Warkworth. Before Northumberland's Castle. Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues. Rum. Open your ears; For which of you will stop The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks? 1. from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth: [pon my tongues coutinual slanders ride; The which in every language I pronounce, Safing the ears of men with false reports. ea of peace, while covert enmity, ader the smile of safety, wounds the world: That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, Among my household? Why is Rumour here? Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops, Even with the rebels' blood. Ent what mean I Than they have learn'd of ine: From Rumour's tongues Tay bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. ACT I. SCENE L-The same. (Exit. The Porter before the Gate. Enter Lord BARDOLPH. Bard Who keeps the gate here, ho? is the earl? Port. What shall I say you are? Bard. Teil then the earl, That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here. chard; Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer. Bard. 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 Cæsar's fortunes! North. A gentleman well bred, and of good name, Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; Tra. My lord, sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back Where I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury. He told me, that rebellion had bad luck, My lord, I'll tell you what;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. North. Why should the gentleman, that rode by Give then such instances of loss? [Travers, Who, he? Bard. He was some hilding fellow, that had stol'n North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, Your brother, thus; so fought the noble Douglas; Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet: North 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 thy earl, his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace, And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid: Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. North. Yet, for all this, say not, that Percy's I see a strange confession in thine eye: dead. Thou shak'st 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 sm, 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 knolling a departing friend. Bard I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. From whence with hfe he never more sprung up. Being bruited once, took fire and heat away mourn. In poison there is physic; and these news, A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord. [honour, Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your Mor. 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, Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss, I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, The gentle archbishop of York is up, Sappos d sincere and holy in his thoughts, Of fair king Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones: North. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth, Get posts, and letters, and make friends with speed; Never so few, and never yet more need. SCENE II.-London. A Street. Exeunt. Eater Sir JOHN FALSTAFF, with his Page, bearing his sword and buckler. Fal. 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 Eight have more diseases than he knew for. Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is table to vent 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 t to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thon whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn nay cap, than to wait at my heels. I was never maced with an agate till now: but I will set you wither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and end you back again to your master, for a jewel; the javenal, 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 eek; and yet he will not stick to say, his face is a Lare-royal: God may finish it when he will, it is not atar amiss yet: he may keep it still as a face rayal for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ 3 ever since his father was a bachelor. He may p his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, Can assure him.-What said master Dumbleton Post the satin for my short cloak, and slops? Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better trance than Bardolph: he would not take his d and yours; he liked not the security. Fai. Let him be damned like the glutton! may his time be hotter!-A whoreson Achitophel! a rasrea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in and, and then stand upon security!-The whoreson Paxta-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, dbaches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is thigh with them in honest taking up, then they t stand upon-security. I had as lief they would ratsbane in my mouth, as offer to stop it with ty. I looked he 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, he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he 1 Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and an Attendant. Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that com mitted the prince for striking him about Bardolph. Fal. Wait close, I will not see him. Ch. Just. What's he that goes there? Atten. Falstaff, an't please your lordship. Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery? Atten. 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. Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back again. Atten. Sir John Falstaff! me, sir. Atten. You mistake Fal. 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. Atten. 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. Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that which grows to me! If thou get'st any leave of me, hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be hanged: You hunt-counter, hence! avaunt! Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with you. Ch. Just. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. Fal. 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. Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury. Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear, his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales. Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty :-You would not come when I sent for you. Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy. Ch. Just. Well, heaven mend him! I pray, let me speak with you. Fal. 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. Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as it is. Fal. It hath its 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. Ch. Just. I think, you are fallen into the disease; for you hear not what I say to you. Fal. Very well, my lord, very well: rather an'tplease you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled with. Ch. Just. To puuish you by the heels, would 44 amend the attention of your ears; and I care not if I d. became your physician. Fal. I am as oor as Job, my lord; but not so patient: your lordship may minister the potion of pinis ment 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. Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me. Fal. As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come. Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, sir John, you live in great infamy. Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live in less. waste is great. Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and your Fal. I would it were otherwise: I would my means, were greater, and my waist slenderer. Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince. Fal. The young prince hath misted me: I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my deg. Ch. Just. 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 Gals-Hil: you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'erposting that action. Fal. My lord? 'not a sleeping wolf. Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so; wake Fal. To wake a wolf, is as bad as to smell a fox, Ch. Just. What! you are as candle, the better part burnt out. Fal. A wassel candle, my lord: all tallow: if I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth. Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your face but should have his effect of gravity. Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy, Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up and down, like his ill angel. Ch. Just. 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. : Fal. 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, an I brandish any thing but my bottle, I would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but I am turust upon it: Well, I cannot last ever: But it was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If you 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 rost, than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest; And God bless your expedition! Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand po md. to farmsa me forth? Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny you are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: Commend me to your cousin Westmoreland. Exeunt Chief Justice and Attendant. Hl. If I do, tulip me with a three-man beetle.A man can no more separate age and covetousness, than he can part young limbs and lechery; but the gont calls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so but a the degrees prevent my curses.-Boy!Page. Sr? Fr. What money is in my purse! Page. Seven groats and two-pence. Fal. I can get no remedy against this consump tion of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.-Go bear this letter tony 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 tarry since I perceived the first white hair on my eran: 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. It is 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 tung; I will turn diseases to commodity. [Exit. | SCENE III-York. A Rom in the Archbishop's Palace. Fal. Not s), 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 can-¦ not go, I cannot tell: virtue is of so little regard in these coster-monger times, that true valour is tarne d bear-herd: Pregnancy is made a tapster, and hat his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings; all the other gifts, appertinent to man, as the midice of this erry. You age snapes them, are not worth a that are old, consider not the capacities of us that are young: you meas are the heat of our livers with the bitterness of alls: and we, that are in the your vaward of our youth. I must confess, are wags too. Ch. Just. Do you set down yo ir 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 Jeg an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken your chin double your wit single ? your wind snort and every part about you blasted with antiq, ty and will you yet call yourself young? Fy, fy, fy, sir Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the altera on, with a white head, and something i road beay. For my vace,-I have lost it with hoang, au i singing of anthems. To approve my youth further. I will not the truth is. I dua cnty old that wil in judgment and understanding: and h caper with me for a thousand mirks, let him là nå me For the box o'the car the money, and have at him. that the prince gave 3 9.-he gave it like a rude prince, and yoit-kitix a seas.ole bord. I have Cuenkel min for it: and the young hon repents b. 28 103, 4. d sun citu, but in news,., Enter the Arolish p of YORK, the Lords our the ans: And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, Mob. I will how the occasion of our arms; Bird. The question then, lord Hastings, standeth Conjecture, expectation, and surmise Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, Hast. But by your leave, it never yet did hurt, We see the appearing buds; which to prove fruit, That trust will bite them. When we mean to build, What do we then, but draw anew the model To build at all? Much more, in this great work, Question surveyors; know our own estate, To weigh against his opposite; or else, [birth,) Using the names of men, instead of men: [together, la three divided; and his coffers sound Hast. If he should do so, He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh Arch Let us on: Hatu he, that bideth on the vulgar heart. O the fond many! with what loud applause D. ist thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, the ore be was what thou wouldst have him be? ad being now trimmed in thine own desires, Tom, beastly feeder, art so full of him, That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. >, so, tou common dog, didst thon disgorge The latton bosom of the royal Richard; All cos thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times" ACT II. SCENE I.-London. A Street. Enter Hostess; FANG, and his Boy, with her; and Host. Master Fang, have you entered the action? Host. Where is your yeoman? Is it a lusty Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare? Host. O Lord, ay: good master Snare. Fang. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. Host. Yea, good master Snare; I have entered him and all. [for he will stab. Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, Host. Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabbed me in mine own house, and that most beastly: in good faith, a' cares not what mischief he doth, if his weapons 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. Host. No, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow. Fang. An I but fist him once; an a' come but within my vice ; Host. I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he's an infinite thing upon my score:-Good master Fang, hold him sure ;-good master Snare, let him not scape. He comes continually to Pie-corner, (saving your manhoods,) to buy a saddle; and he's indited to dinner to the lubber's head in Lombardstreet, 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 loan 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. Enter Sir JOHN FALSTAFF, Page, and BARDOLPH. 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 mne your offices. Fal. How now? whose mare's dead? what's the matter? [tress Quickly. Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of misFal. Away, varlets!-Draw, Bardolph; cut me off the villain's head; throw the quean in the channel. Host. Throw me in the channel? Ill throw thee in the channel. Wilt thou? wilt thon? thou bastardly rogue!-Murder, murder! O thou honey suckle villain! wilt thou kill God's officers, and the king's? O thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a honeyseed; a man-queller, and a woman-queller. Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph. Fang. A rescue! a rescue! Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two.Thou wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't thou do, do thou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed! Fal. Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you fustilarian! Ill tickle your catastrophe. |