Host. Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there.
Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder,
O thou Hony-suckle villaine, wilt thou kill Gods officers,
and the Kings? O thou hony-seed Rogue, thou art
a honyseed, a Man-queller, and a woman-queller

   Falst. Keep them off, Bardolfe

   Fang. A rescu, a rescu

   Host. Good people bring a rescu. Thou wilt not? thou
wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempseed

   Page. Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fustillirian:
Ile tucke your Catastrophe.
Enter Ch. Iustice.

  Iust. What's the matter? Keepe the Peace here, hoa

   Host. Good my Lord be good to mee. I beseech you
stand to me

   Ch.Iust. How now sir Iohn? What are you brauling here?
Doth this become your place, your time, and businesse?
You should haue bene well on your way to Yorke.
Stand from him Fellow; wherefore hang'st vpon him?
  Host. Oh my most worshipfull Lord, and't please your
Grace, I am a poore widdow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested
at my suit

   Ch.Iust. For what summe?
  Host. It is more then for some (my Lord) it is for all: all
I haue, he hath eaten me out of house and home; hee hath
put all my substance into that fat belly of his: but I will
haue some of it out againe, or I will ride thee o' Nights,
like the Mare

   Falst. I thinke I am as like to ride the Mare, if I haue
any vantage of ground, to get vp

   Ch.Iust. How comes this, Sir Iohn? Fy, what a man of
good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation?
Are you not asham'd to inforce a poore Widdowe to so
rough a course, to come by her owne?
  Falst. What is the grosse summe that I owe thee?
  Host. Marry (if thou wer't an honest man) thy selfe, &
the mony too. Thou didst sweare to mee vpon a parcell
gilt Goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber at the round
table, by a sea-cole fire, on Wednesday in Whitson week,
when the Prince broke thy head for lik'ning him to a singing
man of Windsor; Thou didst sweare to me then (as I
was washing thy wound) to marry me, and make mee my
Lady thy wife. Canst y deny it? Did not goodwife Keech
the Butchers wife come in then, and cal me gossip Quickly?
comming in to borrow a messe of Vinegar: telling vs,
she had a good dish of Prawnes: whereby y didst desire to
eat some: whereby I told thee they were ill for a greene
wound? And didst not thou (when she was gone downe
staires) desire me to be no more familiar with such poore
people, saying, that ere long they should call me Madam?
And did'st y not kisse me, and bid mee fetch thee 30.s? I
put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny it if thou canst?
  Fal. My Lord, this is a poore mad soule: and she sayes
vp & downe the town, that her eldest son is like you. She
hath bin in good case, & the truth is, pouerty hath distracted
her: but for these foolish Officers, I beseech you, I
may haue redresse against them

   Iust. Sir Iohn, sir Iohn, I am well acquainted with your
maner of wrenching the true cause, the false way. It is not
a confident brow, nor the throng of wordes, that come
with such (more then impudent) sawcines from you, can
thrust me from a leuell consideration, I know you ha' practis'd
vpon the easie-yeelding spirit of this woman

   Host. Yes in troth my Lord

   Iust. Prethee peace: pay her the debt you owe her, and
vnpay the villany you haue done her: the one you may do
with sterling mony, & the other with currant repentance

   Fal. My Lord, I will not vndergo this sneape without
reply. You call honorable Boldnes, impudent Sawcinesse:
If a man wil curt'sie, and say nothing, he is vertuous: No,
my Lord (your humble duty reme[m]bred) I will not be your
sutor. I say to you, I desire deliu'rance from these Officers
being vpon hasty employment in the Kings Affaires

   Iust. You speake, as hauing power to do wrong: But
answer in the effect of your Reputation, and satisfie the
poore woman

   Falst. Come hither Hostesse.
Enter M[aster]. Gower]
  Ch.Iust. Now Master Gower; What newes?
  Gow. The King (my Lord) and Henrie Prince of Wales
Are neere at hand: The rest the Paper telles

   Falst. As I am a Gentleman

   Host. Nay, you said so before

   Fal. As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words of it
  Host. By this Heauenly ground I tread on, I must be
faine to pawne both my Plate, and the Tapistry of my dyning
Chambers

   Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the onely drinking: and for
thy walles a pretty slight Drollery, or the Storie of the
Prodigall, or the Germane hunting in Waterworke, is
worth a thousand of these Bed-hangings, and these Flybitten
Tapistries. Let it be tenne pound (if thou canst.)
Come, if it were not for thy humors, there is not a better
Wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy
Action: Come, thou must not bee in this humour with
me, come, I know thou was't set on to this

   Host. Prethee (Sir Iohn) let it be but twenty Nobles,
I loath to pawne my Plate, in good earnest la

   Fal. Let it alone, Ile make other shift: you'l be a fool
still

   Host. Well, you shall haue it although I pawne my
Gowne. I hope you'l come to Supper: You'l pay me altogether?
  Fal. Will I liue? Go with her, with her: hooke-on,
hooke-on

   Host. Will you haue Doll Teare-sheet meet you at supper?
  Fal. No more words. Let's haue her

   Ch.Iust. I haue heard bitter newes

   Fal. What's the newes (my good Lord?)
  Ch.Iu. Where lay the King last night?
  Mes. At Basingstoke my Lord

   Fal. I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the newes
my Lord?
  Ch.Iust. Come all his Forces backe?
  Mes. No: Fifteene hundred Foot, fiue hundred Horse
Are march'd vp to my Lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland, and the Archbishop

   Fal. Comes the King backe from Wales, my noble L[ord]?
  Ch.Iust. You shall haue Letters of me presently.
Come, go along with me, good M[aster]. Gowre

   Fal. My Lord

   Ch.Iust. What's the matter?
  Fal. Master Gowre, shall I entreate you with mee to
dinner?
  Gow. I must waite vpon my good Lord heere.
I thanke you, good Sir Iohn

   Ch.Iust. Sir Iohn, you loyter heere too long being you
are to take Souldiers vp, in Countries as you go

   Fal. Will you sup with me, Master Gowre?
  Ch.Iust. What foolish Master taught you these manners,
Sir Iohn?
  Fal. Master Gower, if they become mee not, hee was a
Foole that taught them mee. This is the right Fencing
grace (my Lord) tap for tap, and so part faire

   Ch.Iust. Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great
Foole.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page.

  Prin. Trust me, I am exceeding weary

   Poin. Is it come to that? I had thought wearines durst
not haue attach'd one of so high blood

   Prin. It doth me: though it discolours the complexion
of my Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth it not shew
vildely in me, to desire small Beere?
  Poin. Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied,
as to remember so weake a Composition

   Prince. Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely
got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore Creature,
Small Beere. But indeede these humble considerations
make me out of loue with my Greatnesse. What a
disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know
thy face to morrow? Or to take note how many paire of
Silk stockings y hast? (Viz. these, and those that were thy
peach-colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inuentorie of thy
shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other, for vse. But
that the Tennis-Court-keeper knowes better then I, for
it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st
not Racket there, as thou hast not done a great while, because
the rest of thy Low Countries, haue made a shift to
eate vp thy Holland

   Poin. How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so
hard, you should talke so idlely? Tell me how many good
yong Princes would do so, their Fathers lying so sicke, as
yours is?
  Prin. Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz?
  Poin. Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing

   Prin. It shall serue among wittes of no higher breeding
then thine

   Poin. Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that
you'l tell

   Prin. Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I should be
sad now my Father is sicke: 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

   Poin. Very hardly, vpon such a subiect

   Prin. Thou think'st me as farre in the Diuels Booke, as
thou, and Falstaffe, for obduracie and persistencie. Let the
end try the man. But I tell thee, my hart bleeds inwardly,
that my Father is so sicke: and keeping such vild company
as thou art, hath in reason taken from me, all ostentation
of sorrow

   Poin. The reason?
  Prin. What would'st thou think of me, if I shold weep?
  Poin. I would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite

   Prin. It would be euery mans thought: and thou art
a blessed Fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes: neuer a
mans thought in the world, keepes the Rode-way better
then thine: euery man would thinke me an Hypocrite indeede.
And what accites your most worshipful thought
to thinke so?
  Poin. Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so
much ingraffed to Falstaffe

   Prin. And to thee

   Pointz. Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it with
mine owne eares: the worst that they can say of me is, that
I am a second Brother, and that I am a proper Fellowe of
my hands: and those two things I confesse I canot helpe.
Looke, looke, here comes Bardolfe

   Prince. And the Boy that I gaue Falstaffe, he had him
from me Christian, and see if the fat villain haue not transform'd
him Ape.
Enter Bardolfe.

  Bar. Saue your Grace

   Prin. And yours, most Noble Bardolfe

   Poin. Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull Foole,
must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? what
a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it such a
matter to get a Pottle-pots Maiden-head?
  Page. He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red
Lattice, and I could discerne no part of his face from the
window: at last I spy'd his eyes, and me thought he had
made two holes in the Ale-wiues new Petticoat, & peeped
through

   Prin. Hath not the boy profited?
  Bar. Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away

   Page. Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away

   Prin. Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy?
  Page. Marry (my Lord) Althea dream'd, she was deliuer'd
of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him hir dream

   Prince. A Crownes-worth of good Interpretation:
There it is, Boy

   Poin. O that this good Blossome could bee kept from
Cankers: Well, there is six pence to preserue thee

   Bard. If you do not make him be hang'd among you,
the gallowes shall be wrong'd

   Prince. And how doth thy Master, Bardolph?
  Bar. Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces
comming to Towne. There's a Letter for you

   Poin. Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the
Martlemas, your Master?
  Bard. In bodily health Sir

   Poin. Marry, the immortall part needes a Physitian:
but that moues not him: though that bee sicke, it dyes
not

   Prince. I do allow this Wen to bee as familiar with
me, as my dogge: and he holds his place, for looke you
he writes

   Poin.

Letter.

Iohn Falstaffe Knight: (Euery man must
know that, as oft as hee hath occasion to name himselfe:)
Euen like those that are kinne to the King, for they neuer
pricke their finger, but they say, there is som of the kings
blood spilt. How comes that (sayes he) that takes vpon
him not to conceiue? the answer is as ready as a borrowed
cap: I am the Kings poore Cosin, Sir

   Prince. Nay, they will be kin to vs, but they wil fetch
it from Iaphet. But to the Letter: - Sir Iohn Falstaffe,
Knight, to the Sonne of the King, neerest his Father, Harrie
Prince of Wales, greeting

   Poin. Why this is a Certificate

   Prin. Peace.
I will imitate the honourable Romaines in breuitie

   Poin. Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short-winded.
I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leaue thee. Bee
not too familiar with Pointz, for hee misuses thy Fauours so
much, that he sweares thou art to marrie 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
vsest him. Iacke Falstaffe with my Familiars:
Iohn with my Brothers and Sister: & Sir
Iohn, with all Europe.
My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make him
eate it

   Prin. That's to make him eate twenty of his Words.
But do you vse me thus Ned? Must I marry your Sister?
  Poin. May the Wench haue no worse Fortune. But I
neuer said so

   Prin. Well, thus we play the Fooles with the time, &
the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and mocke vs: Is
your Master heere in London?
  Bard. Yes my Lord

   Prin. Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede in
the old Franke?
  Bard. At the old place my Lord, in East-cheape

   Prin. What Company?
  Page. Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church

   Prin. Sup any women with him?
  Page. None my Lord, but old Mistris Quickly, and M[istris].
Doll Teare-sheet

   Prin. What Pagan may that be?
  Page. A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman
of my Masters

   Prin. Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the
Towne-Bull?
Shall we steale vpon them (Ned) at Supper?
  Poin. I am your shadow, my Lord, Ile follow you

   Prin. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your
Master that I am yet in Towne.
There's for your silence

   Bar. I haue no tongue, sir

   Page. And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it

   Prin. Fare ye well: go.
This Doll Teare-sheet should be some Rode

   Poin. I warrant you, as common as the way betweene
S[aint]. Albans, and London

   Prin. How might we see Falstaffe bestow himselfe to
night, in his true colours, and not our selues be seene?
  Poin. Put on two Leather Ierkins, and Aprons, and
waite vpon him at his Table, like Drawers

   Prin. From a God, to a Bull? A heauie declension: It
was Ioues case. From a Prince, to a Prentice, a low transformation,
that shall be mine: for in euery thing, the purpose
must weigh with the folly. Follow me Ned.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Northumberland, his Ladie, and Harrie Percies Ladie.

