cooperation with World Library, Inc., from their Library of the
Etexts that are NOT placed in the Public Domain!!
*This Etext has certain copyright implications you should read!*
<>
in the presentation of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
for your reading for education and entertainment. HOWEVER, THIS
IS NEITHER SHAREWARE NOR PUBLIC DOMAIN. . .AND UNDER THE LIBRARY
OF THE FUTURE CONDITIONS OF THIS PRESENTATION. . .NO CHARGES MAY
BE MADE FOR *ANY* ACCESS TO THIS MATERIAL. YOU ARE ENCOURAGED!!
TO GIVE IT AWAY TO ANYONE YOU LIKE, BUT NO CHARGES ARE ALLOWED!!
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
further information is included below. We need your donations.
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
The First Part of King Henry the Fourth
November, 1997 [Etext #1115]
The Library of the Future Complete Works of William Shakespeare
Library of the Future is a TradeMark (TM) of World Library Inc.
******This file should be named 1ws1910.txt or 1ws1910.zip*****
Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, 1ws1911.txt
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new NUMBER, 2ws1910.txt
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month.
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar, then we produce 2
million dollars per hour this year we, will have to do four text
files per month: thus upping our productivity from one million.
Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is 10% of the expected number of computer users by the end
of the year 2001.
We need your donations more than ever!
tax deductible to the extent allowable by law ("CMU" is Carnegie
Mellon University).
Please mail to:
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
You can visit our web site at promo.net for complete information
When all other else fails try our Executive Director:
dircompg@pobox.com or hart@pobox.com
******
***** SMALL PRINT! for COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE *****
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM
SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC.,
CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY WITH PERMISSION.
is copyright protected, and since the materials and methods you
use will effect the Project's reputation, your right to copy and
distribute it is limited by the copyright and other laws, and by
the conditions of this "Small Print!" statement.
1. LICENSE
A) YOU MAY (AND ARE ENCOURAGED) TO DISTRIBUTE ELECTRONIC AND
MACHINE READABLE COPIES OF THIS ETEXT, SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES
(1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT
DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL
DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD
TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.
B) This license is subject to the conditions that you honor
the refund and replacement provisions of this "small print!"
statement; and that you distribute exact copies of this etext,
including this Small Print statement. Such copies can be
compressed or any proprietary form (including any form resulting
from word processing or hypertext software), so long as
*EITHER*:
(1) The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and does
*not* contain characters other than those intended by the
author of the work, although tilde (~), asterisk (*) and
underline (_) characters may be used to convey punctuation
intended by the author, and additional characters may be used
to indicate hypertext links; OR
(2) The etext is readily convertible by the reader at no
expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form by the
program that displays the etext (as is the case, for instance,
with most word processors); OR
(3) You provide or agree to provide on request at no
additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the etext in plain
ASCII.
2. LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
This etext may contain a "Defect" in the form of incomplete,
inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or
other infringement, a defective or damaged disk, computer virus,
or codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. But
for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, the
Project (and any other party you may receive this etext from as
damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees, and YOU HAVE
NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR
BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF
YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of receiv-
ing it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid
for it by sending an explanatory note within that time to the
person you received it from. If you received it on a physical
medium, you must return it with your note, and such person may
choose to alternatively give you a replacement copy. If you
received it electronically, such person may choose to
alternatively give you a second opportunity to receive it
electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE. Some states do not allow disclaimers of
implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of consequen-
tial damages, so the above disclaimers and exclusions may not
apply to you, and you may have other legal rights.
3. INDEMNITY: You will indemnify and hold the Project, its
directors, officers, members and agents harmless from all lia-
bility, cost and expense, including legal fees, that arise
directly or indirectly from any of the following that you do or
cause: [A] distribution of this etext, [B] alteration,
modification, or addition to the etext, or [C] any Defect.
4. WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form. The Project gratefully accepts
contributions in money, time, scanning machines, OCR software,
public domain etexts, royalty free copyright licenses, and
whatever else you can think of. Money should be paid to "Pro-
ject Gutenberg Association / Carnegie Mellon University".
