And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so; not forgotten what the inside of a church is made Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot Fal. Why, there is it:-come, sing me a bawdy song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced, not above seven times a week: went to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter-of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass. Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, sir John. Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,-but 'tis in the nose of thee; Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it. thou art the knight of the burning lamp. And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this :- Enter BLUNT. How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. [day; K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to- Our business valued, some twelve days hence SCENE III.-Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOlph, Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have Bard. Why, sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's-head, or a memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think on hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven reward me for it! Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! [heart-burned. Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be Enter Hostess. How now, dame Partlet the hen? have you inquired yet, who picked my pocket? Host. Why, sir John! what do you think, sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go. Host. Who I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before. Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. Host. No, sir John; you do not know me, sir John: I know you, sir John: you owe me money, sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them. Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four and twenty pound. Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark. Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so. Enter Prince HENRY and POINS, marching. FALSTAFF meets the Prince, playing on his truncheon, like a fife. Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, 'faith? must we all march? Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion. P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man. Host. Good my lord, hear me. Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me. P. Hen. What say'st thou, Jack? Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets. P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's. P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said, he would cudgel you. P. Hen. What! he did not? Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Host. Say, what thing? what thing? Fal. What thing? why, a think to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so. Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise. Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou? P. Hen. An otter, sir John? why an otter? Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her. Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou! P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly. Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound. P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal! a million: thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you. Fal. Did I, Bardolph? Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so. Fal. Yea; if he said my ring was copper. P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as good as thy word now? lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God, my girdle break! P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thon whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny worth of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? thou seest, I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.- -You confess then, you picked my pocket? P. Hen. It appears so by the story. Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.-Still?-Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad, How is that answered? P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:-The money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour. P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing. Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord. [foot. P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them. P. Hen. BardolphBard. My lord? P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall [Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. Fal. Rare words! brave world!--Hostess, my breakfast; come: O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS. Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth, In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Such attribution should the Douglas bave, As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should go so general current through the world. By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy The tongues of soothers; but a braver place In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself: Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord. Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare; but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. P. Hen. And why not, as the lion? Enter Vintner. Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Look to the guests within. [Exit Fran.] My lord, old sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door; shall I let them in? P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. [Exit Vintner.] Poins! Re-enter POINS. Poins. Anon, anon, sir. P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff, and the rest of the thieves are at the door; Shall we be merry? Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; What cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? come, what's the issue? P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have showed themselves humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. Re-enter FRANCIS, with wine. What's o'clock, Francis? P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! -His industry is-up stairs, and down stairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he, that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, -Fy upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed to-day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff: I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow. Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and РЕТО. Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and amen!-Give me a cup of sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether-stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? (He drinks.) P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun? if thou didst, then behold that compound. You are strai, P. Hen. O since thou dru Fal. All's 'scap'd by mir of P. Hen. Sper them; or I Gads. As w Poins. Pray f P. Hen. Seven? wis Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: There is nothing but roguery to be found in vil-thrust at me. I ma lainous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of their seven points in sack with lime in it; a villainous coward.-Go thy Jack; die when thou wilt; if manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the a shotten herring. There live not banged in England; and one of ows old: God help the while! a ! I would I were a weaver; I or any thing: A plague of all ་། wool-sack? what mutter you? paunch, an ye call me more anon. Fal. Dost thou hear me Fal. But begotten back d! I'll see thee damned "would have it, Doug. Thou art the king of honour: No man so potent breathes upon the ground, But I will beard him. Hot. Do so, and 'tis well:Enter a Messenger, with letters. What letters hast thou there?-I can but thank you. Mess. These letters come from your father,Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not himself? Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous sick. Hot. 'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick, In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along? Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his physicians. Wor. I would, the state of time had first been whole, Ere he by sickness had been visited; [infect Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth The very life-blood of our enterprise; "Tis catching hither, even to our camp.He writes me here,-that inward sicknessAnd that his friends by deputation could not So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet, To lay so dangerous and dear a trust On any soul remov'd, but on his own. Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,— That with our small conjunction, we should on, To see how fortune is dispos'd to us: For, as he writes, there is no quailing now; Because the king is certainly possess'd Of all our purposes. What say you to it? Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off: And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want Seems more than we shall find it :-Were it good, To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast? to set so rich a main On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? It were not good: for therein should we read The very bottom and the soul of hope; The very list, the very utmost bound Of all our fortunes. Doug. 'Faith, and so we should; A comfort of retirement lives in this. Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here. And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence Hot. You strain too far. I, rather, of his absence make this use;— Than if the earl were here: for men must think, The king himself in person is set forth, Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, Ver. All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind; And witch the world with noble horsemanship. Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun in This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come; And yet not ours:-Come, let me take my horse, There is more news: I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, Hot. SCENE II.-A public Road near Coventry. Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack': our soldiers shall march through: we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night. Bard. Will you give me money, captain? Bard. This bottle makes an angel. Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it |