  North. I prethee louing Wife, and gentle Daughter,
Giue an euen way vnto my rough Affaires:
Put not you on the visage of the Times,
And be like them to Percie, troublesome

   Wife. I haue giuen ouer, I will speak no more,
Do what you will: your Wisedome, be your guide

   North. Alas (sweet Wife) my Honor is at pawne,
And but my going, nothing can redeeme it

   La. Oh yet, for heauens sake, go not to these Warrs;
The Time was (Father) when you broke your word,
When you were more endeer'd to it, then now,
When your owne Percy, when my heart-deereHarry,
Threw many a Northward looke, to see his Father
Bring vp his Powres: but he did long in vaine.
Who then perswaded you to stay at home?
There were two Honors lost; Yours, and your Sonnes.
For Yours, may heauenly glory brighten it:
For His, it stucke vpon him, as the Sunne
In the gray vault of Heauen: and by his Light
Did all the Cheualrie of England moue
To do braue Acts. He was (indeed) the Glasse
Wherein the Noble-Youth did dresse themselues.
He had no Legges, that practic'd not his Gate:
And speaking thicke (which Nature made his blemish)
Became the Accents of the Valiant.
For those that could speake low, and tardily,
Would turne their owne Perfection, to Abuse,
To seeme like him. So that in Speech, in Gate,
In Diet, in Affections of delight,
In Militarie Rules, Humors of Blood,
He was the Marke, and Glasse, Coppy, and Booke,
That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous! him,
O Miracle of Men! Him did you leaue
(Second to none) vn-seconded by you,
To looke vpon the hideous God of Warre,
In dis-aduantage, to abide a field,
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspurs Name
Did seeme defensible: so you left him.
Neuer, O neuer doe his Ghost the wrong,
To hold your Honor more precise and nice
With others, then with him. Let them alone:
The Marshall and the Arch-bishop are strong.
Had my sweet Harry had but halfe their Numbers,
To day might I (hanging on Hotspurs Necke)
Haue talk'd of Monmouth's Graue

   North. Beshrew your heart,
(Faire Daughter) you doe draw my Spirits from me,
With new lamenting ancient Ouer-sights.
But I must goe, and meet with Danger there,
Or it will seeke me in another place,
And finde me worse prouided

   Wife. O flye to Scotland,
Till that the Nobles, and the armed Commons,
Haue of their Puissance made a little taste

   Lady. If they get ground, and vantage of the King,
Then ioyne you with them, like a Ribbe of Steele,
To make Strength stronger. But, for all our loues,
First let them trye themselues. So did your Sonne,
He was so suffer'd; so came I a Widow:
And neuer shall haue length of Life enough,
To raine vpon Remembrance with mine Eyes,
That it may grow, and sprowt, as high as Heauen,
For Recordation to my Noble Husband

   North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my Minde
As with the Tyde, swell'd vp vnto his height,
That makes a still-stand, running neyther way.
Faine would I goe to meet the Arch-bishop,
But many thousand Reasons hold me backe.
I will resolue for Scotland: there am I,
Till Time and Vantage craue my company.

Exeunt.


Scaena Quarta.

Enter two Drawers.

  1.Drawer. What hast thou brought there? Apple-Iohns?
Thou know'st Sir Iohn cannot endure an Apple-Iohn

   2.Draw. Thou say'st true: the Prince once set a Dish
of Apple-Iohns before him, and told him there were fiue
more Sir Iohns: and, putting off his Hat, said, I will now
take my leaue of these sixe drie, round, old-wither'd
Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but hee hath forgot
that

   1.Draw. Why then couer, and set them downe: and
see if thou canst finde out Sneakes Noyse; Mistris Teare-sheet
would faine haue some Musique

   2.Draw. Sirrha, heere will be the Prince, and Master
Points, anon: and they will put on two of our Ierkins,
and Aprons, and Sir Iohn must not know of it: Bardolph
hath brought word

   1.Draw. Then here will be old Vtis: it will be an excellent
stratagem

   2.Draw. Ile see if I can finde out Sneake.
Enter.

Enter Hostesse, and Dol.

  Host. Sweet-heart, me thinkes now you are in an excellent
good temperalitie: your Pulsidge beates as extraordinarily,
as heart would desire; and your Colour
(I warrant you) is as red as any Rose: But you haue
drunke too much Canaries, and that's a maruellous searching
Wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere wee can say
what's this. How doe you now?
  Dol. Better then I was: Hem

   Host. Why that was well said: A good heart's worth
Gold. Looke, here comes Sir Iohn.
Enter Falstaffe.

  Falst. When Arthur first in Court - (emptie the Iordan)
and was a worthy King: How now Mistris Dol?
  Host. Sick of a Calme: yea, good-sooth

   Falst. So is all her Sect: if they be once in a Calme,
they are sick

   Dol. You muddie Rascall, is that all the comfort you
giue me?
  Falst. You make fat Rascalls, Mistris Dol

   Dol. I make them? Gluttonie and Diseases make
them, I make them not

   Falst. If the Cooke make the Gluttonie, you helpe to
make the Diseases (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch
of you: Grant that, my poore Vertue, grant that

   Dol. I marry, our Chaynes, and our Iewels

   Falst. Your Brooches, Pearles, and Owches: For to
serue brauely, is to come halting off: you know, to come
off the Breach, with his Pike bent brauely, and to Surgerie
brauely; to venture vpon the charg'd-Chambers
brauely

   Host. Why this is the olde fashion: you two neuer
meete, but you fall to some discord: you are both (in
good troth) as Rheumatike as two drie Tostes, you cannot
one beare with anothers Confirmities. What the
good-yere? One must beare, and that must bee you:
you are the weaker Vessell; as they say, the emptier
Vessell

   Dol. Can a weake emptie Vessell beare such a huge
full Hogs-head? There's a whole Marchants Venture
of Burdeux-Stuffe in him: you haue not seene a Hulke
better stufft in the Hold. Come, Ile be friends with thee
Iacke: Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I
shall euer see thee againe, or no, there is no body
cares.
Enter Drawer.

  Drawer. Sir, Ancient Pistoll is below, and would
speake with you

   Dol. Hang him, swaggering Rascall, let him not
come hither: it is the foule-mouth'dst Rogue in England

   Host. If hee swagger, let him not come here: I must
liue amongst my Neighbors, Ile no Swaggerers: I am
in good name, and fame, with the very best: shut the
doore, there comes no Swaggerers heere: I haue not
liu'd all this while, to haue swaggering now: shut the
doore, I pray you

   Falst. Do'st thou heare, Hostesse?
  Host. 'Pray you pacifie your selfe (Sir Iohn) there comes
no Swaggerers heere

   Falst. Do'st thou heare? it is mine Ancient

   Host. Tilly-fally (Sir Iohn) neuer tell me, your ancient
Swaggerer comes not in my doores. I was before Master
Tisick the Deputie, the other day: and as hee said to me,
it was no longer agoe then Wednesday last: Neighbour
Quickly (sayes hee;) Master Dombe, our Minister, was by
then: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee) receiue those that
are Ciuill; for (sayth hee) you are in an ill Name: now
hee said so, I can tell whereupon: for (sayes hee) you are
an honest Woman, and well thought on; therefore take
heede what Guests you receiue: Receiue (sayes hee) no
swaggering Companions. There comes none heere. You
would blesse you to heare what hee said. No, Ile no
Swaggerers

   Falst. Hee's no Swaggerer (Hostesse:) a tame Cheater,
hee: you may stroake him as gently, as a Puppie Greyhound:
hee will not swagger with a Barbarie Henne, if
her feathers turne backe in any shew of resistance. Call
him vp (Drawer.)
  Host. Cheater, call you him? I will barre no honest
man my house, nor no Cheater: but I doe not loue swaggering;
I am the worse when one sayes, swagger: Feele
Masters, how I shake: looke you, I warrant you

   Dol. So you doe, Hostesse

   Host. Doe I? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an Aspen
Leafe: I cannot abide Swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy.

  Pist. 'Saue you, Sir Iohn

   Falst. Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I charge
you with a Cup of Sacke: doe you discharge vpon mine
Hostesse

   Pist. I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two
Bullets

   Falst. She is Pistoll-proofe (Sir) you shall hardly offend
her

   Host. Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I
will drinke no more then will doe me good, for no mans
pleasure, I

   Pist. Then to you (Mistris Dorothie) I will charge
you

   Dol. Charge me? I scorne you (scuruie Companion)
what? you poore, base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-Mate:
away you mouldie Rogue, away; I am meat for
your Master

   Pist. I know you, Mistris Dorothie

   Dol. Away you Cut-purse Rascall, you filthy Bung,
away: By this Wine, Ile thrust my Knife in your mouldie
Chappes, if you play the sawcie Cuttle with me. Away
you Bottle-Ale Rascall, you Basket-hilt stale Iugler, you.
Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two Points on
your shoulder? much

   Pist. I will murther your Ruffe, for this

   Host. No, good Captaine Pistol: not heere, sweete
Captaine

   Dol. Captaine? thou abhominable damn'd Cheater,
art thou not asham'd to be call'd Captaine? If Captaines
were of my minde, they would trunchion you out, for taking
their Names vpon you, before you haue earn'd them.
You a Captaine? you slaue, for what? for tearing a poore
Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-house? Hee a Captaine? hang
him Rogue, hee liues vpon mouldie stew'd-Pruines, and
dry'de Cakes. A Captaine? These Villaines will make
the word Captaine odious: Therefore Captaines had
neede looke to it

   Bard. 'Pray thee goe downe, good Ancient

   Falst. Hearke thee hither, Mistris Dol

   Pist. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporall Bardolph, I
could teare her: Ile be reueng'd on her

   Page. 'Pray thee goe downe

   Pist. Ile see her damn'd first: to Pluto's damn'd Lake,
to the Infernall Deepe, where Erebus and Tortures vilde
also. Hold Hooke and Line, say I: Downe: downe
Dogges, downe Fates: haue wee not Hiren here?
  Host. Good Captaine Peesel be quiet, it is very late:
I beseeke you now, aggrauate your Choler

   Pist. These be good Humors indeede. Shall PackHorses,
and hollow-pamper'd Iades of Asia, which cannot
goe but thirtie miles a day, compare with Cæsar, and
with Caniballs, and Troian Greekes? nay, rather damne
them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roare: shall
wee fall foule for Toyes?
  Host. By my troth Captaine, these are very bitter
words

   Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a
Brawle anon

   Pist. Die men, like Dogges; giue Crownes like Pinnes:
Haue we not Hiren here?
  Host. On my word (Captaine) there's none such here.
What the good-yere, doe you thinke I would denye her?
I pray be quiet

   Pist. Then feed, and be fat (my faire Calipolis.) Come,
giue me some Sack, Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contente.
Feare wee broad-sides? No, let the Fiend giue fire:
Giue me some Sack: and Sweet-heart lye thou there:
Come wee to full Points here, and are et cetera's nothing?
  Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet

   Pist. Sweet Knight, I kisse thy Neaffe: what? wee haue
seene the seuen Starres

   Dol. Thrust him downe stayres, I cannot endure such
a Fustian Rascall

   Pist. Thrust him downe stayres? know we not Galloway
Nagges?
  Fal. Quoit him downe (Bardolph) like a shoue-groat
shilling: nay, if hee doe nothing but speake nothing, hee
shall be nothing here

   Bard. Come, get you downe stayres

   Pist. What? shall wee haue Incision? shall wee embrew?
then Death rocke me asleepe, abridge my dolefull
dayes: why then let grieuous, gastly, gaping Wounds,
vntwin'd the Sisters three: Come Atropos, I say

   Host. Here's good stuffe toward

   Fal. Giue me my Rapier, Boy

   Dol. I prethee Iack, I prethee doe not draw

   Fal. Get you downe stayres

   Host. Here's a goodly tumult: Ile forsweare keeping
house, before Ile be in these tirrits, and frights. So: Murther
I warrant now. Alas, alas, put vp your naked Weapons,
put vp your naked Weapons

   Dol. I prethee Iack be quiet, the Rascall is gone: ah,
you whorson little valiant Villaine, you

   Host. Are you not hurt i'th' Groyne? me thought hee
made a shrewd Thrust at your Belly

   Fal. Haue you turn'd him out of doores?
  Bard. Yes Sir: the Rascall's drunke: you haue hurt
him (Sir) in the shoulder

   Fal. A Rascall to braue me

   Dol. Ah, you sweet little Rogue, you: alas, poore Ape,
how thou sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy Face: Come
on, you whorson Chops: Ah Rogue, I loue thee: Thou
art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth fiue of Agamemnon,
and tenne times better then the nine Worthies: ah
Villaine

   Fal. A rascally Slaue, I will tosse the Rogue in a Blanket

   Dol. Doe, if thou dar'st for thy heart: if thou doo'st,
Ile canuas thee betweene a paire of Sheetes.
Enter Musique.

