Of prisoner's ransom, and of soldiers slain, Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. Hot. Hath Butler brought these horses from the sheriff? Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. Hol. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? Serv. It is, my lord. Hot. That roan shall be my throne. Well, I will back him straight: O esperance!Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit SERVANT. Lady. But hear you, my lord. My love, my horse. Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen, I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. me Directly to this question that I ask. Away, you trifler !-Love?-I love thee not, What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have with me? Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, in- Well, do not then; for, since you love me not, Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride? SCENE IV.-Eastcheap.-A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern. Enter Prince HENRY and POINS. P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Poins. Where hast been, Hal? P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers; and can call them ali by their Christian names, as-Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff; but a Corinthian,† a lad of mettle, a good boy,-by the Lord, so they call me; and when I am king of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call—drinking deep, dying scarlet: and when you breathe in your watering, they cry-hem! and bid you play it off.-To conclude, I am so good a profi. cient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned,-to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now in my hand by an under-skinker; one that never spake other English in his life, thanEight shillings and sixpence, and--You are welcome; with this shrill addition.-Anon, anon, Sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr'ythee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling-Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but-anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent. Poins. Francis! P. Hen. Thou art perfect. Poins. Francis! Enter FRANCIS. [Exit. POINS. Fran. Anon, anon, Sir,-Look down into the Pomegranate, Ralph. P. Hen. Come hither, Francis. Fran. My lord. P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis? Fran. Forsooth, five year, and as much as to~~- P. Hen. Five years! by'r lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, dearest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and to show it a fair pair of heels, and run from it? Fran. O lord, Sir! I'll be sworn upon all the Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; books in England, I could find in my heart * Occurrences. t Motto of the Percy family. Strenghten. Parrot. † Drops. Puppets. Poins. [Within.] Francis! Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo says the drunk- P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis? I shall be P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, pukestocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, spanish-pouch,- Fran. O lord, Sir, who do you mean? P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink: for, look you, Francis, your white canvass doublet will sully in Barbary, Sir, it cannot come to so much. Fran. What, Sir? Poins. [Within.] Francis! P. Hen. Away, you rogue; Dost thou not hear them call? [Here they both call him; the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go. Enter VINTNER. Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Look to the guests within. [Exit FRAN.] My lord, old Sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door; Shall I let them in? P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. [Exit VINTNER.] Poins! Re-Enter PoINS. Poins. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door; Shall we be merry? Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; What cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? come, what's the issue? P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have show'd themselves humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re-enter FRANCIS with Wine.] What's o'clock, Francis? Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a PETO. Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and Amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew netherstocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, rogue.-Is there no virtue [He drinks. extant? P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the son! if thou didst, then behold that compound. Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: There is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man: Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it; a villanous coward.-Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say! I would, I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing: A plague of all cowards, I say still. P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? what mutter you? Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You prince of Wales! P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter! Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that; and Poins there? Poins. 'Zounds, ye fat me coward, I'll stab thee. paunch, an ye call Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me.-Give me a cup of sack:-I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day. P. Hen. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last. Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I. [He drinks. P. Hen. What's the matter? Fal. What's the matter? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it? Fal. Where is it! taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us. P. Hen. What, a hundred, man! woman!-His industry is-up-stairs, and down-stairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some with a dozen of them two hours together. I six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, have 'scap'd by miracle. I am eight times washes his hands, and says to his wife,-Fie thrust through the doublet; four, through the upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet hose; my buckler cut through and through; Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed to- my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum. day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; and I never dealt better since I was a man; all answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, would not do. A plague of all cowards!-Let a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff; I'll play them speak: if they speak more or less than Percy, and that damned brawn shall play truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness. P. Hen. Speak, Sirs; how was it? Peto. No, no, they were not bound. Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us, Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other. P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all? Fal. All? I know not what ye call, all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-legged creature. Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some of them. reason on compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin: this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh; Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish, -O, for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck; P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this. Poins. Mark, Jack. P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth.- -Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down.--Then did we two set on you Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: for I have four and, with a word, out-faced you from peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it paid; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee you here in the house :-and, Falstaff, you carwhat, Hal,—if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, ried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward;-dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran here I lay, and thus I bore my point. and roared, as ever I heard a bull-calf. What rogues in buckram let drive at me,a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done; and then say, it was in fight? What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ? Four P. Hen. What, four? thou said'st but two, even now. Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four. Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus. Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; What trick hast thou now? Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he P. Hen. Seven? why, there were but four, that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was even now. Fal. In buckram. Porns. Ay, four, in buckram suits. Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. P. Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall have more anon. Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal? P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. Fal. Their points being broken,- it for me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon 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 think the better of myself and thee, during my life; I, for a valiant lion, and thou, for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.