The First Part of Henry the Fourth with the Life and Death of Henry Sirnamed Hot-Spvrre |
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Actus Secundus.
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 | The First Part of Henry the Fourth |  |
Actus Secundus.
Scena Prima.
Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.1. Car.
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?
Ost.
Anon, anon.
1. Car.
I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few
Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the withers,
out of all cesse.
Enter another Carrier.
2. Car.
Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog,
and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bo tes:
This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler
dyed.
1. Car.
Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats
rose, it was the death of him.
2. Car.
I thinke this is the most villanous house in al
London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench.
1. Car.
Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Christendome,
could be better bit, then I haue beene since the
first Cocke.
2. Car.
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.
1. Car.
What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come
away.
2. Car.
I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of
Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse.
1. Car.
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 Villaine.
Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee?
Enter Gads-hill.
Gad.
Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke?
Car.
I thinke it be two a clocke.
Gad.
I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding
in the stable.
1. Car.
Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two
of that.
Gad.
I prethee lend me thine.
2. Car.
I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne
(quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first.
Gad.
Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come
to London?
2. Car.
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.
Exeunt
Enter Chamberlaine.
Gad.
What ho, Chamberlaine?
Cham.
At hand quoth Pick-purse.
Gad.
That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine:
For thou variest no more from picking of Purses,
then giuing direction, doth from labouring. Thou
lay'st the plot, how.
Cham.
Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds currant
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 abundance
of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp already,
and call for Egges and Butter. They will away
presently.
Gad.
Sirra, if they meete not with S. Nicholas Clarks,
Ile giue thee this necke.
Cham.
No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the
Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S. Nicholas as truly
as a man of falshood may.
Gad.
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 y
u 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 Commonwealth;
or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for
they ride vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots.
Cham.
What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will
she hold out water in foule way?
Gad.
She will, she will; Iustice hath liquor'd her. We
steale as in a Castle, cocksure: we haue the receit of Fernseede,
we walke inuisible.
Cham.
Nay, I think rather, you are more beholding
to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking inuisible.
Gad.
Giue me thy hand.
Thou shalt haue a share in our purpose,
As I am a true man.
Cham.
Nay, rather let mee haue it, as you are a false
Theefe.
Gad.
Goe too: Homo is a common name to all men.
Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Farewell,
ye muddy Knaue.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.Poines.
Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs
Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet.
Prin.
Stand close.
Enter Falstaffe.
Fal.
Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines.
Prin.
Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling
dost thou keepe.
Fal.
What Poines. Hal?
Prin.
He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek
him.
Fal.
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 killing
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.
Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you
Rogues: giue me my Horse, and be hang'd.
Prin.
Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare
close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of
Trauellers.
Fal.
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?
Prin.
Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted.
Fal.
I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse,
good Kings sonne.
Prin.
Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?
Fal.
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.
Enter Gads-hill.
Gad.
Stand.
Fal.
So I do against my will.
Poin.
O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce:
Bardolfe, what newes?
Bar.
Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's
mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going
to the Kings Exchequer.
Fal.
You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern.
Gad.
There's enough to make vs all.
Fal.
To he hang'd.
Prin.
You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane:
Ned and I, will walke lower; if they scape from your encounter,
then they light on vs.
Peto.
But how many be of them?
Gad.
Some eight or ten.
Fal.
Will they not rob vs?
Prin.
What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch?
Fal.
Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather;
but yet no Coward, Hal.
Prin.
Wee'l leaue that to the proofe.
Poin.
Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg,
when thon need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell,
and stand fast.
Fal.
Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.
Prin.
Ned, where are our disguises?
Poin.
Heere hard by: Stand close.
Fal.
Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I:
euery man to his businesse.
Enter Trauellers.
Tra.
Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses
downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our
Legges.
Theeues.
Stay.
Tra.
Iesu blesse vs.
Fal.
Strike down with them, cut the villains throats;
a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs
youth; downe with them, fleece them.
Tra.
O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer.
Fal.
Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No
ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Bacons,
on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are
Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.
Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines.
Prin.
The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now
could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London,
it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a
Moneth, and a good iest for euer.
Poynes.
Stand close, I heare them comming.
Enter Theeues againe.
Fal.
Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse
before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand
Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe
valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke.
Prin.
Your money.
Poin.
Villaines.
As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all run away, leauing the booty behind them.
Prince.
Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse:
The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly,
that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow
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.
Poin.
How the Rogue roar'd.
Exeunt.
Scœna Tertia.
Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.[Hotspur]
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 named
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 letters,
to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth?
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.
La.
O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence haue I this fortnight bin
A banish'd woman from my Harries bed?
Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth?
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes?
And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee,
To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly?
In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht,
And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres:
Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed,
Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd
Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,
Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,
Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,
Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine,
And all the current of a headdy fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe,
That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame;
And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd,
Such as we see when men restraine their breath
On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these?
Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand,
And I must know it: else he loues me not.
Hot.
What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?
Ser.
He is my Lord, an houre agone.
