Henry IV Part 2/Source

DRAMATIS PERSONAE (Persons Represented):


 * RUMOUR, the Presenter.
 * KING HENRY the Fourth.

His sons
 * HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, afterwards King Henry V.
 * THOMAS, DUKE OF CLARENCE.
 * PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER.
 * PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER.


 * EARL OF WARWICK.
 * EARL OF WESTMORELAND.
 * EARL OF SURREY.
 * GOWER.
 * HARCOURT.
 * BLUNT.
 * Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench.
 * A Servant of the Chief-Justice.
 * EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * SCROOP, Archbishop of York.
 * LORD MOWBRAY.
 * LORD HASTINGS.
 * LORD BARDOLPH.
 * SIR JOHN COLEVILLE.
 * TRAVERS and MORTON, retainers of Northumberland.
 * SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.
 * His Page.
 * BARDOLPH.
 * PISTOL.
 * POINS.
 * PETO.
 * SHALLOW and SILENCE, country justices.
 * DAVY, Servant to Shallow.
 * MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and BULLCALF, recruits.
 * FANG and SNARE, sheriff's officers.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * LADY PERCY.
 * MISTRESS QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap.
 * DOLL TEARSHEET.

Lords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, Beadles, Grooms, etc.

A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue.

SCENE: England.

INDUCTION

Warkworth. Before the castle.

[Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues.]

RUMOUR.
 * Open your ears; for which of you will stop
 * The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?
 * I, from the orient to the drooping west,
 * Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
 * The acts commenced on this ball of earth:
 * Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,
 * The which in every language I pronounce,
 * Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
 * I speak of peace, while covert emnity
 * Under the smile of safety wounds the world:
 * And who but Rumour, who but only I,
 * Make fearful musters and prepared defence,
 * Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief,
 * Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
 * And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe
 * Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures,
 * And of so easy and so plain a stop
 * That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
 * The still-discordant wavering multitude,
 * Can play upon it. But what need I thus
 * My well-known body to anatomize
 * Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
 * I run before King Harry's victory;
 * Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury
 * Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,
 * Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
 * Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I
 * To speak so true at first? my office is
 * To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell
 * Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword,
 * And that the king before the Douglas' rage
 * Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
 * This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
 * Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
 * And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
 * Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
 * Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,
 * And not a man of them brings other news
 * Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tongues
 * They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.

[Exit.]

SCENE 1. The same.
[Enter Lord Bardolph.]

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Who keeps the gate here, ho?

[The Porter opens the gate.]

Where is the earl?

PORTER.
 * What shall I say you are?

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Tell thou the earl
 * That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.

PORTER.
 * His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard:
 * Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,
 * And he himself will answer.

[Enter Northumberland.]

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Here comes the earl.

[Exit Porter.]

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now
 * Should be the father of some stratagem:
 * The times are wild; contention, like a horse
 * Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
 * And bears down all before him.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Noble earl,
 * I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Good, an God will!

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * As good as heart can wish:
 * The king is almost wounded to the death;
 * And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
 * Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
 * Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John,
 * And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field:
 * And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
 * Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day,
 * So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won,
 * Came not till now to dignify the times,
 * Since Caesar's fortunes!

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * How is this derived?
 * Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
 * A gentleman well bred and of good name,
 * That freely render'd me these news for true.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent
 * On Tuesday last to listen after news.

[Enter Travers.]

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * My lord, I over-rode him on the way;
 * And he is furnish'd with no certainties
 * More than he haply may retail from me.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?

TRAVERS.
 * My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back
 * With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed,
 * Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard
 * A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
 * That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
 * He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
 * I did demand what news from Shrewsbury:
 * He told me that rebellion had bad luck
 * And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
 * With that, he gave his able horse the head,
 * And bending forward struck his armed heels
 * Against the panting sides of his poor jade
 * Up to the rowel-head, and starting so
 * He seem'd in running to devour the way,
 * Staying no longer question.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Ha! Again:
 * Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
 * Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion
 * Had met ill luck?

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * My lord, I'll tell you what;
 * If my young lord your son have not the day,
 * Upon mine honour, for a silken point
 * I'll give my barony: never talk of it.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
 * Give then such instances of loss?

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Who, he?
 * He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
 * The horse he rode on, and, upon my life,
 * Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.

[Enter Morton.]

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
 * Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:
 * So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
 * Hath left a witness'd usurpation.
 * Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
 * MORTON. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
 * Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
 * To fright our party.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * How doth my son and brother?
 * Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek
 * Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
 * Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
 * So dull, so dread in look, so woe-begone,
 * Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
 * And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
 * But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
 * And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.
 * This thou wouldst say: "Your son did thus and thus;
 * Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:"
 * Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
 * But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,
 * Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
 * Ending with "Brother, son, and all are dead."

MORTON.
 * Douglas is living, and your brother, yet:
 * But, for my lord your son,—

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Why, he is dead.
 * See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
 * He that but fears the thing he would not know
 * Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes
 * That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;
 * Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
 * And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
 * And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.

MORTON.
 * You are too great to be by me gainsaid:
 * Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.
 * I see a strange confession in thine eye;
 * Thou shakest thy head and hold'st it fear or sin
 * To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so;
 * The tongue offends not that reports his death:
 * And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
 * Not he which says the dead is not alive
 * Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
 * Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
 * Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
 * Remember'd tolling a departing friend.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.

MORTON.
 * I am sorry I should force you to believe
 * That which I would to God I had not seen;
 * But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
 * Rendering faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
 * To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
 * The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
 * From whence with life he never more sprung up.
 * In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
 * Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
 * Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
 * From the best-temper'd courage in his troops;
 * For from his metal was his party steel'd;
 * Which once in him abated, all the rest
 * Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead:
 * And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
 * Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
 * So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
 * Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
 * That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
 * Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
 * Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester
 * Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
 * The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
 * Had three times slain the appearance of the king,
 * 'Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
 * Of those that turn'd their backs, and in his flight,
 * Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
 * Is that the king hath won, and hath sent out
 * A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
 * Under the conduct of young Lancaster
 * And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
 * In poison there is physic; and these news,
 * Having been well, that would have made me sick,
 * Being sick, have in some measure made me well:
 * And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints,
 * Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
 * Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
 * Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,
 * Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief,
 * Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch!
 * A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
 * Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif!
 * Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
 * Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
 * Now bind my brows with iron; and approach
 * The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring
 * To frown upon the enraged Northumberland!
 * Let heaven kiss earth! now let not Nature's hand
 * Keep the wild flood confined! let order die!
 * And let this world no longer be a stage
 * To feed contention in a lingering act;
 * But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
 * Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
 * On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
 * And darkness be the burier of the dead!

TRAVERS.
 * This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.

MORTON.
 * The lives of all your loving complices
 * Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er
 * To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
 * You cast the event of war, my noble lord,
 * And summ'd the account of chance, before you said
 * "Let us make head." It was your presurmise,
 * That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop:
 * You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge,
 * More likely to fall in than to get o'er;
 * You were advised his flesh was capable
 * Of wounds and scars and that his forward spirit
 * Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged:
 * Yet did you say "Go forth;" and none of this,
 * Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
 * The stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen,
 * Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,
 * More than that being which was like to be?

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * We all that are engaged to this loss
 * Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
 * That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one;
 * And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
 * Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd;
 * And since we are o'erset, venture again.
 * Come, we will put forth, body and goods.

MORTON.
 * 'Tis more than time: and, my most noble lord,
 * I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth:
 * The gentle Archbishop of York is up
 * With well-appointed powers: he is a man
 * Who with a double surety binds his followers.
 * My lord your son had only but the corpse,
 * But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;
 * For that same word, rebellion, did divide
 * The action of their bodies from their souls;
 * And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd,
 * As men drink potions, that their weapons only
 * Seem'd on our side; but, for their spirits and souls,
 * This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,
 * As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop
 * Turns insurrection to religion:
 * Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
 * He 's follow'd both with body and with mind;
 * And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
 * Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones;
 * Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
 * Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
 * Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;
 * And more and less do flock to follow him.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * I knew of this before; but, to speak truth,
 * This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
 * Go in with me; and counsel every man
 * The aptest way for safety and revenge:
 * Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed:
 * Never so few, and never yet more need.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. London. A street.
[Enter Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.]

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

PAGE.
 * He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water; but,
 * for the party that owed it, he might have moe diseases than he
 * knew for.

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

PAGE.
 * He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph:
 * he would not take his band and yours; he liked not the security.

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

PAGE.
 * He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.

FALSTAFF.
 * I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield:
 * an I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed,
 * and wived.

[Enter the Lord Chief-Justice and Servant.]

PAGE. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the Prince for
 * striking him about Bardolph.

FALSTAFF.
 * Wait close; I will not see him.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * What's he that goes there?

SERVANT.
 * Falstaff, an 't please your lordship.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * He that was in question for the robbery?

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * What, to York? Call him back again.

SERVANT.
 * Sir John Falstaff!

FALSTAFF.
 * Boy, tell him I am deaf.

PAGE.
 * You must speak louder; my master is deaf.

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

SERVANT.
 * Sir John!

FALSTAFF.
 * What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not wars? is
 * there not employment? doth not the king lack subjects? do not the
 * rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but
 * one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were
 * it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.

SERVANT.
 * You mistake me, sir.

FALSTAFF.
 * Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting my knighthood
 * and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat, if I had said so.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that which grows to me!
 * If thou gettest any leave of me, hang me; if thou takest leave,
 * thou wert better be hanged. You hunt counter: hence! avaunt!

SERVANT.
 * Sir, my lord would speak with you.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.

FALSTAFF.
 * My good lord! God give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to
 * see your lordship abroad: I heard say your lordship was sick:
 * I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though
 * not clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in you, some
 * relish of the saltness of time; and I most humbly beseech your lordship
 * to have a reverend care of your health.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I talk not of his majesty: you would not come when I
 * sent for you.

FALSTAFF.
 * And I hear, moreover, his highness is fall'n into this same
 * whoreson apoplexy.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Well God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with you.

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * What tell you me of it? be it as it is.

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

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an 't please you, it
 * is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that
 * I am troubled withal.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * To punish you by the heels would amend the attention
 * of your ears; and I care not if I do become your physician.

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I sent for you, when there were matters against you
 * for your life, to come speak with me.

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

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

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

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

FALSTAFF.
 * I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater,
 * and my waist slenderer.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * You have misled the youthful prince.

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: your day's service
 * at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit
 * on Gad's-hill: you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet
 * o'er-posting that action.

FALSTAFF.
 * My lord?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping wolf.

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * There is not a white hair in your face but should have his
 * effect of gravity.

FALSTAFF.
 * His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * You follow the young prince up and down, like his ill angel.

FALSTAFF.
 * Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I hope he that looks
 * upon me will take me without weighing: and yet, in some respects,
 * I grant, I cannot go: I cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard
 * in these costermonger times that true valour is turned bear-herd;
 * pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted in giving
 * reckonings: all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of
 * this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that are old
 * consider not the capacities of us that are young; you do measure the
 * heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls: and we that
 * are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too.

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

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Well, God send the prince a better companion!

FALSTAFF.
 * God send the companion a better prince! I cannot rid my hands of him.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Well, the king hath severed you and Prince Harry:
 * I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the
 * Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.

FALSTAFF.
 * Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look you pray, all
 * you that kiss my lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a
 * hot day; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I
 * mean not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, and I brandish
 * any thing but a bottle, I would I might never spit white again.
 * There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head but I am thrust
 * upon it: well, I cannot last ever:  but it was alway yet the trick of
 * our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common.
 * If ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest. I
 * would to God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is:
 * I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to
 * nothing with perpetual motion.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless your expedition!

FALSTAFF.
 * Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear crosses.
 * Fare you well: commend me to my cousin Westmoreland.

[Exeunt Chief-Justice and Servant.]

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

PAGE.
 * Sir?

FALSTAFF.
 * What money is in my purse?

PAGE.
 * Seven groats and two pence.

FALSTAFF.
 * I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse:
 * borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is
 * incurable. Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster; this to the
 * prince; this to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old Mistress
 * Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the
 * first white hair of my chin. About it: you know where to find me.

[Exit Page.]
 * A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the one or the other
 * plays the rogue with my great toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I
 * have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more
 * reasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing: I will turn
 * diseases to commodity.

[Exit.]

SCENE III. York. The Archbishop's palace.
[Enter the Archbishop, the Lords Hastings, Mowbray, Bardolph.]

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Thus have you heard our cause and known our means;
 * And, my most noble friends, I pray you all,
 * Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes:
 * And first, lord marshal, what say you to it?

