Part 2 out of 3
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?
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.
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
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.
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.
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 sitting 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.
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.
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
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 of all compasse; out 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.
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
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
Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee
Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list 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
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
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.
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
Prin. I am good Friends with my Father, and may do
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
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 tomorrow 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.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas.
Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth
In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie,
Such attribution should the Dowglas haue,
As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe,
Should go so generall currant through the world.
By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie
The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place
In my hearts loue, hath no man then your Selfe.
Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord
Dow. Thou art the King of Honor:
No man so potent breathes vpon the ground,
But I will Beard him.
Enter a Messenger.
Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What letters hast there?
I can but thanke you
Mess. These Letters come from your Father
Hot. Letters from him?
Why comes he not himselfe?
Mes. He cannot come, my Lord,
He is greeuous sicke
Hot. How? haz he the leysure to be sicke now,
In such a iustling time? Who leades his power?
Vnder whose Gouernment come they along?
Mess. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde
Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?
Mess. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth:
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his Physician
Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole,
Ere he by sicknesse had beene visited:
His health was neuer better worth then now
Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect
The very Life-blood of our Enterprise,
'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe.
He writes me here, that inward sicknesse,
And that his friends by deputation
Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet,
To lay so dangerous and deare a trust
On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne.
Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,
That with our small coniunction we should on,
To see how Fortune is dispos'd to vs:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the King is certainely possest
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
Wor. Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs
Hotsp. A perillous Gash, a very Limme lopt off:
And yet, in faith, it is not his present want
Seemes more then we shall finde it.
Were it good, to set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one Cast? To set so rich a mayne
On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre,
It were not good: for therein should we reade
The very Bottome, and the Soule of Hope,
The very List, the very vtmost Bound
Of all our fortunes
Dowg. Faith, and so wee should,
Where now remaines a sweet reuersion.
We may boldly spend, vpon the hope
Of what is to come in:
A comfort of retyrement liues in this
Hotsp. A Randeuous, a Home to flye vnto,
If that the Deuill and Mischance looke bigge
Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires
Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here:
The qualitie and Heire of our Attempt
Brookes no diuision: It will be thought
By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisedome, loyaltie, and meere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the Earle from hence.
And thinke, how such an apprehension
May turne the tyde of fearefull Faction,
And breede a kinde of question in our cause:
For well you know, wee of the offring side,
Must keepe aloofe from strict arbitrement,
And stop all sight-holes, euery loope, from whence
The eye of reason may prie in vpon vs:
This absence of your Father drawes a Curtaine,
That shewes the ignorant a kinde of feare,
Before not dreamt of
Hotsp. You strayne too farre.
I rather of his absence make this vse:
It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion,
A larger Dare to your great Enterprize,
Then if the Earle were here: for men must thinke,
If we without his helpe, can make a Head
To push against the Kingdome; with his helpe,
We shall o're-turne it topsie-turuy downe:
Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole
Dowg. As heart can thinke:
There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland,
At this Dreame of Feare.
Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
Hotsp. My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule
Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord.
The Earle of Westmerland, seuen thousand strong,
Is marching hither-wards, with Prince Iohn
Hotsp. No harme: what more?
Vern. And further, I haue learn'd,
The King himselfe in person hath set forth,
Or hither-wards intended speedily,
With strong and mightie preparation
Hotsp. He shall be welcome too.
Where is his Sonne,
The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales,
And his Cumrades, that daft the World aside,
And bid it passe?
Vern. All furnisht, all in Armes,
All plum'd like Estridges, that with the Winde
Bayted like Eagles, hauing lately bath'd,
Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images,
As full of spirit as the Moneth of May,
And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-summer,
Wanton as youthfull Goates, wilde as young Bulls.
I saw young Harry with his Beuer on,
His Cushes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd,
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his Seat,
As if an Angell dropt downe from the Clouds,
To turne and winde a fierie Pegasus,
And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship
Hotsp. No more, no more,
Worse then the Sunne in March:
This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come.
They come like Sacrifices in their trimme,
And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre,
All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them:
The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit
Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,
To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh,
And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse,
Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt,
Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse
Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse?