  Page. The Musique is come, Sir

   Fal. Let them play: play Sirs. Sit on my Knee, Dol.
A Rascall, bragging Slaue: the Rogue fled from me like
Quick-siluer

   Dol. And thou followd'st him like a Church: thou
whorson little tydie Bartholmew Bore-pigge, when wilt
thou leaue fighting on dayes, and foyning on nights, and
begin to patch vp thine old Body for Heauen?
Enter the Prince and Poines disguis'd.

  Fal. Peace (good Dol) doe not speake like a Deathshead:
doe not bid me remember mine end

   Dol. Sirrha, what humor is the Prince of?
  Fal. A good shallow young fellow: hee would haue
made a good Pantler, hee would haue chipp'd Bread
well

   Dol. They say Poines hath a good Wit

   Fal. Hee a good Wit? hang him Baboone, his Wit is
as thicke as Tewksburie Mustard: there is no more conceit
in him, then is in a Mallet

   Dol. Why doth the Prince loue him so then?
  Fal. Because their Legges are both of a bignesse: and
hee playes at Quoits well, and eates Conger and Fennell,
and drinkes off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and rides
the wilde-Mare with the Boyes, and iumpes vpon Ioyn'dstooles,
and sweares with a good grace, and weares his
Boot very smooth, like vnto the Signe of the Legge; and
breedes no bate with telling of discreete stories: and such
other Gamboll Faculties hee hath, that shew a weake
Minde, and an able Body, for the which the Prince admits
him; for the Prince himselfe is such another: the
weight of an hayre will turne the Scales betweene their
Haberdepois

   Prince. Would not this Naue of a Wheele haue his
Eares cut off?
  Poin. Let vs beat him before his Whore

   Prince. Looke, if the wither'd Elder hath not his Poll
claw'd like a Parrot

   Poin. Is it not strange, that Desire should so many
yeeres out-liue performance?
  Fal. Kisse me Dol

   Prince. Saturne and Venus this yeere in Coniunction?
What sayes the Almanack to that?
  Poin. And looke whether the fierie Trigon, his Man,
be not lisping to his Masters old Tables, his Note-Booke,
his Councell-keeper?
  Fal. Thou do'st giue me flatt'ring Busses

   Dol. Nay truely, I kisse thee with a most constant
heart

   Fal. I am olde, I am olde

   Dol. I loue thee better, then I loue ere a scuruie young
Boy of them all

   Fal. What Stuffe wilt thou haue a Kirtle of? I shall
receiue Money on Thursday: thou shalt haue a Cappe
to morrow. A merrie Song, come: it growes late,
wee will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am
gone

   Dol. Thou wilt set me a weeping, if thou say'st so:
proue that euer I dresse my selfe handsome, till thy returne:
well, hearken the end

   Fal. Some Sack, Francis

   Prin. Poin. Anon, anon, Sir

   Fal. Ha? a Bastard Sonne of the Kings? And art not
thou Poines, his Brother?
  Prince. Why thou Globe of sinfull Continents, what
a life do'st thou lead?
  Fal. A better then thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art
a Drawer

   Prince. Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out
by the Eares

   Host. Oh, the Lord preserue thy good Grace: Welcome
to London. Now Heauen blesse that sweete Face
of thine: what, are you come from Wales?
  Fal. Thou whorson mad Compound of Maiestie: by
this light Flesh, and corrupt Blood, thou art welcome

   Dol. How? you fat Foole, I scorne you

   Poin. My Lord, hee will driue you out of your reuenge,
and turne all to a merryment, if you take not the
heat

   Prince. You whorson Candle-myne you, how vildly
did you speake of me euen now, before this honest, vertuous,
ciuill Gentlewoman?
  Host. 'Blessing on your good heart, and so shee is by
my troth

   Fal. Didst thou heare me?
  Prince. Yes: and you knew me, as you did when you
ranne away by Gads-hill: you knew I was at your back,
and spoke it on purpose, to trie my patience

   Fal. No, no, no: not so: I did not thinke, thou wast
within hearing

   Prince. I shall driue you then to confesse the wilfull
abuse, and then I know how to handle you

   Fal. No abuse (Hall) on mine Honor, no abuse

   Prince. Not to disprayse me? and call me Pantler, and
Bread-chopper, and I know not what?
  Fal. No abuse (Hal.)
  Poin. No abuse?
  Fal. No abuse (Ned) in the World: honest Ned none.
I disprays'd him before the Wicked, that the Wicked
might not fall in loue with him: In which doing, I haue
done the part of a carefull Friend, and a true Subiect, and
thy Father is to giue me thankes for it. No abuse (Hal:)
none (Ned) none; no Boyes, none

   Prince. See now whether pure Feare, and entire Cowardise,
doth not make thee wrong this vertuous Gentlewoman,
to close with vs? Is shee of the Wicked? Is thine
Hostesse heere, of the Wicked? Or is the Boy of the
Wicked? Or honest Bardolph (whose Zeale burnes in his
Nose) of the Wicked?
  Poin. Answere thou dead Elme, answere

   Fal. The Fiend hath prickt downe Bardolph irrecouerable,
and his Face is Lucifers Priuy-Kitchin, where hee
doth nothing but rost Mault-Wormes: for the Boy,
there is a good Angell about him, but the Deuill outbids
him too

   Prince. For the Women?
  Fal. For one of them, shee is in Hell alreadie, and
burnes poore Soules: for the other, I owe her Money;
and whether shee bee damn'd for that, I know
not

   Host. No, I warrant you

   Fal. No, I thinke thou art not: I thinke thou art quit
for that. Marry, there is another Indictment vpon thee,
for suffering flesh to bee eaten in thy house, contrary to
the Law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle

   Host. All Victuallers doe so: What is a Ioynt of
Mutton, or two, in a whole Lent?
  Prince. You, Gentlewoman

   Dol. What sayes your Grace?
  Falst. His Grace sayes that, which his flesh rebells
against

   Host. Who knocks so lowd at doore? Looke to the
doore there, Francis?
Enter Peto.

  Prince. Peto, how now? what newes?
  Peto. The King, your Father, is at Westminster,
And there are twentie weake and wearied Postes,
Come from the North: and as I came along,
I met, and ouer-tooke a dozen Captaines,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes,
And asking euery one for Sir Iohn Falstaffe

   Prince. By Heauen (Poines) I feele me much to blame,
So idly to prophane the precious time,
When Tempest of Commotion, like the South,
Borne with black Vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads.
Giue me my Sword, and Cloake:
Falstaffe, good night.
Enter.

  Falst. Now comes in the sweetest Morsell of the
night, and wee must hence, and leaue it vnpickt. More
knocking at the doore? How now? what's the matter?
  Bard. You must away to Court, Sir, presently,
A dozen Captaines stay at doore for you

   Falst. Pay the Musitians, Sirrha: farewell Hostesse,
farewell Dol. You see (my good Wenches) how men of
Merit are sought after: the vndeseruer may sleepe, when
the man of Action is call'd on. Farewell good Wenches:
if I be not sent away poste, I will see you againe, ere I
goe

   Dol. I cannot speake: if my heart bee not readie
to burst- Well (sweete Iacke) haue a care of thy
selfe

   Falst. Farewell, farewell.
Enter.

  Host. Well, fare thee well: I haue knowne thee
these twentie nine yeeres, come Pescod-time: but an
honester, and truer-hearted man- Well, fare thee
well

   Bard. Mistris Teare-sheet

   Host. What's the matter?
  Bard. Bid Mistris Teare-sheet come to my Master

   Host. Oh runne Dol, runne: runne, good Dol.

Exeunt.


Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, with a Page.

  King. Goe, call the Earles of Surrey, and of Warwick:
But ere they come, bid them ore-reade these Letters,
And well consider of them: make good speed.
Enter.

How many thousand of my poorest Subiects
Are at this howre asleepe? O Sleepe, O gentle Sleepe,
Natures soft Nurse, how haue I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids downe,
And steepe my Sences in Forgetfulnesse?
Why rather (Sleepe) lyest thou in smoakie Cribs,
Vpon vneasie Pallads stretching thee,
And huisht with bussing Night, flyes to thy slumber,
Then in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great?
Vnder the Canopies of costly State,
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest Melodie?
O thou dull God, why lyest thou with the vilde,
In loathsome Beds, and leau'st the Kingly Couch,
A Watch-case, or a common Larum-Bell?
Wilt thou, vpon the high and giddie Mast,
Seale vp the Ship-boyes Eyes, and rock his Braines,
In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge,
And in the visitation of the Windes,
Who take the Ruffian Billowes by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaff'ning Clamors in the slipp'ry Clouds,
That with the hurley, Death it selfe awakes?
Canst thou (O partiall Sleepe) giue thy Repose
To the wet Sea-Boy, in an houre so rude:
And in the calmest, and most stillest Night,
With all appliances, and meanes to boote,
Deny it to a King? Then happy Lowe, lye downe,
Vneasie lyes the Head, that weares a Crowne.
Enter Warwicke and Surrey.

  War. Many good-morrowes to your Maiestie

   King. Is it good-morrow, Lords?
  War. 'Tis One a Clock, and past

   King. Why then good-morrow to you all (my Lords:)
Haue you read o're the Letters that I sent you?
  War. We haue (my Liege.)
  King. Then you perceiue the Body of our Kingdome,
How foule it is: what ranke Diseases grow,
And with what danger, neere the Heart of it?
  War. It is but as a Body, yet distemper'd,
Which to his former strength may be restor'd,
With good aduice, and little Medicine:
My Lord Northumberland will soone be cool'd

   King. Oh Heauen, that one might read the Book of Fate,
And see the reuolution of the Times
Make Mountaines leuell, and the Continent
(Wearie of solide firmenesse) melt it selfe
Into the Sea: and other Times, to see
The beachie Girdle of the Ocean
Too wide for Neptunes hippes; how Chances mocks
And Changes fill the Cuppe of Alteration
With diuers Liquors. 'Tis not tenne yeeres gone,
Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together; and in two yeeres after,
Were they at Warres. It is but eight yeeres since,
This Percie was the man, neerest my Soule,
Who, like a Brother, toyl'd in my Affaires,
And layd his Loue and Life vnder my foot:
Yea, for my sake, euen to the eyes of Richard
Gaue him defiance. But which of you was by
(You Cousin Neuil, as I may remember)
When Richard, with his Eye, brim-full of Teares,
(Then check'd, and rated by Northumberland)
Did speake these words (now prou'd a Prophecie:)
Northumberland, thou Ladder, by the which
My Cousin Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne:
(Though then, Heauen knowes, I had no such intent,
But that necessitie so bow'd the State,
That I and Greatnesse were compell'd to kisse:)
The Time shall come (thus did hee follow it)
The Time will come, that foule Sinne gathering head,
Shall breake into Corruption: so went on,
Fore-telling this same Times Condition,
And the diuision of our Amitie

   War. There is a Historie in all mens Liues,
Figuring the nature of the Times deceas'd:
The which obseru'd, a man may prophecie
With a neere ayme, of the maine chance of things,
As yet not come to Life, which in their Seedes
And weake beginnings lye entreasured:
Such things become the Hatch and Brood of Time;
And by the necessarie forme of this,
King Richard might create a perfect guesse,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falsenesse,
Which should not finde a ground to roote vpon,
Vnlesse on you

   King. Are these things then Necessities?
Then let vs meete them like Necessities;
And that same word, euen now cryes out on vs:
They say, the Bishop and Northumberland
Are fiftie thousand strong

   War. It cannot be (my Lord:)
Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Eccho,
The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace
To goe to bed, vpon my Life (my Lord)
The Pow'rs that you alreadie haue sent forth,
Shall bring this Prize in very easily.
To comfort you the more, I haue receiu'd
A certaine instance, that Glendour is dead.
Your Maiestie hath beene this fort-night ill,
And these vnseason'd howres perforce must adde
Vnto your Sicknesse

   King. I will take your counsaile:
And were these inward Warres once out of hand,
Wee would (deare Lords) vnto the Holy-Land.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Shallow and Silence: with Mouldie, Shadow, Wart, Feeble,
Bull-calfe.