MOWBRAY.
 * I well allow the occasion of our arms;
 * But gladly would be better satisfied
 * How in our means we should advance ourselves
 * To look with forehead bold and big enough
 * Upon the power and puissance of the king.

HASTINGS.
 * Our present musters grow upon the file
 * To five and twenty thousand men of choice;
 * And our supplies live largely in the hope
 * Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
 * With an incensed fire of injuries.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus:
 * Whether our present five and twenty thousand
 * May hold up head without Northumberland?

HASTINGS.
 * With him, we may.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Yea, marry, there 's the point:
 * But if without him we be thought too feeble,
 * My judgement is, we should not step too far
 * Till we had his assistance by the hand;
 * For in a theme so bloody-faced as this
 * Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
 * Of aids incertain should not be admitted.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed
 * It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope,
 * Eating the air on promise of supply,
 * Flattering himself in project of a power
 * Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts:
 * And so, with great imagination
 * Proper to madmen, led his powers to death
 * And winking leap'd into destruction.

HASTINGS.
 * But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt
 * To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Yes, if this present quality of war,
 * Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot
 * Lives so in hope as in an early spring
 * We see the appearing buds; which to prove fruit,
 * Hope gives not so much warrant as despair
 * That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
 * We first survey the plot, then draw the model;
 * And when we see the figure of the house,
 * Then we must rate the cost of the erection;
 * Which if we find outweighs ability,
 * What do we then but draw anew the model
 * In fewer offices, or at least desist
 * To build at all? Much more, in this great work,
 * Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
 * And set another up, should we survey
 * The plot of situation and the model,
 * Consent upon a sure foundation,
 * Question surveyors, know our own estate,
 * How able such a work to undergo,
 * To weigh against his opposite; or else
 * We fortify in paper and in figures,
 * Using the names of men instead of men;
 * Like one that draws the model of a house
 * Beyond his power to build it; who, half through,
 * Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost
 * A naked subject to the weeping clouds
 * And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.

HASTINGS.
 * Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
 * Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd
 * The utmost man of expectation,
 * I think we are a body strong enough,
 * Even as we are, to equal with the king.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * What, is the king but five and twenty thousand?

HASTINGS.
 * To us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph.
 * For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
 * Are in three heads: one power against the French,
 * And one against Glendower; perforce a third
 * Must take up us: so is the unfirm king
 * In three divided; and his coffers sound
 * With hollow poverty and emptiness.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * That he should draw his several strengths together
 * And come against us in full puissance,
 * Need not be dreaded.

HASTINGS.
 * If he should do so,
 * He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh
 * Baying him at the heels: never fear that.

LORD BARDOLPH.
 * Who is it like should lead his forces hither?

HASTINGS.
 * The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland;
 * Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth:
 * But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
 * I have no certain notice.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Let us on,
 * And publish the occasion of our arms.
 * The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;
 * Their over-greedy love hath surfeited:
 * An habitation giddy and unsure
 * Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
 * O thou fond many, with what loud applause
 * Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
 * Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!
 * And being now trimm'd in thine own desires,
 * Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,
 * That thou provokest thyself to cast him up.
 * So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
 * Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard;
 * And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
 * And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times?
 * They that, when Richard lived, would have him die,
 * Are now become enamour'd on his grave:
 * Thou that threw'st dust upon his goodly head
 * When through proud London he came sighing on
 * After the admired heels of Bolingbroke,
 * Criest now "O earth, yield us that king again,
 * And take thou this!" O thoughts of men accursed!
 * Past and to come seems best; things present worst.

MOWBRAY.
 * Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on?

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

[Exeunt.]

SCENE I. London. A street.
[Enter Hostess, Fang and his Boy with her, and Snare following.]

HOSTESS.
 * Master Fang, have you entered the action?

FANG.
 * It is entered.

HOSTESS.
 * Where 's your yeoman? Is 't a lusty yeoman? will 'a stand to 't?

FANG.
 * Sirrah, where 's Snare?

HOSTESS.
 * O Lord, ay! good Master Snare.

SNARE.
 * Here, here.

FANG.
 * Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.

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

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

HOSTESS.
 * Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabbed me in mine own house,
 * and that most beastly: in good faith, he cares not what
 * mischief he does, if his weapon be out: he will foin like any
 * devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.

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

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

FANG.
 * An I but fist him once; an 'a come but within my vice,—

HOSTESS.
 * I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he 's an
 * infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, hold him sure:
 * good Master Snare, let him not 'scape. A' comes continuantly to
 * Pie-corner—saving your manhoods—to buy a saddle; and he is
 * indited to dinner to the Lubber's-head in Lumbert Street, to
 * Master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my exion is
 * entered and my case so openly known to the world, let him be
 * brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor
 * lone woman to bear: and I have borne, and borne, and borne; and
 * have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off, from this
 * day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no
 * honesty in such dealing; unless a woman should be made an ass and
 * a beast, to bear every knave's wrong. Yonder he comes; and that
 * arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices,
 * do your offices, Master Fang and Master Snare, do me, do me, do me
 * your offices.

[Enter Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph.]

FALSTAFF.
 * How now! whose mare's dead? what's the matter?

FANG.
 * Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.

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

HOSTESS.
 * Throw me in the channel! I'll throw thee in the channel.
 * Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue! Murder, murder! Ah,
 * thou honey-suckle villain! wilt thou kill God's officers and the
 * king's?
 * Ah, thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a honey-seed, a man-queller,
 * and a woman-queller.

FALSTAFF.
 * Keep them off, Bardolph.

FANG.
 * A rescue! a rescue!

HOSTESS.
 * Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wo't, wo't thou?
 * thou wo't, wo't ta? do, do, thou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed!

PAGE.
 * Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you fustilarian! I'll tickle
 * your catastrophe.

[Enter the Lord Chief-Justice, and his men.]

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * What is the matter? keep the peace here, ho!

HOSTESS.
 * Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech you, stand to me.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * How now, Sir John! what are you brawling here?
 * Doth this become your place, your time and business?
 * You should have been well on your way to York.
 * Stand from him, fellow: wherefore hang'st thou upon him?

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * For what sum?

HOSTESS.
 * It is more than for some, my lord; it is for all, all I have.
 * He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my substance
 * into that fat belly of his: but I will have some of it out again,
 * or I will ride thee o' nights like the mare.

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

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * How comes this, Sir John? Fie! what man of good temper would
 * endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed to enforce
 * a poor widow to so rough a course to come by her own?

FALSTAFF.
 * What is the gross sum that I owe thee?

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

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

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

HOSTESS.
 * Yea, in truth, my lord.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Pray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the
 * villany you have done her: the one you may do with sterling
 * money, and the other with current repentance.

FALSTAFF.
 * My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply.
 * You call honourable boldness impudent sauciness: if a man will make
 * courtesy and say nothing, he is virtuous: no, my lord, my humble
 * duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say to you, I do desire
 * deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment in the
 * king's affairs.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * You speak as having power to do wrong: but answer
 * in the effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.

FALSTAFF.
 * Come hither, hostess.

[Enter Gower.]

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Now, Master Gower, what news?

GOWER.
 * The king, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales
 * Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells.

FALSTAFF.
 * As I am a gentleman.

HOSTESS.
 * Faith, you said so before.

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

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking: and for thy walls, a pretty
 * slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting
 * in water-work, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and
 * these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou canst.
 * Come, an 'twere not for thy humours, there's not a better wench in
 * England. Go, wash thy face, and draw the action. Come, thou must not be
 * in this humour with me; dost not know me? come, come, I know thou wast
 * set on to this.

HOSTESS.
 * Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles: i' faith,
 * I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, la!

FALSTAFF.
 * Let it alone; I'll make other shift: you'll be a fool still.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Will I live? [To Bardolph.]  Go, with her, with her;
 * hook on, hook on.

HOSTESS.
 * Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?

FALSTAFF.
 * No more words; let 's have her.

[Exeunt Hostess, Bardolph, Officers, and Boy.]

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I have heard better news.

FALSTAFF.
 * What 's the news, my lord?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Where lay the king last night?

GOWER.
 * At Basingstoke, my lord.

FALSTAFF.
 * I hope, my lord, all 's well: what is the news, my lord?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Come all his forces back?

GOWER.
 * No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse,
 * Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster,
 * Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.

FALSTAFF.
 * Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * You shall have letters of me presently:
 * Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.

FALSTAFF.
 * My lord!

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * What's the matter?

FALSTAFF.
 * Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?

GOWER.
 * I must wait upon my good lord here; I thank you, good Sir John.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Will you sup with me, Master Gower?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John?

FALSTAFF.
 * Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that
 * taught them me. This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for
 * tap, and so part fair.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Now the Lord lighten thee! thou art a great fool.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. London. Another street.
[Enter Prince Henry and Poins.]

PRINCE.
 * Before God, I am exceeding weary.

POINS.
 * Is 't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have
 * attach'd one of so high blood.

PRINCE.
 * Faith, it does me; though it discolours the complexion of
 * my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to
 * desire small beer?

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

PRINCE.
 * Belike then my appetite was not princely got; for, by my troth,
 * I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But, indeed,
 * these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness.
 * What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name! or to know thy
 * face to-morrow! or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou
 * hast, viz. these, and those that were thy peach-coloured ones! or to
 * bear the inventory of thy shirts, as, one for superfluity, and another
 * for use!
 * But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low
 * ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast
 * not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries have made
 * a shift to eat up thy holland: and God knows, whether those that bawl
 * out of the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom: but the
 * midwives say the children are not in the fault; whereupon the world
 * increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened.

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

PRINCE.
 * Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?

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

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

POINS.
 * Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that you will tell.

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

POINS.
 * Very hardly upon such a subject.

PRINCE.
 * By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book as thou
 * and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency: let the end try the man.
 * But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick:
 * and keeping such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from
 * me all ostentation of sorrow.

POINS.
 * The reason?

PRINCE.
 * What wouldst thou think of me, if I should weep?

POINS.
 * I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.

PRINCE.
 * It would be every man's thought; and thou art a blessed fellow to
 * think as every man thinks: never a man's thought in the world keeps
 * the road-way better than thine: every man would think me an
 * hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought to
 * think so?

POINS.
 * Why, because you have been so lewd and so much engraffed
 * to Falstaff.

PRINCE.
 * And to thee.

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

[Enter Bardolph and Page.]

PRINCE.
 * And the boy that I gave Falstaff: 'a had him from me Christian;
 * and look, if the fat villain have not transformed him ape.

BARDOLPH.
 * God save your grace!

PRINCE.
 * And yours, most noble Bardolph!

POINS.
 * Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be blushing?
 * wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become!
 * Is 't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead?

PAGE.
 * 'A calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could
 * discern no part of his face from the window: at last I spied his
 * eyes, and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new
 * petticoat and so peep'd through.

PRINCE.
 * Has not the boy profited?

BARDOLPH.
 * Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away!

PAGE.
 * Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away!

PRINCE.
 * Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?

PAGE.
 * Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a
 * fire-brand; and therefore I call him her dream.

PRINCE.
 * A crown's worth of good interpretation: there 'tis, boy.

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

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

PRINCE.
 * And how doth thy master, Bardolph?

BARDOLPH.
 * Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's coming to town:
 * there's a letter for you.

POINS.
 * Deliver'd with good respect. And how doth the martlemas,
 * your master?

BARDOLPH.
 * In bodily health, sir.

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

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

POINS.
 * [Reads.] "John Falstaff, knight,"—every man must know that, as oft
 * as he has occasion to name himself: even like those that are kin
 * to the king; for they never prick their finger but they say,
 * "There's some of the king's blood spilt."
 * "How comes that?" says he, that takes upon him not to conceive.
 * The answer is as ready as a borrower's cap,
 * "I am the king's poor cousin, sir."

PRINCE.
 * Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet.
 * But to the letter:

POINS.
 * [Reads] "Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the king,
 * nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting." Why, this
 * is a certificate.

PRINCE.
 * Peace!

POINS.
 * [Reads.] "I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity:" he sure
 * means brevity in breath, short-winded. "I commend me to thee, I commend
 * thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses
 * thy favours so much, that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell.
 * Repent at idle times as thou mayest; and so, farewell.
 * "Thine, by yea and no, which is as much as to say, as thou
 * usest him,
 * JACK FALSTAFF with my familiars, JOHN with my brothers and
 * sisters, and SIR JOHN with all Europe."
 * My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it.

