ces back? GOWER. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland and the Archbishop. FALSTAFF. Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord? CHIEF JUSTICE. You shall have letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. FALSTAFF. My lord! CHIEF JUSTICE. What's the matter? FALSTAFF. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner? GOWER. I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir John. CHIEF JUSTICE. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go. FALSTAFF. Will you sup with me, Master Gower? CHIEF JUSTICE. What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John? FALSTAFF. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me. This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair. CHIEF JUSTICE. Now, the Lord lighten thee! Thou art a great fool. Exeunt SCENE II. London. Another street Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS PRINCE. Before God, I am exceeding weary. POINS. Is't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have attach'd one of so high blood. PRINCE. Faith, it does me; though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer? POINS. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition. PRINCE. Belike then my appetite was not-princely got; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But indeed these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name, or to know thy face to-morrow, or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast- viz., these, and those that were thy peach-colour'd ones- or to bear the inventory of thy shirts- as, one for superfluity, and another for use! But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland. And God knows whether those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault; whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened. POINS. How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good young princes would do so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is? PRINCE. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? POINS. Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing. PRINCE. It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine. POINS. Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that you will tell. PRINCE. Marry, I tell thee it is not meet that I should be sad, now my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee- as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend- I could be sad and sad indeed too. POINS. Very hardly upon such a subject. PRINCE. By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency: let the end try the man. But I tell thee my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow. POINS. The reason? PRINCE. What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep? POINS. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite. PRINCE. It would be every man's thought; and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way better than thine. Every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so? POINS. Why, because you have been so lewd and so much engraffed to Falstaff. PRINCE. And to thee. POINS. By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it with mine own ears. The worst that they can say of me is that I am a second brother and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph. Enter BARDOLPH and PAGE PRINCE. And the boy that I gave Falstaff. 'A had him from me Christian; and look if the fat villain have not transform'd him ape. BARDOLPH. God save your Grace! PRINCE. And yours, most noble Bardolph! POINS. Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead? PAGE. 'A calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window. At last I spied his eyes; and methought he had made two holes in the alewife's new petticoat, and so peep'd through. PRINCE. Has not the boy profited? BARDOLPH. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away! PAGE. Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away! PRINCE. Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy? PAGE. Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream. PRINCE. A crown's worth of good interpretation. There 'tis, boy. [Giving a crown] POINS. O that this blossom could be kept from cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee. BARDOLPH. An you do not make him be hang'd among you, the gallows shall have wrong. PRINCE. And how doth thy master, Bardolph? BARDOLPH. Well, my lord. He heard of your Grace's coming to town. There's a letter for you. POINS. Deliver'd with good respect. And how doth the martlemas, your master? BARDOLPH. In bodily health, sir. POINS. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician; but that moves not him. Though that be sick, it dies not. PRINCE. I do allow this well to be as familiar with me as my dog; and he holds his place, for look you how he writes. POINS. [Reads] 'John Falstaff, knight'- Every man must know that as oft as he has occasion to name himself, even like those that are kin to the King; for they never prick their finger but they say 'There's some of the King's blood spilt.' 'How comes that?' says he that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower's cap: 'I am the King's poor cousin, sir.' PRINCE. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. But the letter: [Reads] 'Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the King nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting.' POINS. Why, this is a certificate. PRINCE. Peace! [Reads] 'I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity.'- POINS. He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded. PRINCE. [Reads] 'I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell. Thine, by yea and no- which is as much as to say as thou usest him- JACK FALSTAFF with my familiars, JOHN with my brothers and sisters, and SIR JOHN with all Europe.' POINS. My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it. PRINCE. That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister? POINS. God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so. PRINCE. Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. Is your master here in London? BARDOLPH. Yea, my lord. PRINCE. Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank? BARDOLPH. At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap. PRINCE. What company? PAGE. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. PRINCE. Sup any women with him? PAGE. None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet. PRINCE. What pagan may that be? PAGE. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's. PRINCE. Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper? POINS. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you. PRINCE. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. There's for your silence. BARDOLPH. I have no tongue, sir. PAGE. And for mine, sir, I will govern it. PRINCE. Fare you well; go. Exeunt BARDOLPH and PAGE This Doll Tearsheet should be some road. POINS. I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans and London. PRINCE. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? POINS. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers. PRINCE. From a god to a bull? A heavy descension! It was Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? A low transformation! That shall be mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned. Exeunt SCENE III. Warkworth. Before the castle Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY NORTHUMBERLAND. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs; Put not you on the visage of the times And be, like them, to Percy troublesome. LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. I have given over, I will speak no more. Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. NORTHUMBERLAND. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; And but my going nothing can redeem it. LADY PERCY. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars! The time was, father, that you broke your word, When you were more endear'd to it than now; When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, Threw many a northward look to see his father Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost, yours and your son's. For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! For his, it stuck upon him as the sun In the grey vault of heaven; and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. He had no legs that practis'd not his gait; And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, Became the accents of the valiant; For those who could speak low and tardily Would turn their own perfection to abuse To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait, In diet, in affections of delight, In military rules, humours of blood, He was the mark and glass, copy and book, That fashion'd others. And him- O wondrous him! O miracle of men!- him did you leave- Second to none, unseconded by you- To look upon the hideous god of war In disadvantage, to abide a field Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name Did seem defensible. So you left him. Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong To hold your honour more precise and nice With others than with him! Let them alone. The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong. Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. NORTHUMBERLAND. Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in another place, And find me worse provided. LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. O, fly to Scotland Till that the nobles and the armed commons Have of their puissance made a little taste. LADY PERCY. If they get ground and vantage of the King, Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, First let them try themselves. So did your son; He was so suff'red; so came I a widow; And never shall have length of life enough To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, For recordation to my noble husband. NORTHUMBERLAND. Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind As with the tide swell'd up unto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neither way. Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop, But many thousand reasons hold me back. I will resolve for Scotland. There am I, Till time and vantage crave my company. Exeunt SCENE IV. London. The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap Enter FRANCIS and another DRAWER FRANCIS. What the devil hast thou brought there-apple-johns? Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john. SECOND DRAWER. Mass, thou say'st true. The Prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.' It ang'red him to the heart; but he hath forgot that. FRANCIS. Why, then, cover and set them down; and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music. Enter third DRAWER THIRD DRAWER. Dispatch! The room where they supp'd is too hot; they'll come in straight. FRANCIS. Sirrah, here will be the Prince and Master Poins anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word. THIRD DRAWER. By the mass, here will be old uds; it will be an excellent stratagem. SECOND DRAWER. I'll see if I can find out Sneak. Exeunt second and third DRAWERS Enter HOSTESS and DOLL TEARSHEET HOSTESS. I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere one can say 'What's this?' How do you now? DOLL. Better than I was- hem. HOSTESS. Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold. Lo, here comes Sir John. Enter FALSTAFF FALSTAFF. [Singing] 'When Arthur first in court'- Empty the jordan. [Exit FRANCIS]- [Singing] 'And was a worthy king'- How now, Mistress Doll! HOSTESS. Sick of a calm; yea, good faith. FALSTAFF. So is all her sect; and they be once in a calm, they are sick. DOLL. A pox damn you, you muddy rascal! Is that all the comfort you give me? FALSTAFF. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll. DOLL. I make them! Gluttony and diseases make them: I make them not. FALSTAFF. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that. DOLL. Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels. FALSTAFF. 'Your brooches, pearls, and ouches.' For to serve bravely is to come halting off; you know, to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon the charg'd chambers bravely- DOLL. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself! HOSTESS. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet but you fall to some discord. You are both, i' good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What the good-year! one must bear, and that must be you. You are the weaker vessel, as as they say, the emptier vessel. DOLL. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogs-head? There's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuff'd in the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the wars; and whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares. Re-enter FRANCIS FRANCIS. Sir, Ancient Pistol's below and would speak with you. DOLL. Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England. HOSTESS. If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith! I must live among my neighbours; I'll no swaggerers. I am in good name and fame with the very best. Shut the door. There comes no swaggerers here; I have not liv'd all this while to have swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you. FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear, hostess? HOSTESS. Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes no swaggerers here. FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient. HOSTESS. Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me; and your ancient swagg'rer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick, the debuty, t' other day; and, as he said to me- 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last, i' good faith!- 'Neighbour Quickly,' says he- Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then- 'Neighbour Quickly,' says he 'receive those that are civil, for' said he 'you are in an ill name.' Now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon. 'For' says he 'you are an honest woman and well thought on, therefore take heed what guests you receive. Receive' says he 'no swaggering companions.' There comes none here. You would bless you to hear what he said. No, I'll no swagg'rers. FALSTAFF. He's no swagg'rer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' faith; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. Call him up, drawer. Exit FRANCIS HOSTESS. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater; but I do not love swaggering, by my troth. I am the worse when one says 'swagger.' Feel, masters, how I shake; look you, I warrant you. DOLL. So you do, hostess. HOSTESS. Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf. I cannot abide swagg'rers. Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and PAGE PISTOL. God save you, Sir John! FALSTAFF. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack; do you discharge upon mine hostess. PISTOL. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets. FALSTAFF. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly offend her. HOSTESS. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets. I'll drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I. PISTOL. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you. DOLL. Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What! you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your master. PISTOL. I know you, Mistress Dorothy. DOLL. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir? God's light, with two points on your shoulder? Much! PISTOL. God let me not live but I will murder your ruff for this. FALSTAFF. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here. Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. HOSTESS. No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain. DOLL. Captain! Thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earn'd them. You a captain! you slave, for what? For tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! hang him, rogue! He lives upon mouldy stew'd prunes and dried cakes. A captain! God's light, these villains will make the word as odious as the word 'occupy'; which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted. Therefore captains had need look to't. BARDOLPH. Pray thee go down, good ancient. FALSTAFF. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. PISTOL. Not I! I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her; I'll be reveng'd of her. PAGE. Pray thee go down. PISTOL. I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damn'd lake, by this hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors! Have we not Hiren here? HOSTESS. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i' faith; I beseek you now, aggravate your choler. PISTOL. These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses, And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, Which cannot go but thirty mile a day, Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar. Shall we fall foul for toys? HOSTESS. By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter words. BARDOLPH. Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a brawl anon. PISTOL. Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren here? HOSTESS. O' my word, Captain, there's none such here. What the good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be quiet. PISTOL. Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis. Come, give's some sack. 'Si fortune me tormente sperato me contento.' Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire. Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there. [Laying down his sword] Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothings? FALSTAFF. Pistol, I would be quiet. PISTOL. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the seven stars. DOLL. For God's sake thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal. PISTOL. Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags? FALSTAFF. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be nothing here. BARDOLPH. Come, get you down stairs. PISTOL. What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue? [Snatching up his sword] Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days! Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say! HOSTESS. Here's goodly stuff toward! FALSTAFF. Give me my rapier, boy. DOLL. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. FALSTAFF. Get you down stairs. [Drawing and driving PISTOL out] HOSTESS. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons. Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH DOLL. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you! HOSTESS. Are you not hurt i' th' groin? Methought 'a made a shrewd thrust at your belly. Re-enter BARDOLPH FALSTAFF. Have you turn'd him out a doors? BARDOLPH. Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i' th' shoulder. FALSTAFF. A rascal! to brave me! DOLL. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou sweat'st! Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson chops. Ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain! FALSTAFF. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket. DOLL. Do, an thou dar'st for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets. Enter musicians PAGE. The music is come, sir. FALSTAFF. Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Don. A rascal bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quick-silver. DOLL. I' faith, and thou follow'dst him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting a days and foining a nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven? Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS disguised as drawers FALSTAFF. Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a death's-head; do not bid me remember mine end. DOLL. Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of? FALSTAFF. A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have made a good pantler; 'a would ha' chipp'd bread well. DOLL. They say Poins has a good wit. FALSTAFF. He a good wit! hang him, baboon! His wit's as thick as Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is in a mallet. DOLL. Why does the Prince love him so, then? FALSTAFF. Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon join'd-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the Leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other gambol faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the Prince admits him. For the Prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois. PRINCE. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off? POINS. Let's beat him before his whore. PRINCE. Look whe'er the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd like a parrot. POINS. Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance? FALSTAFF. Kiss me, Doll. PRINCE. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th' almanac to that? POINS. And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper. FALSTAFF. Thou dost give me flattering busses. DOLL. By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart. FALSTAFF. I am old, I am old. DOLL. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all. FALSTAFF. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money a Thursday. Shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come. 'A grows late; we'll to bed. Thou't forget me when I am gone. DOLL. By my troth, thou't set me a-weeping, an thou say'st so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return. Well, hearken a' th' end. FALSTAFF. Some sack, Francis. PRINCE & POINS. Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing] FALSTAFF. Ha! a bastard son of the King's? And art thou not Poins his brother? PRINCE. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead! FALSTAFF. A better than thou. I am a gentleman: thou art a drawer. PRINCE. Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears. HOSTESS. O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome to London. Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine. O Jesu, are you come from Wales? FALSTAFF. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. [Leaning his band upon DOLL] DOLL. How, you fat fool! I scorn you. POINS. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat. PRINCE. YOU whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman! HOSTESS. God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, by my troth. FALSTAFF. Didst thou hear me? PRINCE. Yea; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by Gadshill. You knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to try my patience. FALSTAFF. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing. PRINCE. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle you. FALSTAFF. No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no abuse. PRINCE. Not- to dispraise me, and call me pander, and bread-chipper, and I know not what! FALSTAFF. No abuse, Hal. POINS. No abuse! FALSTAFF. No abuse, Ned, i' th' world; honest Ned, none. I disprais'd him before the wicked- that the wicked might not fall in love with thee; in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject; and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; no, faith, boys, none. PRINCE. See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is thy boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked? POINS. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. FALSTAFF. The fiend hath prick'd down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy- there is a good angel about him; but the devil outbids him too. PRINCE. For the women? FALSTAFF. For one of them- she's in hell already, and burns poor souls. For th' other- I owe her money; and whether she be damn'd for that, I know not. HOSTESS. No, I warrant you. FALSTAFF. No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which I think thou wilt howl. HOSTESS. All vict'lers do so. What's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent? PRINCE. You, gentlewoman- DOLL. What says your Grace? FALSTAFF. His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against. [Knocking within] HOSTESS. Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door there, Francis. Enter PETO PRINCE. Peto, how now! What news? PETO. The King your father is at Westminster; And there are twenty weak and wearied posts Come from the north; and as I came along I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff. PRINCE. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame So idly to profane the precious time, When tempest of commotion, like the south, Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night. Exeunt PRINCE, POINS, PETO, and BARDOLPH FALSTAFF. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick'd. [Knocking within] More knocking at the door! Re-enter BARDOLPH How now! What's the matter? BARDOLPH. You must away to court, sir, presently; A dozen captains stay at door for you. FALSTAFF. [To the PAGE]. Pay the musicians, sirrah.- Farewell, hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after; the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is call'd on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. DOLL. I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst! Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. FALSTAFF. Farewell, farewell. Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH HOSTESS. Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man -well fare thee well. BARDOLPH. [ Within] Mistress Tearsheet! HOSTESS. What's the matter? BARDOLPH. [ Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master. HOSTESS. O, run Doll, run, run, good Come. [To BARDOLPH] She comes blubber'd.- Yea, will you come, Doll? Exeunt ACT III. SCENE I. Westminster. The palace Enter the KING in his nightgown, with a page KING. Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters And well consider of them. Make good speed. Exit page How many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds, That with the hurly death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Enter WARWICK and Surrey WARWICK. Many good morrows to your Majesty! KING. Is it good morrow, lords? WARWICK. 'Tis one o'clock, and past. KING. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords. Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? WARWICK. We have, my liege. KING. Then you perceive the body of our kingdom How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, And with what danger, near the heart of it. WARWICK. It is but as a body yet distempered; Which to his former strength may be restored With good advice and little medicine. My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. KING. O God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea; and other times to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book and sit him down and die. 'Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together, and in two years after Were they at wars. It is but eight years since This Percy was the man nearest my soul; Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs And laid his love and life under my foot; Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard Gave him defiance. But which of you was by- [To WARWICK] You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember- When Richard, with his eye brim full of tears, Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy? 'Northumberland, thou ladder by the which My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne'- Though then, God knows, I had no such intent But that necessity so bow'd the state That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss- 'The time shall come'- thus did he follow it- 'The time will come that foul sin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption' so went on, Foretelling this same time's condition And the division of our amity. WARWICK. There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the natures of the times deceas'd; The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, who in their seeds And weak beginning lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time; And, by the necessary form of this, King Richard might create a perfect guess That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness; Which should not find a ground to root upon Unless on you. KING. Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities; And that same word even now cries out on us. They say the Bishop and Northumberland Are fifty thousand strong. WARWICK. It cannot be, my lord. Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord, The powers that you already have sent forth Shall bring this prize in very easily. To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd A certain instance that Glendower is dead. Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill; And these unseasoned hours perforce must ad Unto your sickness. KING. I will take your counsel. And, were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. Exeunt SCENE II. Gloucestershire. Before Justice, SHALLOW'S house Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and servants behind SHALLOW. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir; give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence? SILENCE. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. SHALLOW. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? SILENCE. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow! SHALLOW. By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar; he is at Oxford still, is he not? SILENCE. Indeed, sir, to my cost. SHALLOW. 'A must, then, to the Inns o' Court shortly. I was once of Clement's Inn; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet. SILENCE. You were call'd 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin. SHALLOW. By the mass, I was call'd anything; and I would have done anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsole man- you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of Court again. And I may say to you we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. SILENCE. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers? SHALLOW. The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break Scoggin's head at the court gate, when 'a was a crack not thus high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead! SILENCE. We shall all follow, cousin. SHALLOW. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? SILENCE. By my troth, I was not there. SHALLOW. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet? SILENCE. Dead, sir. SHALLOW. Jesu, Jesu, dead! drew a good bow; and dead! 'A shot a fine shoot. John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! 'A would have clapp'd i' th' clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes now? SILENCE. Thereafter as they be- a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. SHALLOW. And is old Double dead? Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him SILENCE. Here come two of Sir John Falstaffs men, as I think. SHALLOW. Good morrow, honest gentlemen. BARDOLPH. I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow? SHALLOW. I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county, and one of the King's justices of the peace. What is your good pleasure with me? BARDOLPH. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir John Falstaff- a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader. SHALLOW. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good back-sword man. How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth? BARDOLPH. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife. SHALLOW. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed too. 'Better accommodated!' It is good; yea, indeed, is it. Good phrases are surely, and ever were, ve