  Shal. Come-on, come-on, come-on: giue mee your
Hand, Sir; giue mee your Hand, Sir: an early stirrer, by
the Rood. And how doth my good Cousin Silence?
  Sil. Good-morrow, good Cousin Shallow

   Shal. And how doth my Cousin, your Bed-fellow?
and your fairest Daughter, and mine, my God-Daughter
Ellen?
  Sil. Alas, a blacke Ouzell (Cousin Shallow.)
  Shal. By yea and nay, Sir. I dare say my Cousin William
is become a good Scholler? hee is at Oxford still, is hee
not?
  Sil. Indeede Sir, to my cost

   Shal. Hee must then to the Innes of Court shortly: I
was once of Clements Inne; where (I thinke) they will
talke of mad Shallow yet

   Sil. You were call'd lustie Shallow then (Cousin.)
  Shal. I was call'd any thing: and I would haue done
any thing indeede too, and roundly too. There was I, and
little Iohn Doit of Staffordshire, and blacke George Bare,
and Francis Pick-bone, and Will Squele a Cotsal-man, you
had not foure such Swindge-bucklers in all the Innes of
Court againe: And I may say to you, wee knew where
the Bona-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at
commandement. Then was Iacke Falstaffe (now Sir Iohn)
a Boy, and Page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolke

   Sil. This Sir Iohn (Cousin) that comes hither anon about
Souldiers?
  Shal. The same Sir Iohn, the very same: I saw him
breake Scoggan's Head at the Court-Gate, when hee was
a Crack, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight
with one Sampson Stock-fish, a Fruiterer, behinde Greyes-Inne.
Oh the mad dayes that I haue spent! and to see
how many of mine olde Acquaintance are dead?
  Sil. Wee shall all follow (Cousin.)
  Shal. Certaine: 'tis certaine: very sure, very sure:
Death is certaine to all, all shall dye. How a good Yoke
of Bullocks at Stamford Fayre?
  Sil. Truly Cousin, I was not there

   Shal. Death is certaine. Is old Double of your Towne
liuing yet?
  Sil. Dead, Sir

   Shal. Dead? See, see: hee drew a good Bow: and
dead? hee shot a fine shoote. Iohn of Gaunt loued
him well, and betted much Money on his head. Dead?
hee would haue clapt in the Clowt at Twelue-score, and
carryed you a fore-hand Shaft at foureteene, and foureteene
and a halfe, that it would haue done a mans heart
good to see. How a score of Ewes now?
  Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good Ewes
may be worth tenne pounds

   Shal. And is olde Double dead?
Enter Bardolph and his Boy.

  Sil. Heere come two of Sir Iohn Falstaffes Men (as I
thinke.)
  Shal. Good-morrow, honest Gentlemen

   Bard. I beseech you, which is Iustice Shallow?
  Shal. I am Robert Shallow (Sir) a poore Esquire of this
Countie, and one of the Kings Iustices of the Peace:
What is your good pleasure with me?
  Bard. My Captaine (Sir) commends him to you:
my Captaine, Sir Iohn Falstaffe: a tall Gentleman, and a
most gallant Leader

   Shal. Hee greetes me well: (Sir) I knew him a
good Back-Sword-man. How doth the good Knight?
may I aske, how my Lady his Wife doth?
  Bard. Sir, pardon: a Souldier is better accommodated,
then with a Wife

   Shal. It is well said, Sir; and it is well said, indeede,
too: Better accommodated? it is good, yea indeede is
it: good phrases are surely, and euery where very commendable.
Accommodated, it comes of Accommodo:
very good, a good Phrase

   Bard. Pardon, Sir, I haue heard the word. Phrase
call you it? by this Day, I know not the Phrase: but
I will maintaine the Word with my Sword, to bee a
Souldier-like Word, and a Word of exceeding good
Command. Accommodated: that is, when a man is
(as they say) accommodated: or, when a man is, being
whereby he thought to be accommodated, which is an
excellent thing.
Enter Falstaffe.

  Shal. It is very iust: Looke, heere comes good Sir
Iohn. Giue me your hand, giue me your Worships good
hand: Trust me, you looke well: and beare your yeares
very well. Welcome, good Sir Iohn

   Fal. I am glad to see you well, good M[aster]. Robert Shallow:
Master Sure-card as I thinke?
  Shal. No sir Iohn, it is my Cosin Silence: in Commission
with mee

   Fal. Good M[aster]. Silence, it well befits you should be of
the peace

   Sil. Your good Worship is welcome

   Fal. Fye, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) haue you
prouided me heere halfe a dozen of sufficient men?
  Shal. Marry haue we sir: Will you sit?
  Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you

   Shal. Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Where's
the Roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see: so, so, so, so:
yea marry Sir. Raphe Mouldie: let them appeare as I call:
let them do so, let them do so: Let mee see, Where is
Mouldie?
  Moul. Heere, if it please you

   Shal. What thinke you (Sir Iohn) a good limb'd fellow:
yong, strong, and of good friends

   Fal. Is thy name Mouldie?
  Moul. Yea, if it please you

   Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert vs'd

   Shal. Ha, ha, ha, most excellent. Things that are mouldie,
lacke vse: very singular good. Well saide Sir Iohn,
very well said

   Fal. Pricke him

   Moul. I was prickt well enough before, if you could
haue let me alone: my old Dame will be vndone now, for
one to doe her Husbandry, and her Drudgery; you need
not to haue prickt me, there are other men fitter to goe
out, then I

   Fal. Go too: peace Mouldie, you shall goe. Mouldie,
it is time you were spent

   Moul. Spent?
  Shallow. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: Know you
where you are? For the other sir Iohn: Let me see: Simon
Shadow

   Fal. I marry, let me haue him to sit vnder: he's like to
be a cold souldier

   Shal. Where's Shadow?
  Shad. Heere sir

   Fal. Shadow, whose sonne art thou?
  Shad. My Mothers sonne, Sir

   Falst. Thy Mothers sonne: like enough, and thy Fathers
shadow: so the sonne of the Female, is the shadow
of the Male: it is often so indeede, but not of the Fathers
substance

   Shal. Do you like him, sir Iohn?
  Falst. Shadow will serue for Summer: pricke him: For
wee haue a number of shadowes to fill vppe the Muster-Booke

   Shal. Thomas Wart?
  Falst. Where's he?
  Wart. Heere sir

   Falst. Is thy name Wart?
  Wart. Yea sir

   Fal. Thou art a very ragged Wart

   Shal. Shall I pricke him downe,
Sir Iohn?
  Falst. It were superfluous: for his apparrel is built vpon
his backe, and the whole frame stands vpon pins: prick
him no more

   Shal. Ha, ha, ha, you can do it sir: you can doe it: I
commend you well.
Francis Feeble

   Feeble. Heere sir

   Shal. What Trade art thou Feeble?
  Feeble. A Womans Taylor sir

   Shal. Shall I pricke him, sir?
  Fal. You may:
But if he had beene a mans Taylor, he would haue prick'd
you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemies Battaile,
as thou hast done in a Womans petticote?
  Feeble. I will doe my good will sir, you can haue no
more

   Falst. Well said, good Womans Tailour: Well sayde
Couragious Feeble: thou wilt bee as valiant as the wrathfull
Doue, or most magnanimous Mouse. Pricke the womans
Taylour well Master Shallow, deepe Maister Shallow

   Feeble. I would Wart might haue gone sir

   Fal. I would thou wert a mans Tailor, that y might'st
mend him, and make him fit to goe. I cannot put him to
a priuate souldier, that is the Leader of so many thousands.
Let that suffice, most Forcible Feeble

   Feeble. It shall suffice

   Falst. I am bound to thee, reuerend Feeble. Who is
the next?
  Shal. Peter Bulcalfe of the Greene

   Falst. Yea marry, let vs see Bulcalfe

   Bul. Heere sir

   Fal. Trust me, a likely Fellow. Come, pricke me Bulcalfe
till he roare againe

   Bul. Oh, good my Lord Captaine

   Fal. What? do'st thou roare before th'art prickt

   Bul. Oh sir, I am a diseased man

   Fal. What disease hast thou?
  Bul. A whorson cold sir, a cough sir, which I caught
with Ringing in the Kings affayres, vpon his Coronation
day, sir

   Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the Warres in a Gowne:
we will haue away thy Cold, and I will take such order,
that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is heere all?
  Shal. There is two more called then your number:
you must haue but foure heere sir, and so I pray you go in
with me to dinner

   Fal. Come, I will goe drinke with you, but I cannot
tarry dinner. I am glad to see you in good troth, Master
Shallow

   Shal. O sir Iohn, doe you remember since wee lay all
night in the Winde-mill, in S[aint]. Georges Field

   Falstaffe. No more of that good Master Shallow: No
more of that

   Shal. Ha? it was a merry night. And is Iane Nightworke
aliue?
  Fal. She liues, M[aster]. Shallow

   Shal. She neuer could away with me

   Fal. Neuer, neuer: she would alwayes say shee could
not abide M[aster]. Shallow

   Shal. I could anger her to the heart: shee was then a
Bona-Roba. Doth she hold her owne well

   Fal. Old, old, M[aster]. Shallow

   Shal. Nay, she must be old, she cannot choose but be
old: certaine shee's old: and had Robin Night-worke, by
old Night-worke, before I came to Clements Inne

   Sil. That's fiftie fiue yeeres agoe

   Shal. Hah, Cousin Silence, that thou hadst seene that,
that this Knight and I haue seene: hah, Sir Iohn, said I
well?
  Falst. Wee haue heard the Chymes at mid-night, Master
Shallow

   Shal. That wee haue, that wee haue; in faith, Sir Iohn,
wee haue: our watch-word was, Hem-Boyes. Come,
let's to Dinner; come, let's to Dinner: Oh the dayes that
wee haue seene. Come, come

   Bul. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my
friend, and heere is foure Harry tenne shillings in French
Crownes for you: in very truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd
sir, as goe: and yet, for mine owne part, sir, I do not care;
but rather, because I am vnwilling, and for mine owne
part, haue a desire to stay with my friends: else, sir, I did
not care, for mine owne part, so much

   Bard. Go-too: stand aside

   Mould. And good Master Corporall Captaine, for my
old Dames sake, stand my friend: shee hath no body to
doe any thing about her, when I am gone: and she is old,
and cannot helpe her selfe: you shall haue fortie, sir

   Bard. Go-too: stand aside

   Feeble. I care not, a man can die but once: wee owe a
death. I will neuer beare a base minde: if it be my destinie,
so: if it be not, so: no man is too good to serue his
Prince: and let it goe which way it will, he that dies this
yeere, is quit for the next

   Bard. Well said, thou art a good fellow

   Feeble. Nay, I will beare no base minde

   Falst. Come sir, which men shall I haue?
  Shal. Foure of which you please

   Bard. Sir, a word with you: I haue three pound, to
free Mouldie and Bull-calfe

   Falst. Go-too: well

   Shal. Come, sir Iohn, which foure will you haue?
  Falst. Doe you chuse for me

   Shal. Marry then, Mouldie, Bull-calfe, Feeble, and
Shadow

   Falst. Mouldie, and Bull-calfe: for you Mouldie, stay
at home, till you are past seruice: and for your part, Bull-calfe,
grow till you come vnto it: I will none of you

   Shal. Sir Iohn, Sir Iohn, doe not your selfe wrong, they
are your likelyest men, and I would haue you seru'd with
the best

   Falst. Will you tell me (Master Shallow) how to chuse
a man? Care I for the Limbe, the Thewes, the stature,
bulke, and bigge assemblance of a man? giue mee the
spirit (Master Shallow.) Where's Wart? you see what
a ragged appearance it is: hee shall charge you, and
discharge you, with the motion of a Pewterers Hammer:
come off, and on, swifter then hee that gibbets on
the Brewers Bucket. And this same halfe-fac'd fellow,
Shadow, giue me this man: hee presents no marke to the
Enemie, the foe-man may with as great ayme leuell at
the edge of a Pen-knife: and for a Retrait, how swiftly
will this Feeble, the Womans Taylor, runne off. O, giue
me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a
Calyuer into Warts hand, Bardolph

   Bard. Hold Wart, Trauerse: thus, thus, thus

   Falst. Come, manage me your Calyuer: so: very well,
go-too, very good, exceeding good. O, giue me alwayes
a little, leane, old, chopt, bald Shot. Well said Wart, thou
art a good Scab: hold, there is a Tester for thee

   Shal. Hee is not his Crafts-master, hee doth not doe
it right. I remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay
at Clements Inne, I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthurs
Show: there was a little quiuer fellow, and hee would
manage you his Peece thus: and hee would about,
and about, and come you in, and come you in: Rah,
tah, tah, would hee say, Bownce would hee say, and
away againe would hee goe, and againe would he come:
I shall neuer see such a fellow

   Falst. These fellowes will doe well, Master Shallow.
Farewell Master Silence, I will not vse many wordes with
you: fare you well, Gentlemen both: I thanke you:
I must a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, giue the Souldiers
Coates

   Shal. Sir Iohn, Heauen blesse you, and prosper your
Affaires, and send vs Peace. As you returne, visit
my house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peraduenture
I will with you to the Court

   Falst. I would you would, Master Shallow

   Shal. Go-too: I haue spoke at a word. Fare you
well.
Enter.