Oh, that Glendower were come
Ver. There is more newes:
I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes
Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of
Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound
Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach
Ver. To thirty thousand
Hot. Forty let it be,
My Father and Glendower being both away,
The powres of vs, may serue so great a day.
Come, let vs take a muster speedily:
Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily
Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare
Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare.
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a
Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le
to Sutton-cop-hill to Night
Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine?
Falst. Lay out, lay out
Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell
Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it
make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage.
Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end
Bard. I will Captaine: farewell.
Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a
sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse damnably.
I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie
Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me
none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire
me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd
twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues,
as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as
feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole,
or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes
and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then
Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices:
And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Corporals,
Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as
ragged a Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Gluttons
Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were
neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, younger
Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and
Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and
long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged,
then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the
roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that
you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd
Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating
Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way,
and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the
dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile
not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay,
and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if
they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them
out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my
Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt together,
and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds
Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth,
stolne from my Host of S[aint]. Albones, or the Red-Nose
Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde
Linnen enough on euery Hedge.
Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.
Prince. How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt?
Falst. What Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill
do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmerland,
I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had already
beene at Shrewsbury
West. 'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were
there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie.
The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away
all to Night
Falst. Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to
Prince. I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft
hath alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose
fellowes are these that come after?
Falst. Mine, Hal, mine
Prince. I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals
Falst. Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Powder,
foode for Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better:
tush man, mortall men, mortall men
Westm. I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding
poore and bare, too beggarly
Falst. Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they
had that; and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer
learn'd that of me
Prince. No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers
on the Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already
in the field
Falst. What, is the King encamp'd?
Westm. Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too
Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning
of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.
Hotsp. Wee'le fight with him to Night
Worc. It may not be
Dowg. You giue him then aduantage
Vern. Not a whit
Hotsp. Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?
Vern. So doe wee
Hotsp. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull
Worc. Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night
Vern. Doe not, my Lord
Dowg. You doe not counsaile well:
You speake it out of feare, and cold heart
Vern. Doe me no slander, Dowglas: by my Life,
And I dare well maintaine it with my Life,
If well-respected Honor bid me on,
I hold as little counsaile with weake feare,
As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day liues.
Let it be seene to morrow in the Battell,
Which of vs feares
Dowg. Yea, or to night
Hotsp. To night, say I
Vern. Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being me[n] of such great leading as you are
That you fore-see not what impediments
Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horse
Of my Cousin Vernons are not yet come vp,
Your Vnckle Worcesters Horse came but to day,
And now their pride and mettall is asleepe,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a Horse is halfe the halfe of himselfe
Hotsp. So are the Horses of the Enemie
In generall iourney bated, and brought low:
The better part of ours are full of rest
Worc. The number of the King exceedeth ours:
For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in.
The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.
Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect
Hotsp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt:
And would to God you were of our determination.
Some of vs loue you well: and euen those some
Enuie your great deseruings, and good name,
Because you are not of our qualitie,
But stand against vs like an Enemie
Blunt. And Heauen defend, but still I should stand so,
So long as out of Limit, and true Rule,
You stand against anoynted Maiestie.
But to my Charge.
The King hath sent to know
The nature of your Griefes, and whereupon
You coniure from the Brest of Ciuill Peace,
Such bold Hostilitie, teaching his dutious Land
Audacious Crueltie. If that the King
Haue any way your good Deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,
He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed
You shall haue your desires, with interest;
And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these,
Herein mis-led, by your suggestion
Hotsp. The King is kinde:
And well wee know, the King
Knowes at what time to promise, when to pay.