- -Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow.-Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, All the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? shall we have a play extempore? P. Hen. Content;-and the argument shall be, Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest Fal. Began to give me ground: But I follow-thy running away. ed me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid. P. Hen. O, monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two! Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal* green, came at my back, and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou could'st not see thy hand. P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-pated fool; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallowkeech,t Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth? P. Hen. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand? come tell us your reaSon; What sayest thou to this? Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, 1 would not tell you on compulsion. Give you *A town in Westmoreland, famous for making cloth. A round lump of fat. a me. Enter HOSTESS. Host. My lord the prince, P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess, what say'st thou to me? Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door, would speak with you: he says he comes from your father. P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother. Fal. What manner of man is he? Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at mid- Fat. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. [Exit. P. Hen. Now, Sirs; by'r lady, you fought fair;-so did you, Peto;-so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true prince; no,--fie! Bard. 'Faith, I an when I saw others run. P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came Falstaff's sword so hacked? Peto. Why he hacked it with his dagger; and said, he would swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight; and persuaded us to do the like. Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass, to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year before, 1 blushed to hear his monstrous devices. P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blushed extempore: Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st away; What instinct hadst thou for it? Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these exhalations? P. Hen. I do. Bard. What think you they portend? Re-enter FALSTAFF. Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee? like, we shall have good trading that way.-But, tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou being heir appareat, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it? P. Hen. Not a whit, i'faith; I lack some of thy instinct. Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morlove me, practise an answer. row, when thou comest to thy father: if thou amine me upon the particulars of my life. P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and ex Fal. Shall I content :-This chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown! Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved.-Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in king Cambyses'! vein. P. Hen. Well, here is my leg.‡ Fal. And here is my speech:-Stand aside, nobility. Host. This is excellent sport, i'faith. tears are vain. Host. O, the father, how he holds his countenance ! Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen, For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. Host. O rare! he doth it as like one of these Fal. My own knee? when I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have crept into an alderman's thumb-ring: A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villanous news abroad: here was Sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimons the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross Fal. Peace, good point-pot; peace, good tickleof a Welsh hook,What, a plague, call you him? brain.-Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accomFal. Owen, Owen; the same; and his son-in-panied: for though the camomile, the more it is law, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o'horseback up a hill perpendicular. Poins. O, Glendower. P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with ais pistol kills a sparrow flying. Fal. You have hit it. P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow. Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him; he will not run. harlotry players, as I ever see. trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the thou art my son, I have partly thy mother's more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly, a villanous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point ;-Why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries? a question not to be asked.—— Shall the sun of England prove a thief, and take purses? a question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. known to many in our land by the name of pitch: Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth dethere too, and one Mordake, and a thousand file; so doth the company thou keepest: for, Harblue-caps more: Worcester is stolen away to-y, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in night; thy father's beard is turned white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel. P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running? Fal. O'horseback, ye cuckoo! but, afoot, he will not budge a foot. P. Hen. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds. Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only, but in woes also:-And yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name. P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your majesty? Fal. A good portly man, i'faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age If Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play: Re-enter HOSTESS, hastily. Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord! some fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff: have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff if that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month? P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father. Fal. Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbet-sucker* or a poulter's hare. P. Hen. Well, here I am set. Fal. And here I stand:-judge my masters. P. Hen. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false-nay, I'll tickle ye for a young prince, i'faith. P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutcht of beastliness, that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carvo a capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? Fal. I would, your grace would take me with you; Whom means your grace? P. Hen. That villanous abominable misleader Fal. But to say, I know more harm in him than in myself, were to say more than I know. That he is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do witness it: but that he is (saving your reverence,) a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know, is damned: if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company; banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. P. Hen. I do, I will. [A knocking heard. [Exeunt HOSTESS, Francis, and BARDOLPH. Fal. Heigh! heigh! the devil rides upon fiddlestick: What's the matter? Host. The Sheriff and all the watch are at the door: they are come to search the house: Shall I let them in? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece of gold, a counterfeit thou art essentially mad, without seeming so. P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without instinct. Fal. I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, so; if not, let him enter: if I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! I hope, I shall as soon be strangled with a halter, as another. P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras; the rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true face, and good conscience. Fal. Both which I have had: but their date is out, and therefore I'll hide me. [Exeunt all but the PRINCE and POINS. P. Hen. Call in the sheriff, Enter SHERIFF and CARRIER. Now, master sheriff; what's your will with me? A cry P. Hen. What men? Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord, fat man. P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not For I myself at this time have employ'd him. men Sher. I will, my lord: There are two gentle- He shall be answerable; and so, farewell. P. Hen. I think it is good morrow; Is it not? Poins. Falstaff!-fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a horse. P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: Search his pockets. [Poins searches.] What hast thou found? Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord. P. Hen. Let's see what they be; read them. Item, Sauce, 4d. Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d. Item, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2s. 6d. |