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

POINS.
 * God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so.

PRINCE.
 * Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the
 * wise sit in the clouds and mock us. Is your master here in London?

BARDOLPH.
 * Yea, my lord.

PRINCE.
 * Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank?

BARDOLPH.
 * At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.

PRINCE.
 * What company?

PAGE.
 * Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.

PRINCE.
 * Sup any women with him?

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

PRINCE.
 * What pagan may that be?

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

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

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

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

BARDOLPH.
 * I have no tongue, sir.

PAGE.
 * And for mine, sir, I will govern it.

PRINCE.
 * Fare you well; go.

[Exeunt Bardolph and Page.]

This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.

POINS.
 * I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London.

PRINCE.
 * How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true
 * colours, and not ourselves be seen?

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

PRINCE.
 * From a God to a bull? a heavy descension! it was Jove's case.
 * From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall be
 * mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly.
 * Follow me, Ned.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Warkworth. Before the castle.
[Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and Lady Percy.]

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,
 * Give even way unto my rough affairs;
 * Put not you on the visage of the times
 * And be like them to Percy troublesome.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * I have given over, I will speak no more:
 * Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn;
 * And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.

LADY PERCY.
 * O yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars!
 * The time was, father, that you broke your word,
 * When you were more endear'd to it than now!
 * When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,
 * Threw many a northward look to see his father
 * Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain.
 * Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
 * There were two honours lost, yours and your son's.
 * For yours, the God of heaven brighten it!
 * For his, it stuck upon him as the sun
 * In the grey vault of heaven; and by his light
 * Did all the chivalry of England move
 * To do brave acts: he was indeed the glass
 * Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves:
 * He had no legs that practis'd not his gait;
 * And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
 * Became the accents of the valiant;
 * For those who could speak low and tardily
 * Would turn their own perfection to abuse,
 * To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait,
 * In diet, in affections of delight,
 * In military rules, humours of blood,
 * He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
 * That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him!
 * O miracle of men! him did you leave,
 * Second to none, unseconded by you,
 * To look upon the hideous god of war
 * In disadvantage; to abide a field
 * Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
 * Did seem defensible: so you left him.
 * Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong
 * To hold your honour more precise and nice
 * With others than with him! let them alone:
 * The marshal and the archbishop are strong:
 * Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
 * To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
 * Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Beshrew your heart,
 * Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me
 * With new lamenting ancient oversights.
 * But I must go and meet with danger there,
 * Or it will seek me in another place,
 * And find me worse provided.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * O, fly to Scotland,
 * Till that the nobles and the armed commons
 * Have of their puissance made a little taste.

LADY PERCY.
 * If they get ground and vantage of the king,
 * Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
 * To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves,
 * First let them try themselves. So did your son;
 * He was so suffer'd: so came I a widow;
 * And never shall have length of life enough
 * To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
 * That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
 * For recordation to my noble husband.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
 * Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind
 * As with the tide swell'd up unto his height,
 * That makes a still-stand, running neither way:
 * Fain would I go to meet the archbishop,
 * But many thousand reasons hold me back.
 * I will resolve for Scotland: there am I,
 * Till time and vantage crave my company.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. London. The Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap.
[Enter two Drawers.]

FIRST DRAWER.
 * What the devil hast thou brought there? apple-johns?
 * thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.

SECOND DRAWER.
 * Mass, thou sayest true. The prince once set a dish of apple-johns
 * before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns, and, putting
 * off his hat, said "I will now take my leave of these six dry, round,
 * old, withered knights." It angered him to the heart:  but he hath
 * forgot that.

FIRST DRAWER.
 * Why, then, cover, and set them down: and see if thou canst find out
 * Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music.
 * Dispatch: The room where they supped is too hot; they'll come in
 * straight.

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

FIRST DRAWER.
 * By the mass, here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent
 * stratagem.

SECOND DRAWER.
 * I'll see if I can find out Sneak.

[Exit.]

[Enter Hostess and Doll Tearsheet.]

HOSTESS.
 * I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent good
 * temperality: your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would
 * desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in
 * good truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries; and
 * that 's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere one
 * can say "What's this?" How do you now?

DOLL.
 * Better than I was: hem!

HOSTESS.
 * Why, that 's well said; a good heart's worth gold. Lo, here
 * comes Sir John.

[Enter Falstaff.]

FALSTAFF.
 * [Singing] "When Arthur first in court"—Empty the jordan.
 * [Exit First Drawer.]—[Singing] "And was a worthy king."
 * How now, Mistress Doll!

HOSTESS.
 * Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.

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

DOLL.
 * You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?

FALSTAFF.
 * You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.

DOLL.
 * I make them! gluttony and diseases make them; I make them not.

FALSTAFF.
 * If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases,
 * Doll: we catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor
 * virtue, grant that.

DOLL.
 * Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.

FALSTAFF.
 * "Your brooches, pearls, and ouches:" for to serve bravely is to come
 * halting off, you know: to come off the breach with his pike bent
 * bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon the charged chambers
 * bravely,—

DOLL.
 * Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!

HOSTESS.
 * By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet but you
 * fall to some discord: you are both, i' good truth, as rheumatic
 * as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another's confirmities.
 * What the good-year! one must bear, and that must be you: you are the
 * weaker vessel, as as they say, the emptier vessel.

DOLL.
 * Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead? there's a whole
 * merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk
 * better stuffed in the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack:
 * thou art going to the wars; and whether I shall ever see thee again or
 * no, there is nobody cares.

[Re-enter First Drawer.]

FIRST DRAWER.
 * Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak with you.

DOLL.
 * Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not come hither: it is the
 * foul-mouthed'st rogue in England.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Dost thou hear, hostess?

HOSTESS.
 * Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John: there comes no swaggerers here.

FALSTAFF.
 * Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient.

HOSTESS.
 * Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me: your ancient swaggerer comes
 * not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick, the debuty, t'other day;
 * and, as he said to me, 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last,
 * "I' good faith, neighbour Quickly," says he; Master Dumbe, our
 * minister, was by then; "neighbour Quickly," says he, "receive those
 * that are civil; for" said he "you are in an ill name:" now a' said
 * so, I can tell whereupon; "for," says he, "you are an honest woman,
 * and well thought on; therefore take heed what guests you receive:
 * receive," says he, "no swaggering companions." There comes none here:
 * you would bless you to hear what he said: no, I'll no swaggerers.

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

[Exit First Drawer.]

HOSTESS.
 * Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no
 * cheater: but I do not love swaggering, by my troth; I am the worse,
 * when one says swagger: feel, masters, how I shake; look you, I
 * warrant you.

DOLL.
 * So you do, hostess.

HOSTESS.
 * Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf: I
 * cannot abide swaggerers.

[Enter Pistol, Bardolph, and Page.]

PISTOL.
 * God save you, Sir John!

FALSTAFF.
 * Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with
 * a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine hostess.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly offend her.

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

PISTOL.
 * Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you.

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

PISTOL.
 * I know you, Mistress Dorothy.

DOLL.
 * Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! by this wine,
 * I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy
 * cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale
 * juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir? God's light, with two
 * points on your shoulder? much!

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

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

HOSTESS.
 * No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.

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

BARDOLPH.
 * Pray thee, go down, good ancient.

FALSTAFF.
 * Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.

PISTOL.
 * Not I: I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear
 * her: I'll be revenged of her.

PAGE.
 * Pray thee go down.

PISTOL.
 * I'll see her damned first; to Pluto's damned lake, by this
 * hand, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also.
 * Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors!
 * Have we not Hiren here?

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

PISTOL.
 * These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses
 * And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
 * Which cannot go but thirty mile a-day,
 * Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,
 * And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
 * King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
 * Shall we fall foul for toys?

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

BARDOLPH.
 * Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to a brawl anon.

PISTOL.
 * Die men like dogs! give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren
 * here?

HOSTESS.
 * O' my word, captain, there 's none such here. What the
 * good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be
 * quiet.

PISTOL.
 * Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
 * Come, give 's some sack.
 * "Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento."
 * Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire:
 * Give me some sack: and, sweetheart, lie thou there.

[Laying down his sword.]

Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothing?

FALSTAFF.
 * Pistol, I would be quiet.

PISTOL.
 * Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: what! we have seen the seven
 * stars.

DOLL.
 * For God's sake, thrust him down stairs: I cannot endure such a
 * fustian rascal.

PISTOL.
 * Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags?

FALSTAFF.
 * Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling:
 * nay, an a' do nothing but speak nothing, a' shall be nothing
 * here.

BARDOLPH.
 * Come, get you down stairs.

PISTOL.
 * What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue?

[Snatching up his sword.]

Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
 * Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
 * Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!

HOSTESS.
 * Here's goodly stuff toward!

FALSTAFF.
 * Give me my rapier, boy.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Get you down stairs.

[Drawing, and driving Pistol out.]

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

[Exeunt Pistol and Bardolph.]

DOLL.
 * I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you whoreson
 * little valiant villain, you!

HOSTESS.
 * Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought a' made a shrewd
 * thrust at your belly.

[Re-enter Bardolph.]

FALSTAFF.
 * Have you turned him out o' doors?

BARDOLPH.
 * Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, sir, i'
 * the shoulder.

FALSTAFF.
 * A rascal! to brave me!

DOLL.
 * Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou
 * sweatest! come, let me wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops:
 * ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee: thou art as valorous as Hector
 * of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine
 * Worthies: ah, villain!

FALSTAFF.
 * A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.

DOLL.
 * Do, an thou darest for thy heart: an thou dost, I'll canvass
 * thee between a pair of sheets.

[Enter Music.]

PAGE.
 * The music is come, sir.

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

DOLL.
 * I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou whoreson
 * little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting
 * o' days and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body
 * for heaven?

[Enter, behind, Prince Henry and Poins, disguised as drawers.]

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

DOLL.
 * Sirrah, what humour 's the prince of?

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

DOLL.
 * They say Poins has a good wit.

FALSTAFF.
 * He a good wit! hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick as
 * Tewksbury mustard; there 's no more conceit in him than is in a
 * mallet.

DOLL.
 * Why does the prince love him so, then?

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

PRINCE.
 * Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?

POINS.
 * Let 's beat him before his whore.

PRINCE.
 * Look, whether the withered elder hath not his poll clawed
 * like a parrot.

POINS.
 * Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive
 * performance?

FALSTAFF.
 * Kiss me, Doll.

PRINCE.
 * Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what says the
 * almanac to that?

POINS.
 * And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping
 * to his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.

FALSTAFF.
 * Thou dost give me flattering busses.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * I am old, I am old.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money o'
 * Thursday: shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come:  it
 * grows late; we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me when I am gone.

DOLL.
 * By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping, an thou sayest so:
 * prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return: well,
 * hearken at the end.

FALSTAFF.
 * Some sack, Francis.

PRINCE & POINS.
 * Anon, anon, sir.

[Coming forward.]

FALSTAFF.
 * Ha! a bastard son of the king's? And art thou not Poins
 * his brother?

PRINCE.
 * Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!

FALSTAFF.
 * A better than thou: I am a gentleman; thou art a drawer.

PRINCE.
 * Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.

HOSTESS.
 * O, the Lord preserve thy grace! by my troth, welcome to
 * London. Now, the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu,
 * are you come from Wales?

FALSTAFF.
 * Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light
 * flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.

DOLL.
 * How, you fat fool! I scorn you.

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

PRINCE.
 * You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of
 * me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Didst thou hear me?

PRINCE.
 * Yea, and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by
 * Gad's-hill: you knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose
 * to try my patience.

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

PRINCE.
 * I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; and then I
 * know how to handle you.

FALSTAFF.
 * No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no abuse.

PRINCE.
 * Not to dispraise me, and call me pantler and bread-chipper and I
 * know not what!

FALSTAFF.
 * No abuse, Hal.

POINS.
 * No abuse!

FALSTAFF.
 * No abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before
 * the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him; in which
 * doing, I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject,
 * and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal: none,
 * Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none.

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

POINS.
 * Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

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

PRINCE.
 * For the women?

FALSTAFF.
 * For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns poor souls.
 * For the other, I owe her money; and whether she be damned for
 * that, I know not.

HOSTESS.
 * No, I warrant you.

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

HOSTESS.
 * All victuallers do so: what 's a joint of mutton or two in a
 * whole Lent?

PRINCE.
 * You, gentlewoman,—

DOLL.
 * What says your grace?

FALSTAFF.
 * His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

[Knocking within.]