My Father, my Vnckle, and my selfe,
Did giue him that same Royaltie he weares:
And when he was not sixe and twentie strong,
Sicke in the Worlds regard, wretched, and low,
A poore vnminded Out-law, sneaking home,
My Father gaue him welcome to the shore:
And when he heard him sweare, and vow to God,
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
To sue his Liuerie, and begge his Peace,
With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale;
My Father, in kinde heart and pitty mou'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realme
Perceiu'd Northumberland did leane to him,
The more and lesse came in with Cap and Knee,
Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages,
Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes,
Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes,
Gaue him their Heires, as Pages followed him,
Euen at the heeles, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as Greatnesse knowes it selfe,
Step me a little higher then his Vow
Made to my Father, while his blood was poore,
Vpon the naked shore at Rauenspurgh:
And now (forsooth) takes on him to reforme
Some certaine Edicts, and some strait Decrees,
That lay too heauie on the Common-wealth;
Cryes out vpon abuses, seemes to weepe
Ouer his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face,
This seeming Brow of Iustice, did he winne
The hearts of all that hee did angle for.
Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads
Of all the Fauorites, that the absent King
In deputation left behinde him heere,
When hee was personall in the Irish Warre
Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this
Hotsp. Then to the point.
In short time after, hee depos'd the King.
Soone after that, depriu'd him of his Life:
And in the neck of that, task't the whole State.
To make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March,
Who is, if euery Owner were plac'd,
Indeede his King, to be engag'd in Wales,
There, without Ransome, to lye forfeited:
Disgrac'd me in my happie Victories,
Sought to intrap me by intelligence,
Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord,
In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court,
Broke Oath on Oath, committed Wrong on Wrong,
And in conclusion, droue vs to seeke out
This Head of safetie; and withall, to prie
Into his Title: the which wee finde
Too indirect, for long continuance
Blunt. Shall I returne this answer to the King?
Hotsp. Not so, Sir Walter.
Wee'le with-draw a while:
Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some suretie for a safe returne againe,
And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle
Bring him our purpose: and so farewell
Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Loue
Hotsp. And't may be, so wee shall
Blunt. Pray Heauen you doe.
Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.
Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this sealed Briefe
With winged haste to the Lord Marshall,
This to my Cousin Scroope, and all the rest
To whom they are directed.
If you knew how much they doe import,
You would make haste
Sir Mich. My good Lord, I guesse their tenor
Arch. Like enough you doe.
To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly giuen to vnderstand,
The King, with mightie and quick-raysed Power,
Meetes with Lord Harry: and I feare, Sir Michell,
What with the sicknesse of Northumberland,
Whose Power was in the first proportion;
And what with Owen Glendowers absence thence,
Who with them was rated firmely too,
And comes not in, ouer-rul'd by Prophecies,
I feare the Power of Percy is too weake,
To wage an instant tryall with the King
Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, you need not feare,
There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer
Arch. No, Mortimer is not there
Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
And there is my Lord of Worcester,
And a Head of gallant Warriors,
Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath Drawne
The speciall head of all the Land together:
The Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt;
And many moe Corriuals, and deare men
Of estimation, and command in Armes
Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd
Arch. I hope no lesse? Yet needfull 'tis to feare,
And to preuent the worst, Sir Michell speed;
For if Lord Percy thriue not, ere the King
Dismisse his power, he meanes to visit vs:
For he hath heard of our Confederacie,
And, 'tis but Wisedome to make strong against him:
Therefore make hast, I must go write againe
To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michell.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaffe.
King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere
Aboue yon busky hill: the day lookes pale
At his distemperature
Prin. The Southerne winde
Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes,
And by his hollow whistling in the Leaues,
Fortels a Tempest, and a blust'ring day
King. Then with the losers let it sympathize,
For nothing can seeme foule to those that win.
The Trumpet sounds.
King. How now my Lord of Worster? 'Tis not well
That you and I should meet vpon such tearmes,
As now we meet. You haue deceiu'd our trust,
And made vs doffe our easie Robes of Peace,
To crush our old limbes in vngentle Steele:
This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.
What say you to it? Will you againe vnknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred Warre?
And moue in the obedient Orbe againe,
Where you did giue a faire and naturall light,
And be no more an exhall'd Meteor,
A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent
Of broached Mischeefe, to the vnborne Times?
Wor. Heare me, my Liege:
For mine owne part, I could be well content
To entertaine the Lagge-end of my life
With quiet houres: For I do protest,
I haue not sought the day of this dislike
King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then?
Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it
Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace
Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookes
Of Fauour, from my Selfe, and all our House;
And yet I must remember you my Lord,
We were the first, and dearest of your Friends:
For you, my staffe of Office did I breake
In Richards time, and poasted day and night
To meete you on the way, and kisse your hand,
When yet you were in place, and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I;
It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
The danger of the time. You swore to vs,
And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State,
Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right,
The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster,
To this, we sware our aide: But in short space,
It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your head,
And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you,
What with our helpe, what with the absent King.
What with the iniuries of wanton time,
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
And the contrarious Windes that held the King
So long in the vnlucky Irish Warres,
That all in England did repute him dead:
And from this swarme of faire aduantages,
You tooke occasion to be quickly woo'd,
To gripe the generall sway into your hand,
Forgot your Oath to vs at Doncaster,
And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so,
As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,
Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our Nest
Grew by our Feeding, to so great a builke,
That euen our Loue durst not come neere your sight
For feare of swallowing: But with nimble wing
We were infor'd for safety sake, to flye
Out of your sight, and raise this present Head,
Whereby we stand opposed by such meanes
As you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe,
By vnkinde vsage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworne to vs in yonger enterprize
Kin. These things indeed you haue articulated,
Proclaim'd at Market Crosses, read in Churches,
To face the Garment of Rebellion
With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle Changelings, and poore Discontents,
Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes
Of hurly burly Innouation:
And neuer yet did Insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause:
Nor moody Beggars, staruing for a time
Of pell-mell hauocke, and confusion
Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a soule
Shall pay full dearely for this encounter,
If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your Nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the world
In praise of Henry Percie: By my Hopes,
This present enterprize set off his head,
I do not thinke a brauer Gentleman,
More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong,
More daring, or more bold, is now aliue,
To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds.
For my part, I may speake it to my shame,
I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry,
And so I heare, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty,
I am content that he shall take the oddes
Of his great name and estimation,
And will, to saue the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him, in a Single Fight
King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee,
Albeit, considerations infinite
Do make against it: No good Worster, no,
We loue our people well; euen those we loue
That are misled vpon your Cousins part:
And will they take the offer of our Grace:
Both he, and they, and you; yea euery man
Shall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his.
So tell your Cousin, and bring me word,
What he will do. But if he will not yeeld,
Rebuke and dread correction waite on vs,
And they shall do their Office. So bee gone,
We will not now be troubled with reply,
We offer faire, take it aduisedly.
Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life,
The Dowglas and the Hotspurre both together,
Are confident against the world in Armes
King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge,
For on their answer will we set on them;
And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.
Manet Prince and Falstaffe.
Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell,
And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship
Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendship
Say thy prayers, and farewell
Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well
Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death
Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him
before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him,
that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes
me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come
on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an
arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No.
Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour
A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A
trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday.
Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it
insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with
the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, therfore
Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so
ends my Catechisme.
Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.
Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
The liberall kinde offer of the King
Ver. 'Twere best he did
Wor. Then we are all vndone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The King would keepe his word in louing vs,
He will suspect vs still, and finde a time
To punish this offence in others faults:
Supposition, all our liues, shall be stucke full of eyes;
For Treason is but trusted like the Foxe,
Who ne're so tame, so cherisht, and lock'd vp,
Will haue a wilde tricke of his Ancestors:
Looke how he can, or sad or merrily,
Interpretation will misquote our lookes,
And we shall feede like Oxen at a stall,
The better cherisht, still the nearer death.
My Nephewes Trespasse may be well forgot,
It hath the excuse of youth, and heate of blood,
And an adopted name of Priuiledge,
A haire-brain'd Hotspurre, gouern'd by a Spleene:
All his offences liue vpon my head,
And on his Fathers. We did traine him on,
And his corruption being tane from vs,
We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all:
Therefore good Cousin, let not Harry know
In any case, the offer of the King
Ver. Deliuer what you will, Ile say 'tis so.
Heere comes your Cosin.
Hot. My Vnkle is return'd,
Deliuer vp my Lord of Westmerland.
Vnkle, what newes?
