Page 46
The First Part of Henry the Fourth, with the Life and Death of HENRY Sirnamed HOT-SPVRRE.
Actus Primus.
Scoena Prima.
A Conquest for a Prince to boast of.
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
A Conquest for a Prince to boast of.
I will my Liege.
Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?
Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of olde Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know. What a diuell hast thou to do with the time of the day? vnlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons, and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason, why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the time of the day.
Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that take Purses, go by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God saue thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte haue none.
What, none?
No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to an Egge and Butter.
Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly.
Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King, let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forre∣sters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone; and let men say, we be men of good Gouernment, being gouerned as the Sea is, by our noble and chast mistris the Moone, vnder whose countenance we steale.
Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and flow like the Sea, beeing gouerned as the Sea is, by the Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most reso∣lutely snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by: and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the Gallowes.
Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of the Tauerne a most sweet Wench?
As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is not a Buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?
How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe with a Buffe-Ierkin?
Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Ho∣stesse of the Tauerne?
Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a time and oft.
Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?
No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid al there.
Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would stretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit.
Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it heere apparant, that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag, shall there be Gallowes standing in England when thou art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the ru∣stie curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou when thou art a King, hang a Theefe.
No, thou shalt.
Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge.
Thou iudgest false already. I meane, thou shalt haue the hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare Hangman.
Well Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you.
For obtaining of suites?
Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hang∣man hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beate.
Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute.
Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe.
What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly of Moore Ditch?
Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art in∣deed the most comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince. But Hal, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I wold thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good names were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated me the other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd him not, and yet hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he talkt wisely, and in the street too.
Thou didst well: for no man regards it.
O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeede able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vn∣to me Hall, God forgiue thee for it. Before I knew thee Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (if a man shold speake truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must giue o∣uer this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Chri∣stendome.
Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke?
Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I doe not, call me Villaine, and bafflle me.
I see a good amendment of life in thee: From Praying, to Purse-taking.
Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a man to labour in his Vocation.
Now shall wee know if Gads hill haue set a Watch. O, if men were to be saued by merit, what hole in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omni∣potent Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true man.
Good morrow Ned.
Good morrow sweet Hal. What saies Mon∣sieur Remorse? What sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar: Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee about thy Soule, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup of Madera, and a cold Capons legge?
Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs: He will giue the diuell his due.
Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the diuell.
Else he had damn'd for cozening the diuell.
But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes go∣ing to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders ri∣ding to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards for you all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads-hill lyes to night in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in Eastcheape; we may doe it as secure as sleepe: if you will go, I will stuffe your Purses full of Crownes: if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd.
Heare ye Yed ward, if I tarry at home and go not, Ile hang you for going.
You will chops.
Hal, wilt thou make one?
Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I.
There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fel∣lowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royall, if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings.
Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap.
Why, that's well said.
Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home.
Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King.
I care not.
Sir Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone, I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that he shall go.
Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion; and he the eares of profiting, that what thou speakest, may moue; and what he heares may be beleeued, that the true Prince, may (for recreation sake) proue a false theefe; for the poore abuses of the time, want countenance. Far∣well, you shall finde me in Eastcheape.
Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown Summer.
Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs to morrow. I haue a iest to execute, that I cannot man∣nage alone. Falstaffe, Haruey, Rossill, and Gads-hill, shall robbe those men that wee haue already way-layde, your selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the boo∣ty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.
But how shal we part with them in setting forth?
Why we wil set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherin it is at our plea∣sure to faile; and then will they aduenture vppon the ex∣ploit themselues, which they shall haue no sooner atchie∣ued, but wee'l set vpon them.
I, but tis like that they will know vs by our horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to be our selues.
Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in the wood, our vizards wee will change after wee leaue them: and sirrah, I haue Cases of Buckram for the nonce, to immaske our noted outward garments.
But I doubt they will be too hard for vs.
Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes. The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe of this, lyes the iest.
Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape, there Ile sup. Farewell.
Farewell, my Lord.
My Lord.
Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad
Who strooke this heate vp after I was gone?
He did, my selfe did heare it.
I cry you mercy.
Heare you Cousin: a word.
At Barkley Castle.
I haue done insooth.
Of Yorke, is't not?
Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip.
And so they shall.
Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd.
He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him.
Farewell good Brother, we shall thriue, I trust.
Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, Ile be hang'd. Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What Ostler?
Anon, anon.
I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the wi∣thers, out of all cesse.
Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog, and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes: This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler dyed.
Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him.
I thinke this is the most villanous house in al London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench.
Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Chri∣stendome, could be better bit, then I haue beene since the first Cocke.
Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach.
What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come away.
I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse.
The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued. What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in thy head? Can'st not heare? And t'were not as good a deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Vil∣laine. Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee?
Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke?
I thinke it be two a clocke.
I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gel∣ding in the stable.
Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that.
I prethee lend me thine.
I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne (quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first.
Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come to London?
Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they haue great charge.
What ho, Chamberlaine?
At hand quoth Pick-purse.
That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Cham∣berlaine: For thou variest no more from picking of Pur∣ses, then giuing direction, doth from labouring. Thou lay'st the plot, how.
Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds cur∣rant that I told you yesternight. There's a Franklin in the wilde of Kent, hath brought three hundred Markes with him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abun∣dance of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp al∣ready, and call for Egges and Butter. They will away presently.
No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S. Nicholas as tru∣ly as a man of falshood may.
What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I hang, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang, old Sir Iohn hangs with mee, and thou know'st hee's no Starueling. Tut, there are other Troians that yu dream'st not of, the which (for sport sake) are content to doe the Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee look'd into) for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole. I am ioyned with no Foot-land-Rakers, no Long-staffe six-penny strikers, none of these mad Mustachio-purple∣hu'd-Maltwormes, but with Nobility and Tranquilitie; Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can holde in, such as will strike sooner then speake; and speake sooner then drinke, and drinke sooner then pray: and yet I lye, for they pray continually vnto their Saint the Common∣wealth; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for they tide vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots.
What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will she hold out water in foule way?
She will, she will; Iustice hath liquor'd her. We steale as in a Castle, cocksure: we haue the receit of Fern∣seede, we walke inuisible.
Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking in∣uisible.
Nay, rather let mee haue it, as you are a false Theefe.
Goe too: Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Fare∣well ye muddy Knaue.
Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet.
Stand close.
Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines.
Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling dost thou keepe.
What Poines. Hal?
He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek him.
I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that Rascall hath remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I trauell but foure foot by the squire further a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for kil∣ling that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If the Rascall haue not giuen me medicines to make me loue him, Ile behang'd; it could not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to drinke, to turne True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that euer chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten miles afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it well enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be true one to another.
a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you
giue me my Horse, and be hang'd.
Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of Trauellers.
Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again, for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague meane ye to colt me thus?
Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted.
I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good Kings sonne.
Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?
Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote too, I hate it.
Stand.
So I do against my will.
Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going to the Kings Exchequer.
You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern.
There's enough to make vs all.
To he hang'd.
You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I, will walke lower; if they scape from your en∣counter, then they light on vs.
But how many be of them?
Some eight or ten.
Will they not rob vs?
What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch?
Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather; but yet no Coward, Hal.
Wee'l leaue that to the proofe.
Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg, when thou need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Fare∣well, and stand fast.
Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.
Ned, where are our disguises?
Heere hard by: Stand close.
Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: euery man to his businesse.
Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our Legges.
Stay.
Iesu blesse vs.
Strike▪ down with them, cut the villains throats; a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs youth; downe with them, fleece them.
O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer.
Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Ba∣cons on▪ what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.
The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to Lon∣don, it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a Moneth, and a good iest for euer.
Stand close, I heare them comming.
Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two ar∣rand Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke.
Your money.
Villaines.
Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse: The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strong∣ly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fel∣low for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along wer't not for laughing, I should pitty him.
How the Rogue roar'd.
But for mine owne part, my Lord, I could bee well contented to be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.
He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous. Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue na∣med vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition. Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lacke-braine is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte, good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot, very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan. Is there not my Father, my Vnckle, and my Selfe, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour? Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their let∣ters, to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Mo∣neth? and are they not some of them set forward already? What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards to night.
How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours.
What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?
He is my Lord, an houre agone.
Hath Butler brought those horses frō the Sheriffe?
One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now.
What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not.
It is my Lord.
That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth into the Parke.
But heare you, my Lord.
What say'st thou my Lady?
What is it carries you away?
Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse.
Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Bro∣ther Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent for you to line his enterprize. But if you go—
So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue.
Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true.
How so farre?
It must of force.
Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend me thy hand to laugh a little.
Where hast bene Hall?
With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3. or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke, and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud lack like Fal∣staffe, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and when I am King of England, I shall command al the good Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dy∣ing Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then
they try hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to swee∣ten which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Su∣gar, clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker, one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Fal∣staffe come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome, while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile shew thee a President.
Francis.
Thou art perfect.
Francis.
Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgar∣net, Ralfe.
Come hither Francis.
My Lord.
How long hast thou to serue, Francis?
Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to—
Francis.
Anon, anon sir.
Fiue yeares: Betlady a long Lease for the clin∣king of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy Indenture, & shew it a faire paire of heeles, and run from it?
O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in England, I could finde in my heart.
Francis.
Anon, anon sir.
How old art thou, Francis?
Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe—
Francis.
Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord.
Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?
O Lord sir, I would it had bene two.
I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it.
Francis.
Anon, anon.
Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Fran∣cis: or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou wilt. But Francis.
My Lord.
Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch.
O Lord sir, who do you meane?
Why then your browne Bastard is your onely drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doub∣let will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much.
What sir?
Francis.
What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a cal∣ling? Looke to the Guests within. My Lord, olde Sir Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let them in?
Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore. Poines.
Anon, anon sir.
Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at the doore, shall we be merry?
As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee, What cunning match haue you made with this iest of the Drawer? Come, what's the issue?
I am now of all humors, that haue shewed them∣selues humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight. What's a clocke Francis?
Anon, anon sir.
That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His indu∣stry is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the par∣cell of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hot∣spurre of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day? Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres, some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Rino, sayes the drun∣kard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.
Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?
A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant?
Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter, pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound.
You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A vil∣lanous Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there lines not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still.
How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?
A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Sub∣iects afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?
Why you horson round man? what's the matter?
Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and Poines there?
Ye fatch paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile stab thee.
I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you
that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such bac∣king: giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day.
O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since thou drunk'st last.
What's the matter?
What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning.
Where is it, Iack? where is it?
Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred vpon poore foure of vs.
What, a hundred, man?
I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet, foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum. I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe. A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes of darknesse.
Speake sirs, how was it?
We foure set vpon some dozen.
Sixteene, at least, my Lord.
And bound them.
No, no, they were not bound.
You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew.
As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men set vpon vs.
And vnbound the rest, and then come in the other.
What, fought yee with them all?
All? I know not what yee call all: but if I fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish: if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature.
Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of them.
Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues in Buckrom let driue at me.
What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now.
Foure Hal, I told thee foure.
I, I, he said foure.
These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen points in my Targuet, thus.
Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now.
In Buckrom.
I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes.
Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else.
Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon.
Doest thou heare me, Hal?
I, and marke thee too, Iack.
Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of.
So, two more alreadie.
Their Points being broken.
Downe fell his Hose.
Began to giue me ground: but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of the eleuen I pay'd.
O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne out of two?
But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-be∣gotten Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st not see thy Hand.
These Lyes are like the Father that begets them, grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Clay-brayn'd Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson ob∣scene greasie Tallow Catch.
What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth?
Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou to this?
Come, your reason Iack, your reason.
What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsi∣on? If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I.
Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This san∣guine Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker, this huge Hill of Flesh.
Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke.
Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare me speake but thus.
Marke Iacke.
We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House. And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight. What trick? what deuices? what starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparant shame?
Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast thou now?
I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant? Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great matter. I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion, and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night, pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold, all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What, shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory.
Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing away.
A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.
My Lord, the Prince?
How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st thou to me?
Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee comes from your Father.
Giue him as much as will make him a Royall man▪ and send him backe againe to my Mother.
What manner of man is hee?
An old man.
Prethee doe Iacke.
'Faith, and Ile send him packing.
Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie.
'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne.
Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes Sword so hackt?
Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe the like.
Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse, to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare his monstrous deuices.
O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eigh∣teene yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what instinct hadst thou for it?
My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you behold these Exhalations?
I doe.
What thinke you they portend?
Hot Liuers, and cold Purses.
Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken.
No, if rightly taken, Halter.
Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe, Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee?
My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres (Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder. There's villanous Newes abroad: heere was Sir Iohn Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy; and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado, and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a plague call you him?
O, Glendower.
Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a Hill perpendicular.
Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll kills a Sparrow flying.
You haue hit it.
So did he neuer the Sparrow.
Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him, hee will not runne.
Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him so for running?
A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will not budge a foot.
Yes Iacke, vpon instinct.
I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more. Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now as cheape as stinking Mackrell.
Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds.
By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant, could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes a∣gaine, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it?
Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct.
Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow, when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me, practise an answere.
Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee vpon the particulars of my Life.
Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my Crowne.
Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Gol∣den Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne.
Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of thee now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it in King Cambyses vaine.
Well, heere is my Legge.
And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie.
This is excellent sport, yfaith.
Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares are vaine.
O the Father, how hee holdes his counte∣nance?
O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry Players, as euer I see.
Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine. Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes; yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares. Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word, partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to
many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the com∣panie thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Pas∣sion; not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy companie, but I know not his Name.
What manner of man, and it like your Ma∣iestie?
A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent, of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady) inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen, hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes. If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast thou beene this moneth?
Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand for mee, and Ile play my Father.
Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare.
Well, heere I am set.
And heere I stand: iudge my Masters.
Now Harry, whence come you?
My Noble Lord, from East-cheape.
The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous.
Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle ye for a young Prince.
Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloake-bagge of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey Ini∣quitie, that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? where∣in is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? where∣in Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villa∣nie? wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein wor∣thy, but in nothing?
I would your Grace would take me with you: whom meanes your Grace?
That villanous abhominable mis-leader of Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan.
My Lord, the man I know.
I know thou do'st.
But to say, I know more harme in him then in my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde (the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it: but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-ma∣ster, that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault, Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd: if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe, kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Fal∣staffe, and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and banish all the World.
I doe, I will.
O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most most monstrous Watch, is at the doore.
Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe.
O, my Lord, my Lord.
Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddle-sticke: what's the matter?
The Sherife and all the Watch are at the doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let them in?
Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without seeming so.
And thou a naturall Coward, without in∣stinct.
I deny your Maior: if you will deny the Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as ano∣ther.
Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and good Conscience.
Both which I haue had: but their date is out, and therefore Ile hide me.
Call in the Sherife.
Now Master Sherife, what is your will with mee?
First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath followed certaine men vnto this house.
What men?
One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord, a grosse fat man.
As fat as Butter.
Good Night, my Noble Lord.
I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?
Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.
This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules: goe call him forth.
Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and snorting like a Horse.
Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his Pockets.
What hast thou found?
Nothing but Papers, my Lord.
Let's see, what be they? reade them.
O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is else, keepe close, wee'le reade it at more aduantage: there let him sleepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning: Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall be hono∣rable. Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot, and I know his death will be a Match of Twelue-score. The Money shall be pay'd backe againe with aduantage. Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good mor∣row Peto.
Good morrow, good my Lord.
And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glen∣dower spoke of.
Why so it would haue done at the same season, if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe had neuer beene borne.
I say the Earth did shake when I was borne.
The Heauens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble.
Peace Cousin Percy, you will make him mad.
I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe.
Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the Deuill.
Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable Chat.
Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth.
Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it.
Ile not haue it alter'd.
Will not you?
No, nor you shall not.
Who shall say me nay?
Why, that will I.
Let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in Welsh.
Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd.
Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Fa∣ther.
Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.
O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this.
Goe, ye giddy-Goose.
I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in Irish.
Would'st haue thy Head broken?
No.
Then be still.
Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault.
Now God helpe thee.
To the Welsh Ladies Bed.
What's that?
Peace, shee sings.
Come, Ile haue your Song too.
Not mine, in good sooth.
I will not sing.
'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Red∣brest teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away within these two howres: and so come in, when yee will.
With all my heart.
Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well, Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some li••ing: I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no strength to repent. And I haue not forgotten what the in-side of a Church is made of I am a Pepper Corne, a Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villa∣nous Company hath beene the spoyle of me.
Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue long.
Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song, make me merry: I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentle∣man need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of com∣passe.
Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must ••edes bee out of all compasse; out of all reasonable compasse Sir Iohn.
Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the Knight of the burning Lampe.
Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme.
No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning, burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire: But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede, but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darke∣nesse. When thou ra••'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to catch my Horse▪ if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene an Ignis fatnus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euer∣lasting Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand Markes in Linkes and Torches▪ walking with thee in the Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it.
I would my Face were in your Belly.
So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.
How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet who pick'd my Pocket?
Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn? doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a hayre was neuer lost in my house before.
Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd: goe to, you are a Woman, goe.
Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so in mine owne house before.
Goe to, I know you well enough.
No, Sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn: I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe.
Doulas▪ filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of them.
Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn, for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, foure and twentie pounds.
Hee had his part of it, let him pay.
Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath no∣thing.
How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Yo••ker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne, but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie Marke.
I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft that that Ring was Copper.
How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe: and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge, if hee would say so.
Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.
My Lord, I pray you heare me.
What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest man.
Good, my Lord, heare mee.
Prethee let her alone, and lift to mee.
What say'st thou, Iacke?
The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets.
What didst thou lose, Iacke?
Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand∣fathers.
A Trifle, some eight-penny matter.
