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 dark- 5
ness. When thou ran'st up Gad's-hill in the night
to catch my horse, if I did not think thou had'st
been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wild-fire, there's
no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual
triumph, an everlasting bonfire light! Thou hast 10
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 main-15
tained 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!

Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.

Enter Hostess.

20

How now, dame Partlet the hen'? have you en-25) quir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have search'd, have enquir'd, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the 30 tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shav'd, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was pick'd: Go to, you are a woman, gọ. Host. Who, II defy thee: I was never call'd 35| 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 mo ney, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to be- 40 guile 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 ol| eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings;| and money lent you, four-and-twenty pounds.

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,

6

3

will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn", but I shall have my pocket pick'd? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark.

Host. O, I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the 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; and Falstaff
meets them, playing on bis truncheon, like a fife.
Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door,
P'faith? must we all march?

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

P. Henry. What say'st thou, Mrs. 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. Henry. What say'st thou, Jack?

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

P. Henry. 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. Henry. 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-mouth'd man as he ; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Henry. 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 stew'd prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox"; and for woman-hood, 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 45 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.

50

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
Ful. What beast? why, an otter.

P. Henry. An otter, Sir John? why an otter? Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.

Mr. Steevens remarks on this passage, that in Shakspeare's time, (long before the streets were il Juminated with lamps) candles and lanthorns to let, were cried about London. * Cheap is murket, and good cheap therefore is a bon marché. From this word East-cheap, Chep-stow, Cheap-side, &c. are derived. Dame Partlet is the name of the hen in the old story-book of Reynard the Fox. A face set with carbuncles is called a rich face. A-younker is a novice, a young inexperienced man easily gull'd. To take mine ease in mine inne, was an ancient proverb, not very different in its application from that maxim," Every man's house is his castle" for inne originally signified a house or habitation. 'i. e. as prisoners are conveyed to Newgate, fastened two and two together. Meaning a bawd; a dish of stew'd prunes being not only the ancient designation of a brothel, but a constant appendage to it, as has been before observed. A drawn for may perhaps mean, a fox drawn over the ground to exercise the hounds. 10 Maid Marian is either a man dressed like a woman, or the ady who atteds the dances of the morris. Host.

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!

P. Henry. Thou say'st 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. Henry. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

5

Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy 10 love is worth a million; thou ow'st me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Pardolph?

Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so.

Fal. Yea, if he said, my ring was copper.
P. Henry. I say, 'tis copper: Dar'st thou be

as good as thy word now?

15

Fal. Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but man, I dare; but as thou art prince, I fear thee, 20 as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Henry. And why not as the lion?
Fal. The king himself is to be fear'd as the lion:
Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father?
nay, an if I do, let my girdle break!

P. Henry. It appears so by the story. Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, and cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest I am pacify'd.Still? Nay, I pr'ythee, begone. [Exit Hostess. Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery. lad,-How is that answer'd?

P. Henry. 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 Ja double labour.

P. Henry. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with unwash'd hands too'. Bard. Do, my lord.

P.Henry. I have procur'd thee, Jack, a charge lof foot.

Fal. I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. "Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I 25 laud them, I praise them.

P. Henry. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, s rrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is all fill'd up with guts, and midritf.Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! 30 Why, thou whoreson, impudent, imboss'd' 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 enrich'd 35 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 asham'd?

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou know'st, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should 40 poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest, I have more flesh than any other man; and therefore more frailty.You confess then, you pick'd my pocket?

P. Henry. Bardolph,-
Bard. My lord.

P.Henry. Go bear this letter to lord John of
Lancaster,
[land.-
My brother John; this to my lord of Westmore
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou and I
Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time.-
Jack,

Meet me to-morrow in the Temple-hall
At two o'clock i'the afternoon:
There shalt thou know thy charge; and there re-
Money, and order for their furniture. [ceive
The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

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

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

SCENE I.

ACTIV.

The Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Donglas.
Hot. WELL said, my noble Scot; if speak-
ing truth,

In this fine age, were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy

you.

Mess. These letters come from your father.