Wor. The King will bid you battell presently
Dow. Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland
Hot. Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so
Dow. Marry and shall, and verie willingly.
Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King
Hot. Did you begge any? God forbid
Wor. I told him gently of our greeuances,
Of his Oath-breaking: which he mended thus,
By now forswearing that he is forsworne,
He cals vs Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge
With haughty armes, this hatefull name in vs.
Dow. Arme Gentlemen, to Armes, for I haue thrown
A braue defiance in King Henries teeth:
And Westmerland that was ingag'd did beare it,
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on
Wor. The Prince of Wales stept forth before the king,
And Nephew, challeng'd you to single fight
Hot. O, would the quarrell lay vpon our heads,
And that no man might draw short breath to day,
But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell mee,
How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt?
Ver. No, by my Soule: I neuer in my life
Did heare a Challenge vrg'd more modestly,
Vnlesse a Brother should a Brother dare
To gentle exercise, and proofe of Armes.
He gaue you all the Duties of a Man,
Trimm'd vp your praises with a Princely tongue,
Spoke your deseruings like a Chronicle,
Making you euer better then his praise,
By still dispraising praise, valew'd with you:
And which became him like a Prince indeed,
He made a blushing citall of himselfe,
And chid his Trewant youth with such a Grace,
As if he mastred there a double spirit
Of teaching, and of learning instantly:
There did he pause. But let me tell the World,
If he out-liue the enuie of this day,
England did neuer owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his Wantonnesse,
Hot. Cousin, I thinke thou art enamored
On his Follies: neuer did I heare
Of any Prince so wilde at Liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once ere night,
I will imbrace him with a Souldiers arme,
That he shall shrinke vnder my curtesie.
Arme, arme with speed. And Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends,
Better consider what you haue to do,
That I that haue not well the gift of Tongue,
Can lift your blood vp with perswasion.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you
Hot. I cannot reade them now.
O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;
To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long.
If life did ride vpon a Dials point,
Still ending at the arriuall of an houre,
And if we liue, we liue to treade on Kings:
If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs.
Now for our Consciences, the Armes is faire,
When the intent for bearing them is iust.
Enter another Messenger.
Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace
Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale:
For I professe not talking: Onely this,
Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword,
Whose worthy temper I intend to staine
With the best blood that I can meete withall,
In the aduenture of this perillous day.
Now Esperance Percy, and set on:
Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre,
And by that Musicke, let vs all imbrace:
For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall,
A second time do such a curtesie.
They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth with his
vnto the battell. Then enter Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.
Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus y crossest me?
What honor dost thou seeke vpon my head?
Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,
And I do haunt thee in the Battell thus,
Because some tell me, that thou art a King
Blunt. They tell thee true
Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath bought
Thy likenesse: for insted of thee King Harry,
This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,
Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner
Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot,
And thou shalt finde a King that will reuenge
Lords Staffords death.
Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.
Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus
I neuer had triumphed o're a Scot
Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king
Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well:
A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe
Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes,
A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere.
Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King?
Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats
Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,
Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece,
Vntill I meet the King
Hot. Vp, and away,
Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.
Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.
Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear
the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft
who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you:
here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as heauy
too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more
weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of
Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my
150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg during
life. But who comes heere?
Enter the Prince
Pri. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword,
Many a Nobleman lies starke and stiffe
Vnder the hooues of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy sword
Fal. O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile:
Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I haue
done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure
Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee:
I prethee lend me thy sword
Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my
Sword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt
Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the case?
Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.
The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke.
Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.
Throwes it at him.
Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile pierce him: if he do come in
my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let
him make a Carbonado of me. I like not such grinning
honour as Sir Walter hath: Giue mee life, which if I can
saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an
Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince, Lord Iohn of
and Earle of Westmerland.
King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou bleedest
too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him
P.Ioh. Not I, My Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too
Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp,
Least your retirement do amaze your friends
King. I will do so:
My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent
West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent
Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe;
And heauen forbid a shallow scratch should driue
The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on,
And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres
Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland,
Our duty this way lies, for heauens sake come
Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster,
I did not thinke thee Lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn;
But now, I do respect thee as my Soule
King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance then I did looke for
Of such an vngrowne Warriour
Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all.
Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads:
I am the Dowglas, fatall to all those
That weare those colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeit'st the person of a King?
King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at hart
So many of his shadowes thou hast met,
And not the very King. I haue two Boyes
Seeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field:
But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee: so defend thy selfe
Dow. I feare thou art another counterfeit:
And yet infaith thou bear'st thee like a King:
But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be,
And thus I win thee.
They fight, the K[ing]. being in danger, Enter Prince.
Prin. Hold vp thy head vile Scot, or thou art like
Neuer to hold it vp againe: the Spirits
Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Armes;
it is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay.
They Fight, Dowglas flyeth.
Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace?
Sir Nicolas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton straight
King. Stay, and breath awhile.
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion,
And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life
In this faire rescue thou hast brought to mee
Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniury,
That euer said I hearkned to your death.
If it were so, I might haue let alone
The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,
Which would haue bene as speedy in your end,
As all the poysonous Potions in the world,
And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne
K. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.
Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth
Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name
Hot. My name is Harrie Percie
Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name.
I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy,
To share with me in glory any more:
Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere,
Nor can one England brooke a double reigne,
Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales
Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come
To end the one of vs; and would to heauen,
Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine
Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee,
And all the budding Honors on thy Crest,
Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head
Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.
Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no
Boyes play heere, I can tell you.
Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if he
The Prince killeth Percie.
Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth:
I better brooke the losse of brittle life,
Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me,
They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh:
But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole;
And Time, that takes suruey of all the world,
Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie,
But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,
Lyes on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dust
And food for-
Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart:
Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke?
When that this bodie did containe a spirit,
A Kingdome for it was too small a bound:
But now two paces of the vilest Earth
Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead,
Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman.
If thou wer't sensible of curtesie,
I should not make so great a shew of Zeale.
But let my fauours hide thy mangled face,
And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe
For doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heauen,
Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue,
But not remembred in thy Epitaph.
What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh
Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell:
I could haue better spar'd a better man.
O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee,
If I were much in loue with Vanity.
Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day,
Though many dearer in this bloody Fray:
Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by,
Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye.
Falstaffe riseth vp.
Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile
giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow.
'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot,
had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit;
to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the
counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But
to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be
no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeede.
The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the
which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of
this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee
should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would
proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure:
yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as
well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie
sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh
come you along me.
Takes Hotspurre on his backe.
Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.
Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht
thy Maiden sword
Iohn. But soft, who haue we heere?
Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?
Prin. I did, I saw him dead,
Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue?
Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight?
I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes
Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st
Fal. No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but
if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Percy,
if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him
kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or
Duke, I can assure you
Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead
Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen
to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of breath,
and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought
a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee beleeued,
so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare
the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death
I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were aliue,
and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece
of my sword
Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard
Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn.
Come bring your luggage Nobly on your backe:
For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,
Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.
A Retreat is sounded.
The Trumpets sound Retreat, the day is ours:
Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field,
To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead.
Fal. Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards
me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again,
Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue
cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.
The Trumpets sound.
Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
Westmerland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners.
King. Thus euer did Rebellion finde Rebuke.
Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace,
Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you?
And would'st thou turne our offers contrary?
Misuse the tenor of thy Kinsmans trust?
Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day,
A Noble Earle, and many a creature else,
Had beene aliue this houre,
If like a Christian thou had'st truly borne
Betwixt our Armies, true Intelligence
Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to,
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee
King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too:
Other offenders we will pause vpon.
Exit Worcester and Vernon.
How goes the Field?
Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men,
Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest;
And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'd
That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent
The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace,
I may dispose of him
King. With all my heart
Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster,
To you this honourable bounty shall belong:
Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer him
Vp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free:
His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day,
Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds,
Euen in the bosome of our Aduersaries
King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power.
You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin Westmerland
Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speed
To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope,
Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes.
My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower, and the Earle of March.
Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way,
Meeting the Checke of such another day:
And since this Businesse so faire is done,
Let vs not leaue till all our owne be wonne.