HOSTESS.
 * Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.

[Enter Peto.]

PRINCE.
 * Peto, how now! what news?

PETO.
 * The king your father is at Westminster;
 * And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
 * Come from the north: and, as I came along,
 * I met and overtook a dozen captains,
 * Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
 * And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

PRINCE.
 * By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,
 * So idly to profane the precious time,
 * When tempest of commotion, like the south
 * Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
 * And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
 * Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.

[Exeunt Prince, Poins, Peto, and Bardolph.]

FALSTAFF.
 * Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must
 * hence, and leave it unpicked.
 * [Knocking within.] More knocking at the door!

[Re-enter Bardolph.]

How now! what's the matter?

BARDOLPH.
 * You must away to court, sir, presently;
 * A dozen captains stay at door for you.

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

DOLL.
 * I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready to burst,—well, sweet
 * Jack, have a care of thyself.

FALSTAFF.
 * Farewell, farewell.

[Exeunt Falstaff and Bardolph.]

HOSTESS.
 * Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years,
 * come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man,——
 * well, fare thee well.

BARDOLPH.
 * [Within.] Mistress Tearsheet!

HOSTESS.
 * What's the matter?

BARDOLPH.
 * [Within.] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.

HOSTESS.
 * O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come.  [She comes blubbered.]
 * Yea, will you come, Doll?

[Exeunt.]

SCENE I. Westminster. The palace.
[Enter the King in his nightgown, with a Page.]

KING.
 * Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
 * But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,
 * And well consider of them: make good speed.

[Exit Page.]

How many thousands of my poorest subjects
 * Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,
 * Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
 * That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
 * And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
 * Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
 * Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee
 * And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber
 * Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
 * Under the canopies of costly state,
 * And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?
 * O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
 * In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch
 * A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?
 * Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
 * Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
 * In cradle of the rude imperious surge
 * And in the visitation of the winds,
 * Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
 * Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them
 * With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds,
 * That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
 * Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
 * To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
 * And in the calmest and most stillest night,
 * With all appliances and means to boot,
 * Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!
 * Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

[Enter Warwick and Surrey.]

WARWICK.
 * Many good morrows to your majesty!

KING.
 * Is it good morrow, lords?

WARWICK.
 * 'Tis one o'clock, and past.

KING.
 * Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.
 * Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you?

WARWICK.
 * We have, my liege.

KING.
 * Then you perceive the body of our kingdom
 * How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
 * And with what danger, near the heart of it.

WARWICK.
 * It is but as a body yet distemper'd;
 * Which to his former strength may be restored
 * With good advice and little medicine:
 * My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.

KING.
 * O God! that one might read the book of fate,
 * And see the revolution of the times
 * Make mountains level, and the continent,
 * Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
 * Into the sea! and, other times, to see
 * The beachy girdle of the ocean
 * Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
 * And changes fill the cup of alteration
 * With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
 * The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,
 * What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
 * Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
 * 'Tis not ten years gone
 * Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends,
 * Did feast together, and in two years after
 * Were they at wars: it is but eight years since
 * This Percy was the man nearest my soul,
 * Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs
 * And laid his love and life under my foot,
 * Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard
 * Gave him defiance. But which of you was by—
 * You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember—

[To Warwick.]

When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears,
 * Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
 * Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy?
 * "Northumberland, thou ladder by the which
 * My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;"
 * Though then, God knows, I had no such intent,
 * But that necessity so bow'd the state
 * That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss:
 * "The time shall come," thus did he follow it,
 * "The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
 * Shall break into corruption:" so went on,
 * Foretelling this same time's condition
 * And the division of our amity.

WARWICK.
 * There is a history in all men's lives,
 * Figuring the natures of the times deceased;
 * The which observed, a man may prophesy,
 * With a near aim, of the main chance of things
 * As yet not come to life, who in their seeds
 * And weak beginning lie intreasured.
 * Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
 * And by the necessary form of this
 * King Richard might create a perfect guess
 * That great Northumberland, then false to him,
 * Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness;
 * Which should not find a ground to root upon,
 * Unless on you.

KING.
 * Are these things then necessities?
 * Then let us meet them like necessities:
 * And that same word even now cries out on us:
 * They say the bishop and Northumberland
 * Are fifty thousand strong.

WARWICK.
 * It cannot be, my lord;
 * Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
 * The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your grace
 * To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord,
 * The powers that you already have sent forth
 * Shall bring this prize in very easily.
 * To comfort you the more, I have received
 * A certain instance that Glendower is dead.
 * Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill,
 * And these unseason'd hours perforce must add
 * Unto your sickness.

KING.
 * I will take your counsel:
 * And were these inward wars once out of hand,
 * We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. Gloucestershire. Before Justice Shallow's house.
[Enter Shallow and Silence, meeting; Mouldy, Shadow, Wart,
 * Feeble, Bullcalf, a Servant or two with them.]

SHALLOW.
 * Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand, sir,
 * give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood! And how
 * doth my good cousin Silence?

SILENCE.
 * Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

SHALLOW.
 * And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your fairest
 * daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

SILENCE.
 * Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!

SHALLOW.
 * By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become
 * a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not?

SILENCE.
 * Indeed, sir, to my cost.

SHALLOW.
 * A' must, then, to the inns o' court shortly. I was once of
 * Clement's Inn, where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

SILENCE.
 * You were called "lusty Shallow" then, cousin.

SHALLOW.
 * By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing
 * indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of
 * Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and
 * Will Squele, a Cotswold man; you had not four such swinge-bucklers in
 * all the inns o' court again: and I may say to you, we knew where the
 * bona-robas were and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was
 * Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of
 * Norfolk.

SILENCE.
 * This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?

SHALLOW.
 * The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break Skogan's head at the
 * court-gate, when a' was a crack not thus high: and the very same
 * day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind
 * Gray's Inn.
 * Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of my
 * old acquaintance are dead!

SILENCE.
 * We shall all follow, cousin.

SHALLOW.
 * Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death, as the Psalmist
 * saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at
 * Stamford fair?

SILENCE.
 * By my troth, I was not there.

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

SILENCE.
 * Dead, sir.

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

SILENCE.
 * Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be worth ten
 * pounds.

SHALLOW.
 * And is old Double dead?

SILENCE.
 * Here come two of Sir John Falstaffs men, as I think.

[Enter Bardolph, and one with him.]

BARDOLPH.
 * Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which is justice
 * Shallow?

SHALLOW.
 * I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this county, and one
 * of the king's justices of the peace: what is your good pleasure
 * with me?

BARDOLPH.
 * My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir John
 * Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.

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

BARDOLPH.
 * Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife.

SHALLOW.
 * It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed too.
 * Better accommodated! it is good; yea, indeed, is it: good phrases are
 * surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated! it comes of
 * "accommodo:" very good; a good phrase.

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

SHALLOW.
 * It is very just.

[Enter Falstaff.]

Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your good hand, give me your
 * worship's good hand: by my troth, you like well and bear your years
 * very well: welcome, good Sir John.

FALSTAFF.
 * I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow: Master
 * Surecard, as I think?

SHALLOW.
 * No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.

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

SILENCE.
 * Your good worship is welcome.

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

SHALLOW.
 * Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?

FALSTAFF.
 * Let me see them, I beseech you.

SHALLOW.
 * Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll? Let me see,
 * let me see, let me see.
 * So, so, so, so, so, so, so: yea, marry, sir:  Ralph Mouldy!
 * Let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so.
 * Let me see; where is Mouldy?

MOULDY.
 * Here, an't please you.

SHALLOW.
 * What think you, Sir John? a good-limbed fellow; young, strong,
 * and of good friends.

FALSTAFF.
 * Is thy name Mouldy?

MOULDY.
 * Yea, an't please you.

FALSTAFF.
 * 'Tis the more time thou wert used.

SHALLOW.
 * Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! things that are mouldy lack use:
 * very singular good! in faith, well said, Sir John, very well said.

FALSTAFF.
 * Prick him.

MOULDY.
 * I was prick'd well enough before, an you could have let me alone:
 * my old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry and her
 * drudgery: you need not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter
 * to go out than I.

FALSTAFF.
 * Go to: peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent.

MOULDY.
 * Spent!

SHALLOW.
 * Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: know you where you are?  For
 * the other, Sir John: let me see:  Simon Shadow!

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

SHALLOW.
 * Where's Shadow?

SHADOW.
 * Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.
 * Shadow, whose son art thou?

SHADOW.
 * My mother's son, sir.

FALSTAFF.
 * Thy mother's son! like enough; and thy father's shadow: so the son of
 * the female is the shadow of the male: it is often so indeed; but
 * much of the father's substance!

SHALLOW.
 * Do you like him, Sir John?

FALSTAFF.
 * Shadow will serve for summer; prick him; for we have a number of
 * shadows to fill up the muster-book.

SHALLOW.
 * Thomas Wart!

FALSTAFF.
 * Where's he?

WART.
 * Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.
 * Is thy name Wart?

WART.
 * Yea, sir.

FALSTAFF.
 * Thou art a very ragged wart.

SHALLOW.
 * Shall I prick him down, Sir John?

FALSTAFF.
 * It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back and
 * the whole frame stands upon pins: prick him no more.

SHALLOW.
 * Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you can do it: I commend you
 * well.
 * Francis Feeble!

FEEBLE.
 * Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.
 * What trade art thou, Feeble?

FEEBLE.
 * A woman's tailor, sir.

SHALLOW.
 * Shall I prick him, sir?

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

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

FALSTAFF.
 * Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, courageous Feeble! thou wilt
 * be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse.
 * Prick the woman's tailor: well, Master Shallow, deep, Master Shallow.

FEEBLE.
 * I would Wart might have gone, sir.

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

FEEBLE.
 * It shall suffice, sir.

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

SHALLOW.
 * Peter Bullcalf o' th' green!

FALSTAFF.
 * Yea, marry, let 's see Bullcalf.

BULLCALF.
 * Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.
 * 'Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar
 * again.

BULLCALF.
 * O Lord! good my lord captain,—

FALSTAFF.
 * What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd?

BULLCALF.
 * O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man.

FALSTAFF.
 * What disease hast thou?

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

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

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

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

SHALLOW.
 * O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill
 * in Saint George's field?

FALSTAFF.
 * No more of that, Master Shallow, no more of that.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * She lives, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW.
 * She never could away with me.

FALSTAFF.
 * Never, never; she would always say she could not abide Master
 * Shallow.

SHALLOW.
 * By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was then a bona-roba.
 * Doth she hold her own well?

FALSTAFF.
 * Old, old, Master Shallow.

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

SILENCE.
 * That's fifty-five year ago.

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

FALSTAFF.
 * We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW.
 * That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, Sir John, we have:
 * our watchword was "Hem boys!" Come, let 's to dinner; come, let 's
 * to dinner: Jesus, the days that we have seen!  Come, come.

[Exeunt Falstaff and the Justices.]

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

BARDOLPH.
 * Go to; stand aside.

MOULDY.
 * And, good master corporal captain, for my old dame's sake, stand my
 * friend: she has nobody to do any thing about her when I am gone;
 * and she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall have forty, sir.

BARDOLPH.
 * Go to; stand aside.

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

BARDOLPH.
 * Well said; th'art a good fellow.

FEEBLE.
 * Faith, I'll bear no base mind.

[Re-enter Falstaff and the Justices.]

FALSTAFF.
 * Come, sir, which men shall I have?

SHALLOW.
 * Four of which you please.

BARDOLPH.
 * Sir, a word with you: I have three pound to free Mouldy and
 * Bullcalf.

FALSTAFF.
 * Go to; well.

SHALLOW.
 * Come, Sir John, which four will you have?

FALSTAFF.
 * Do you choose for me.

SHALLOW.
 * Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.

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

SHALLOW.
 * Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are your likeliest
 * men, and I would have you served with the best.

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

BARDOLPH.
 * Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus.

FALSTAFF.
 * Come, manage me your caliver. So: very well:  go to:  very good,
 * exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chapt,
 * bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; thou'rt a good scab: hold,
 * there's a tester for thee.

SHALLOW.
 * He is not his craft's master; he doth not do it right. I remember at
 * Mile-end Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn,—I was then Sir Dagonet in
 * Arthur's show,—there was a little quiver fellow, and a' would manage
 * you his piece thus; and a' would about and about, and come you in and
 * come you in: "rah, tah, tah," would a' say; "bounce" would a' say; and
 * away again would a' go, and again would 'a come: I shall ne'er see
 * such a fellow.

