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 shewed 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 woman! His industry is upstairs, and downstairs; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he, that kills me some six, or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, Fye upon this quiet life! I want work. Omy sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed to-day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff! I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow!

Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH and 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 nether-stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, rogue.-Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks.

se

th

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?

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a
dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scap'd by
miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet;
four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and
through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce si-
gnum. I never dealt better since I was a man: all would
not do. A plague of all cowards! - Let them speak:
if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains,
and the sons of darkness.

P. Hen. Speak, sirs! how was it?
Gads. We four set upon some dozen, —
Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord.
Gads. And bound them.

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 am I no two-legged creature. Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some of them. Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: for I have peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid; two P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of but-rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what,Hal,—if I tell ter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse! Thou knowtale of the son? If thou didst, then behold that com- est my old ward;- here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me,pound! P. Hen. What, four? thou said'st but two, even now. Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four. Poins. Ay, ay, he said 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.

-

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too. There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man; yet a coward is worse, than a cup of sack with lime in it; a villainous 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 paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

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 thousand pound this morning.

-

P. Hen. Seven? why, there were but four, even now.
Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.
Pal. 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. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These
nine in buckram, that I told thee of,-
P. Hen. So, two mere already.
Fal. Their points being broken,
Poins. Down fell their hose.
Fal. Began to give me ground: but I followed 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 couldst 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 whoresou, obscene, greasy tallow-keech,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?

he would swear truth ont of England, but he would make you believe, it was done in fight; and persuaded us to do the like.

Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason! Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass, strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our gartell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compul-ments with it, and to swear, it was the blood of true sion! if reasons were as plenty, as blackberries, I would men. I did that I did not this seven years before, I give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. blushed to hear his monstrous devices.

P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin, this san- P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen guine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever breaker, this huge hill of fleshsince thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st away; what instinct hadst thou for it?

Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neats-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, breath 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 plain a tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four, and with a word out-faced you from your prize, and have it, yea, and can show it you here in the house:-and, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with a quick dexterity, and roar-I ed for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What 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?

Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack! What trick hast thou now?

Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he, that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters! Was 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 thy running away.

Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest 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?

Host. An old man.

Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? do you
behold these exhalations?
P. Hen. I do.

Bard. What think you they portend?
P. Hen. Hot livers and cold purses.
Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter.
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?
Fal. My own knee? when I was about thy years, Hal,
was not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have
crept into any alderman's thumb-ring. A plague of
sighing and grief! it blows a man up, like a bladder.
There's villainous 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 Amaimon the bastinado,
and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his
true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook, —
What, a plague, call you him?
Poins. O, Glendower.

Fal. Owen, Owen; the same; and his son-inlaw, Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o'horseback up a hill perpendicular.

P. Hen. He, that rides at high speed, and with his 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.

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. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more. Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father's beard is turned white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap, as stinking mackarel.

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 like, we shall have good trading that way. - But, tell me,

Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou being heir-Shall I give him his answer?

apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Doug'as, 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-morrow, when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me, practise an answer!

P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life!

Se

Fal. Shall I? content: this chair shall be my mours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swoln state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Man

crown.

P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy gol-ningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that
den sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruf-
crown for a pitiful bald crown!
fian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good,
but to taste sack ad drink it? wherein neat and
cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cun-
ning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villainy?
wherein villainous, but in all things? wherein worthy,
but in nothing?

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.

Fal. Weep not, sweet queen! for trickling 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 harlotry
players, as I ever see.

Fal. I would, your grace would take me with you.
Whom means your grace?

I

P. Hen. That villainous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan. Fal. My lord, the man I know. P. Hen. I know, thou dost. 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 Fal. Peace, good pint-pot! peace, good tickle-brain! utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help -Harry, I do not only marvel, where thou spendest the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many thy time, but also how thou art accompanied; for an old host, that I know, is damned: if to be fat be to though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the No, my good lord; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, basooner it wears. That thou art my son, I have partly nish Poins! but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falthy mother's word,partly my own opinion;but chiefly, staff,true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff,and there a villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging|fore more valiant, being as he is,old JackFalstaff, banish of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou not him thy Harry's company,banish not him thy Harbe son to me, here lies the point: Why, being son ry's company; banish plump Jack, and banish all the to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun world! of heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries? a question not to be asked! Shall the son 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 known to many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest; for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in 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 some fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff. If that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If 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 rabbit-sucker, or a poulter's hare!
P. Hen, Well, here I am set.

Fal. And here I stand. - Iudge, my masters.
P. Hen. Now, Harry? whence come you?
Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.

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 hu

PHen. I do, I will.

[4 knocking heard.
[Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph.
Re-enter BARDOLPH, running.
Bard. O, my lord, my lord, the sheriff, with a most
monstrous watch, is at the door.
Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play! I have much
to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.

Re-enter Hostess, hastily.
Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord!
Fal. Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a 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! walk up above! Now, my masters, for a true face, and good conscience.

the rest

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?
Sher. First, pardon me, my lord! A hue and cry
Hath follow'd certain men unto this house.
P. Hen. What men?

Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord:
A gross fat man.

Car. As fat as butter.

P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here;
For I myself at this time have employ'd him,
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time,

Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg'd withal:
And so let me entreat you,leave the house!
Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen,
Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.

P. Hen. It may be so: if he have robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable; and so, farewell!
Sher. Good night, my noble lord!

P. Hen. I think, it is good morrow; is it not?
Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think, it be two o'clock.
[Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier.
P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well, as Paul's.
Go, call him forth!

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!
Poins. Item, A capon, 2s. 2d.

Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d.

Item, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2s. 6d.
Item, Bread, a halfpenny.

P. Hen. O monstrous! but one halfpenny-worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack!-What there is else,keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day! I'll to the court in the morning: we must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, his death will be a march of twelvescore. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Poins!

Poins. Good morrow, good my lord!

Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,

In quantity equals not one of yours.
See, how this river comes me cranking in,
And cuts me,
from the best of all my land,
A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle out.
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run,
In a new channel, fair and evenly:

It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you see, it doth.
Mort. Yea,

But mark, how he bears his course, and runs me up
With like advantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposed continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you.

And wond'rous affable, and as bountiful,
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 wilful-blame,
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,)

Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him here, Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,

And on this north side win this cape of land;

And then he runs straight and even.

Hot. I'll have it so; a little charge will do it.
Glend. I will not have it alter'd.

Hot. Will not you?

Glend. No, nor you shall not.

Hot. Who shall say me nay?

Glend. Why, that will I.

Hot. Let me not understand you then,

Speak it in Welsh!

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you;
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 land
To any well-deserving friend;

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,

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.

[Exit.

Break with your wives of your departure hence.
I am afraid, my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
Mort. Fye, 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,

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

-

Here come 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,

A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and aramping 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, arailing wife;
Worse than a smoky house. —I had rather live,
With cheese and garlick, 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,

aunt Percy,

that she, and my

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, Which thou pourest down from these swelling

heavens,

I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,
In such a parley would I answer thee.

[Lady M. speaks.
I 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 tongue
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.
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 rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song, that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids 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,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
Yet straight they shall be here, sit, and attend!
Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: