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Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
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 Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence,
And straight they shall be here sit, and attend.
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. The music plays. Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh ;
And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous.
Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical, for you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in
Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish.
Lady P. Would'st have thy head broken?
Lady P. Then be still.
Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.
Lady P. Now God help thee!
A Welsh song sung by Lady MORTIMER. 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,
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 ye will. Exit. Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer; you are
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go.
Mort. With all my heart.
SCENE II.-London. A Room in the Palace.
For we shall presently have need of you.
I know not whether God will have it so,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
K. Hen. God pardon thee! yet let me wonder,
At thy affections, which do hold a wing
fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state,
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state,
That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
As thou art to this hour was Richard then
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.
Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas,
Capitulate against us and are up.
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
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;
Is Bridgenorth; and, Harry, you shall march
SCENE III-Eastcheap. 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
dwindie? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am withered 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 peppercorn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a church! Company, villanous company, hath been the spoil of me. 12
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 'tis in the nose of thee: thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp. Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no
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, that's God's angel.' But thou art altogether given over, and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus 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; God 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.
Enter Mistress QUICKLY.
How now, Dame Partlet the hen! have you inquired yet who picked my pocket? 61 Quick. 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. Ye 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.
Quick. Who, I? No; I defy thee: God's light! I was never called so in mine own house before. Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.
Quick. 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.
Quick. 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. Quick. 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.
Quick. 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 sneak-cup; 'sblood! an he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.
Enter the PRINCE and POINS, marching. FALSTAFF meets them, playing on his truncheon like a fife.
How now, lad! is the wind in that door, i' faith? must we all march?
Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. Quick. My lord, I pray you, hear me. Prince. What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.
Quick. Good my lord, hear me.
Fal. Prithee, let her alone, and list to me.
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. Prince. What didst thou lose, Jack?
Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's.
Prince. A trifle; some eight-penny matter.
Quick. 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. Prince. What! he did not?
Quick. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.
Fal. 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 Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.
Quick. Say, what thing? what thing? Fal. What thing! why, a thing to thank God on. Quick. I am no thing to thank God on, I 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.
Quick. Say, what beast, thou knave thou? Fal. What beast! why, an otter. Prince. An otter, Sir John! why an otter? Fal. Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.
Quick. Thou art an unjust man in saying so: thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!
Prince. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.
Quick. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you ought him a thousand pound. 150 Prince. Sirrah! do I owe you a thousand pound? Ful. A thousand pound, Hal! a million: thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Quick. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.
Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?
Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. Fal. Yea; if he said my ring was copper. Prince. I say 'tis copper: darest thou be as good as thy word now?
Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare; but as thou art a prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.
Prince. And why not as the lion ?
Fal. 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
Prince. 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 all 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. 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 prithee, be gone.
Exit Mistress QUICKLY. Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad, how is that answered?
Prince. O! my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee: the money is paid back again. Pal. O! I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double labour.
Prince. I am good friends with my father and may do any thing.
Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou dost, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord.
Prince. Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster,
To my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland.
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse! for thou and I
Money and order for their furniture.
Exeunt the PRINCE, POINS, and BARDolph. Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast; come!
O! I could wish this tavern were my drum.
SCENE I.-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,
Do so, and 'tis well.
Enter a Messenger, with letters.
Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth | Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince John. infect
The very life-blood of our enterprise;
liot. No harm: what more?
Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
On any soul remov'd but on his own.
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
All furnish'd, all in arms,
And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
A comfort of retirement lives in this.
Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.
Wor. But yet, I would your father had been
The quality and hair of our attempt
Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear.
Enter Sir RICHARD VERNON.
This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come;
And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse,
There is more news:
I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. Ilot. What may the king's whole battle reach unto?
Ver. To thirty thousand.
Forty let it be: 159 My father and Glendower being both away, The powers of us may serve so great a day. Come, let us take a muster speedily: Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.
Doug. Talk not of dying: I am out of fear Of death or death's hand for this one half year. Exeunt.
SCENE II.-A public Road near Coventry.
Enter FALSTAFF. and BARDOLPH.
Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton Co'fil' to-night.
Bard. Will you give me money, captain!
Bard. This bottle makes an angel.
Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end.