  Falst. Fare you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph,
leade the men away. As I returne, I will fetch off
these Iustices: I doe see the bottome of Iustice Shallow.
How subiect wee old men are to this vice of Lying?
This same staru'd Iustice hath done nothing but
prate to me of the wildenesse of his Youth, and the
Feates hee hath done about Turnball-street, and euery
third word a Lye, duer pay'd to the hearer, then the
Turkes Tribute. I doe remember him at Clements Inne,
like a man made after Supper, of a Cheese-paring. When
hee was naked, hee was, for all the world, like a forked
Radish, with a Head fantastically caru'd vpon it with a
Knife. Hee was so forlorne, that his Dimensions (to
any thicke sight) were inuincible. Hee was the very
Genius of Famine: hee came euer in the rere-ward of
the Fashion: And now is this Vices Dagger become a
Squire, and talkes as familiarly of Iohn of Gaunt, as if
hee had beene sworne Brother to him: and Ile be sworne
hee neuer saw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he
burst his Head, for crowding among the Marshals men.
I saw it, and told Iohn of Gaunt, hee beat his owne
Name, for you might haue truss'd him and all his Apparrell
into an Eele-skinne: the Case of a Treble Hoeboy
was a Mansion for him: a Court: and now hath
hee Land, and Beeues. Well, I will be acquainted with
him, if I returne: and it shall goe hard, but I will make
him a Philosophers two Stones to me. If the young
Dace be a Bayt for the old Pike, I see no reason, in the
Law of Nature, but I may snap at him. Let time shape,
and there an end.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Arch-bishop, Mowbray, Hastings, Westmerland,
Coleuile.

  Bish. What is this Forrest call'd?
  Hast. 'Tis Gaultree Forrest, and't shall please your
Grace

   Bish. Here stand (my Lords) and send discouerers forth,
To know the numbers of our Enemies

   Hast. Wee haue sent forth alreadie

   Bish. 'Tis well done.
My Friends, and Brethren (in these great Affaires)
I must acquaint you, that I haue receiu'd
New-dated Letters from Northumberland:
Their cold intent, tenure, and substance thus.
Here doth hee wish his Person, with such Powers
As might hold sortance with his Qualitie,
The which hee could not leuie: whereupon
Hee is retyr'd, to ripe his growing Fortunes,
To Scotland; and concludes in heartie prayers,
That your Attempts may ouer-liue the hazard,
And fearefull meeting of their Opposite

   Mow. Thus do the hopes we haue in him, touch ground,
And dash themselues to pieces.
Enter a Messenger.

  Hast. Now? what newes?
  Mess. West of this Forrest, scarcely off a mile,
In goodly forme, comes on the Enemie:
And by the ground they hide, I iudge their number
Vpon, or neere, the rate of thirtie thousand

   Mow. The iust proportion that we gaue them out.
Let vs sway-on, and face them in the field.
Enter Westmerland.

  Bish. What well-appointed Leader fronts vs here?
  Mow. I thinke it is my Lord of Westmerland

   West. Health, and faire greeting from our Generall,
The Prince, Lord Iohn, and Duke of Lancaster

   Bish. Say on (my Lord of Westmerland) in peace:
What doth concerne your comming?
  West. Then (my Lord)
Vnto your Grace doe I in chiefe addresse
The substance of my Speech. If that Rebellion
Came like it selfe, in base and abiect Routs,
Led on by bloodie Youth, guarded with Rage,
And countenanc'd by Boyes, and Beggerie:
I say, if damn'd Commotion so appeare,
In his true, natiue, and most proper shape,
You (Reuerend Father, and these Noble Lords)
Had not beene here, to dresse the ougly forme
Of base, and bloodie Insurrection,
With your faire Honors. You, Lord Arch-bishop,
Whose Sea is by a Ciuill Peace maintain'd,
Whose Beard, the Siluer Hand of Peace hath touch'd,
Whose Learning, and good Letters, Peace hath tutor'd,
Whose white Inuestments figure Innocence,
The Doue, and very blessed Spirit of Peace.
Wherefore doe you so ill translate your selfe,
Out of the Speech of Peace, that beares such grace,
Into the harsh and boystrous Tongue of Warre?
Turning your Bookes to Graues, your Inke to Blood,
Your Pennes to Launces, and your Tongue diuine
To a lowd Trumpet, and a Point of Warre

   Bish. Wherefore doe I this? so the Question stands.
Briefely to this end: Wee are all diseas'd,
And with our surfetting, and wanton howres,
Haue brought our selues into a burning Feuer,
And wee must bleede for it: of which Disease,
Our late King Richard (being infected) dy'd.
But (my most Noble Lord of Westmerland)
I take not on me here as a Physician,
Nor doe I, as an Enemie to Peace,
Troope in the Throngs of Militarie men:
But rather shew a while like fearefull Warre,
To dyet ranke Mindes, sicke of happinesse,
And purge th' obstructions, which begin to stop
Our very Veines of Life: heare me more plainely.
I haue in equall ballance iustly weigh'd,
What wrongs our Arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,
And finde our Griefes heauier then our Offences.
Wee see which way the streame of Time doth runne,
And are enforc'd from our most quiet there,
By the rough Torrent of Occasion,
And haue the summarie of all our Griefes
(When time shall serue) to shew in Articles;
Which long ere this, wee offer'd to the King,
And might, by no Suit, gayne our Audience:
When wee are wrong'd, and would vnfold our Griefes,
Wee are deny'd accesse vnto his Person,
Euen by those men, that most haue done vs wrong.
The dangers of the dayes but newly gone,
Whose memorie is written on the Earth
With yet appearing blood; and the examples
Of euery Minutes instance (present now)
Hath put vs in these ill-beseeming Armes:
Not to breake Peace, or any Branch of it,
But to establish here a Peace indeede,
Concurring both in Name and Qualitie

   West. When euer yet was your Appeale deny'd?
Wherein haue you beene galled by the King?
What Peere hath beene suborn'd, to grate on you,
That you should seale this lawlesse bloody Booke
Of forg'd Rebellion, with a Seale diuine?
  Bish. My Brother generall, the Common-wealth,
I make my Quarrell, in particular

   West. There is no neede of any such redresse:
Or if there were, it not belongs to you

   Mow. Why not to him in part, and to vs all,
That feele the bruizes of the dayes before,
And suffer the Condition of these Times
To lay a heauie and vnequall Hand vpon our Honors?
  West. O my good Lord Mowbray,
Construe the Times to their Necessities,
And you shall say (indeede) it is the Time,
And not the King, that doth you iniuries.
Yet for your part, it not appeares to me,
Either from the King, or in the present Time,
That you should haue an ynch of any ground
To build a Griefe on: were you not restor'd
To all the Duke of Norfolkes Seignories,
Your Noble, and right well-remembred Fathers?
  Mow. What thing, in Honor, had my Father lost,
That need to be reuiu'd, and breath'd in me?
The King that lou'd him, as the State stood then,
Was forc'd, perforce compell'd to banish him:
And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and hee
Being mounted, and both rowsed in their Seates,
Their neighing Coursers daring of the Spurre,
Their armed Staues in charge, their Beauers downe,
Their eyes of fire, sparkling through sights of Steele,
And the lowd Trumpet blowing them together:
Then, then, when there was nothing could haue stay'd
My Father from the Breast of Bullingbrooke;
O, when the King did throw his Warder downe,
(His owne Life hung vpon the Staffe hee threw)
Then threw hee downe himselfe, and all their Liues,
That by Indictment, and by dint of Sword,
Haue since mis-carryed vnder Bullingbrooke

   West. You speak (Lord Mowbray) now you know not what.
The Earle of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant Gentleman.
Who knowes, on whom Fortune would then haue smil'd?
But if your Father had beene Victor there,
Hee ne're had borne it out of Couentry.
For all the Countrey, in a generall voyce,
Cry'd hate vpon him: and all their prayers, and loue,
Were set on Herford, whom they doted on,
And bless'd, and grac'd, and did more then the King.
But this is meere digression from my purpose.
Here come I from our Princely Generall,
To know your Griefes; to tell you, from his Grace,
That hee will giue you Audience: and wherein
It shall appeare, that your demands are iust,
You shall enioy them, euery thing set off,
That might so much as thinke you Enemies

   Mow. But hee hath forc'd vs to compell this Offer,
And it proceedes from Pollicy, not Loue

   West. Mowbray, you ouer-weene to take it so:
This Offer comes from Mercy, not from Feare.
For loe, within a Ken our Army lyes,
Vpon mine Honor, all too confident
To giue admittance to a thought of feare.
Our Battaile is more full of Names then yours,
Our Men more perfect in the vse of Armes,
Our Armor all as strong, our Cause the best;
Then Reason will, our hearts should be as good.
Say you not then, our Offer is compell'd

   Mow. Well, by my will, wee shall admit no Parley

   West. That argues but the shame of your offence:
A rotten Case abides no handling

   Hast. Hath the Prince Iohn a full Commission,
In very ample vertue of his Father,
To heare, and absolutely to determine
Of what Conditions wee shall stand vpon?
  West. That is intended in the Generals Name:
I muse you make so slight a Question

   Bish. Then take (my Lord of Westmerland) this Schedule,
For this containes our generall Grieuances:
Each seuerall Article herein redress'd,
All members of our Cause, both here, and hence,
That are insinewed to this Action,
Acquitted by a true substantiall forme,
And present execution of our wills,
To vs, and to our purposes confin'd,
Wee come within our awfull Banks againe,
And knit our Powers to the Arme of Peace

   West. This will I shew the Generall. Please you Lords,
In sight of both our Battailes, wee may meete
At either end in peace: which Heauen so frame,
Or to the place of difference call the Swords,
Which must decide it

   Bish. My Lord, wee will doe so

   Mow. There is a thing within my Bosome tells me,
That no Conditions of our Peace can stand

   Hast. Feare you not, that if wee can make our Peace
Vpon such large termes, and so absolute,
As our Conditions shall consist vpon,
Our Peace shall stand as firme as Rockie Mountaines

   Mow. I, but our valuation shall be such,
That euery slight, and false-deriued Cause,
Yea, euery idle, nice, and wanton Reason,
Shall, to the King, taste of this Action:
That were our Royall faiths, Martyrs in Loue,
Wee shall be winnowed with so rough a winde,
That euen our Corne shall seeme as light as Chaffe,
And good from bad finde no partition

   Bish. No, no (my Lord) note this: the King is wearie
Of daintie, and such picking Grieuances:
For hee hath found, to end one doubt by Death,
Reuiues two greater in the Heires of Life.
And therefore will hee wipe his Tables cleane,
And keepe no Tell-tale to his Memorie,
That may repeat, and Historie his losse,
To new remembrance. For full well hee knowes,
Hee cannot so precisely weede this Land,
As his mis-doubts present occasion:
His foes are so en-rooted with his friends,
That plucking to vnfixe an Enemie,
Hee doth vnfasten so, and shake a friend.
So that this Land, like an offensiue wife,
That hath enrag'd him on, to offer strokes,
As he is striking, holds his Infant vp,
And hangs resolu'd Correction in the Arme,
That was vprear'd to execution

   Hast. Besides, the King hath wasted all his Rods,
On late Offenders, that he now doth lacke
The very Instruments of Chasticement:
So that his power, like to a Fanglesse Lion
May offer, but not hold

   Bish. 'Tis very true:
And therefore be assur'd (my good Lord Marshal)
If we do now make our attonement well,
Our Peace, will (like a broken Limbe vnited)
Grow stronger, for the breaking

   Mow. Be it so:
Heere is return'd my Lord of Westmerland.
Enter Westmerland.

