University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius.

Scene Prima.

Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.
Mort.
These promises are faire, the parties sure,
And our induction full of prosperous hope.

Hotsp.
Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,
Will you sit downe?
And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,
I haue forgot the Mappe.

Glend.
No, here it is:
Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:
For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you,
His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh,
He wisheth you in Heauen.

Hotsp.

And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower
spoke of.

Glend.
I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie,
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,
The frame and foundation of the Earth
Shak'd like a Coward.

Hotsp.

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.

Glend.
I say the Earth did shake when I was borne.

Hotsp.
And I say the Earth was not of my minde,
If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke.

Glend.

The Heauens were all on fire, the Earth did
tremble.

Hotsp.
Oh, then the Earth shooke
To see the Heauens on fire,
And not in feare of your Natiuitie.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth
In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth
Is with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext,
By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde
Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing,
Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe
Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,
Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature,
In passion shooke.

Glend.
Cousin: of many men
I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue
To tell you once againe, that at my Birth
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:
These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,
And all the courses of my Life doe shew,
I am not in the Roll of common men.
Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,
That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,
Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,
Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,
And hold me pace in deepe experiments.

Hotsp.
I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:
Ile to Dinner.

Mort.
Peace Cousin Percy, you will make him mad.

Glend.
I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe.

Hotsp.
Why so can I, or so can any man:
But will they come, when you doe call for them?

Glend.
Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the
Deuill.

Hotsp.
And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,
By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.
If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither,
And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence.
Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill.

Mort.
Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable
Chat.

Glend.
Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head
Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,
And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent him
Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe.

Hotsp.
Home without Bootes,
And in foule Weather too,
How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?

Glend.
Come, heere's the Mappe:
Shall wee diuide our Right,
According to our three-fold order ta'ne?

Mort.
The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it
Into three Limits, very equally:
England, from Trent, and Seuerne, hitherto,
By South and East, is to my part assign'd:
All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore,
And all the fertile Land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to you
The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.
And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne:
Which being sealed enterchangeably,
(A Businesse that this Night may execute)
To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,
And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power,
As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.
My Father Glendower is not readie yet,
Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes:
Within that space, you may haue drawne together
Your Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen.

Glend.
A shorter time shall send me to you, Lords:
And in my Conduct shall your Ladies come,
From whom you now must steale, and take no leaue,
For there will be a World of Water shed,
Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you.

Hotsp.
Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here,
In quantitie equals not one of yours:
See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my Land,
A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out.
Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp,
And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne,
In a new Channell, faire and euenly:
It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,
To rob me of so rich a Bottome here.

Glend.
Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth.

Mort.
Yea, but marke how he beares his course,
And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposed Continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you.

Worc.
Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,
And on this North side winne this Cape of Land,
And then he runnes straight and euen.

Hotsp.
Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it.

Glend.
Ile not haue it alter'd.

Hotsp.
Will not you?

Glend.
No, nor you shall not.

Hotsp.
Who shall say me nay?

Glend.
Why, that will I.

Hotsp.
Let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in Welsh.

Glend.
I can speake English, Lord, as well as you:
For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court;
Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe
Many an English Dittie, louely well,
And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament;
A Vertue that was neuer seene in you.

Hotsp.
Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:
I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,
And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;
'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge.

Glend.
Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd.

Hotsp.
I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land
To any well-deseruing friend;
But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,
Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.
Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?

Glend.
The Moone shines faire,
You may away by Night:
Ile haste the Writer; and withall,
Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence:
I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.

Exit.
Mort.
Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father.

Hotsp.
I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,
Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;
And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,
A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen,
A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat,
And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,
As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,
He held me last Night, at least, nine howres,
In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names,
That were his Lacqueyes:
I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,
But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious
As a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife,
Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue
With Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre,
Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me,
In any Summer-House in Christendome.

Mort.
In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,
Exceeding well read, and profited,
In strange Concealements:
Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,
And as bountifull, as Mynes of India.
Shall I tell you, Cousin,
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope,
When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does.
I warrant you, that man is not aliue,
Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done,
Without the taste of danger, and reproofe:
But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you.

Worc.
In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame,
And since your comming hither, haue done enough,
To put him quite besides his patience.
You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood,
And that's the dearest grace it renders you;
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage,
Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment,
Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine:
The least of which, haunting a Nobleman,
Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne
Vpon the beautie of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.

Hotsp.
Well, I am school'd:
Good-manners be your speede;
Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue.

Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.
Mort.
This is the deadly spight, that angers me,
My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh.

Glend.
My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you,
Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres.

Mort.
Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy
Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.

Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the same.
Glend.
Shee is desperate heere:
A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,
One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.