FALSTAFF.
 * These fellows will do well. Master Shallow, God keep you, Master Silence:
 * I will not use many words with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both:
 * I thank you: I must a dozen mile to-night.  Bardolph, give the soldiers
 * coats.

SHALLOW.
 * Sir John, the Lord bless you! God prosper your affairs! God send us
 * peace! At your return visit our house; let our old acquaintance be
 * renewed: peradventure I will with ye to the court.

FALSTAFF.
 * 'Fore God, I would you would.

SHALLOW.
 * Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you.

FALSTAFF.
 * Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.

[Exeunt Justices.]
 * On, Bardolph; lead the men away.

[Exeunt Bardolph, Recruits, &c.]
 * As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom
 * of Justice Shallow.
 * Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
 * This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the
 * wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about Turnbull
 * Street; and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the
 * Turk's tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn like a man made
 * after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all
 * the world, like a fork'd radish, with a head fantastically carved upon
 * it with a knife: a' was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick
 * sight were invincible: a' was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous
 * as a monkey, and the whores called him mandrake: a' came ever in the
 * rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutch'd
 * huswifes that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his
 * fancies or his good-nights.
 * And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly
 * of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him; and I'll be
 * sworn a' ne'er saw him but once in the Tilt-yard; and then he burst
 * his head for crowding among the marshal's men.
 * I saw it, and told John a Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might
 * have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin; the case of a
 * treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court: and now has he land
 * and beefs.
 * Well, I'll be acquainted with him, if I return; and it shall go hard
 * but I'll make him a philosopher's two stones to me: if the young dace
 * be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I
 * may snap at him.
 * Let time shape, and there an end.

[Exit.]

SCENE I. Yorkshire. Gaultree Forest.
[Enter the Archbishop of York, Mowbray, Hastings, and others.]

ARCHBISHOP.
 * What is this forest call'd?

HASTINGS.
 * 'Tis Gaultree Forest, an 't shall please your grace.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Here stand, my lords; and send discoverers forth
 * To know the numbers of our enemies.

HASTINGS.
 * We have sent forth already.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * 'Tis well done.
 * My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
 * I must acquaint you that I have received
 * New-dated letters from Northumberland;
 * Their cold intent, tenour and substance, thus:
 * Here doth he wish his person, with such powers
 * As might hold sortance with his quality,
 * The which he could not levy; whereupon
 * He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes,
 * To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers
 * That your attempts may overlive the hazard
 * And fearful meeting of their opposite.

MOWBRAY.
 * Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground
 * And dash themselves to pieces.

[Enter a Messenger.]

HASTINGS.
 * Now, what news?

MESSENGER.
 * West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,
 * In goodly form comes on the enemy;
 * And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number
 * Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand.

MOWBRAY.
 * The just proportion that we gave them out.
 * Let us sway on and face them in the field.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * What well-appointed leader fronts us here?

[Enter Westmoreland.]

MOWBRAY.
 * I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.

WESTMORELAND.
 * Health and fair greeting from our general,
 * The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace:
 * What doth concern your coming?

WESTMORELAND.
 * Then, my lord,
 * Unto your grace do I in chief address
 * The substance of my speech. If that rebellion
 * Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
 * Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags,
 * And countenanced by boys and beggary,
 * I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd,
 * In his true, native, and most proper shape,
 * You, reverend father, and these noble lords
 * Had not been here, to dress the ugly form
 * Of base and bloody insurrection
 * With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop,
 * Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd,
 * Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd,
 * Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd,
 * Whose white investments figure innocence,
 * The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,
 * Wherefore you do so ill translate yourself
 * Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace,
 * Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war;
 * Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
 * Your pens to lances and your tongue divine
 * To a loud trumpet and a point of war?

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Wherefore do I this? so the question stands.
 * Briefly to this end: we are all diseased,
 * And with our surfeiting and wanton hours
 * Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
 * And we must bleed for it; of which disease
 * Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.
 * But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland,
 * I take not on me here as a physician,
 * Nor do I as an enemy to peace
 * Troop in the throngs of military men;
 * But rather show awhile like fearful war,
 * To diet rank minds sick of happiness,
 * And purge the obstructions which begin to stop
 * Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
 * I have in equal balance justly weigh'd
 * What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,
 * And find our griefs heavier than our offences.
 * We see which way the stream of time doth run,
 * And are enforced from our most quiet there
 * By the rough torrent of occasion;
 * And have the summary of all our griefs,
 * When time shall serve, to show in articles;
 * Which long ere this we offer'd to the king,
 * And might by no suit gain our audience:
 * When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs,
 * We are denied access unto his person
 * Even by those men that most have done us wrong.
 * The dangers of the days but newly gone,
 * Whose memory is written on the earth
 * With yet appearing blood, and the examples
 * Of every minute's instance, present now,
 * Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms,
 * Not to break peace or any branch of it,
 * But to establish here a peace indeed,
 * Concurring, both in name and quality.

WESTMORELAND.
 * When ever yet was your appeal denied?
 * Wherein have you been galled by the king?
 * What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you,
 * That you should seal this lawless bloody book
 * Of forged rebellion with a seal divine
 * And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?

ARCHBISHOP.
 * My brother general, the commonwealth,
 * To brother born an household cruelty,
 * I make my quarrel in particular.

WESTMORELAND.
 * There is no need of any such redress;
 * Or if there were, it not belongs to you.

MOWBRAY.
 * Why not to him in part, and to us all
 * That feel the bruises of the days before,
 * And suffer the condition of these times
 * To lay a heavy and unequal hand
 * Upon our honours?

WESTMORELAND.
 * O, my good Lord Mowbray,
 * Construe the times to their necessities,
 * And you shall say indeed, it is the time,
 * And not the king, that doth you injuries.
 * Yet for your part, it not appears to me
 * Either from the king or in the present time
 * That you should have an inch of any ground
 * To build a grief on: were you not restored
 * To all the Duke of Norfolk's signories,
 * Your noble and right well rememb'red father's?

MOWBRAY.
 * What thing, in honour, had my father lost,
 * That need to be revived and breathed in me?
 * The king that loved him, as the state stood then,
 * Was force perforce compell'd to banish him:
 * And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he,
 * Being mounted and both roused in their seats,
 * Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,
 * Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down,
 * Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel,
 * And the loud trumpet blowing them together,
 * Then, then, when there was nothing could have stay'd
 * My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,
 * O, when the king did throw his warder down,
 * His own life hung upon the staff he threw;
 * Then threw he down himself and all their lives
 * That by indictment and by dint of sword
 * Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

WESTMORELAND.
 * You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what.
 * The Earl of Hereford was reputed then
 * In England the most valiant gentleman:
 * Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled?
 * But if your father had been victor there,
 * He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry:
 * For all the country in a general voice
 * Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and love
 * Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on
 * And bless'd and graced indeed, more than the king.
 * But this is mere digression from my purpose.
 * Here come I from our princely general
 * To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace
 * That he will give you audience; and wherein
 * It shall appear that your demands are just,
 * You shall enjoy them, everything set off
 * That might so much as think you enemies.

MOWBRAY.
 * But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer;
 * And it proceeds from policy, not love.

WESTMORELAND.
 * Mowbray, you overween to take it so;
 * This offer comes from mercy, not from fear:
 * For, lo! within a ken our army lies,
 * Upon mine honour, all too confident
 * To give admittance to a thought of fear.
 * Our battle is more full of names than yours,
 * Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
 * Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;
 * Then reason will our hearts should be as good:
 * Say you not then our offer is compell'd.

MOWBRAY.
 * Well, by my will we shall admit no parley.

WESTMORELAND.
 * That argues but the shame of your offence:
 * A rotten case abides no handling.

HASTINGS.
 * Hath the Prince John a full commission,
 * In very ample virtue of his father,
 * To hear and absolutely to determine
 * Of what conditions we shall stand upon?

WESTMORELAND.
 * That is intended in the general's name:
 * I muse you make so slight a question.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule,
 * For this contains our general grievances:
 * Each several article herein redress'd,
 * All members of our cause, both here and hence,
 * That are insinew'd to this action,
 * Acquitted by a true substantial form
 * And present execution of our wills
 * To us and to our purposes confined,
 * We come within our awful banks again
 * And knit our powers to the arm of peace.

WESTMORELAND.
 * This will I show the general. Please you, lords,
 * In sight of both our battles we may meet;
 * And either end in peace, which God so frame!
 * Or to the place of difference call the swords
 * Which must decide it.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * My lord, we will do so.

[Exit Westmoreland.]

MOWBRAY.
 * There is a thing within my bosom tells me
 * That no conditions of our peace can stand.

HASTINGS.
 * Fear you not that: if we can make our peace
 * Upon such large terms and so absolute
 * As our conditions shall consist upon,
 * Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.

MOWBRAY.
 * Yea, but our valuation shall be such
 * That every slight and false-derived cause,
 * Yea, every idle, nice and wanton reason
 * Shall to the king taste of this action;
 * That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love,
 * We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind
 * That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff
 * And good from bad find no partition.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * No, no, my lord. Note this; the king is weary
 * Of dainty and such picking grievances:
 * For he hath found to end one doubt by death
 * Revives two greater in the heirs of life,
 * And therefore will he wipe his tables clean
 * And keep no tell-tale to his memory
 * That may repeat and history his loss
 * To new remembrance; for full well he knows
 * He cannot so precisely weed this land
 * As his misdoubts present occasion:
 * His foes are so enrooted with his friends
 * That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
 * He doth unfasten so and shake a friend:
 * So that this land, like an offensive wife
 * That hath enraged him on to offer strokes,
 * As he is striking, holds his infant up
 * And hangs resolved correction in the arm
 * That was uprear'd to execution.

HASTINGS.
 * Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods
 * On late offenders, that he now doth lack
 * The very instruments of chastisement:
 * So that his power, like to a fangless lion,
 * May offer, but not hold.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * 'Tis very true:
 * And therefore be assured, my good lord marshal,
 * If we do now make our atonement well,
 * Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
 * Grow stronger for the breaking.

MOWBRAY.
 * Be it so.
 * Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland.

[Re-enter Westmoreland.]

WESTMORELAND.
 * The prince is here at hand: pleaseth your lordship
 * To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies.

MOWBRAY.
 * Your grace of York, in God's name then, set forward.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Before, and greet his grace: my lord, we come.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. Another part of the forest.
[Enter, from one side, Mowbray, attended; afterwards, the Archbishop, Hastings, and others; from the other side, Prince John of Lancaster, and Westmoreland; Officers, and others with them.]

LANCASTER.
 * You are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray:
 * Good day to you, gentle lord Archbishop;
 * And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all.
 * My Lord of York, it better show'd with you
 * When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
 * Encircled you to hear with reverence
 * Your exposition on the holy text
 * Than now to see you here an iron man,
 * Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
 * Turning the word to sword and life to death.
 * That man that sits within a monarch's heart,
 * And ripens in the sunshine of his favour,
 * Would he abuse the countenance of the king,
 * Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach
 * In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop,
 * It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken
 * How deep you were within the books of God?
 * To us the speaker in his parliament;
 * To us the imagined voice of God himself;
 * The very opener and intelligencer
 * Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven
 * And our dull workings. O, who shall believe
 * But you misuse the reverence of your place,
 * Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,
 * As a false favourite doth his prince's name,
 * In deeds dishonourable? You have ta'en up,
 * Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
 * The subjects of his substitute, my father,
 * And both against the peace of heaven and him
 * Have here up-swarm'd them.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Good my Lord of Lancaster,
 * I am not here against your father's peace;
 * But, as I told my Lord of Westmoreland,
 * The time misorder'd doth, in common sense,
 * Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form
 * To hold our safety up. I sent your grace
 * The parcels and particulars of our grief,
 * The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court,
 * Whereon this Hydra son of war is born;
 * Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep
 * With grant of our most just and right desires,
 * And true obedience, of this madness cured,
 * Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

MOWBRAY.
 * If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
 * To the last man.

HASTINGS.
 * And though we here fall down,
 * We have supplies to second our attempt:
 * If they miscarry, theirs shall second them;
 * And so success of mischief shall be born
 * And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up
 * Whiles England shall have generation.

LANCASTER.
 * You are too shallow, Hastings, much to shallow,
 * To sound the bottom of the after-times.

WESTMORELAND.
 * Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly
 * How far forth you do like their articles.