1i. e. swol'n, puffy. 2 i. e do it immediately, or the first thing in the morning. is to oppose face to face in a hostile or daring manner,

3 To beard

Hot.

Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not him-
self?
[sick.
Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous
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.
Hot. His mind!

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;
His health was never better worth than now.
Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth
infect

The very life-blood of our enterprize;
"Tis catching hither, even to our camp.-
He writes me here,-that inward sickness-
And 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 own1.
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 quailing2 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 lopt 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 utinost bound
Of all our fortunes.

Doug. Faith, and so we should;
Where now remains a sweet reversion:

We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
Is to come in:

2

By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence;
And think, how such an apprehension

5 May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause:
For, well you know, we of the offering side'
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement;
And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us:
This absence of your father's draws a curtain
That shews the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.

10

15

Hot. You strain too far.

I rather of his absence make this use ;-
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger dare to our great enterprize,
Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head
20 To push against the kingdom; with his help,
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.-
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
Doug. As heart can think: there is not such a
word

23 Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.
Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul.
Ver. Pray God, my news may be worth a wel-
come, lord.

30 The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherwards: with him prince John.
Hot. No harm: What more?

Ver. And further, I have learn'd,—
The king himself in person is set forth,
35 Or hitherwards intended speedily,
With strong and mighty preparation.

Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
The nimble-footed' mad-cap prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside,
40 And bid it pass?

Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms,

All plum'd like estridges, that with the wind
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd":
Glittering in golden coats, like images':
45 As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsuminer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,-
50 Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropt down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,

'The 4i. e. a sup

1i. e. on any less near to himself. To quail is to languish, to sink into dejection. list is the selvage; figuratively, the utmost line of circumference, the utmost extent. port to which we may have recourse. i. e. the complexion, the character. i. e. of the assailing side. Some latter editions read, offending. 'Stowe says of the Prince, "He was passing swilt in running, insomuch that he with two other of his lords, without hounds, bow, or other engine, would take a wild-buck, or doe, in a large park.” Mr. Steevens observes, that all birds, after bathing (which almost all birds are fond of), spread out their wings to catch the wind, and flutter violently with them in order to dry themselves. This in the falconer's language is called bating, and by Shakspeare, bating with the wind. It may be observed, that birds never appear so lively and full of spirits, as immediately after bathing. Alluding to the manner of dressing up images in the Romish churches on holy-days, when they are bedecked in robes very richly laced and embroidered. 19 Cuisses, French, armour for the thighs.

And

And witch' the world with noble horsemanship.
Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun
in March,

This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come:
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,

And yet not ours:-Come, let me take my horse,
Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt,

Against the bosom of the prince of Wales:

Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse

Jhearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as 5 ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs lick'd his sores: and such as, indeed, were never soldiers; but discarded unjust servingmen, younger sons to younger brothers', revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a 10 calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourably ragged, than an old fac'd ancient'; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services; that you would think, I had a hundred and fifty tatter'd prodigals,

Meet, and ne'er part, 'till one drop down a corse. 15 lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff O, that Glendower were come!

Ver. There is more news:

I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. 20
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach
Ver. To thirty thousand.
[unto?

Hot. Forty let it be;

My father and Glendower being both away,
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us take a muster speedily:
Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.

Doug. Talk not of dying; I am out of fear
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year.

SCENE II.

A public road near Coventry.
Enter Falstaff, and Bardolph.

[Exeunt.

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?
Fal. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This bottle makes an angel.

Fal. An it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end.

[Exit.

and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and press'd the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march though Coventry with them, that's flat:-Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves" on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison.There's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins, tack'd together, 25 and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the rednose inn-keeper of Daintry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.

30

Enter Prince Henry, and Westmoreland. P. Henry. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt?

Fal. What, Hal? how now, mad wag? what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?-My good 35 lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy; I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. 'Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already: The king, I can tell you, looks 40 for us all; we must away all night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant, as a cat to steal cream. **

P. Henry. I think, to steal cream indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell 45me, Jack; Whose fellows are these that come af

Bard. I will, captain: farewel. Fal. If I be not asham'd of my soldiers, I am a souc'd gurnet'. I have mis-us'd the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. 50 I press me none but good householders, y comen's sons: enquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been ask'd twice on the bans; such a conmodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, 55 worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck.I prest me none but such toasts and butter', with

ter?

Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Henry. I did never see such pitiful rascals.

Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss'; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better; tush, man, mortal men, mortal

men.

West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks, they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly. Fat. 'Faith, for their poverty,-I know not where they had that: and for their bareness,-[ am sure they never learn'd that of me.

'Witch for bewitch, charm. 2 Souc'd gurnet is an appellation of contempt very frequently employed in the old comedies. Another term of contempt. * Meaning, men of desperate fortune and wild adventurę. 'Mr. Steevens has happily, we think, explained this passage:" An old fac'd ancient, is an old standard mended with a different colour. It should not be written in one word, as old and fac'd are distinct pithets. To face a gown is to trim it; an expression at present in use. In our author's time the facings of gowns were always of a different colour from the stuff itselt." ie. shackles, ? That is, to toss upon a pike. Hh

P. Henry.

P. Henry. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste; Percy is already in the field.

Fal. What, is the king encamp'd?

West. He is, Sir John; I fear, we shall stay too 5 long.

Ful. Well,

[feast, To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt.

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon.
Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
Wor. It may not be.

Doug. You give him then advantage.
Ver. Not a whit.

Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply:
Ver. So do we.

Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful.

Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.

Doug. You do not counsel well;
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.

Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life,
(And I dare well maintain it with my life)
If well-respected honour bid me on,
I hold as little counsel with weak fear,

As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives:
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.

Doug. Yea, or to-night.
Ver. Content.

Hot. To-night, say I.

[much,

10

15

So long as, out of limit, and true rule,
You stand against anointed majesty!
But, to my charge.-The king hath sent to know
The nature of your griefs; and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty: If that the king

Have any way your good deserts forgot,-
Which he confesseth to be manifold,—

He bids you name your griefs; and, with all speed,
You shall have your desires, with interest;
And pardon absolute for yourself, and these,
Herein mis-led by your suggestion.

Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know,
the king

Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
My father, and my uncle, and myself,
Did give him that same royalty he wears:
And,-when he was not six and twenty strong,
20 Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded out-law sneaking home,—
My father gave him welcome to the shore:
And,-when he heard him swear, and vow to God,
He came but to be duke of Lancaster,
25 To sue his livery, and beg his peace;
With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal,—
My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the iords and barons of the realm
30 Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less came in with cap and knee;
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages;
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs; as pages follow'd him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
He presently,-as greatness knows itself,-
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
40 Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg;

Ver. Come, come, it may not be. I wonder 35
Being men of such great leading' as you are,
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition: Certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up:
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half of himself.

Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-bated, and brought low;
The better part of ours are full of rest.
Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours:
For God's sake, cousin, stay 'till all come in.

[The trumpet sounds a parley.
Enter Sir Walter Blunt.
Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king,
If you vouchsafe my hearing, and respect.

Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt; "And would
to God,

You were of our determination!

Some of us love you well: and even those some
Envy your great deservings, and good name;
Because you are not of our quality,

And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform
Some certain edicts, and some straight decrees,
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth:
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep
43 Over his country's wrongs; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further; cut me off the heads
Of all the favourites, that the absent king
50 In deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war.

Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this.
Hot. Then to the point.——
In short time after, he depos'd the king;
55 Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life;
And, in the neck of that, task'd' the whole state:
To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March
(Who is, if every owner were well plac'd,
Indeed his king) to be incag'd in Wales,

Blunt. And heaven defend, but still I should 60 There without ransom to lie forfeited;

But stand against us like an enemy.

stand so,

1i. e. such experience in martial business.

Disgrac'd me in my happy victories;

This is a law-phrase; meaning, to sue out the delivery or possession of his lands from the Court of Wards, which, on the death of any of the tenants of the crown, seized their lands, 'till the heir sued out his livery. i. e. the greater and the less. is here used for taxed; it was once common to employ these words indiscriminately.

Task'd

Sought