Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally:
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east, is to my part assign'd:
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower :-and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn:
Which being sealed interchangeably,
(A business that this night may execute)
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,
And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father, and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,

I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone?
Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by
night:

I'll haste the writer, and, withal,

Break with your wives of your departure hence:
I am afraid, my daughter will run mad,
So much she doateth on her Mortimer.

[Exit.

Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father!
Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me,
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish,

A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff

As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,-
He held me, but last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names,
That were his lackeys: I cried, humph,—and well,—
go to,-

But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;

Worse than a smoky house :-I had rather live
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable; and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humour; 'faith, he does:
I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof;
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame;
And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,
(And that's the dearest grace it renders you.)
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain :
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,

Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed!

Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

Re-enter Glendower, with the ladies.

Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me,My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.

Glend. My daughter weeps; she will not part with you,

She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.

Mort. Good father, tell her,—that she, and my aunt
Percy,

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

[Glendower speaks to his daughter in Welsh,|| and she answers him in the same. Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harlotry,

One no persuasion can do good upon.

[Lady M. speaks to Mortimer in Welsh.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,

Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
[Lady M. speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
Glend. She bids you,

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her sing:
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
Glend. Do so;

And those musicians that shall play to you,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
Yet straight they shall be here: sit, and attend.
Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down:
Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy
lap.

Lady P. Go,ye giddy goose.

Glendower speaks some Welsh words, and then the
music plays.

Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands Welsh ;
And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous.
By'r-lady, he's a good musician.

for

Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical;

you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.

Hut. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in

Irish.

Lady P. Would'st thou have thy head broken?
Hot. No.

Lady P. Then be still.

Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.

Lady P. Now God help thee!

Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.
Lady P. What's that?

Hot. Peace! she sings.

A Welsh Song sung by Lady M.
Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth.

Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear like
a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good sooth; and,
As true as I live; and, As God shall mend me; and,
As sure as day:

And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths,
As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury.
Swear me, Kate. like a lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth,
And such protest of pepper-gingerbread,
To velvet-guards, and Sunday-citizens.
Come, sing.

Lady P. I will not sing.

Hot. "Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red-breast

teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will.

[Exit. Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow, As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.

By this our book's drawn; we'll but seal, and then
To horse immediately.

Mort.
With all my heart. [Exeunt.
SCENE II-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter
King Henry, Prince of Wales, and Lords.

K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the prince of Wales
and I

Must have some conference: But be near at hand,
For we shall presently have need of you.―

[Exeunt Lords.

I know not whether God will have it so,
For some displeasing service I have done,
That in his secret doom, out of my blood
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me;
But thou dost, in thy passages of life,

Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate, and low desires,

Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with capering fools;
Had his great name profaned with their scorns;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative:
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:

That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey; and began

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,

Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,

Afford no extraordinary gaze,

Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eyelids down,

Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, || Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect

Such barren pleasures, rude society,

As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,

And hold their level with thy princely heart?

P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could

Quit all offences with as clear excuse,

As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg`d withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,-

Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,-
By smiling pick-thanks, and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Bath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

As cloudy men use to their adversaries ;

Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,

Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, Be more myself.

K. Hen. God pardon thee!-yet let me wonder, Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,
Harry,

At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood:
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does fore-think thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company;
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
Bat, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:

That men would tell their children, This is he;
Others would say,-Where? which is Bolingbroke?
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility,
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new ;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,

He hath more worthy interest to the state,

Than thou, the shadow of succession :
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm;
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got

Against renowned Douglas; whose high deeds,

Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms,

Holds from all soldiers chief majority,

And military title capital,

Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ?
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes,
This infant warrior in his enterprizes
Discomfited great Douglas: ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,

To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,

And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough,-through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,——

1

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, i' faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion?
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest

man.

Host. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.

P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Hen. What did'st thou lose, Jack?

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds

P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as good as thy word now?

Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God, my girdle 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, thou whoreson, im pudent, 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 villany? 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 break

of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grand- fast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish

father'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 endgel you.

P. Hen. What! he did not?

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 an

Hast. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood gel to thee:-The money is paid back again.

in me else.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call

me so.

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 do. est, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. 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 heinous

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beastly unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these reb

to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?

Fal. What beast? why an otter.

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 endgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?

Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so.

Fal. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper.

els, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.

P. Hen. Bardolph

Bard. My lord.

P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancas

ter,

My brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland.→
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I,
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.————
Jack,

Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall

At two o'clock i'the afternoon:

There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive
Money, and order for their furniture.

The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph, Fal. Rare words! brave world!-Hostess, my breakfast; come:

O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum.

[Exit.