LANCASTER.
 * I like them all, and do allow them well,
 * And swear here, by the honour of my blood,
 * My father's purposes have been mistook,
 * And some about him have too lavishly
 * Wrested his meaning and authority.
 * My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
 * Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you,
 * Discharge your powers unto their several counties,
 * As we will ours; and here between the armies
 * Let 's drink together friendly and embrace,
 * That all their eyes may bear those tokens home
 * Of our restored love and amity.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * I take your princely word for these redresses.

LANCASTER.
 * I give it you, and will maintain my word:
 * And thereupon I drink unto your grace.

HASTINGS.
 * Go, captain, and deliver to the army
 * This news of peace: let them have pay, and part:
 * I know it will please them. Hie thee, captain.

[Exit Officer.]

ARCHBISHOP.
 * To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland.

WESTMORELAND.
 * I pledge your grace; and, if you knew what pains
 * I have bestow'd to breed this present peace,
 * You would drink freely: but my love to ye
 * Shall show itself more openly hereafter.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * I do not doubt you.

WESTMORELAND.
 * I am glad of it.
 * Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray.

MOWBRAY.
 * You wish me health in very happy season,
 * For I am, on the sudden, something ill.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Against ill chances men are ever merry;
 * But heaviness foreruns the good event.

WESTMORELAND.
 * Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow
 * Serves to say thus, "some good thing comes tomorrow."

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.

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

[Shouts within.]

LANCASTER.
 * The word of peace is render'd: hark, how they shout!

MOWBRAY.
 * This had been cheerful after victory.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * A peace is of the nature of a conquest;
 * For then both parties nobly are subdued,
 * And neither party loser.

LANCASTER.
 * Go, my lord.
 * And let our army be discharged too.

[Exit Westmoreland.]

And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains
 * March by us, that we may peruse the men
 * We should have coped withal.

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Go, good Lord Hastings,
 * And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.

[Exit Hastings.]

LANCASTER.
 * I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together.

[Re-enter Westmoreland.]

Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?

WESTMORELAND.
 * The leaders, having charge from you to stand,
 * Will not go off until they hear you speak.

LANCASTER.
 * They know their duties.

[Re-enter Hastings.]

HASTINGS.
 * My lord, our army is dispersed already:
 * Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses
 * East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up,
 * Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place.

WESTMORELAND.
 * Good tidings, my Lord Hastings; for the which
 * I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:
 * And you, lord archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray,
 * Of capital treason I attach you both.

MOWBRAY.
 * Is this proceeding just and honourable?

WESTMORELAND.
 * Is your assembly so?

ARCHBISHOP.
 * Will you thus break your faith?

LANCASTER.
 * I pawn'd thee none:
 * I promised you redress of these same grievances
 * Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,
 * I will perform with a most Christian care.
 * But for you, rebels, look to taste the due
 * Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours.
 * Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
 * Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence.
 * Strike up our drums, pursue the scattr'd stray:
 * God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day.
 * Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
 * Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Another part of the forest.
[Alarum. Excursions. Enter Falstaff and Colevile, meeting.]

FALSTAFF.
 * What 's your name, sir? of what condition are you, and of
 * what place, I pray?

COLEVILE.
 * I am a knight sir; and my name is Colevile of the Dale.

FALSTAFF.
 * Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, and
 * your place the dale: Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor
 * your degree, and the dungeon your place, a place deep enough; so
 * shall you be still Colevile of the dale.

COLEVILE.
 * Are not you Sir John Falstaff?

FALSTAFF.
 * As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye yield, sir? or shall I
 * sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and
 * they weep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear and trembling,
 * and do observance to my mercy.

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

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

[Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, Blunt, and
 * others.]

LANCASTER.
 * The heat is past; follow no further now:
 * Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.

[Exit Westmoreland.]

Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
 * When everything is ended, then you come:
 * These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
 * One time or other break some gallows' back.

FALSTAFF.
 * I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: I never knew yet
 * but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a
 * swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? have I, in my poor and old motion,
 * the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very
 * extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine score and odd
 * posts: and here, travel-tainted as I am, have, in my pure and
 * immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colevile of the dale, a most furious
 * knight and valorous enemy. But what of that? he saw me, and yielded;
 * that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, "I came,
 * saw, and overcame."

LANCASTER.
 * It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

FALSTAFF.
 * I know not: here he is, and here I yield him:  and I beseech your
 * grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the
 * Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own
 * picture on the top on't, Colevile kissing my foot: to the which
 * course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to
 * me, and I in the clear sky of fame o'ershine you as much as the full
 * moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins' heads to
 * her, believe not the word of the noble: therefore let me have right,
 * and let desert mount.

LANCASTER.
 * Thine 's too heavy to mount.

FALSTAFF.
 * Let it shine, then.

LANCASTER.
 * Thine 's too thick to shine.

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

LANCASTER.
 * Is thy name Colevile?

COLEVILE.
 * It is, my lord.

LANCASTER.
 * A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.

FALSTAFF.
 * And a famous true subject took him.

COLEVILE.
 * I am, my lord, but as my betters are
 * That led me hither: had they been ruled by me,
 * You should have won them dearer than you have.

FALSTAFF.
 * I know not how they sold themselves: but thou, like a kind
 * fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I thank thee for thee.

[Re-enter Westmoreland.]

LANCASTER.
 * Now, have you left pursuit?

WESTMORELAND.
 * Retreat is made and execution stay'd.

LANCASTER.
 * Send Colevile with his confederates
 * To York, to present execution.
 * Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure.

[Exeunt Blunt and others with Colevile.]

And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords:
 * I hear the king my father is sore sick:
 * Our news shall go before us to his majesty,
 * Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him,
 * And we with sober speed will follow you.

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

LANCASTER.
 * Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition,
 * Shall better speak of you than you deserve.

[Exeunt all but Falstaff.]

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

[Enter Bardolph.]

How now, Bardolph!

BARDOLPH.
 * The army is discharged all and gone.

FALSTAFF.
 * Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire; and there will I visit
 * Master Robert Shallow, esquire: I have him already tempering between
 * my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber.
[Enter the King, the Princes Thomas of Clarence and Humphrey of Gloucester, Warwick, and others.]

KING.
 * Now, lords, if God doth give successful end
 * To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
 * We will our youth lead on to higher fields
 * And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
 * Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
 * Our substitutes in absence well invested,
 * And every thing lies level to our wish:
 * Only, we want a little personal strength;
 * And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
 * Come underneath the yoke of government.

WARWICK.
 * Both which we doubt not but your majesty
 * Shall soon enjoy.

KING.
 * Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
 * Where is the prince your brother?

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

KING.
 * And how accompanied?

GLOUCESTER.
 * I do not know, my lord.

KING.
 * Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?

GLOUCESTER.
 * No, my good lord; he is in presence here.

CLARENCE.
 * What would my lord and father?

KING.
 * Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
 * How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother?
 * He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
 * Thou hast a better place in his affection
 * Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy,
 * And noble offices thou mayst effect
 * Of mediation, after I am dead,
 * Between his greatness and thy other brethren:
 * Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love,
 * Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
 * By seeming cold or careless of his will;
 * For he is gracious, if he be observed.
 * He hath a tear for pity and a hand
 * Open as day for melting charity:
 * Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he 's flint;
 * As humorous as winter and as sudden
 * As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
 * His temper, therefore, must be well observed:
 * Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
 * When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth;
 * But, being moody, give him line and scope,
 * Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
 * Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,
 * And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
 * A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
 * That the united vessel of their blood,
 * Mingled with venom of suggestion—
 * As, force perforce, the age will pour it in—
 * Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
 * As aconitum or rash gunpowder.

CLARENCE.
 * I shall observe him with all care and love.

KING.
 * Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?

CLARENCE.
 * He is not there to-day; he dines in London.

KING.
 * And how accompanied? canst thou tell that?

CLARENCE.
 * With Poins, and other his continual followers.

KING.
 * Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;
 * And he, the noble image of my youth,
 * Is overspread with them: therefore my grief
 * Stretches itself beyond the hour of death:
 * The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape
 * In forms imaginary the unguided days
 * And rotten times that you shall look upon
 * When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
 * For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
 * When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
 * When means and lavish manners meet together,
 * O, with what wings shall his affections fly
 * Towards fronting peril and opposed decay!

WARWICK.
 * My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite:
 * The prince but studies his companions
 * Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language,
 * 'Tis needful that the most immodest word
 * Be look'd upon and learn'd; which once attain'd,
 * Your highness knows, comes to no further use
 * But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,
 * The prince will in the perfectness of time
 * Cast off his followers; and their memory
 * Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
 * By which his grace must mete the lives of other,
 * Turning past evils to advantages.

KING.
 * 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
 * In the dead carrion.

[Enter Westmoreland.]

Who's here? Westmoreland?

WESTMORELAND.
 * Health to my sovereign, and new happiness
 * Added to that that I am to deliver!
 * Prince John your son doth kiss your grace's hand:
 * Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all
 * Are brought to the correction of your law;
 * There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed,
 * But Peace puts forth her olive every where.
 * The manner how this action hath been borne
 * Here at more leisure may your highness read,
 * With every course in his particular.

KING.
 * O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
 * Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
 * The lifting up of day.

[Enter Harcourt.]

Look, here 's more news.

HARCOURT.
 * From enemies heaven keep your majesty;
 * And, when they stand against you, may they fall
 * As those that I am come to tell you of!
 * The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph,
 * With a great power of English and of Scots,
 * Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown:
 * The manner and true order of the fight
 * This packet, please it you, contains at large.

KING.
 * And wherefore should these good news make me sick?
 * Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
 * But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
 * She either gives a stomach and no food;
 * Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast
 * And takes away the stomach; such are the rich,
 * That have abundance and enjoy it not.
 * I should rejoice now at this happy news;
 * And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy:
 * O me! come near me; now I am much ill.

GLOUCESTER.
 * Comfort, your majesty!

CLARENCE.
 * O my royal father!

WESTMORELAND.
 * My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.

WARWICK.
 * Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits
 * Are with his highness very ordinary.
 * Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.

CLARENCE.
 * No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs:
 * The incessant care and labour of his mind
 * Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
 * So thin that life looks through and will break out.

GLOUCESTER.
 * The people fear me; for they do observe
 * Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature:
 * The seasons change their manners, as the year
 * Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over.

CLARENCE.
 * The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;
 * And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
 * Say it did so a little time before
 * That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.

WARWICK.
 * Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.

GLOUCESTER.
 * This apoplexy will certain be his end.

KING.
 * I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence
 * Into some other chamber: softly, pray.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE V. Another chamber.
[The King lying on a bed: Clarence, Gloucester, Warwick, and others in attendance.]

KING.
 * Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
 * Unless some dull and favourable hand
 * Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

WARWICK.
 * Call for the music in the other room.

KING.
 * Set me the crown upon my pillow here.

CLARENCE.
 * His eye is hollow, and he changes much.

WARWICK.
 * Less noise! less noise!

[Enter Prince Henry.]

PRINCE.
 * Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

CLARENCE.
 * I am here, brother, full of heaviness.

PRINCE.
 * How now! rain within doors, and none abroad!
 * How doth the king?

GLOUCESTER.
 * Exceeding ill.

PRINCE.
 * Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

GLOUCESTER.
 * He alt'red much upon the hearing it.

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

WARWICK.
 * Not so much noise, my lords: sweet prince, speak low;
 * The king your father is disposed to sleep.

CLARENCE.
 * Let us withdraw into the other room.

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

PRINCE.
 * No; I will sit and watch here by the king.

[Exeunt all but the Prince.]

Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
 * Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
 * O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
 * That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
 * To many a watchful night! sleep with it now!
 * Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet
 * As he whose brow with homely biggen bound
 * Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
 * When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
 * Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
 * That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
 * There lies a downy feather which stirs not:
 * Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
 * Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father!
 * This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep
 * That from this golden rigol hath divorced
 * So many English kings. Thy due from me
 * Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
 * Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
 * Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
 * My due from thee is this imperial crown,
 * Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
 * Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,
 * Which God shall guard: and put the world's whole strength
 * Into one giant arm, it shall not force
 * This lineal honour from me: this from thee
 * Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.

[Exit.]

KING.
 * Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!

[Re-enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence, and the rest.]

CLARENCE.
 * Doth the king call?

WARWICK.
 * What would your majesty? How fares your grace?

KING.
 * Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?

CLARENCE.
 * We left the prince my brother here, my liege,
 * Who undertook to sit and watch by you.

KING.
 * The Prince of Wales! Where is he? let me see him:
 * He is not here.

WARWICK.
 * This door is open; he is gone this way.

GLOUCESTER.
 * He came not through the chamber where we stay'd.

