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Poins. Falstaff!-fast asleep behind the arras,] The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes; and snorting like a horse. The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: Search his pockets. [POINS searches.] What hast thou found!
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted
Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord.
P. Hen. Let's see what they be read them.
Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d.
P. Hen. O monstrous! but one half pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! -What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning: we must all to I'il the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, bis death will be a march of twelvescore. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. He with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Poins.
Pons. Good morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt.
I will to dinner.
Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad.
Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Hot. Why, so can I; or so can any man: But will they come when you do call for them! Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to comThe devil. (mand Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil.SCENE I.-Bangor.-A Room in the Arch- If thou have power to raise him, bring him deacon's House. hither,
And I'll be sworn I have power to shame bim bence.
while you live, tell truth and shame the devil.
Mort. Come, come,
No more of this unprofitable chat.
Glend. Three times hath Heury Bolingbroke
Against my power: thrice from the banks of
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and
Mort. These promises are fair, the parties
And our induction full of prosperous hope.
And, uncle Worcester :-A plague upon it!
Glend. No, here it is.
Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur :
A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven.
Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Glend. I cannot blame him: at my nativity,
Hot. Why, so it would have done
Glen. I say the earth did shake when I was born.
Hot. And I say the earth was not of nind, If you suppose, as fearing you it shook. Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.
Hot. Oh! then the earth shook to see the hea-
And not in fear of your nativity.
Glend. Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary;
I am not in the roll of common meu.
Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
Hot. I think there is no man speaks better
• Beginning. + Lights set cross ways upon beacons and also upon poles, which were used in procession, &c. ¿ Tumbles.
And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him.
How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name!
Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle out.
I'll bave the current in this place damm'd up;
It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must: you see
I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so have tempted him as you have done
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.
Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-
And since your coming hither have done enough
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this
(And that's the dearest grace it renders you,)
With like advantage on the other side;
And on this north side win this cape of land;
Hot. I'll have it so; a little charge will do it.
Glend. No, nor you shall not.
Hot. Let me not understand it then,
Beguiling them of commendation.
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;
Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my
I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew,
Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be
Here comes our wives, and let us take our
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.
To any well-deserving friend;
Bat, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll haste the writer, and, withal,
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my
Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;
Re-enter GLENDOWER, with the LADIES.
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-
[Lady M. speaks to MORTIMER in Welsh.
I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,
Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run
Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear
By that time will our book, † I think, be drawn.
And those musicians that shall play to you,
† Our paper of conditions.
In reckoning up the several devils' names,
than a smoky house :-I had rather
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
+ Candlestick. The writer of the articles.
Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from
Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy lap.
Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.
Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands
And 'tis no marvel he's so humorous.
Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.
Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach,
howl in Irish.
Lady P. Would'st thou have
Lady P. Then be stil!.
Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.
A Welsh SONG sung by Lady M. Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. Hot. Not your's, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good sooth; and, As true as I live; and, As God shall mend me; and, As sure as day : And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, As if thou never walk'dst further than Fins bury. +
Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art,
Lady P. I will not sing.
Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will. [Exit. Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow, As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.
As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
By this our book's drawn; we'll but seal, and Had his great name profaned with their scorus;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
+ In Moorfields. 1 The finery of cockies.
Quit all offences with as clear excuse,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
K. Hen. God pardon thee !—yet let me won
At thy affections which do hold a wing
To horse immediately.
Mort. With all my heart.
K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the prince of
For we shall presently have need of you.-
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
But thou dost, in thy passages of life,
More than a little is by much too much.
As, sick and blunted with community,
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou:
True to him that had then possession of the crown ! Brushwood. $ Rival. ¡ Pensca
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.
With vile participation; not an eye
Be more myself.
K. Hen. For all the world,
As thou art to this hour, was Richard then,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust,
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
Thrice bath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprizes,
The archbishop's grace
Capitulate + against us and are up.
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,)
P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of
Blunt. So hath the business that I come to
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth
With him my son, lord John of Lancaster;
Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
[Exeunt. SCENE III.-Eastcheap.-A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern.
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.
Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have An I have not forgotten no strength to repent. what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse; the inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.
Fal. Why, there is it :-come, sing nie I was as virbawdy song; make me merry. tuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore little; diced, not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter-of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; live out of all order, out of all compass. lived well, and in good compass: and now I
Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.
Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thon bearest the lantern in the poop,-but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.
Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.
Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy
1 Most fatal.
face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gads hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast sav'd me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that salamander of your's with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven reward me for it!
Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly!
Fal. God a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned.
How now, dame Partlet the hen? have you inquired yet who picked my pocket?
Host. Why, Sir John! what do you think, Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.
Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many 3 hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go.
Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.
Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.
Host. No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John: I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas; I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them.
P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack ? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal: three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a sealring of my grandfather's.
P. Hen. 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, be speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is: and said he would cudgel you. P. Hen. What! he did not ?
Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.
Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.
Host. Say, what thing? what thing?
Fal. What thing? why a thing to thank God on.
Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife; and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.
Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.
Enter Prince HENRY and POINS, marching. FALSTAFF meets the PRINCE, playing on his truncheon like a fife.
Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door i'faith? must we all march ?
Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?
Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four and twenty pound. Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay.
Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
Host. Het alas, he is poor; he hath no thing.
Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.
Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich! let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine iun, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of iny grandfather's worth forty mark.
P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?
Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break!
Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was P. Hen. Oh! if it should, how would thy guts copper. fall about thy knees! But, sirrab, there's no
Fal. How the prince is a Jack, a sneak-room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom cup; and if he were here, I would cudgel him of thine; it is filled up with guts and midlike a dog, if he would say so. riff. Charge an honest woman with picking bossed + rascal, if there were any thing in th thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent empocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed?
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.--You contess then, you picked my pocket?
Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion?
P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.
Host. Say what beast, thou knave, thou?
P. Hen. An otter, Sir John? why an otter! Fal. Why she's neither fish nor flesh, 1 man knows not where to have her.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!
t In the story-book of Reynard the Fox. • A term of contempt frequently used by Shakspeare.
Host. Good my lord, hear me. Fal. Pr'ythee let her alone, and list to me. P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack? Fal. The other night I fell asleep here be hind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets.
P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.
Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you owed him a thousand pound.
P. Hen Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million; thou owest une thy love.
Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.
P. Hen. It appears so by the story.
A man dressed like a woman, who attends merria + Swoln.