So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee would cudgell you.
What hee did not?
There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me else.
There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune; nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go.
Say, what thing? what thing?
What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on.
I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so.
Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.
Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?
What beast? Why an Otter.
An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?
Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes not where to haue her.
Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou.
Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee most grossely.
So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other day, You ought him a thousand pound.
Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue.
Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee would cudgell you.
Did I, Bardolph?
Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so.
Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper.
I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as thy word now?
Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the roaring of the Lyons Whelpe.
And why not as the Lyon?
The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon: Do'st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay if I do, let my Girdle breake.
O, if it should▪ how would thy guttes fall about thy knees. But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth, nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses, and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with anie o∣ther iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not asham'd?
Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty. You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?
It appeares so by the Story.
O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double Labour.
I am good Friends with my Father, and may do anything.
Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with vnwash'd hands too.
Do my Lord.
I haue procured thee Iacke, a Charge of Foot.
I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde one that can steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and twentie, or thereabout: I am heynously vnprouided. Wel God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them.
Bardolph.
My Lord.
These Letters come from your Father.
His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde.
I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?
Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs.
My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule.
No harme: what more?
That's the worst Tidings that I heare of yet.
I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound.
What may the Kings whole Battaile reach vnto?
To thirty thousand.
Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le to Sutton-cop-hill to Night.
Will you giue me Money, Captaine?
Lay out, lay out.
This Bottle makes an Angell.
And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it make twentie, take them all, He answere the Coynage. Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end.
I will Captaine: farewell.
If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse dam∣nably. I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues, as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole, or a hurt wilde-Ducke, I prest me none but such Tostes and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices: And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Cor∣porals, Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as ragged as Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Glut∣tons Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, youn∣ger Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged, then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay, and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt to∣gether, and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth, stolne from my Host of S. Albones, or the Red-Nose Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde Linnen enough on euery Hedge.
How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt?
What Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of West∣merland, I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had al∣ready beene at Shrewsbury.
'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie. The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away all to Night.
Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to steale Creame.
I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft hath alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose fellowes are these that come after?
Mine, Hal, mine.
I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals.
Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Pow∣der, foode for Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better: tush man, mortall men, mortall men.
I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding poore and bare, too beggarly.
Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they had that; and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer learn'd that of me.
No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers on the Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already in the field.
What, is the King encamp'd?
Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too long.
Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the begin∣ning of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.
Wee'le fight with him to Night.
It may not be.
You giue him then aduantage.
Not a whit.
Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?
So doe wee.
His is certaine, ours is doubtfull.
Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night.
Doe not, my Lord.
Yea, or to night.
Content.
To night, say I.
Tut, I came not to heare this.
Shall I returne this answer to the King?
I would you would accept of Grace and Loue.
And't may be, so wee shall.
Pray Heauen you doe.
My good Lord, I guesse their tenor.
No, Mortimer is not there.
Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd
You haue not sought it: how comes it then?
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
Peace, Chewet, peace.
I would it were bed time Hal, and all well.
Why, thou ow'st heauen a death.
'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him, that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Ho∣nour? A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednes∣day. Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, ther∣fore Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so ends my Catechisme.
'Twere best he did.
The King will bid you battell presently.
Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland.
Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so.
Marry and shall, and verie willingly.
There is no seeming mercy in the King.
Did you begge any? God forbid.
My Lord, heere are Letters for you.
My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace.
They tell thee true.
O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus I neuer had triumphed o're a Scot.
All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king
Where?
Heere.
The King hath many marching in his Coats.
Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you: here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as hea∣uy too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my 150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg du∣ring life. But who comes heere?
O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile: Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I haue done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure.
Nay Hal, if Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my Sword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt.
Giue it me: What, is it in the Case?
I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.
What, is it a time to iest and dally now.
If Percy be aliue, Ile pierce him: if he do come in my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let him make a Carbonado of me: I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath: Giue mee life, which if I can saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an end.
I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou blee∣dest too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him.
Not I, my Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too.
Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent.
O this Boy lends mettall to vs all.
Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.
My name is Harrie Percie.
I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.
Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no Boyes play heere, I can tell you.
Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow. 'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot, had paid the scot and lot too, Counterfeit? I am no coun∣terfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life in∣deede. The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure: yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh come you along me.
Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht thy Maiden sword.
No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Per∣cy, if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or Duke, I can assure you.
Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead.
Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of Breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee belee∣ued, so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man vvere a∣liue, and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece of my sword.
This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard.
Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that re∣wards me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again, Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.
With all my heart.