The Lady speakes in Welsh.
Mort.
I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty Welsh
Which thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens,
I am too perfect in: and but for shame,
In such a parley should I answere thee.

The Lady againe in Welsh.
Mort.
I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,
Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
With rauishing Diuision to her Lute.

Glend.
Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.
Mort.
O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this.

Glend.
She bids you,
On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,
And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe,
And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you,
And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse;
Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,
As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme
Begins his Golden Progresse in the East.

Mort.
With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing:
By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne.

Glend.
Doe so:
And those Musitians that shall play to you,
Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence;
And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend.

Hotsp.
Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:
Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy Lappe.

Lady.
Goe, ye giddy-Goose.

The Musicke playes.
Hotsp.
Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,
And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous:
Byrlady hee's a good Musitian.

Lady.
Then would you be nothing but Musicall,
For you are altogether gouerned by humors:
Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh.

Hotsp.

I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle
in Irish.

Lady.
Would'st haue thy Head broken?

Hotsp.
No.

Lady.
Then be still.

Hotsp.
Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault.

Lady.
Now God helpe thee.

Hotsp.
To the Welsh Ladies Bed.

Lady.
What's that?

Hotsp.
Peace, shee sings.

Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.
Hotsp.
Come, Ile haue your Song too.

Lady.
Not mine, in good sooth.

Hotsp.
Not yours, in good sooth?
You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:
Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue;
And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day:
And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes,
As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury.
Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth,
And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,
To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.
Come, sing.

Lady.
I will not sing.

Hotsp.

'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest
teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away
within these two howres: and so come in, when yee
will.

Exit.
Glend.
Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow,
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe.
By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale,
And then to Horse immediately.

Mort.
With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.
King.
Lords, giue vs leaue:
The Prince of Wales, and I,
Must haue some priuate conference:
But be neere at hand,
For wee shall presently haue neede of you.
Exeunt Lords.
I know not whether Heauen will haue it so,
For some displeasing seruice I haue done;
That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood,
Hee'le breede Reuengement, and a Scourge for me:
But thou do'st in thy passages of Life,
Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd
For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauen
To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate and low desires,
Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude societie,
As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too,
Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood,
And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?

Prince.
So please your Maiesty, I would I could
Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,
As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge
My selfe of many I am charg'd withall:
Yet such extenuation let me begge,
As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd,
Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare,
By smiling Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers;
I may for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,
Finde pardon on my true submission.

King.
Heauen pardon thee:
Yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de;
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 Soule of euery man
Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.
Had I so lauish of my presence beene,
So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheape to vulgar Company;
Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne,
Had still kept loyall to possession,
And left me in reputelesse banishment,
A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood.
By being seldome seene, I could not stirre,
But like a Comet, I was wondred at,
That men would tell their Children, This is hee:
Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke.
And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen,
And drest my selfe in such Humilitie,
That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts,
Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes,
Euen in the presence of the Crowned King.
Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new,
My Presence like a Robe Pontificall,
Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State,
Seldome but sumptuous, shewed like a Feast,
And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie.
The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe,
With shallow Iesters, and rash Bauin Wits,
Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his State,
Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles,
Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes,
And gaue his Countenance, against his Name,
To laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the push
Of euery Beardlesse vaine Comparatiue;
Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,
Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie:
That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes,
They surfeted with Honey, and began to loathe
The taste of Sweetnesse, whereof a little
More then a little, is by much too much.
So when he had occasion to be seene,
He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune,
Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes,
As sicke and blunted with Communitie,
Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze,
Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie,
When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe,
Slept in his Face, and rendred such aspect
As Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries,
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou:
For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge,
With vile participation. Not an Eye
But is awearie of thy common sight,
Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more:
Which now doth that I would not haue it doe,
Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse.

Prince.
I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
Be more my selfe.

King.
For all the World,
As thou art to this houre, was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh;
And euen as I was then, is Percy now:
Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the State
Then thou, the shadow of Succession;
For of no Right, nor colour like to Right.
He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme,
Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes;
And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou,
Leades ancient Lords, and reuerent Bishops on
To bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes.
What neuer-dying Honor hath he got,
Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes,
Whose hot Incursions, and great Name in Armes,
Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie,
And Militarie Title Capitall.
Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ,
Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes,
This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises,
Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp,
And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against vs, and are vp.
But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee?
Why, Harry, doe I tell thee of my Foes,
Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie?
Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare,
Base Inclination, and the start of Spleene,
To fight against me vnder Percies pay,
To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes,
To shew how much thou art degenerate.

Prince.
Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so:
And Heauen forgiue them, that so much haue sway'd
Your Maiesties good thoughts away from me:
I will redeeme all this on Percies head,
And in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne,
When I will weare a Garment all of Blood,
And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske:
Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, when ere it lights,
That this same Child of Honor and Renowne,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight,
And your vnthought-of Harry chance to meet:
For euery Honor fitting on his Helme,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled. For the time will come,
That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchange
His glorious Deedes for my Indignities:
Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord,
To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe:
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render euery Glory vp,
Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time,
Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart.
This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here:
The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue,
I doe beseech your Maiestie, may salue
The long-growne Wounds of my intemperature:
If not, the end of Life cancells all Bands,
And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths,
Ere breake the smallest parcell of this Vow.

King.
A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this:
Thou shalt haue Charge, and soueraigne trust herein.
Enter Blunt.
How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed.

Blunt.
So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Dowglas and the English Rebels met
The eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury:
A mightie and a fearefull Head they are,
(If Promises be kept on euery hand)
As euer offered foule play in a State.

King.
The Earle of Westmerland set forth to day:
With him my sonne, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old.
On Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward:
On Thursday, wee our selues will march.
Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march
Through Glocestershire: by which account,
Our Businesse valued some twelue dayes hence,
Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete.
Our Hands are full of Businesse: let's away,
Aduantage feedes him fat, while men delay.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
Falst.

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 liking:
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, villanous
Company hath beene the spoyle of me.

Bard.

Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue
long.

Falst.

Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song,
make me merry: I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman
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 compasse.

Bard.

Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must
needes bee out of all compasse; out of all reasonable
compasse, Sir Iohn.

Falst.

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.

Bard.

Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme.

Falst.

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 Darkenesse.
When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to
catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene
an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase
in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting
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.

Bard.

I would my Face were in your Belly.

Falst.

So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.

Enter Hostesse.

How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet
who pick'd my Pocket?

Hostesse.

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.

Falst.

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.

Hostesse.

Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so
in mine owne house before.

Falst.

Goe to, I know you well enough.

Hostesse.

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.

Falst.

Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them
away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of
them.

Hostesse.

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.

Falst.

Hee had his part of it, let him pay.

Hostesse.

Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing.

Falst.

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
Younker 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.

Hostesse.

I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not
how oft, that that Ring was Copper.

Falst.

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.

Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his Trunchion like a Fife.
Falst.

How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore?
Must we all march?

Bard.

Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.

Hostesse.

My Lord, I pray you heare me.

Prince.

What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How
does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest
man.

Hostesse.

Good, my Lord, heare mee.

Falst.

Prethee let her alone, and lift to mee.

Prince.

What say'st thou, Iacke?

Falst.

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.

Prince.

What didst thou lose, Iacke?

Falst.

Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds
of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers.

Prince.

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) hee speakes most vilely of
you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee
would cudgell you.

Prince.

What hee did not?

Host.

There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood
in me else.

Falst.

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.

Host.

Say, what thing? what thing?

Falst.

What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on.

Host.

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.

Falst.

Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast
to say otherwise.

Host.

Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?

Fal.

What beast? Why an Otter.

Prin.

An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?

Fal.

Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes
not where to haue her.

Host.

Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie
man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou.

Prince.

Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee
most grossely.

Host.

So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other
day, You ought him a thousand pound.

Prince.

Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

Falst.

A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is
worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue.

Host.

Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee
would cudgell you.

Fal.

Did I, Bardolph?

Bar.

Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so.

Fal.

Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper.

Prince.

I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as
thy word now?

Fal.

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.

Prince.

And why not as the Lyon?

Fal.

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.

Prin.

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 other
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?

Fal.

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?

Prin.
It appeares so by the Story.

Fal.
Hostesse, I forgiue thee:
Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband,
Looke to thy Seruants, and cherish thy Guests:
Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason:
Thou seest, I am pacified still.
Nay, I prethee be gone.
Exit Hostesse.
Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad?
How is that answered?

Prin.
O my sweet Beefe:
I must still be good Angell to thee.
The Monie is paid backe againe.

Fal.

O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double
Labour.

Prin.

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 vnwash'd hands too.

Bard.

Do my Lord.

Prin.

I haue procured thee Iacke, a Charge of Foot.

Fal.

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.

Prin.
Bardolph.

Bar.
My Lord.

Prin.
Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster
To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland,
Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I,
Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
Iacke, meet me to morrow in the Temple Hall
At two a clocke in the afternoone,
There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue
Money and Order for their Furniture.
The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye,
And either they, or we must lower lye.

Fal.
Rare words! braue world.
Hostesse, my breakfast, come:
Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.

Exeunt omnes.