For I was train'd up in the English court:
Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty, lovely well,
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;
A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my
heart;

I had rather be a kitten, and cry-mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers:
I had rather hear a brazen canstick+ turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry;
"Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.

Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.
Hot. I do not care: I'll give thrice so much
To any well-deserving friend;
[land
But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone?
Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away

by night:

I'll haste the writer, and, withal, [hence:
Breaks with your wives of your departure
I am afraid, my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit.
Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my
father!

Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me,

With telling me of the moldwarp|| and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish,

A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,-
He held me, but last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names,
That were his lackeys: I cried, humph,-and
well,-go to,-

But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;
Worse than a smoky house:-I had rather live
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; Exceedingly well read, and profited In strange concealments;** valiant as a lion, And wond'rous affable; and as bountiful + Candlestick. Break the matter. ** Secrets.

Cutting.

The writer of the articles. Il Mole. ¶ Dainties.

As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humour; faith, he does:
I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof;
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilfulblame;

And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage,
blood,

(And that's the dearest grace it renders you,)
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain:
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed!

Here comes our wives, and let us take our leave.

Re-enter GLENDOWER, with the LADIES. Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers

me,

My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. Glend. My daughter weeps; she will not part with you,

She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. Mort. Good father, tell her,-that she, and my aunt Percy,

Shall follow in your conduct speedily [GLENDOWER speaks to his Daughter in Welsh, and she answers him in the same. Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish selfwill'd harlotry,

One no persuasion can do good upon.

[Lady M. speaks to MORTIMER in Welsh. Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh [heavens, Which thou pourest down from these swelling I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, In such a parley would I answer thee.

[Lady M. speaks.

[tongue

1 understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.t
Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run
mad.
[Lady M. speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
Glend. She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear
her sing:

By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. Glend. Do so;

And those musicians that shall play to you,,

* Guard, escort. A compliment to queen Elizabeth. + Our paper of conditions."

When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids
down,

Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries; [full.
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight, [more;
Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious
lord,

Be more myself.

K. Hen. For all the world,

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then

My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of life cancels all bands;*
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcelt of this vow.
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in
this:-
[herein.

Enter BLUNT.

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.

Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas; whose high
deeds,
[arms,
Whose hot incursions, and great name in
Holds from all soldiers chief majority,
And military title capital,
[Christ?
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing
clothes,

This infant warrior, in his enterprizes
Discomfited great Douglas: ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northum-
berland,

The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas,
Mortimer,

Capitulatet against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough,-through vassal
fear,

Base inclination, and the start of spleen,-
To fight againt me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns,
To show how much degenerate thou art.
P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find
it so;
[sway'd
And God forgive them, that have so much
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son;
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favours with a bloody mask,
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame

with it.

Blunt. So hath the business that I come to

speak of.

Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,-
That Douglas, and the English rebels, met,
The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a state.

K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth
With him my son, lord John of Lancaster;
to-day;
For this advertisement; is five days old :-
Forward; on Thursday, we ourselves will
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set

march:

Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you Shall march through Glostershire; by which account,

Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our hands are full of business: let's away;
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III-Eastcheap.-A Room in the
Boar's Head Tavern.

Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.

Ful. 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 no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a church! Company, villanous company, hath been the spoil of me.

Burd. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it:-come, sing me a bawdy song; make me merry. I was as virtuously 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; lived well, and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

糖

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thou 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 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 futuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved 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 maintained that salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your Lelly!

Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned.

Enter HOSTESS.

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 a 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.

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. Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing.

Ful. 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 inn, but I shall have

* Admiral's ship. In the story-book of Reynard the Fox.

Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper.

Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneakcup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.

Enter Prince HENRY and POINS, marching. FALSTAFF meets the PRINCE, playing on his truncheon like a fife.

Ful. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i'faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion? Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.

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 behind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

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 trille, some eight-penny matter. Host. So I told him, my lord'; and I said, I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he 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.

Ful. 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 Mariant 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, 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.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?
Fal. What beast? why an otter.

P. Hen. An otter, Sir John! why an otter? Ful. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a 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!

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 me thy love.

Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you. Fal. Did I, Bardolph?

Burd. Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
Ful. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper.

A term of contempt frequently used by Shakspeare

+ A man dressed like a woman, who attends morris

dancers.

Hostess,

• [Exit.

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?

Ful. 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!

P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent embossed rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor pennyworth 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, Ha!? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.You confess then, you picked my pocket?

P. Hen. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest I am pacified-Still?-Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit HOSTESS.] Now, Hal, to the news at court for the robbery, lad,-How is that answered?

P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:-The money is paid back again.

Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a

double labour.

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, praise them.

P. Hen. BardolphBard. My lord.

P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster, [land. My brother John; this to my lord of WestmoreGo, Poins, to horse,to horse; for thou, and I, Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.Jack,

Meet me to-morrow i' the temple hall

At two o'clock i' the afternoon :

There shalt thou know thy charge; and there

receive

Money, and order for their furniture.
The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt PRINCE, POINS, and BARDOLPH.

Swoln, puffy.

ACT IV.

SCENE 1.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS. Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: if speaking truth,

In this fine age, were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas* have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defyt
The tongues of soothers; but a braver place
In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself;
Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour:
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.

Hot. Do so, and 'tis well:—

Enter a MESSENGER, with letters.

What letters hast thou there?—I can but thank you.

Mess. These letters come from your father,Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not himself?

Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous sick.

Hot. 'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be

Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?

Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth;

He was much fear'd by his physicians.
And at the time of my departure thence,

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been whole,

His health was never better worth than now.
Ere he by sickness had been visited;
Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness
doth infect

The very life-blood of our enterprize;
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.--
He writes me here,-that inward sickness-
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul remov'd but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,—
That with our small conjunction, we should on,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us :
For, as he writes, there is no quailing || now;
Because the king is certainly possess'd¶
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?

Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd

off:

And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it :-Were it
To set the exact wealth of all our states
good,

All at one cast? to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?

This expression is applied by way of preeminence to the head of the Douglas family. + Disdain. t Meet him face to face. Forces. | Languishing. ¶ Informed.