Wor. Hear you, Cousin; a word. Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy,* Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: And that same sword-and-bucklert Prince of Wales. But that I think his father loves him not, I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale. Art thou, to break into this woman's mood; Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear A plague upon't!-it is in Gloustershire;- Why, what a candy deal of courtesy Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done. Hot. I have done, i'faith. Wor. Then once more to your Scottish pris oners. Deliver them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglas' son your only mean For powers in Scotland; which,-for divers reasons, Which I shall send you written,-be assur'd, Will easily be granted.-You, my lord,— [To NORTHUMBERLAND. Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same noble prelate, well belov'd, The archbishop. Hot. Of York, is't not? Wor. True; who bears hard Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, To save our heads by raising of a head :* For, bear ourselves as even as we can, The king we always think him in our debt; And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And see already, how he doth begin To make us strangers to his looks of love. Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him. Wor. Cousin, farewell:-No further go in this, Than I by letters shall direct your course. When time is ripe, (which will be suddenly,) I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer; Where you and Douglas, and our powers at SCENE I.-Rochester.-An Inn Yard. Enter a CARRIER, with a Lantern in his hand. 1 Car. Heigh ho! An't be not four by the day, I'll be hanged: Charles' waint is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packed. What, ostler! Ost. [Within.] Anon, anon. 1 Car. I pry'thee Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess. Enter another CARRIER. 2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank|| here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots: this house is turned upside down, since Robin ostler died. 1 Car. Poor fellow! never joyed since the price of oats rose; it was the death of him. 2 Car. I think, this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench.** 1 Car. Like a tench? by the mass, there is ne'er a king in Christendom could be better bit than I have been since the first cock. 2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, and then we leak in your chimney; and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach.†† 1 Car. What, ostler! come away and be His brother's death at Bristol the lord Scroop.hanged, come away. As what I think might be, but what I know Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble Wor. And so they shall. Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. * Refuse. The term for a blustering quarrelsome fellow. Mind, humour. Sugared. || Conjecture. 2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charingcross. i Car. 'Odsbody! the turkies in my pannier are quite starved.-What, ostler!-A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain.-Come, and be hanged:-Hast no faith in thee? Enter GADSHILL. Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? A body of forces. The constellation Ursa major. Name of his horse. Measure. Wet. Worms. **Spotted like a tench. A small fish supposed to breed fleas. 1 Car. I think it be two o'clock. Gads. 1 pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding in the stable. 1 Car. Nay, soft, pray ye; I know a trick worth two of that, i'faith. Guds. I pr'ythee, lend me thine. 2 Car. Ay, when? canst tell?-Lend me thy lantern, quoth a?-marry, I'll see thee hanged first. Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London? 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee.-Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen; they will along with company, for they have great charge. [Exeunt CARRIERS. Gads. What ho! chamberlain ! Cham. [Within.] At hand, quoth pick-purse. Gads. That's even as fair as-at hand, quoth the chamberlain for thou variest no more from picking of purses, than giving direction doth from labouring; thou lay'st the plot how. : Enter CHAMBERLAIN. Cham. Good morrow, master Gadshill. It holds current, that I told you yesternight: There's a franklint in the wild of Kent, hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company, last night at supper; a kind of auditor; one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are up already, and call for eggs and butter: They will away presently. Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll give thee this neck. Cham. No, I'll none of it: I pr'ythee, keep that for the hangman; for, I know, thou worship'st saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may. Ful. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal; What a brawling dost thou keep? Fal. Where's Poins, Hal? P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill; I'll go seek him. [Pretends to seek POINS. Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's company: the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-andtwenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicinest to make me love him, I'll be hanged; it could not be else; I have drunk medicines.-Poins!-Hal!-a plague upon you both!-Bardolph!-Peto!-I'll starve, ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn true; man, and leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threescore and ten miles afoot with Guds. What talkest thou to me of the hang-me; and the stony-hearted villains know it man? if I hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows: for, if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me; and, thou knowest, he's no starveling. Tut! there are other Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for sport sake, are content to do the profession some grace; that would, if matters should be looked into, for their own credit sake, make all whole. I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers; none of these mad, mustachio purplehued malt-worms: but with nobility, and tranquillity; burgomasters, and great oneyers; such as can hold in; such as will strike sooner han speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray: And yet I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the commonwealth; or, rather, not pray to her, but prey on her; for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots.¶ Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? will she hold out water in foul way? well enough: A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true to one another! [They whistle.] Whew!-A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged. P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers. Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colts me thus? P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. Fal. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my horse; good king's son. P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler! Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. Gads. She will, she will; justice. hath li- An I have not ballads made on you all, and quored her.** We steal us in a castle, cock-sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we poison: When a jest is so forward, and afoot walk invisible. too, I hate it. Cham. Nay, by my faith? I think you are more beholden to the night, than to fern-seed, for your walking invisible. Gads. Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a share in our purchase,++ as I am a true‡‡ man. Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. A proverb, from the pick-purse being always ready. + Freeholder. Cant term for highwaymen. Footpads. Public accountants. Booty. **Oiled, smoothed her over. onest. la what we acquire. Gads. Stand. Enter GADSHILL. Fal. So I do, against my will. Bard. What news? there's money of the king's coming down the | hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer. Fal. You lie, you rogue; 'tis going to the king's tavern. Gads. There's enough to make us all. P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins, and I, will walk lower: if they 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us. Peto. How many be there of them? Fal. 'Zounds! will they not rob us? P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof. P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises? [Exeunt P. HENR and POINS. Ful. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business. Enter TRAVELLERS. 1 Trav. Come, neighbour; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk afoot a while, and ease our legs. Thieves. Stand. Trav. Jesu bless us ! Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the vilrains 'throats: Ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them. 1 Trav. Ó, we are undone, both we and ours, for ever. Ful. Hang ye, gorbelliedt knaves; Are ye undone? No, yet fat chuffs; I would, your store were here! On, bacons, on! What, ye knaves? young men must live: You are grandjurors are ye? We'll jure ye, i'faith. [Exeunt FALSTAFF, &c. driving the TRA VELLERS out. Re-enter Prince HENRY and POINS. P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men: Now could thou and I rob the thieves, and go merrily to London, it would be argu: ments for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. Poins. Stand close, I hear them coming. Re-enter THIEVES. Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. An the prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring; there's no more valour in that Poins, than in a wild duck. P. Hen. Your money. [Rushing out upon them. [As they are sharing, the PRINCE and POINS P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse: The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with So strongly, that they dare not meet each other; Portion. Fat, corpulent. Clowns. A subject. Enter HOTSPUR, reading a Letter. But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.-He could be contented, Why is he not then? In respect of the love his own barn better than he loves our house. he bears our house:-he shows in this, he loves Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake, is dangerous;-Why, that's certain; 'tis but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink: danger, we pluck this flower, safety. The pur pose you undertake, is dangerous; the friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.-Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly nind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this? By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and of expectation: an excellent plot, very good constant: a good plot, good friends, and full friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. 'Zounds, an with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, I were now by this rascal, I could brain him my uncle, and myself? lord Edward Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are they not, some of them, set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all our proceedings. O, 1 could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! let him tell the king: We are prepared: I will set forward to-night. Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers stain, Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream: Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, Enter SERVANT. Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. Hot. Hath Butler brought these horses from the sheriff? Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? Serv. It is, my lord. Hot. That roan shall be my throne. SCENE IV.-Eastcheap.-A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern. Enter Prince HENRY and POINS. P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Poins. Where hast been, Hal? P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash* of draw ers; and can call them all by their Christian names, as-Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff; but a Corinthian,+ Well, I will back him straight: O esperance!—a lad of mettle, a good boy,--by the Lord, so Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. Lady. But hear you, my lord. [Exit SERVANT. Hot. What say'st, my lady? My love, my horse. Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen, [me Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. Away, you trifler!-Love?-I love thee not, crowns, And pass them current too.-Gods me, my horse! What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have with me? Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed? Well, do not then; for, since you love me not, I will not love myself. Do you not love me? Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no. Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride? ⚫ Occurrences. + Drops. Strengthen. 1 Puppets. they call me; and when I am king of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call-drinking deep, dying scarlet: and when you breathe in your watering, they cry-hem! and bid you play it off.--To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned, to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now in my hand by an under-skinker;; one that never spake other English in his life, than -Eight shillings and sixpence, and-You are welcome; with this shrill addition;-Anon, anon, Sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr'ythee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling-Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but-anon Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent. Poins. Francis! P. Hen. Thou art perfect. Enter FRANCIS. [Exit POINS. Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis? Poins. [Within.] Francis! Fran. Anon, Sir.-Pray you, stay a little, my lord. P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis: For the sugar thou gavest me,-'twas a pennyworth, was't not? Fran. O lord, Sir! I would, it had been two. P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. Poins. [Within.] Francis! P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis: but to-morrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis, Fran. My lord? dame Mortimer his wife. Riro, says the drunk. Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, Bardolph, and Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? vengeance too! marry, and amen! Give me a Ful. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a I'll sew netherstocks,* and mend them, and cup of sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life ong, foot them too. A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, rogue.-Is there no virtue [He drinks. extant? P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a ed at the sweet tale of the son! if thou didst, dish of butter? pitiful hearted Titan, that meltthen behold that compound. Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: There is nothing but roguery to be found in P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, cup of sack with lime in it; a villanous cowvillanous man: Yet a coward is worse than a crystal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-ard.-Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spa- wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot nish-pouch,upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten hanged in England; and one of them is fat, herring. There live not three good men unand 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. Fran. O lord, Sir, who do you mean? P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink: for, look you, Francis, your white canvass doublet will sully: in Barbary, Sir, it cannot come to so much. Fran. What, Sir? Poins. [Within.] Francis! P. Hen. Away, you rogue; Dost thou not hear them call? [Here they both call him; the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go. Enter VINTNER. Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Look to the guests within. [Exit FRAN.] My lord, old Sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door; Shall I let them in! P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. [Exit VINTNER.] Poins! Re-enter POINS. Poins. Anon, anon, Sir. 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 show'd 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-up-stairs, and down-stairs; 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,-Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed today? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trife. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play A sweet wine P. Hcn. How now, wool-sack? what mutter you? of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out 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 face me.--Give me a cup of sack :—I am a upon such backing! give me them that will rogue, if I drunk to-day. P. Hen. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last. ards, still say I. P. Hen. What's the matter? P. Hen. What, a hundred, man? sword with a dozen of them two hours together. Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at halfI have 'scap'd by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; I never dealt better since I was a man; all my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum 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 dark ness. » Stockings. |