Hot.
Hath Butler brought those horses frō the Sheriffe?
Ser.
One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now.
Hot.
What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not.
Ser.
It is my Lord.
Hot.
That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will
backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth
into the Parke.
La.
But heare you, my Lord.
Hot.
What say'st thou my Lady?
La.
What is it carries you away?
Hot.
Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse.
La.
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 Brother
Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent
for you to line his enterprize. But if you go ------
Hot.
So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue.
La.
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.
Hot.
Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not,
I care not for thee Kate: this is no world
To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.
We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,
And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.
What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?
La.
Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?
Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,
I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?
Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no.
Hot.
Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare
I loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate,
I must not haue you henceforth, question me,
Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.
Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,
This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no further wise
Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,
But yet a woman: and for secrecie,
No Lady closer. For I will beleeue
Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know,
And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate.
La.
How so farre?
Hot.
Not an inch further. But harke you Kate,
Whither I go, thither shall you go too:
To day will I set forth, to morrow you.
Will this content you Kate?
La.
It must of force.
Exeunt
Scena Quarta.
Enter Prince and Poines.Prin.
Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend
me thy hand to laugh a little.
Poines.
Where hast bene Hall?
Prin.
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 Iack like Falstaffe,
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, dying
Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then
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 sweeten
which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar,
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 Falstaffe
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.
Poines.
Francis.
Prin.
Thou art perfect.
Poin.
Francis.
Enter Drawer.
Fran.
Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet,
Ralfe.
Prince.
Come hither Francis.
Fran.
My Lord.
Prin.
How long hast thou to serue, Francis?
Fran.
Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to ------
Poin.
Francis.
Fran.
Anon, anon sir.
Prin.
Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking
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?
Fran.
O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in
England, I could finde in my heart.
Poin.
Francis.
Fran.
Anon, anon sir.
Prin.
How old art thou, Francis?
Fran.
Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe ------
Poin.
Francis.
Fran.
Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord.
Prin.
Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou
gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?
Fran.
O Lord sir, I would it had bene two.
Prin.
I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske
me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it.
Poin.
Francis.
Fran.
Anon, anon.
Prin.
Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis:
or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou
wilt. But Francis.
Fran.
My lord.
Prin.
Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall
button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice
garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch.
Fran.
O Lord sir, who do you meane?
Prin.
Why then your browne Bastard is your onely
drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doublet
will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much.
Fran.
What sir?
Poin.
Francis.
Prin.
Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?
Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.
Enter Uintner.
Vint.
What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling?
Looke to the Guests within. My Lord, olde Sir
Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let
them in?
Prin.
Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore.
Poines.
Enter Poines.
Poin.
Anon, anon sir.
Prin.
Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at
the doore, shall we be merry?
Poin.
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?
Prin.
I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues
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?
Fran.
Anon, anon sir.
Prin.
That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words
then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry
is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcell
of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre
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. Riuo, sayes the drunkard.
Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.
Enter Falstaffe.
Poin.
Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?
Fal.
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?
Prin.
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.
Fal.
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 villanous
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 liues
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.
Prin.
How now Woolsacke, what mntter you?
Fal.
A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy
Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Subiects
afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer
weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?
Prin.
Why you horson round man? what's the matter?
Fal.
Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and
Poines there?
Prin.
Ye fatch paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile
stab thee.
Fal.
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
giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup
of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day.
Prince.
O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since
thou drunk'st last.
Falst.
All's one for that.
He drinkes.
A plague of all Cowards still, say I.
Prince.
What's the matter?
Falst.
What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue
ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning.
Prince.
Where is it, Iack? where is it?
Falst.
Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred
vpon poore foure of vs.
Prince.
What, a hundred, man?
Falst.
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.
Prince.
Speake sirs, how was it?
Gad.
We foure set vpon some dozen.
Falst.
Sixteene, at least, my Lord.
Gad.
And bound them.
Peto.
No, no, they were not bound.
Falst.
You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of
them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew.
Gad.
As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men
set vpon vs.
Falst.
And vnbound the rest, and then come in the
other.
Prince.
What, fought yee with them all?
Falst.
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.
Poin.
Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of
them.
Falst.
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.
Prince.
What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now.
Falst.
Foure Hal, I told thee foure.
Poin.
I, I, he said foure.
Falst.
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.
Prince.
Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now.
Falst.
In Buckrom.
Poin.
I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes.
Falst.
Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else.
Prin.
Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon.
Falst.
Doest thou heare me, Hal?
Prin.
I, and marke thee too, Iack.
Falst.
Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these
nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of.
Prin.
So, two more alreadie.
Falst.
Their Points being broken.
Poin.
Downe fell his Hose.
Falst.
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.
Prin.
O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne
out of two?
Falst.
But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten
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.
Prin.
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 obscene
greasie Tallow Catch.
Falst.
What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the
truth, the truth?
Prin.
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?
Poin.
Come, your reason Iack, your reason.
Falst.
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 compulsion?
If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would
giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I.
Prin.
Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine
Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker,
this huge Hill of Flesh.
Falst.
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.
Prin.
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.
Poin.
Marke Iacke.
Prin.
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 deuice? what starting
hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open
and apparant shame?
Poines.
Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast
thou now?
Fal.
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.
Prin.
Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing
away.
Fal.
A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.
Enter Hostesse.
Host.
My Lord, the Prince?
How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st
thou to me?
Hostesse.
Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the
Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee
comes from your Father.
Prin.
Giue him as much as will make him a Royall
man, and send him backe againe to my Mother.
Falst.
What manner of man is hee?
Hostesse.
An old man.
Falst.
What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?
Shall I giue him his answere?
Prin.
Prethee doe Iacke.
Falst.
'faith, and Ile send him packing.
Exit.
Prince.
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.
Bard.
'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne.
Prin.
Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes
Sword so hackt?
Peto.
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.
Bard.
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.
Prin.
O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene
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?
Bard.
My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you
behold these Exhalations?
Prin.
I doe.
Bard.
What thinke you they portend?
Prin.
Hot Liuers, and cold Purses.
Bard.
Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken.
Prin.
No, if rightly taken, Halter.
Enter Falstaffe.
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?
Falst.
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?
Poin.
O, Glendower.
Falst.
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.
Prin.
Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll
kills a Sparrow flying.
Falst.
You haue hit it.
Prin.
So did he neuer the Sparrow.
Falst.
Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him,
hee will not runne.
Prin.
Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him
so for running?
Falst.
A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will
not budge a foot.
Prin.
Yes Iacke, vpon instinct.
Falst.
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.
Prin.
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.
Falst.
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 againe,
as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that
Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth
not thy blood thrill at it?
Prin.
Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct.
Falst.
Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow,
when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me,
practise an answere.
Prin.
Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee
vpon the particulars of my Life.
Falst.
Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my
State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my
Crowne.
Prin.
Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden
Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich
Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne.
Falst.
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.
Prin.
Well, heere is my Legge.
Falst.
And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie.
Hostesse.
This is excellent sport, yfaith.
Falst.
Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares
are vaine.
Hostesse.
O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance?
Falst.
For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen,
For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes.
Hostesse.
O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry
Players, as euer I see.
Falst.
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
ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie
thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to
thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion;
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.
Prin.
What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie?
Falst.
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?
Prin.
Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand
for mee, and Ile play my Father.
Falst.
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.
Prin.
Well, heere I am set.
Falst.
And heere I stand: iudge my Masters.
Prin.
Now Harry, whence come you?
Falst.
My Noble Lord, from East-cheape.
Prin.
The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous.
Falst.
Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle
ye for a young Prince.
Prin.
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 Iniquitie,
that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? wherein
is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein
neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein
Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie?
wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy,
but in nothing?
Falst.
I would your Grace would take me with you:
whom meanes your Grace?
Prin.
That villanous abhominable mis-leader of
Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan.
Falst.
My Lord, the man I know.
Prince.
I know thou do'st.
Falst.
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-master,
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 Falstaffe,
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.
Prince.
I doe, I will.
Enter Bardolph running.
Bard.
O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most
most monstrous Watch, is at the doore.
Falst.
Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much
to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe.
Enter the Hostesse.
Hostesse.
O, my Lord, my Lord.
Falst.
Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddle-sticke:
what's the matter?
Hostesse.
The Sherife and all the Watch are at the
doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let
them in?
Falst.
Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of
Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without
seeming so.
Prince.
And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct.
Falst.
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 another.
Prince.
Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest
walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and
good Conscience.
Falst.
Both which I haue had: but their date is out,
and therefore Ile hide me.
Exit.
Prince.
Call in the Sherife.
Enter Sherife and the Carrier.
Prince.
Now Master Sherife, what is your will with
mee?
She.
First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath
followed certaine men vnto this house.
Prince.
What men?
She.
One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord,
a grosse fat man.
Car.
As fat as Butter.
Prince.
The man, I doe assure you, is not heere,
For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him:
And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will by to morrow Dinner time,
Send him to answere thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg'd withall:
And so let me entreat you, leaue the house.
She.
I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen
Haue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes.
Prince.
It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable: and so farewell.
She.
Good Night, my Noble Lord.
Prince.
I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?
She.
Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.
Exit.
Prince.
This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules:
goe call him forth.
Peto.
Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and
snorting like a Horse.
Prince.
Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his
Pockets.
Prince.
What hast thou found?
Peto.
Nothing but Papers, my Lord.
Prince.
Let's see, what be they? reade them.
Peto.
| Item, a Capon. | ii.s.ii.d. |
| Item, Sawce. | iiii.d. |
| Item, Sacke, two Gallons. | v.s.viii.d. |
| Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper. | ii.s.vi.d. |
| Item, Bread. | ob. |
Prince.
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 honorable.
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 morrow
Peto.
Peto.
Good morrow, good my Lord.
Exeunt.
| The First Part of Henry the Fourth | |