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 For I was train'd up in the English court: Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of 't with all my heart: I had rather be a kitten and cry mew, 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, 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, Break with your wives of your departure hence : [Exit. Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me, With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, a The tongue-the English language, according to Jchn son. b Candlestick. So the folios; the quartos canstick, which is not an uncommon word in the old poets. I'll haste the writer. So all the old copies. The earlier modern editors read "I'll in and haste the writer." In reckoning up the several devils' names That were his lackeys: I cried, hum,—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 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, 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 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 shew greatness, courage, blood, And that's the dearest grace it renders you,- Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed! Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she run And rest your gentle head upon her lap, Mort. With all my heart I 'll sit and hear her By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. And those musicians that shall play to you, Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy lap. Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. GLENDOWER speaks some Welsh words, and then the Music plays. Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands And 't is no marvel, he's so humorous. Lady P. Then would you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. That no persuasion. All the old copies retain that. b All the old copies gives this as one line. Steevens reads "She bids you Upon the wanton rushes lay you down." Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. Lady P. Would's have thy head broken? Lady P. Then be still. Hot. Neither; 't is a woman's fault. Lady P. What's that? A Welsh SONG, sung by Lady M. Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good sooth; and, As true as I live; and, As God shall mend me; and, As sure as day : And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth, And such protest of pepper-gingerbread," To velvet-guards, and Sunday-citizens. Come, sing. Lady P. I will not sing. Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so come in when [Exit. will. ye Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow, As hot lord Percy is on fire to go. By this our book's drawn; we'll but scal, and my With all heart. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, and Lords. K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I Must have some private conference: But be near at hand, For we shall presently have need of you.— I know not whether God will have it so, But thou dost, in thy passages of life, Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude society, As thou art match'd withal and grafted to, Quit all offences with as clear excuse, K. Hen. God pardon thee!-yet let me won- At thy affections, which do hold a wing men, And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, a Reproof-disproof. Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state, That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little Such as is bent on sun-like majesty But rather drows'd, and hung their eyelids down, Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; 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 a Barin. Bavin is brushwood, used for kindling fires. b Carded. It is possible that Henry simply means that "the skipping king" discarded his state. But in the sense in which Shelton, in his translation of Don Quixote, uses the word "it is necessary that this book be carded and purged of certain base things" we may consider that Richard fretted away his state, as the wool-carder makes the lock attenuated by continual tearing. c Carping. So the folio, and all the quartos except that of 1598, which reads capring. Carping was formerly used in the sense of jesting. Turns head against the lion's armed jaws; Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes, This infant warrior in his enterprises The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, Capitulate against us, and are up. But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so; And God forgive them that so much have sway'd And that shall be the day, when'er it lights, a Capitulate to settle the heads of an agreement. Facours-features. So in Richard II. "Yet I well remember The favours of these men." Percy is but my factor, good my lord, K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this: Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein. Enter BLUNT. How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak of. Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,- K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day; With him my son, lord John of Lancaster; On Thursday, we ourselves will march: count, Our business valued, some twelve days hence Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet. Our hands are full of business: let's away; Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-East cheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern. Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Fal. 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 sud denly, 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 peppercorn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me. Bard. 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. Bard. Why you are so fat, sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, sir John. Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,—but 't is 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 rann'st up Gadshill 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 bonfirelight! 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 belly! Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned. a In some liking-in some substance. 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. well enough. Fal. Go to, I know you 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 womar, 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. Fal. 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 my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark. Host. 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 sneak-cup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so. Enter PRINCE HENRY and PETO, marching. FALSTAFF meets the PRINCE, playing on his truncheon, like a fife. Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i' faith? must we all march? Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion. 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. Prithee, let her alone and list to me. |