Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, (Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, a Therefore we meet not now. We do not meet now on that account. b Limits. To limit is to define; and therefore the limits of the charge may be the calculatious, the estimates. K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land. West. This, match'd with other like, my gracious lord. For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north, and thus it did report: At Holmedon met, Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; And shape of likelihood, the news was told; K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend, Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, To beaten Douglas; and the earl of Athol, And is not this an honourable spoil? West. In faith, It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin In envy that my lord Northumberland a Balk'd. To balk is to raise into ridges. A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd, West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester, Malevolent to you in all aspects; Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this: Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we Than out of anger can be uttered. West. I will, my liege. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Another Room in the Palace. Enter HENRY PRINCE OF WALES, and FALSTAFF. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffata; I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day. Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,) P. Hen. What! none? Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal, Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of ne shade, minions of the moon: And let men say, we be men of good government; being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof. Now, a purse of gold most resolutely snatched 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 ebb as the foot of the ladder: and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. b a Day's beauty. Perhaps beauty is meant to be pronounced booty, as it is sometimes provincially. b Lay by-stop. C Bring in the call to the drawers for more wine. Fal. Thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ?a Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft. P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and where it would not I have used my credit. Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But, I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. P. Hen. No; thou shalt. Fal. Shall I? O rare! I'll be a brave judge. P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? a Robe of durance. The buff jerkin, the coat of ox-skin (bœuf), was worn by sheriffs' officers. It was a robe of durance, au "everlasting garment," as in The Comedy of Errors;'-but it was also a robe of "durance" in a sense that would not furnish an agreeable association to one who was always in debt and danger, as Falstaff was. |