WRITE TO US! We can be reached at:
Internet: hart@pobox.com
Mail: Prof. Michael Hart
P.O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
This "Small Print!" by Charles B. Kramer, Attorney
Internet (72600.2026@compuserve.com); TEL: (212-254-5093)
**** SMALL PRINT! FOR __ COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE ****
["Small Print" V.12.08.93]
<>
1598
THE FIRST PART OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
King Henry the Fourth.
Henry, Prince of Wales, son to the King.
Prince John of Lancaster, son to the King.
Earl of Westmoreland.
Sir Walter Blunt.
Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester.
Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland.
Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur, his son.
Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March.
Richard Scroop, Archbishop of York.
Archibald, Earl of Douglas.
Owen Glendower.
Sir Richard Vernon.
Sir John Falstaff.
Sir Michael, a friend to the Archbishop of York.
Poins.
Gadshill
Peto.
Bardolph.
Lady Percy, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer.
Lady Mortimer, daughter to Glendower, and wife to Mortimer.
Mistress Quickly, hostess of the Boar's Head in Eastcheap.
Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two
Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants.
<>
SCENE.--England and Wales.
ACT I. Scene I.
London. The Palace.
Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland,
[Sir Walter Blunt,] with others.
King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood.
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor Bruise her flow'rets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now in mutual well-beseeming ranks
March all one way and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies.
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ-
Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engag'd to fight-
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy,
Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb
To chase these pagans in those holy fields
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose now is twelvemonth old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go.
Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our Council did decree
In forwarding this dear expedience.
West. My liege, this haste was hot in question
And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight; when all athwart there came
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
A thousand of his people butchered;
Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,
Such beastly shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done as may not be
Without much shame retold or spoken of.
King. It seems then that the tidings of this broil
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord;
For more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the North, and thus it did import:
On Holy-rood Day the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,
Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery
And shape of likelihood the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.
King. Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours,
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
The Earl of Douglas is discomfited;
Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took
Mordake Earl of Fife and eldest son
To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? Ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son-
A son who is the theme of honour's tongue,
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride;
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O that it could be prov'd
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd
To his own use he keeps, and sends me word
I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester,
Malevolent to you In all aspects,
Which makes him prune himself and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.
King. But I have sent for him to answer this;
And for this cause awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor. So inform the lords;
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said and to be done
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will my liege. Exeunt.
Scene II.
London. An apartment of the Prince's.
Enter Prince of Wales and Sir John Falstaff.
Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack, and
unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches
after
noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which
thou
wouldest truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the
time
of the day, Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes
capons,
and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of
leaping
houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in
flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be
so
superfluous to demand the time of the day.
Fal. Indeed you come near me now, Hal; for we that take purses
go
by the moon And the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that
wand'ring knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou
art
king, as, God save thy Grace-Majesty I should say, for grace
thou
wilt have none-
Prince. What, none?
Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue
to
an egg and butter.
Prince. Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us
that
are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the
day's
beauty. Let us be Diana's Foresters, Gentlemen of the Shade,
Minions of the Moon; and let men say we be men of good
government, being governed as the sea is, by our noble and
chaste
mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.
Prince. Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the
fortune of
us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea,
being
governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof now: a
purse
of gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday night and most
dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing 'Lay
by,'
and spent with crying 'Bring in'; now ill as low an ebb as
the
foot of the ladder, and by-and-by in as high a flow as the
ridge
of the gallows.
Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad- and is not my hostess
of
the tavern a most sweet wench?
Prince. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle- and is
not
a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?
Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy
quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
Prince. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the
tavern?
Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning many a time and
oft.
Prince. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
Prince. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch;
and
where it would not, I have used my credit.
Fal. Yea, and so us'd it that, were it not here apparent that
thou
art heir apparent- But I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be
gallows standing in England when thou art king? and
resolution
thus fubb'd as it is with the rusty curb of old father antic
the
law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.
Prince. No; thou shalt.
Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.
Prince. Thou judgest false already. I mean, thou shalt have the
hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman.
Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour
as
well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
Prince. For obtaining of suits?
Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no
lean
wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib-cat or a
lugg'd
bear.
Prince. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.
Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
Prince. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor
Ditch?
Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, and art indeed the
most
comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I
prithee
trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I
knew
where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old
lord of
the Council rated me the other day in the street about you,
sir,
but I mark'd him not; and yet he talked very wisely, but I
regarded him not; and yet he talk'd wisely, and in the street
too.
Prince. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets,
and
no man regards it.
Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to
corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal- God
forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing;
and
now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one
of
the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it
over!
By the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain! I'll be damn'd for
never a king's son in Christendom.
Prince. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
Fal. Zounds, where thou wilt, lad! I'll make one. An I do not,
call
me villain and baffle me.
Prince. I see a good amendment of life in thee- from praying to
purse-taking.
Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal. 'Tis no sin for a man to
labour in his vocation.
Enter Poins.
Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if
men
were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough
for
him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried
'Stand!'
to a true man.
Prince. Good morrow, Ned.
Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? What
says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and
thee
about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for
a
cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg?
Prince. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his
bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will
give
the devil his due.
Poins. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the
devil.
Prince. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the devil.
Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four
o'clock
early, at Gadshill! There are pilgrims gong to Canterbury
with
rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses.
I
have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves.
Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester. I have bespoke supper
to-morrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as
sleep. If
you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you
will
not, tarry at home and be hang'd!
Fal. Hear ye, Yedward: if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang
you
for going.
Poins. You will, chops?
Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?
Prince. Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in
thee,
nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal if thou darest not
stand
for ten shillings.
Prince. Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.
Fal. Why, that's well said.
Prince. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.
Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
Prince. I care not.
Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the Prince and me alone. I
will
lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall
go.
Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the
ears
of profiting, that what thou speakest may move and what he
hears
may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation
sake)
prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want
countenance. Farewell; you shall find me in Eastcheap.
Prince. Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown
summer!
Exit Falstaff.
Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow. I
have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff,
Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have
already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there; and when
they
have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head
off
from my shoulders.
Prince. How shall we part with them in setting forth?
Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them and appoint
them
a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail;
and
then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which
they
shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.
Prince. Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our
horses, by
our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.
Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see- I'll tie them in the
wood; our wizards we will change after we leave them; and,
sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our
noted outward garments.
Prince. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred
cowards as ever turn'd back; and for the third, if he fight
longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of
this jest will lie the incomprehensible lies that this same
fat
rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at
least,
he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he
endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.
Prince. Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things
necessary
and meet me to-night in Eastcheap. There I'll sup. Farewell.
Poins. Farewell, my lord. Exit.
Prince. I know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyok'd humour of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to lie himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wond'red at
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time when men think least I will. Exit.
Scene III.
London. The Palace.
Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter
Blunt,
with others.
King. My blood hath been too cold and temperate,
Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me, for accordingly
You tread upon my patience; but be sure
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition,
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title of respect
Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud.
Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it-
And that same greatness too which our own hands
Have holp to make so portly.
North. My lord-
King. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see
Danger and disobedience in thine eye.
O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier of a servant brow.
Tou have good leave to leave us. When we need
'Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.
Exit Worcester.
You were about to speak.
North. Yea, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
As is delivered to your Majesty.
Either envy, therefore, or misprision
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toll,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd
Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home.
He was perfumed like a milliner,
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took't away again;
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd;
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded
My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf.
I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,
To be so pest'red with a popingay,
Out of my grief and my impatience
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what-
He should, or he should not; for he made me mad
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman
Of guns and drums and wounds- God save the mark!-
And telling me the sovereignest thing on earth
Was parmacity for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and but for these vile 'guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answered indirectly, as I said,
And I beseech you, let not his report
Come current for an accusation
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my lord,
Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest retold,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.
King. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners,
But with proviso and exception,
That we at our own charge shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against that great magician, damn'd Glendower,
Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then,
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve!
For I shall never hold that man my friend
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
Hot. Revolted Mortimer?
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war. To prove that true
Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds,
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
In single opposition hand to hand,
He did confound the best part of an hour
In changing hardiment with great Glendower.
Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink,
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
Bloodstained with these valiant cohabitants.
Never did base and rotten policy
Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly.
Then let not him be slandered with revolt.
King. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him!
He never did encounter with Glendower.
I tell thee
He durst as well have met the devil alone
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art thou not asham'd? But, sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer.
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you. My Lord Northumberland,
We license your departure with your son.-
Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it.
Exeunt King, [Blunt, and Train]
Hot. An if the devil come and roar for them,
I will not send them. I will after straight
And tell him so; for I will else my heart,
Albeit I make a hazard of my head.
North. What, drunk with choler? Stay, and pause awhile.
Here comes your uncle.
Enter Worcester.
Hot. Speak of Mortimer?
Zounds, I will speak of him, and let my soul
Want mercy if I do not join with him!
Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust,
But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer
As high in the air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and cank'red Bolingbroke.
North. Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad.
Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone?
Hot. He will (forsooth) have all my prisoners;
And when I urg'd the ransom once again
Of my wive's brother, then his cheek look'd pale,
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
Wor. I cannot blame him. Was not he proclaim'd
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?
North. He was; I heard the proclamation.
And then it was when the unhappy King
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition;
From whence he intercepted did return
To be depos'd, and shortly murdered.
Wor. And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth
Live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of.
Hot. But soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown?
North. He did; myself did hear it.
Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve.
But shall it be that you, that set the crown
Upon the head of this forgetful man,
And for his sake wear the detested blot
Of murtherous subornation- shall it be
That you a world of curses undergo,
Being the agents or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?
O, pardon me that I descend so low
To show the line and the predicament
Wherein you range under this subtile king!
Shall it for shame be spoken in these days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power
Did gage them both in an unjust behalf
(As both of you, God pardon it! have done)
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it in more shame be further spoken
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off
By him for whom these shames ye underwent?
No! yet time serves wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again;
Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king, who studies day and night
To answer all the debt he owes to you
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore I say-
Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more;
And now, I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous,
As full of peril and adventurous spirit
As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim!
Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
North. Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
Hot. By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
Where fadom line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks,
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
Without corrival all her dignities;
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!
Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.
Hot. I cry you mercy.
Wor. Those same noble Scots
That are your prisoners-
Hot. I'll keep them all.
By God, he shall not have a Scot of them!
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not.
I'll keep them, by this hand!
Wor. You start away.
And lend no ear unto my purposes.
Those prisoners you shall keep.
Hot. Nay, I will! That is flat!
He said he would not ransom Mortimer,
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer,
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holloa 'Mortimer.'
Nay;
I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him
To keep his anger still in motion.
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-buckler Prince of Wales-
But that I think his father loves him not
And would be glad he met with some mischance,
I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale.
Wor. Farewell, kinsman. I will talk to you
When you are better temper'd to attend.
North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool
Art thou to break into this woman's mood,
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!
Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods,
Nettled, and stung with pismires when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard's time- what do you call the place-
A plague upon it! it is in GIoucestershire-
'Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept-
His uncle York- where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke-
'S blood!
When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh-
North. At Berkeley Castle.
Hot. You say true.
Why, what a candy deal of courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!
Look, 'when his infant fortune came to age,'
And 'gentle Harry Percy,' and 'kind cousin'-
O, the devil take such cozeners!- God forgive me!
Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.
Wor. Nay, if you have not, to it again.
We will stay your leisure.
Hot. I have done, i' faith.
Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
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. [To Northumberland] You, my lord,
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 it not?
Wor. True; who bears hard
His brother's death at Bristow, the Lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation,
As what I think might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,
And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.
Hot. I smell it. Upon my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game is afoot thou still let'st slip.
Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot.
And then the power of Scotland and of York
To join with Mortimer, ha?
Wor. And so they shall.
Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.
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 will 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 pow'rs at once,
As I will fashion it, shall happily meet,
To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.
North. Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust.
Hot. Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short
Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport!
Exeunt.
<>
ACT II. Scene I.
Rochester. An inn yard.
Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.
1. Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd.
Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not
pack'd.- What, ostler!
Ost. [within] Anon, anon.
1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in
the
point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.