  West. The Prince is here at hand: pleaseth your Lordship
To meet his Grace, iust distance 'tweene our Armies?
  Mow. Your Grace of Yorke, in heauen's name then
forward

   Bish. Before, and greet his Grace (my Lord) we come.
Enter Prince Iohn.

  Iohn. You are wel encountred here (my cosin Mowbray)
Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop,
And so to you Lord Hastings, and to all.
My Lord of Yorke, it better shew'd with you,
When that your Flocke (assembled by the Bell)
Encircled you, to heare with reuerence
Your exposition on the holy Text,
Then now to see you heere an Iron man
Chearing a rowt of Rebels with your Drumme,
Turning the Word, to Sword; and Life to death:
That man that sits within a Monarches heart,
And ripens in the Sunne-shine of his fauor,
Would hee abuse the Countenance of the King,
Alack, what Mischiefes might hee set abroach,
In shadow of such Greatnesse? With you, Lord Bishop,
It is euen so. Who hath not heard it spoken,
How deepe you were within the Bookes of Heauen?
To vs, the Speaker in his Parliament;
To vs, th' imagine Voyce of Heauen it selfe:
The very Opener, and Intelligencer,
Betweene the Grace, the Sanctities of Heauen;
And our dull workings. O, who shall beleeue,
But you mis-vse the reuerence of your Place,
Employ the Countenance, and Grace of Heauen,
As a false Fauorite doth his Princes Name,
In deedes dis-honorable? You haue taken vp,
Vnder the counterfeited Zeale of Heauen,
The Subiects of Heauens Substitute, my Father,
And both against the Peace of Heauen, and him,
Haue here vp-swarmed them

   Bish. Good my Lord of Lancaster,
I am not here against your Fathers Peace:
But (as I told my Lord of Westmerland)
The Time (mis-order'd) doth in common sence
Crowd vs, and crush vs, to this monstrous Forme,
To hold our safetie vp. I sent your Grace
The parcels, and particulars of our Griefe,
The which hath been with scorne shou'd from the Court:
Whereon this Hydra-Sonne of Warre is borne,
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleepe,
With graunt of our most iust and right desires;
And true Obedience, of this Madnesse cur'd,
Stoope tamely to the foot of Maiestie

   Mow. If not, wee readie are to trye our fortunes,
To the last man

   Hast. And though wee here fall downe,
Wee haue Supplyes, to second our Attempt:
If they mis-carry, theirs shall second them.
And so, successe of Mischiefe shall be borne,
And Heire from Heire shall hold this Quarrell vp,
Whiles England shall haue generation

   Iohn. You are too shallow (Hastings)
Much too shallow,
To sound the bottome of the after-Times

   West. Pleaseth your Grace, to answere them directly,
How farre-forth you doe like their Articles

   Iohn. I like them all, and doe allow them well:
And sweare here, by the honor of my blood,
My Fathers purposes haue beene mistooke,
And some, about him, haue too lauishly
Wrested his meaning, and Authoritie.
My Lord, these Griefes shall be with speed redrest:
Vpon my Life, they shall. If this may please you,
Discharge your Powers vnto their seuerall Counties,
As wee will ours: and here, betweene the Armies,
Let's drinke together friendly, and embrace,
That all their eyes may beare those Tokens home,
Of our restored Loue, and Amitie

   Bish. I take your Princely word, for these redresses

   Iohn. I giue it you, and will maintaine my word:
And thereupon I drinke vnto your Grace

   Hast. Goe Captaine, and deliuer to the Armie
This newes of Peace: let them haue pay, and part:
I know, it will well please them.
High thee Captaine.
Enter.

  Bish. To you, my Noble Lord of Westmerland

   West. I pledge your Grace:
And if you knew what paines I haue bestow'd,
To breede this present Peace,
You would drinke freely: but my loue to ye,
Shall shew it selfe more openly hereafter

   Bish. I doe not doubt you

   West. I am glad of it.
Health to my Lord, and gentle Cousin Mowbray

   Mow. You wish me health in very happy season,
For I am, on the sodaine, something ill

   Bish. Against ill Chances, men are euer merry,
But heauinesse fore-runnes the good euent

   West. Therefore be merry (Cooze) since sodaine sorrow
Serues to say thus: some good thing comes to morrow

   Bish. Beleeue me, I am passing light in spirit

   Mow. So much the worse, if your owne Rule be true

   Iohn. The word of Peace is render'd: hearke how
they showt

   Mow. This had been chearefull, after Victorie

   Bish. A Peace is of the nature of a Conquest:
For then both parties nobly are subdu'd,
And neither partie looser

   Iohn. Goe (my Lord)
And let our Army be discharged too:
And good my Lord (so please you) let our Traines
March by vs, that wee may peruse the men
Enter.

Wee should haue coap'd withall

   Bish. Goe, good Lord Hastings:
And ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.
Enter.

  Iohn. I trust (Lords) wee shall lye to night together.
Enter Westmerland.

Now Cousin, wherefore stands our Army still?
  West. The Leaders hauing charge from you to stand,
Will not goe off, vntill they heare you speake

   Iohn. They know their duties.
Enter Hastings.

  Hast. Our Army is dispers'd:
Like youthfull Steeres, vnyoak'd, they tooke their course
East, West, North, South: or like a Schoole, broke vp,
Each hurryes towards his home, and sporting place

   West. Good tidings (my Lord Hastings) for the which,
I doe arrest thee (Traytor) of high Treason:
And you Lord Arch-bishop, and you Lord Mowbray,
Of Capitall Treason, I attach you both

   Mow. Is this proceeding iust, and honorable?
  West. Is your Assembly so?
  Bish. Will you thus breake your faith?
  Iohn. I pawn'd thee none:
I promis'd you redresse of these same Grieuances
Whereof you did complaine; which, by mine Honor,
I will performe, with a most Christian care.
But for you (Rebels) looke to taste the due
Meet for Rebellion, and such Acts as yours.
Most shallowly did you these Armes commence,
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.
Strike vp our Drummes, pursue the scatter'd stray,
Heauen, and not wee, haue safely fought to day.
Some guard these Traitors to the Block of Death,
Treasons true Bed, and yeelder vp of breath.

Exeunt.

Enter Falstaffe and Colleuile.

  Falst. What's your Name, Sir? of what Condition are
you? and of what place, I pray?
  Col. I am a Knight, Sir:
And my Name is Colleuile of the Dale

   Falst. Well then, Colleuile is your Name, a Knight is
your Degree, and your Place, the Dale. Colleuile shall
still be your Name, a Traytor your Degree, and the Dungeon
your Place, a place deepe enough: so shall you be
still Colleuile of the Dale

   Col. Are not you Sir Iohn Falstaffe?
  Falst. As good a man as he sir, who ere I am: doe yee
yeelde sir, or shall I sweate for you? if I doe sweate, they
are the drops of thy Louers, and they weep for thy death,
therefore rowze vp Feare and Trembling, and do obseruance
to my mercy

   Col. I thinke you are Sir Iohn Falstaffe, & in that thought
yeeld me

   Fal. I haue a whole Schoole of tongues in this belly of
mine, and not a Tongue of them all, speakes anie other
word but my name: and I had but a belly of any indifferencie,
I were simply the most actiue fellow in Europe:
my wombe, my wombe, my wombe vndoes mee. Heere
comes our Generall.
Enter Prince Iohn, and Westmerland.

  Iohn. The heat is past, follow no farther now:
Call in the Powers, good Cousin Westmerland.
Now Falstaffe, where haue you beene all this while?
When euery thing is ended, then you come.
These tardie Tricks of yours will (on my life)
One time, or other, breake some Gallowes back

   Falst. I would bee sorry (my Lord) but it should bee
thus: I neuer knew yet, but rebuke and checke was the
reward of Valour. Doe you thinke me a Swallow, an Arrow,
or a Bullet? Haue I, in my poore and olde Motion,
the expedition of Thought? I haue speeded hither with
the very extremest ynch of possibilitie. I haue fowndred
nine score and odde Postes: and heere (trauell-tainted
as I am) haue, in my pure and immaculate Valour, taken
Sir Iohn Colleuile of the Dale, a most furious Knight, and
valorous Enemie: But what of that? hee saw mee, and
yeelded: that I may iustly say with the hooke-nos'd
fellow of Rome, I came, saw, and ouer-came

   Iohn. It was more of his Courtesie, then your deseruing

   Falst. I know not: heere hee is, and heere I yeeld
him: and I beseech your Grace, let it be book'd, with
the rest of this dayes deedes; or I sweare, I will haue it
in a particular Ballad, with mine owne Picture on the top
of it (Colleuile kissing my foot:) To the which course, if
I be enforc'd, if you do not all shew like gilt two-pences
to me; and I, in the cleare Skie of Fame, o're-shine you
as much as the Full Moone doth the Cynders of the Element
(which shew like Pinnes-heads to her) beleeue not
the Word of the Noble: therefore let mee haue right,
and let desert mount

   Iohn. Thine's too heauie to mount

   Falst. Let it shine then

   Iohn. Thine's too thick to shine

   Falst. Let it doe something (my good Lord) that may
doe me good, and call it what you will

   Iohn. Is thy Name Colleuile?
  Col. It is (my Lord.)
  Iohn. A famous Rebell art thou, Colleuile

   Falst. And a famous true Subiect tooke him

   Col. I am (my Lord) but as my Betters are,
That led me hither: had they beene rul'd by me,
You should haue wonne them dearer then you haue

   Falst. I know not how they sold themselues, but thou
like a kinde fellow, gau'st thy selfe away; and I thanke
thee, for thee.
Enter Westmerland.

  Iohn. Haue you left pursuit?
  West. Retreat is made, and Execution stay'd

   Iohn. Send Colleuile, with his Confederates,
To Yorke, to present Execution.
Blunt, leade him hence, and see you guard him sure.

Exit with Colleuile.

And now dispatch we toward the Court (my Lords)
I heare the King, my Father, is sore sicke.
Our Newes shall goe before vs, to his Maiestie,
Which (Cousin) you shall beare, to comfort him:
And wee with sober speede will follow you

   Falst. My Lord, I beseech you, giue me leaue to goe
through Gloucestershire: and when you come to Court,
stand my good Lord, 'pray, in your good report

   Iohn. Fare you well, Falstaffe: I, in my condition,
Shall better speake of you, then you deserue.
Enter.

  Falst. I would you had but the wit: 'twere better
then your Dukedome. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded
Boy doth not loue me, nor a man cannot
make him laugh: but that's no maruaile, hee drinkes no
Wine. There's neuer any of these demure Boyes come
to any proofe: for thinne Drinke doth so ouer-coole
their blood, and making many Fish-Meales, that they
fall into a kinde of Male Greene-sicknesse: and then,
when they marry, they get Wenches. They are generally
Fooles, and Cowards; which some of vs should be too,
but for inflamation. A good Sherris-Sack hath a two-fold
operation in it: it ascends me into the Braine, dryes
me there all the foolish, and dull, and cruddie Vapours,
which enuiron it: makes it apprehensiue, quicke, forgetiue,
full of nimble, fierie, and delectable shapes; which
deliuer'd o're to the Voyce, the Tongue, which is the
Birth, becomes excellent Wit. The second propertie of
your excellent Sherris, is, the warming of the Blood:
which before (cold, and setled) left the Liuer white, and
pale; which is the Badge of Pusillanimitie, and Cowardize:
but the Sherris warmes it, and makes it course
from the inwards, to the parts extremes: it illuminateth
the Face, which (as a Beacon) giues warning to all the
rest of this little Kingdome (Man) to Arme: and then
the Vitall Commoners, and in-land pettie Spirits, muster
me all to their Captaine, the Heart; who great, and pufft
vp with his Retinue, doth any Deed of Courage: and this
Valour comes of Sherris. So, that skill in the Weapon
is nothing, without Sack (for that sets it a-worke:) and
Learning, a meere Hoord of Gold, kept by a Deuill, till
Sack commences it, and sets it in act, and vse. Hereof
comes it, that Prince Harry is valiant: for the cold blood
hee did naturally inherite of his Father, hee hath, like
leane, stirrill, and bare Land, manured, husbanded, and
tyll'd, with excellent endeauour of drinking good, and
good store of fertile Sherris, that hee is become very hot,
and valiant. If I had a thousand Sonnes, the first Principle
I would teach them, should be to forsweare thinne Potations,
and to addict themselues to Sack.
Enter Bardolph.