KING.
 * Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow?

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

KING.
 * The prince hath ta'en it hence: go, seek him out.
 * Is he so hasty that he doth suppose
 * My sleep my death?
 * Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.

[Exit Warwick.]

This part of his conjoins with my disease,
 * And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are!
 * How quickly nature falls into revolt
 * When gold becomes her object!
 * For this the foolish over-careful fathers
 * Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care,
 * Their bones with industry;
 * For this they have engross'd and piled up
 * The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
 * For this they have been thoughtful to invest
 * Their sons with arts and martial exercises;
 * When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
 * The virtuous sweets,
 * Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
 * We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees,
 * Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste
 * Yields his engrossments to the ending father.

[Re-enter Warwick.]

Now where is he that will not stay so long
 * Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?

WARWICK.
 * My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
 * Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,
 * With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow
 * That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
 * Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
 * With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.

KING.
 * But wherefore did he take away the crown?

[Re-Enter Prince Henry.]

Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry.
 * Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

[Exeunt Warwick and the rest.]

PRINCE.
 * I never thought to hear you speak again.

KING.
 * Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:
 * I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
 * Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair
 * That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours
 * Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
 * Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
 * Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
 * Is held from falling with so weak a wind
 * That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
 * Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours
 * Were thine without offence; and at my death
 * Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:
 * Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not,
 * And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
 * Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts
 * Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
 * To stab at half an hour of my life.
 * What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
 * Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
 * And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
 * That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
 * Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
 * Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head:
 * Only compound me with forgotten dust;
 * Give that which gave thee life unto the worms.
 * Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;
 * For now a time is come to mock at form:
 * Harry the Fifth is crown'd: up, vanity!
 * Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!
 * And to the English court assemble now,
 * From every region, apes of idleness!
 * Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:
 * Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
 * Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit
 * The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
 * Be happy, he will trouble you no more;
 * England shall double gild his treble guilt,
 * England shall give him office, honour, might;
 * For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks
 * The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
 * Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.
 * O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
 * When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
 * What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
 * O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
 * Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!

PRINCE.
 * O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears,
 * The moist impediments unto my speech,
 * I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke
 * Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard
 * The course of it so far. There is your crown:
 * And He that wears the crown immortally
 * Long guard it yours! If I affect it more
 * Than as your honour and as your renown,
 * Let me no more from this obedience rise,
 * Which my most inward true and duteous spirit
 * Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending.
 * God witness with me, when I here came in,
 * And found no course of breath within your majesty,
 * How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,
 * O, let me in my present wildness die
 * And never live to show the incredulous world
 * The noble change that I have purposed!
 * Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
 * And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,
 * I spake unto this crown as having sense,
 * And thus upbraided it: "The care on thee depending
 * Hath fed upon the body of my father;
 * Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold:
 * Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
 * Preserving life in medicine potable;
 * But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,
 * Hast eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal liege,
 * Accusing it, I put it on my head,
 * To try with it, as with an enemy
 * That had before my face murder'd my father,
 * The quarrel of a true inheritor.
 * But if it did infect my blood with joy,
 * Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride;
 * If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
 * Did with the least affection of a welcome
 * Give entertainment to the might of it,
 * Let God for ever keep it from my head
 * And make me as the poorest vassal is
 * That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!

KING.
 * O my son,
 * God put it in thy mind to take it hence,
 * That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,
 * Pleading so wisely in excuse of it!
 * Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
 * And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
 * That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,
 * By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways
 * I met this crown; and I myself know well
 * How troublesome it sat upon my head.
 * To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
 * Better opinion, better confirmation;
 * For all the soil of the achievement goes
 * With me into the earth. It seem'd in me
 * But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand,
 * And I had many living to upbraid
 * My gain of it by their assistances;
 * Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
 * Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears
 * Thou see'st with peril I have answered;
 * For all my reign hath been but as a scene
 * Acting that argument: and now my death
 * Changes the mode; for what in me was purchased,
 * Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;
 * So thou the garland wear'st successively.
 * Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
 * Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;
 * And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends,
 * Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
 * By whose fell working I was first advanced
 * And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
 * To be again displaced: which to avoid,
 * I cut them off; and had a purpose now
 * To lead out many to the Holy Land,
 * Lest rest and lying still might make them look
 * Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
 * Be it thy course to busy giddy minds
 * With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
 * May waste the memory of the former days.
 * More would I, but my lungs are wasted so
 * That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
 * How I came by the crown, O God, forgive;
 * And grant it may with thee in true peace live!

PRINCE.
 * My gracious liege,
 * You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
 * Then plain and right must my possession be:
 * Which I with more than with a common pain
 * 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

[Enter Lord John of Lancaster.]

KING.
 * Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.

LANCASTER.
 * Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father!

KING.
 * Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John;
 * But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
 * From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight
 * My worldly business makes a period.
 * Where is my Lord of Warwick?

PRINCE.
 * My Lord of Warwick!

[Re-enter Warwick, and others.]

KING.
 * Doth any name particular belong
 * Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?

WARWICK.
 * 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.

KING.
 * Laud be to God! even there my life must end.
 * It hath been prophesied to me many years,
 * I should not die but in Jerusalem;
 * Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land:
 * But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;
 * In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE 1. Gloucestershire. Shallow's house.
[Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Bardolph, and Page.]

SHALLOW.
 * By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night.
 * What, Davy, I say!

FALSTAFF.
 * You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.

SHALLOW.
 * I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; excuses
 * shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall
 * not be excused. Why, Davy!

[Enter Davy.]

DAVY.
 * Here, sir.

SHALLOW.
 * Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy; let me see,
 * Davy; let me see: yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither.
 * Sir John, you shall not be excused.

DAVY.
 * Marry, sir, thus; those precepts cannot be served; and,
 * again, sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat?

SHALLOW.
 * With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook: are there no
 * young pigeons?

DAVY.
 * Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and
 * plough-irons.

SHALLOW.
 * Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused.

DAVY.
 * Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had: and, sir, do
 * you mean to stop any of William's wages, about the sack he lost the
 * other day at Hinckley fair?

SHALLOW.
 * A' shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legg'd
 * hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws,
 * tell William cook.

DAVY.
 * Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?

SHALLOW.
 * Yea, Davy. I will use him well:  a friend i' the court is better
 * than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy; for they are
 * arrant knaves, and will backbite.

DAVY.
 * No worse than they are backbitten, sir; for they have marvellous
 * foul linen.

SHALLOW.
 * Well conceited, Davy: about thy business, Davy.

DAVY.
 * I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot
 * against Clement Perkes of the hill.

SHALLOW.
 * There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor: that
 * Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.

DAVY.
 * I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but yet, God forbid,
 * sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request.
 * An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.
 * I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years; and if I cannot
 * once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I
 * have but a very little credit with your worship.
 * The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, I beseech your worship,
 * let him be countenanced.

SHALLOW.
 * Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy.

[Exit Davy.]

Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off with your boots.
 * Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.

BARDOLPH.
 * I am glad to see your worship.

SHALLOW.
 * I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph: and
 * welcome, my tall fellow [to the Page]. Come, Sir John.

FALSTAFF.
 * I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.

[Exit Shallow.]

Bardolph, look to our horses.

[Exeunt Bardolph and Page.]

If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such
 * bearded hermits' staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to
 * see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his: they, by
 * observing of him, do bear themselves like foolish justices: he, by
 * conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man:
 * their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of
 * society that they flock together in consent, like so many wild-geese.
 * If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the
 * imputation of being near their master: if to his men, I would curry
 * with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants.
 * It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is
 * caught, as men take diseases, one of another: therefore let men take
 * heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow
 * to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six
 * fashions, which is four terms, or two actions; and a' shall laugh
 * without intervallums.
 * O, it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest with a sad brow
 * will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders!
 * O, you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up!

SHALLOW.
 * [Within.] Sir John!

FALSTAFF.
 * I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow.

[Exit.]

SCENE II. Westminster. The palace.
[Enter Warwick and the Lord Chief-Justice, meeting.]

WARWICK.
 * How now, my lord chief-justice! whither away?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * How doth the king?

WARWICK.
 * Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I hope, not dead.

WARWICK.
 * He 's walk'd the way of nature;
 * And to our purposes he lives no more.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I would his Majesty had call'd me with him:
 * The service that I truly did his life
 * Hath left me open to all injuries.

WARWICK.
 * Indeed I think the young king loves you not.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I know he doth not, and do arm myself
 * To welcome the condition of the time,
 * Which cannot look more hideously upon me
 * Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.

[Enter Lancaster, Clarence, Gloucester, Westmoreland, and
 * others.]

WARWICK.
 * Here comes the heavy issue of dead Harry:
 * O that the living Harry had the temper
 * Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen!
 * How many nobles then should hold their places,
 * That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort!

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * O God, I fear all will be overturn'd!

LANCASTER.
 * Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.

GLOUCESTER & CLARENCE.
 * Good morrow, cousin.

LANCASTER.
 * We meet like men that had forgot to speak.

WARWICK.
 * We do remember; but our argument
 * Is all too heavy to admit much talk.

LANCASTER.
 * Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy!

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Peace be with us, lest we be heavier!

GLOUCESTER.
 * O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed;
 * And I dare swear you borrow not that face
 * Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your own.

LANCASTER.
 * Though no man be assured what grace to find,
 * You stand in coldest expectation:
 * I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise.

CLARENCE.
 * Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair;
 * Which swims against your stream of quality.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Sweet Princes, what I did, I did in honour,
 * Led by the impartial conduct of my soul;
 * And never shall you see that I will beg
 * A ragged and forestall'd remission.
 * If truth and upright innocency fail me,
 * I'll to the king my master that is dead,
 * And tell him who hath sent me after him.

WARWICK.
 * Here comes the prince.

[Enter King Henry the Fifth, attended.]

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Good morrow; and God save your majesty!

KING.
 * This new and gorgeous garment, majesty,
 * Sits not so easy on me as you think.
 * Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear:
 * This is the English, not the Turkish court;
 * Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
 * But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers,
 * For, by my faith, it very well becomes you:
 * Sorrow so royally in you appears
 * That I will deeply put the fashion on
 * And wear it in my heart: why then, be sad;
 * But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
 * Than a joint burden laid upon us all.
 * For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured,
 * I'll be your father and your brother too;
 * Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares:
 * Yet weep that Harry 's dead, and so will I;
 * But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears
 * By number into hours of happiness.

PRINCES.
 * We hope no otherwise from your majesty.

KING.
 * You all look strangely on me: and you most;
 * You are, I think, assured I love you not.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I am assured, if I be measured rightly,
 * Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.

KING.
 * No!
 * How might a prince of my great hopes forget
 * So great indignities you laid upon me?
 * What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
 * The immediate heir of England! Was this easy?
 * May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I then did use the person of your father;
 * The image of his power lay then in me;
 * And, in the administration of his law,
 * Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
 * Your highness pleased to forget my place,
 * The majesty and power of law and justice,
 * The image of the king whom I presented,
 * And struck me in my very seat of judgement;
 * Whereon, as an offender to your father,
 * I gave bold way to my authority
 * And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
 * Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
 * To have a son set your decrees at nought,
 * To pluck down justice from your awful bench,
 * To trip the course of law and blunt the sword
 * That guards the peace and safety of your person;
 * Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image,
 * And mock your workings in a second body.
 * Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours;
 * Be now the father and propose a son,
 * Hear your own dignity so much profaned,
 * See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
 * Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd;
 * And then imagine me taking your part
 * And in your power soft silencing your son:
 * After this cold considerance, sentence me;
 * And, as you are a king, speak in your state
 * What I have done that misbecame my place,
 * My person, or my liege's sovereignty.

KING.
 * You are right, justice, and you weigh this well;
 * Therefore still bear the balance and the sword:
 * And I do wish your honours may increase,
 * Till you do live to see a son of mine
 * Offend you and obey you, as I did.
 * So shall I live to speak my father's words:
 * "Happy am I, that have a man so bold,
 * That dares do justice on my proper son;
 * And not less happy, having such a son,
 * That would deliver up his greatness so
 * Into the hands of justice." You did commit me:
 * For which I do commit into your hand
 * The unstained sword that you have used to bear;
 * With this remembrance, that you use the same
 * With the like bold, just and impartial spirit
 * As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand.
 * You shall be as a father to my youth:
 * My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear,
 * And I will stoop and humble my intents
 * To your well-practised wise directions.
 * And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you;
 * My father is gone wild into his grave,
 * For in his tomb lie my affections;
 * And with his spirit sadly I survive,
 * To mock the expectation of the world,
 * To frustrate prophecies and to raze out
 * Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
 * After my seeming. The tide of blood in me
 * Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now:
 * Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea,
 * Where it shall mingle with the state of floods,
 * And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
 * Now call we our high court of parliament:
 * And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,
 * That the great body of our state may go
 * In equal rank with the best govern'd nation;
 * That war, or peace, or both at once, may be
 * As things acquainted and familiar to us;
 * In which you, father, shall have foremost hand.
 * Our coronation done, we will accite,
 * As I before remember'd, all our state:
 * And, God consigning to my good intents,
 * No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say,
 * God shorten Harry's happy life one day!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Gloucestershire. Shallow's orchard.
[Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy, Bardolph, and the Page.]