Enter another Carrier.
2. Car. Peas 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 I By the mass, there is ne'er a king
christen
could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.
2. Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we
leak in
your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.
1. Car. What, ostler! come away and be hang'd! come away!
2. Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be
delivered as far as Charing Cross.
1. Car. God's body! the turkeys 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 deed as drink to
break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be
hang'd!
Hast no faith in thee?
Enter Gadshill.
Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock?
1. Car. I think it be two o'clock.
Gads. I prithee lend me this lantern to see my gelding in the
stable.
1. Car. Nay, by God, soft! I know a trick worth two of that,
i' faith.
Gads. I pray thee lend me thine.
2. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he?
Marry,
I'll see thee hang'd 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!
Enter Chamberlain.
Cham. At hand, quoth pickpurse.
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 layest the plot how.
Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I
told
you yesternight. There's a franklin 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 pray thee keep that for the
hangman;
for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man
of
falsehood may.
Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? 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 is no starveling. Tut! there are other
Troyans that thou dream'st not of, the which for sport sake
are
content to do the profession some grace; that would (if
matters
should be look'd 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 purple-hued maltworms;
but
with nobility, and tranquillity, burgomasters and great
oneyers,
such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak,
and
speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray; and yet,
zounds, 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?
Gads. She will, she will! Justice hath liquor'd her. We steal
as in
a castle, cocksure. We have the receipt of fernseed, we walk
invisible.
Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the
night
than to fernseed for your walking invisible.
Gads. Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our
purchase, as
I and a true man.
Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.
Gads. Go to; 'homo' is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler
bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy
knave.
Exeunt.
Scene II.
The highway near Gadshill.
Enter Prince and Poins.
Poins. Come, shelter, shelter! I have remov'd Falstaff's horse,
and
he frets like a gumm'd velvet.
Prince. Stand close. [They step aside.]
Enter Falstaff.
Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hang'd! Poins!
Prince. I comes forward I Peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal! What a
brawling dost thou keep!
Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?
Prince. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill. I'll go seek
him.
[Steps aside.]
Fal. I am accurs'd 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-and-twenty years, and yet I am
bewitch'd
with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me
medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd. 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 to
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 me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well
enough. A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to
another! (They whistle.) Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me
my
horse, you rogues! give me my horse and be hang'd!
Prince. [comes forward] 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 colt me
thus?
Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.
Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good
king's
son.
Prince. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler?
Fal. Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I
be
ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you
all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my
poison.
When a jest is so forward- and afoot too- I hate it.
Enter Gadshill, [Bardolph and Peto with him].
Gads. Stand!
Fal. So I do, against my will.
Poins. [comes fortward] O, 'tis our setter. I know his voice.
Bardolph, what news?
Bar. Case ye, case ye! On with your vizards! There's money of
the
King's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the King's
exchequer.
Fal. You lie, ye rogue! 'Tis going to the King's tavern.
Gads. There's enough to make us all.
Fal. To be hang'd.
Prince. 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?
Gads. Some eight or ten.
Fal. Zounds, will they not rob us?
Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?
Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet
no
coward, Hal.
Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof.
Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge. When
thou
need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell and stand
fast.
Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.
Prince. [aside to Poins] Ned, where are our disguises?
Poins. [aside to Prince] Here, hard by. Stand close.
[Exeunt Prince and Poins.]
Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I. Every man
to
his business.
Enter the Travellers.
Traveller. Come, neighbour.
The boy shall lead our horses down the hill;
We'll walk afoot awhile and ease our legs.
Thieves. Stand!
Traveller. Jesus bless us!
Fal. Strike! down with them! cut the villains' throats! Ah,
whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth.
Down
with them! fleece them!
Traveller. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever!
Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye 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,
faith!
Here they rob and bind them. Exeunt.
Enter the Prince and Poins [in buckram suits].
Prince. The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou and
I
rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it would be
argument
for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever.
Poins. Stand close! I hear them coming.
[They stand aside.]
Enter the Thieves again.
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.
[As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon
them. THey all run away, and Falstaff, after a blow or
two, runs awasy too, leaving the booty behind them.]