How now Bardolph?
  Bard. The Armie is discharged all, and gone

   Falst. Let them goe: Ile through Gloucestershire,
and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire: I
haue him alreadie tempering betweene my finger and my
thombe, and shortly will I seale with him. Come away.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Warwicke, Clarence, Gloucester.

  King. Now Lords, if Heauen doth giue successefull end
To this Debate, that bleedeth at our doores,
Wee will our Youth lead on to higher Fields,
And draw no Swords, but what are sanctify'd.
Our Nauie is addressed, our Power collected,
Our Substitutes, in absence, well inuested,
And euery thing lyes leuell to our wish;
Onely wee want a little personall Strength:
And pawse vs, till these Rebels, now a-foot,
Come vnderneath the yoake of Gouernment

   War. Both which we doubt not, but your Maiestie
Shall soone enioy

   King. Humphrey (my Sonne of Gloucester) where is
the Prince, your Brother?
  Glo. I thinke hee's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Windsor

   King. And how accompanied?
  Glo. I doe not know (my Lord.)
  King. Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, with
him?
  Glo. No (my good Lord) hee is in presence heere

   Clar. What would my Lord, and Father?
  King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
How chance thou art not with the Prince, thy Brother?
Hee loues thee, and thou do'st neglect him (Thomas.)
Thou hast a better place in his Affection,
Then all thy Brothers: cherish it (my Boy)
And Noble Offices thou may'st effect
Of Mediation (after I am dead)
Betweene his Greatnesse, and thy other Brethren.
Therefore omit him not: blunt not his Loue,
Nor loose the good aduantage of his Grace,
By seeming cold, or carelesse of his will.
For hee is gracious, if hee be obseru'd:
Hee hath a Teare for Pitie, and a Hand
Open (as Day) for melting Charitie:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, hee's Flint,
As humorous as Winter, and as sudden,
As Flawes congealed in the Spring of day.
His temper therefore must be well obseru'd:
Chide him for faults, and doe it reuerently,
When you perceiue his blood enclin'd to mirth:
But being moodie, giue him Line, and scope,
Till that his passions (like a Whale on ground)
Confound themselues with working. Learne this Thomas,
And thou shalt proue a shelter to thy friends,
A Hoope of Gold, to binde thy Brothers in:
That the vnited Vessell of their Blood
(Mingled with Venome of Suggestion,
As force, perforce, the Age will powre it in)
Shall neuer leake, though it doe worke as strong
As Aconitum, or rash Gun-powder

   Clar. I shall obserue him with all care, and loue

   King. Why art thou not at Windsor with him (Thomas?)
  Clar. Hee is not there to day: hee dines in London

   King. And how accompanyed? Canst thou tell
that?
  Clar. With Pointz, and other his continuall followers

   King. Most subiect is the fattest Soyle to Weedes:
And hee (the Noble Image of my Youth)
Is ouer-spread with them: therefore my griefe
Stretches it selfe beyond the howre of death.
The blood weepes from my heart, when I doe shape
(In formes imaginarie) th' vnguided Dayes,
And rotten Times, that you shall looke vpon,
When I am sleeping with my Ancestors.
For when his head-strong Riot hath no Curbe,
When Rage and hot-Blood are his Counsailors,
When Meanes and lauish Manners meete together;
Oh, with what Wings shall his Affections flye
Towards fronting Perill, and oppos'd Decay?
  War. My gracious Lord, you looke beyond him quite:
The Prince but studies his Companions,
Like a strange Tongue: wherein, to gaine the Language,
'Tis needfull, that the most immodest word
Be look'd vpon, and learn'd: which once attayn'd,
Your Highnesse knowes, comes to no farther vse,
But to be knowne, and hated. So, like grosse termes,
The Prince will, in the perfectnesse of time,
Cast off his followers: and their memorie
Shall as a Patterne, or a Measure, liue,
By which his Grace must mete the liues of others,
Turning past-euills to aduantages

   King. 'Tis seldome, when the Bee doth leaue her Combe
In the dead Carrion.
Enter Westmerland.

Who's heere? Westmerland?
  West. Health to my Soueraigne, and new happinesse
Added to that, that I am to deliuer.
Prince Iohn, your Sonne, doth kisse your Graces Hand:
Mowbray, the Bishop, Scroope, Hastings, and all,
Are brought to the Correction of your Law.
There is not now a Rebels Sword vnsheath'd,
But Peace puts forth her Oliue euery where:
The manner how this Action hath beene borne,
Here (at more leysure) may your Highnesse reade,
With euery course, in his particular

   King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird,
Which euer in the haunch of Winter sings
The lifting vp of day.
Enter Harcourt.

Looke, heere's more newes

   Harc. From Enemies, Heauen keepe your Maiestie:
And when they stand against you, may they fall,
As those that I am come to tell you of.
The Earle Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolfe,
With a great Power of English, and of Scots,
Are by the Sherife of Yorkeshire ouerthrowne:
The manner, and true order of the fight,
This Packet (please it you) containes at large

   King. And wherefore should these good newes
Make me sicke?
Will Fortune neuer come with both hands full,
But write her faire words still in foulest Letters?
Shee eyther giues a Stomack, and no Foode,
(Such are the poore, in health) or else a Feast,
And takes away the Stomack (such are the Rich,
That haue aboundance, and enioy it not.)
I should reioyce now, at this happy newes,
And now my Sight fayles, and my Braine is giddie.
O me, come neere me, now I am much ill

   Glo. Comfort your Maiestie

   Cla. Oh, my Royall Father

   West. My Soueraigne Lord, cheare vp your selfe, looke
vp

   War. Be patient (Princes) you doe know, these Fits
Are with his Highnesse very ordinarie.
Stand from him, giue him ayre:
Hee'le straight be well

   Clar. No, no, hee cannot long hold out: these pangs,
Th' incessant care, and labour of his Minde,
Hath wrought the Mure, that should confine it in,
So thinne, that Life lookes through, and will breake out

   Glo. The people feare me: for they doe obserue
Vnfather'd Heires, and loathly Births of Nature:
The Seasons change their manners, as the Yeere
Had found some Moneths asleepe, and leap'd them ouer

   Clar. The Riuer hath thrice flow'd, no ebbe betweene:
And the old folke (Times doting Chronicles)
Say it did so, a little time before
That our great Grand-sire Edward sick'd, and dy'de

   War. Speake lower (Princes) for the King recouers

   Glo. This Apoplexie will (certaine) be his end

   King. I pray you take me vp, and beare me hence
Into some other Chamber: softly 'pray.
Let there be no noyse made (my gentle friends)
Vnlesse some dull and fauourable hand
Will whisper Musicke to my wearie Spirit

   War. Call for the Musicke in the other Roome

   King. Set me the Crowne vpon my Pillow here

   Clar. His eye is hollow, and hee changes much

   War. Lesse noyse, lesse noyse.
Enter Prince Henry.

  P.Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
  Clar. I am here (Brother) full of heauinesse

   P.Hen. How now? Raine within doores, and none
abroad? How doth the King?
  Glo. Exceeding ill

   P.Hen. Heard hee the good newes yet?
Tell it him

   Glo. Hee alter'd much, vpon the hearing it

   P.Hen. If hee be sicke with Ioy,
Hee'le recouer without Physicke

   War. Not so much noyse (my Lords)
Sweet Prince speake lowe,
The King, your Father, is dispos'd to sleepe

   Clar. Let vs with-draw into the other Roome

   War. Wil't please your Grace to goe along with vs?
  P.Hen. No: I will sit, and watch here, by the King.
Why doth the Crowne lye there, vpon his Pillow,
Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow?
O pollish'd Perturbation! Golden Care!
That keep'st the Ports of Slumber open wide,
To many a watchfull Night: sleepe with it now,
Yet not so sound, and halfe so deepely sweete,
As hee whose Brow (with homely Biggen bound)
Snores out the Watch of Night. O Maiestie!
When thou do'st pinch thy Bearer, thou do'st sit
Like a rich Armor, worne in heat of day,
That scald'st with safetie: by his Gates of breath,
There lyes a dowlney feather, which stirres not:
Did hee suspire, that light and weightlesse dowlne
Perforce must moue. My gracious Lord, my Father,
This sleepe is sound indeede: this is a sleepe,
That from this Golden Rigoll hath diuorc'd
So many English Kings. Thy due, from me,
Is Teares, and heauie Sorrowes of the Blood,
Which Nature, Loue, and filiall tendernesse,
Shall (O deare Father) pay thee plenteously.
My due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne,
Which (as immediate from thy Place, and Blood)
Deriues it selfe to me. Loe, heere it sits,
Which Heauen shall guard:
And put the worlds whole strength into one gyant Arme,
It shall not force this Lineall Honor from me.
This, from thee, will I to mine leaue,
As 'tis left to me.
Enter.

Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.

  King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence

   Clar. Doth the King call?
  War. What would your Maiestie? how fares your
Grace?
  King. Why did you leaue me here alone (my Lords?)
  Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege)
Who vndertooke to sit and watch by you

   King. The Prince of Wales? where is hee? let mee
see him

   War. This doore is open, hee is gone this way

   Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where wee
stayd

   King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from my
Pillow?
  War. When wee with-drew (my Liege) wee left it
heere

   King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence:
Goe seeke him out.
Is hee so hastie, that hee doth suppose
My sleepe, my death? Finde him (my Lord of Warwick)
Chide him hither: this part of his conioynes
With my disease, and helpes to end me.
See Sonnes, what things you are:
How quickly Nature falls into reuolt,
When Gold becomes her Obiect?
For this, the foolish ouer-carefull Fathers
Haue broke their sleepes with thoughts,
Their braines with care, their bones with industry.
For this, they haue ingrossed and pyl'd vp
The canker'd heapes of strange-atchieued Gold:
For this, they haue beene thoughtfull, to inuest
Their Sonnes with Arts, and Martiall Exercises:
When, like the Bee, culling from euery flower
The vertuous Sweetes, our Thighes packt with Wax,
Our Mouthes with Honey, wee bring it to the Hiue;
And like the Bees, are murthered for our paines.
This bitter taste yeelds his engrossements,
To the ending Father.
Enter Warwicke.

Now, where is hee, that will not stay so long,
Till his Friend Sicknesse hath determin'd me?
  War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Roome,
Washing with kindly Teares his gentle Cheekes,
With such a deepe demeanure, in great sorrow,
That Tyranny, which neuer quafft but blood,
Would (by beholding him) haue wash'd his Knife
With gentle eye-drops. Hee is comming hither

   King. But wherefore did hee take away the Crowne?
Enter Prince Henry.

Loe, where hee comes. Come hither to me (Harry.)
Depart the Chamber, leaue vs heere alone.
Enter.