SHALLOW.
 * Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat
 * a last year's pippin of mine own graffing, with a dish of caraways,
 * and so forth: come, cousin Silence:  and then to bed.

FALSTAFF.
 * 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.

SHALLOW.
 * Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John:
 * marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread, Davy: well said, Davy.

FALSTAFF.
 * This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man
 * and your husband.

SHALLOW.
 * A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John:
 * by the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper: a good
 * varlet. Now sit down, now sit down: come, cousin.

SILENCE.
 * Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall
 * Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer,

[Singing.]

And praise God for the merry year;
 * When flesh is cheap and females dear,
 * And lusty lads roam here and there
 * So merrily,
 * And ever among so merrily.

FALSTAFF.
 * There's a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I'll give you
 * a health for that anon.

SHALLOW.
 * Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.

DAVY.
 * Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon; most sweet sir, sit.
 * Master page, good master page, sit. Proface!
 * What you want in meat, we'll have in drink:
 * but you must bear; the heart 's all.

[Exit.]

SHALLOW.
 * Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier there,
 * be merry.

SILENCE.
 * Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;

[Singing.]

For women are shrews, both short and tall;
 * 'Tis merry in hall when beards wag all;
 * And welcome merry Shrove-tide.
 * Be merry, be merry.

FALSTAFF.
 * I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle.

SILENCE.
 * Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now.

[Re-enter Davy.]

DAVY.
 * There 's a dish of leather-coats for you. [To Bardolph.]

SHALLOW.
 * Davy!

DAVY.
 * Your worship! I'll be with you straight [To BARDOLPH.].
 * A cup of wine, sir?

SILENCE.
 * A cup of wine that 's brisk and fine,

[Singing.]

And drink unto the leman mine;
 * And a merry heart lives long-a.

FALSTAFF.
 * Well said, Master Silence.

SILENCE.
 * An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' the night.

FALSTAFF.
 * Health and long life to you, Master Silence!

SILENCE.
 * Fill the cup, and let it come,

[Singing.]

I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.

SHALLOW.
 * Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest anything and
 * wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief
 * [to the Page],
 * and welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all
 * the cavaleros about London.

DAVY.
 * I hope to see London once ere I die.

BARDOLPH.
 * An I might see you there, Davy,—

SHALLOW.
 * By the mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha! will you not,
 * Master Bardolph?

BARDOLPH.
 * Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.

SHALLOW.
 * By God's liggens, I thank thee: the knave will stick by thee, I
 * can assure thee that. A' will not out; he is true bred.

BARDOLPH.
 * And I'll stick by him, sir.

SHALLOW.
 * Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry.

[Knocking within.]

Look who 's at door there, ho! who knocks?

[Exit Davy.]

FALSTAFF.
 * Why, now you have done me right.

[To Silence, seeing him take off a bumper.]

SILENCE.
 * Do me right,

[Singing.]

And dub me knight:
 * Samingo.
 * Is't not so?

FALSTAFF.
 * 'Tis so.

SILENCE.
 * Is't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat.

[Re-enter Davy.]

DAVY.
 * An't please your worship, there 's one Pistol come from the
 * court with news.

FALSTAFF.
 * From the court? Let him come in.

[Enter Pistol.]

How now, Pistol!

PISTOL.
 * Sir John, God save you!

FALSTAFF.
 * What wind blew you hither, Pistol?

PISTOL.
 * Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight,
 * thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.

SILENCE.
 * By'r lady, I think a' be, but goodman Puff of Barson.

PISTOL.
 * Puff!
 * Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!
 * Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend,
 * And helter-skelter have I rode to thee,
 * And tidings do I bring and lucky joys
 * And golden times and happy news of price.

FALSTAFF.
 * I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world.

PISTOL.
 * A foutre for the world and worldlings base!
 * I speak of Africa and golden joys.

FALSTAFF.
 * O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
 * Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.

SILENCE.
 * And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. [Singing.]

PISTOL.
 * Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons?
 * And shall good news be baffled?
 * Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.

SHALLOW.
 * Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.

PISTOL.
 * Why then, lament therefore.

SHALLOW.
 * Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with news from the
 * court, I take it there 's but two ways, either to utter them, or
 * conceal them.
 * I am, sir, under the king, in some authority.

PISTOL.
 * Under which king, Besonian? speak, or die.

SHALLOW.
 * Under King Harry.

PISTOL.
 * Harry the Fourth? or Fifth?

SHALLOW.
 * Harry the Fourth.

PISTOL.
 * A foutre for thine office!
 * Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king;
 * Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth.
 * When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like
 * The bragging Spaniard.

FALSTAFF.
 * What, is the old king dead?

PISTOL.
 * As nail in door: the things I speak are just.

FALSTAFF.
 * Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow,
 * choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I
 * will double-charge thee with dignities.

BARDOLPH.
 * O joyful day!
 * I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.

PISTOL.
 * What! I do bring good news.

FALSTAFF.
 * Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow,—
 * be what thou wilt; I am fortune's steward—get on thy boots:
 * we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph!

[Exit Bardolph.]

Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devise something to do
 * thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow: I know the young king is
 * sick for me. Let us take any man's horses; the laws of England are at
 * my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my friends; and woe
 * to my lord chief-justice!

PISTOL.
 * Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!
 * "Where is the life that late I led?" say they:
 * Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. London. A street.
[Enter Beadles, dragging in Hostess Quickly and Doll Tearsheet.]

HOSTESS.
 * No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might die,
 * that I might have thee hanged: thou hast drawn my shoulder out
 * of joint.

FIRST BEADLE.
 * The constables have delivered her over to me; and she shall have
 * whipping-cheer enough, I warrant her: there hath been a man
 * or two lately killed about her.

DOLL.
 * Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I'll tell thee what, thou
 * damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I now go with do
 * miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou
 * paper-faced villain.

HOSTESS.
 * O the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would make this a
 * bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb
 * miscarry!

FIRST BEADLE.
 * If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you
 * have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me; for the
 * man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you.

DOLL.
 * I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as
 * soundly swinged for this,—you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished
 * correctioner, if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles.

FIRST BEADLE.
 * Come, come, you she knight-errant, come.

HOSTESS.
 * O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of
 * sufferance comes ease.

DOLL.
 * Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.

HOSTESS.
 * Ay, come, you starved blood-hound.

DOLL.
 * Goodman death, goodman bones!

HOSTESS.
 * Thou atomy, thou!

DOLL.
 * Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal!

FIRST BEADLE.
 * Very well.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE V. A public place near Westminster Abbey.
[Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes.]

FIRST GROOM.
 * More rushes, more rushes.

SECOND GROOM.
 * The trumpets have sounded twice.

FIRST GROOM.
 * 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the
 * coronation: dispatch, dispatch.

[Exeunt.]

[Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and Page.]

FALSTAFF.
 * Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will make the
 * king do you grace: I will leer upon him as a' comes by; and do
 * but mark the countenance that he will give me.

PISTOL.
 * God bless thy lungs, good knight!

FALSTAFF.
 * Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. O, if I had had to have
 * made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I
 * borrowed of you. But 'tis no matter; this poor show doth better:
 * this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.

SHALLOW.
 * It doth so.

FALSTAFF.
 * It shows my earnestness of affection,—

SHALLOW.
 * It doth so.

FALSTAFF.
 * My devotion,—

SHALLOW.
 * It doth, it doth, it doth.

FALSTAFF.
 * As it were, to ride day and night; and not to deliberate, not to
 * remember, not to have patience to shift me,—

SHALLOW.
 * It is best, certain.

FALSTAFF.
 * But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to
 * see him; thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in
 * oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him.

PISTOL.
 * 'Tis "semper idem," for "obsque hoc nihil est:" 'tis all in
 * every part.

SHALLOW.
 * 'Tis so, indeed.

PISTOL.
 * My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver,
 * And make thee rage.
 * Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,
 * Is in base durance and contagious prison;
 * Haled thither
 * By most mechanical and dirty hand:
 * Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake,
 * For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.

FALSTAFF.
 * I will deliver her.

[Shouts, within, and the trumpets sound.]

PISTOL.
 * There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds.

[Enter the King and his train, the Lord Chief-Justice among
 * them.]

FALSTAFF.
 * God save thy grace, King Hal; my royal Hal!

PISTOL.
 * The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame!

FALSTAFF.
 * God save thee, my sweet boy!

KING.
 * My lord chief-justice, speak to that vain man.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Have you your wits? know you what 'tis you speak?

FALSTAFF.
 * My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart!

KING.
 * I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers;
 * How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
 * I have long dream'd of such a kind of man,
 * So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane;
 * But, being awaked, I do despise my dream.
 * Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;
 * Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape
 * For thee thrice wider than for other men.
 * Reply not to me with a fool-born jest:
 * Presume not that I am the thing I was;
 * For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,
 * That I have turn'd away my former self;
 * So will I those that kept me company.
 * When thou dost hear I am as I have been,
 * Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,
 * The tutor and the feeder of my riots:
 * Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death,
 * As I have done the rest of my misleaders,
 * Not to come near our person by ten mile.
 * For competence of life I will allow you,
 * That lack of means enforce you not to evils:
 * And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,
 * We will, according to your strengths and qualities,
 * Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord,
 * To see perform'd the tenour of our word.
 * Set on.

[Exeunt King, &c.]

FALSTAFF.
 * Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds.

SHALLOW.
 * Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me have
 * home with me.

FALSTAFF.
 * That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve at this;
 * I shall be sent for in private to him: look you, he must seem
 * thus to the world: fear not your advancements; I will be the man yet
 * that shall make you great.

SHALLOW.
 * I cannot perceive how, unless you give me your doublet
 * and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me
 * have five hundred of my thousand.

FALSTAFF.
 * Sir, I will be as good as my word: this that you heard was
 * but a colour.

SHALLOW.
 * A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John.

FALSTAFF.
 * Fear no colours: go with me to dinner:  come, Lieutenant
 * Pistol; come, Bardolph: I shall be sent for soon at night.

[Re-enter Prince John, the Lord Chief-Justice; Officers with them.]

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet:
 * Take all his company along with him.

FALSTAFF.
 * My lord, my lord,—

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * I cannot now speak: I will hear you soon.
 * Take them away.

PISTOL.
 * Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta.

[Exeunt all but Prince John and the Lord Chief-Justice.]

LANCASTER.
 * I like this fair proceeding of the king's:
 * He hath intent his wonted followers
 * Shall all be very well provided for;
 * But all are banish'd till their conversations
 * Appear more wise and modest to the world.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * And so they are.

LANCASTER.
 * The king hath call'd his parliament, my lord.

CHIEF JUSTICE.
 * He hath.

LANCASTER.
 * I will lay odds that, ere this year expire,
 * We bear our civil swords and native fire
 * As far as France: I heard a bird so sing,
 * Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
 * Come, will you hence?

[Exeunt.]

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by a Dancer.


 * First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. My fear is, your
 * displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your
 * pardons. If you look for a good speech now, you undo me:  for
 * what I have to say is of mine own making; and what indeed I
 * should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the
 * purpose, and so to the venture. Be it known to you, as it is very
 * well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray
 * your patience for it and to promise you a better. I meant indeed to
 * pay you with this; which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily
 * home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised
 * you I would be and here I commit my body to your mercies: bate me
 * some and I will pay you some and, as most debtors do, promise you
 * infinitely.


 * If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to
 * use my legs? and yet that were but light payment, to dance out of
 * your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction,
 * and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me: if the
 * gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the
 * gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly.


 * One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloy'd with fat
 * meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it,
 * and make you merry with fair Katharine of France: where, for any
 * thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already a' be
 * killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this
 * is not the man.
 * My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night:
 * and so kneel down before you; but, indeed, to pray for the queen.