your conduct⚫ speedily same. Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish selfwill'd harlotry. One no persuasion can do good upon. [Lady M. speaks to MORTIMER in Welsh. Mort. I understand thy looks that pretty Welsh Break with your wives of your departure hence: Which thou pourest down from these swelling I am afraid my daughter will run mad, [Exit. Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father! Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven, And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,- In reckoning up the several devils' names, But mark'd him not a word. Oh! he's as te- As is a tired horse, a railing wife; With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far, Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; heavens, I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear By that time will our book, † I think, be drawn And those musicians that shall play to you, 400 Haug in the air a thousand leagues from | As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to, hence; Yet straight they shall be here: sit, and attend. Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy lap. Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. GLENDOWER Speaks some Welsh words, and Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands And 'tis no marvel he's so humorous. Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by hu mours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. Lady P. Would'st thou have thy broken ? Hot. No. Lady P. Then be still. Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault. Lady P. Now God help thee! Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. Hot. Peace! she sings. head A Welsh SONG sung by Lady M. Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art, Lady P. I will not sing. Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so come [Exit. in when ye wi!l. Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow, As hot lord Percy is on fire to go. Accompany the greatness of thy blood, Quit all offences with as clear excuse, I may, for some things true, wherein my youth K. Hen. God pardon thee !-yet let me won At thy affections which do hold a wing Of all the court and princes of my blood: And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, state; Mingled his royalty with capering fools; By this our book's drawn; we'll but seal, and Had his great name profaned with their scorns ; then To horse immediately. Mort. With all my heart. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-London.-A Room in the Palace. K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the prince of But be near at And gave his countenance, against his name, That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, More than a little is by much too much. but with such Must bave some conference : me: But thou dost, in thy passages of life, Such barren pleasures, rude society, eyes, But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye lids down, Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou : With vile participation; not an eye Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; Which now doth that I would not have it do, The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: P. Hen. I shall bereafter, my thrice-gracious Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, lord, Be more myself. K. Hen. For all the world, As thou art to this hour, was Richard then, Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes, This infant warrior, in his enterprizes, And shake the peace and safety of our throne. And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The archbishop's Mortimer, grace of York, Douglas, Capitulate against us and are up. Base inclination, and the start of spleen,) P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so; And God forgive them, that have so much sway'd Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, My shames redoubled! for the time will come, herein. speak of. Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day; With him my son, lord John of Lancaster; will Our meeting is Bridgnorth and, Harry, you Shall march through Glostershire; by which account, Our business valued, some twelve days hence [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Eastcheap.-A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern. Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse; the inside of a church! Company, villainous company, bath been the spoil of me. Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long. Fal. Why, there is it :-come, sing me a bawdy song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore little; diced, not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter-of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass: and now i live out of all order, out of all compass. Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, Sir John. Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,--but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp. Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or 3 memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gads hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou bast sav'd me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that salamander of your's with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven reward me for it! Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! Fal. God a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned. Enter HOSTESS. How now, dame Partlet the hen? have you inquired yet who picked my pocket? Host. Why, Sir John! what do you think, Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go. Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before. Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. Host. No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John: I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas; I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them. Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four and twenty pound. Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich! let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of Iny grandfather's worth forty mark. P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal: three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a sealring of my grandfather's. P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, be speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is and said he would cudgel you. P. Hen. What! he did not? Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Host. Say, what thing? what thing? Fal. What thing? why a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife; and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so. Ful. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise. Host. Say what beast, thou knave, thou? P. Hen. Au otter, Sir John? why an otter? Fal. Why she's neither fish nor flesh, a man knows not where to have her. Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou kuave thou! P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly. Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you owed him a thousand pound. P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would cudgel you. Fal. Did I, Bardolph ? Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. P. Hen. And why not, as the lion? Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell break! him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. P. Hen. Oh if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no Fal. How the prince is a Jack,+ a sneak-room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom cup; and if he were here, I would cudgel him of thine; it is filled up with guts and midlike a dog, if he would say so. Enter Prince HENRY and POINS, marching FALSTAFF meets the PRINCE, playing on his truncheon like a fife. Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door 'faith must we all march ? Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion? P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man. Host. Good my lord, hear me. Fal. Pr'ythee let her alone, and list to me. P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack? Fal. The other night I fell asleep here be hind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets. t In the story-book of Reynard the Fox. A term of contempt frequently used by Shakspeare. riff. Charge an honest woman with picking bossed + rascal, if there were any thing in thy thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent empocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.--You confess then, you picked my pocket? P. Hen. It appears so by the story. A man dressed like a woman who attends morris |