  P.Hen. I neuer thought to heare you speake againe

   King. Thy wish was Father (Harry) to that thought:
I stay too long by thee, I wearie thee.
Do'st thou so hunger for my emptie Chayre,
That thou wilt needes inuest thee with mine Honors,
Before thy howre be ripe? O foolish Youth!
Thou seek'st the Greatnesse, that will ouer-whelme thee.
Stay but a little: for my Cloud of Dignitie
Is held from falling, with so weake a winde,
That it will quickly drop: my Day is dimme.
Thou hast stolne that, which after some few howres
Were thine, without offence: and at my death
Thou hast seal'd vp my expectation.
Thy Life did manifest, thou lou'dst me not,
And thou wilt haue me dye assur'd of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand Daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou hast whetted on thy stonie heart,
To stab at halfe an howre of my Life.
What? canst thou not forbeare me halfe an howre?
Then get thee gone, and digge my graue thy selfe,
And bid the merry Bels ring to thy eare
That thou art Crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the Teares, that should bedew my Hearse
Be drops of Balme, to sanctifie thy head:
Onely compound me with forgotten dust.
Giue that, which gaue thee life, vnto the Wormes:
Plucke downe my Officers, breake my Decrees;
For now a time is come, to mocke at Forme.
Henry the fift is Crown'd: Vp Vanity,
Downe Royall State: All you sage Counsailors, hence:
And to the English Court, assemble now
From eu'ry Region, Apes of Idlenesse.
Now neighbor-Confines, purge you of your Scum:
Haue you a Ruffian that will sweare? drinke? dance?
Reuell the night? Rob? Murder? and commit
The oldest sinnes, the newest kinde of wayes?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England, shall double gill'd, his trebble guilt.
England, shall giue him Office, Honor, Might:
For the Fift Harry, from curb'd License pluckes
The muzzle of Restraint; and the wilde Dogge
Shall flesh his tooth in euery Innocent.
O my poore Kingdome (sicke, with ciuill blowes)
When that my Care could not with-hold thy Ryots,
What wilt thou do, when Ryot is thy Care?
O, thou wilt be a Wildernesse againe,
Peopled with Wolues (thy old Inhabitants.)
  Prince. O pardon me (my Liege)
But for my Teares,
The most Impediments vnto my Speech,
I had fore-stall'd this deere, and deepe Rebuke,
Ere you (with greefe) had spoke, and I had heard
The course of it so farre. There is your Crowne,
And he that weares the Crowne immortally,
Long guard it yours. If I affect it more,
Then as your Honour, and as your Renowne,
Let me no more from this Obedience rise,
Which my most true, and inward duteous Spirit
Teacheth this prostrate, and exteriour bending.
Heauen witnesse with me, when I heere came in,
And found no course of breath within your Maiestie,
How cold it strooke my heart. If I do faine,
O let me, in my present wildenesse, dye,
And neuer liue, to shew th' incredulous World,
The Noble change that I haue purposed.
Comming to looke on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almost (my Liege) to thinke you were)
I spake vnto the Crowne (as hauing sense)
And thus vpbraided it. The Care on thee depending,
Hath fed vpon the body of my Father,
Therefore, thou best of Gold, art worst of Gold.
Other, lesse fine in Charract, is more precious,
Preseruing life, in Med'cine potable:
But thou, most Fine, most Honour'd, most Renown'd,
Hast eate the Bearer vp.
Thus (my Royall Liege)
Accusing it, I put it on my Head,
To try with it (as with an Enemie,
That had before my face murdred my Father)
The Quarrell of a true Inheritor.
But if it did infect my blood with Ioy,
Or swell my Thoughts, to any straine of Pride,
If any Rebell, or vaine spirit of mine,
Did, with the least Affection of a Welcome,
Giue entertainment to the might of it,
Let heauen, for euer, keepe it from my head,
And make me, as the poorest Vassaile is,
That doth with awe, and terror kneele to it

   King. O my Sonne!
Heauen put it in thy minde to take it hence,
That thou might'st ioyne the more, thy Fathers loue,
Pleading so wisely, in excuse of it.
Come hither Harrie, sit thou by my bedde,
And heare (I thinke, the very latest Counsell
That euer I shall breath: Heauen knowes, my Sonne)
By what by-pathes, and indirect crook'd-wayes
I met this Crowne: and I my selfe know well
How troublesome it sate vpon my head.
To thee, it shall descend with better Quiet,
Better Opinion, better Confirmation:
For all the soyle of the Atchieuement goes
With me, into the Earth. It seem'd in mee,
But as an Honour snatch'd with boyst'rous hand,
And I had many liuing, to vpbraide
My gaine of it, by their Assistances,
Which dayly grew to Quarrell, and to Blood-shed,
Wounding supposed Peace.
All these bold Feares,
Thou seest (with perill) I haue answered:
For all my Reigne, hath beene but as a Scene
Acting that argument. And now my death
Changes the Moode: For what in me, was purchas'd,
Falles vpon thee, in a more Fayrer sort.
So thou, the Garland wear'st successiuely.
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure, then I could do,
Thou art not firme enough, since greefes are greene:
And all thy Friends, which thou must make thy Friends
Haue but their stings, and teeth, newly tak'n out,
By whose fell working, I was first aduanc'd,
And by whose power, I well might lodge a Feare
To be againe displac'd. Which to auoyd,
I cut them off: and had a purpose now
To leade out many to the Holy Land;
Least rest, and lying still, might make them looke
Too neere vnto my State.
Therefore (my Harrie)
Be it thy course to busie giddy Mindes
With Forraigne Quarrels: that Action hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former dayes.
More would I, but my Lungs are wasted so,
That strength of Speech it vtterly deni'de mee.
How I came by the Crowne, O heauen forgiue:
And grant it may, with thee, in true peace liue

   Prince. My gracious Liege:
You wonne it, wore it: kept it, gaue it me,
Then plaine and right must my possession be;
Which I, with more, then with a Common paine,
'Gainst all the World, will rightfully maintaine.
Enter Lord Iohn of Lancaster, and Warwicke.

  King. Looke, looke,
Heere comes my Iohn of Lancaster:
  Iohn. Health, Peace, and Happinesse,
To my Royall Father

   King. Thou bring'st me happinesse and Peace
(Sonne Iohn:)
But health (alacke) with youthfull wings is flowne
From this bare, wither'd Trunke. Vpon thy sight
My worldly businesse makes a period.
Where is my Lord of Warwicke?
  Prin. My Lord of Warwicke

   King. Doth any name particular, belong
Vnto the Lodging, where I first did swoon'd?
  War. 'Tis call'd Ierusalem, my Noble Lord

   King. Laud be to heauen:
Euen there my life must end.
It hath beene prophesi'de to me many yeares,
I should not dye, but in Ierusalem:
Which (vainly) I suppos'd the Holy-Land.
But beare me to that Chamber, there Ile lye:
In that Ierusalem, shall Harry dye.

Exeunt.


Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Page, and Dauie.

  Shal. By Cocke and Pye, you shall not away to night.
What Dauy, I say

   Fal. You must excuse me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow

   Shal. I will not excuse you: you shall not be excused.
Excuses shall not be admitted: there is no excuse shall
serue: you shall not be excus'd.
Why Dauie

   Dauie. Heere sir

   Shal. Dauy, Dauy, Dauy, let me see (Dauy) let me see:
William Cooke, bid him come hither. Sir Iohn, you shal
not be excus'd

   Dauy. Marry sir, thus: those Precepts cannot bee
seru'd: and againe sir, shall we sowe the head-land with
Wheate?
  Shal. With red Wheate Dauy. But for William Cook:
are there no yong Pigeons?
  Dauy. Yes Sir.
Heere is now the Smithes note, for Shooing,
And Plough-Irons

   Shal. Let it be cast, and payde: Sir Iohn, you shall
not be excus'd

   Dauy. Sir, a new linke to the Bucket must needes bee
had: And Sir, doe you meane to stoppe any of Williams
Wages, about the Sacke he lost the other day, at Hinckley
Fayre?
  Shal. He shall answer it:
Some Pigeons Dauy, a couple of short-legg'd Hennes: a
ioynt of Mutton, and any pretty little tine Kickshawes,
tell William Cooke

   Dauy. Doth the man of Warre, stay all night sir?
  Shal. Yes Dauy:
I will vse him well. A Friend i'th Court, is better then a
penny in purse. Vse his men well Dauy, for they are arrant
Knaues, and will backe-bite

   Dauy. No worse then they are bitten, sir: For they
haue maruellous fowle linnen

   Shallow. Well conceited Dauy: about thy Businesse,
Dauy

   Dauy. I beseech you sir,
To countenance William Visor of Woncot, against Clement
Perkes of the hill

   Shal. There are many Complaints Dauy, against that
Visor, that Visor is an arrant Knaue, on my knowledge

   Dauy. I graunt your Worship, that he is a knaue (Sir:)
But yet heauen forbid Sir, but a Knaue should haue some
Countenance, at his Friends request. An honest man sir,
is able to speake for himselfe, when a Knaue is not. I haue
seru'd your Worshippe truely sir, these eight yeares: and
if I cannot once or twice in a Quarter beare out a knaue,
against an honest man, I haue but a very litle credite with
your Worshippe. The Knaue is mine honest Friend Sir,
therefore I beseech your Worship, let him bee Countenanc'd

   Shal. Go too,
I say he shall haue no wrong: Looke about Dauy.
Where are you Sir Iohn? Come, off with your Boots.
Giue me your hand M[aster]. Bardolfe

   Bard. I am glad to see your Worship

   Shal. I thanke thee, with all my heart, kinde Master
Bardolfe: and welcome my tall Fellow:
Come Sir Iohn

   Falstaffe. Ile follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.
Bardolfe, looke to our Horsses. If I were saw'de into
Quantities, I should make foure dozen of such bearded
Hermites staues, as Master Shallow. It is a wonderfull
thing to see the semblable Coherence of his mens spirits,
and his: They, by obseruing of him, do beare themselues
like foolish Iustices: Hee, by conuersing with them, is
turn'd into a Iustice-like Seruingman. Their spirits are
so married in Coniunction, with the participation of Society,
that they flocke together in consent, like so many
Wilde-Geese. If I had a suite to Mayster Shallow, I
would humour his men, with the imputation of beeing
neere their Mayster. If to his Men, I would currie with
Maister Shallow, that no man could better command his
Seruants. It is certaine, that either wise bearing, or ignorant
Carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of
another: therefore, let men take heede of their Companie.
I will deuise matter enough out of this Shallow, to
keepe Prince Harry in continuall Laughter, the wearing
out of sixe Fashions (which is foure Tearmes) or two Actions,
and he shall laugh with Interuallums. O it is much
that a Lye (with a slight Oath) and a iest (with a sadde
brow) will doe, with a Fellow, that neuer had the Ache
in his shoulders. O you shall see him laugh, till his Face
be like a wet Cloake, ill laid vp

   Shal. Sir Iohn

   Falst. I come Master Shallow, I come Master Shallow.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.


Enter the Earle of Warwicke, and the Lord Chiefe Iustice.

  Warwicke. How now, my Lord Chiefe Iustice, whether
away?
  Ch.Iust. How doth the King?
  Warw. Exceeding well: his Cares
Are now, all ended

   Ch.Iust. I hope, not dead

   Warw. Hee's walk'd the way of Nature,
And to our purposes, he liues no more

   Ch.Iust. I would his Maiesty had call'd me with him,
The seruice, that I truly did his life,
Hath left me open to all iniuries

   War. Indeed I thinke the yong King loues you not

   Ch.Iust. I know he doth not, and do arme my selfe
To welcome the condition of the Time,
Which cannot looke more hideously vpon me,
Then I haue drawne it in my fantasie.
Enter Iohn of Lancaster, Gloucester, and Clarence.

  War. Heere come the heauy Issue of dead Harrie:
O, that the liuing Harrie had the temper
Of him, the worst of these three Gentlemen:
How many Nobles then, should hold their places,
That must strike saile, to Spirits of vilde sort?
  Ch.Iust. Alas, I feare, all will be ouer-turn'd

   Iohn. Good morrow Cosin Warwick, good morrow

   Glou. Cla. Good morrow, Cosin

   Iohn. We meet, like men, that had forgot to speake

   War. We do remember: but our Argument
Is all too heauy, to admit much talke

   Ioh. Well: Peace be with him, that hath made vs heauy
  Ch.Iust. Peace be with vs, least we be heauier

   Glou. O, good my Lord, you haue lost a friend indeed:
And I dare sweare, you borrow not that face
Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your owne

   Iohn. Though no man be assur'd what grace to finde,
You stand in coldest expectation.
I am the sorrier, would 'twere otherwise

   Cla. Wel, you must now speake Sir Iohn Falstaffe faire,
Which swimmes against your streame of Quality

   Ch.Iust. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor,
Led by th' Imperiall Conduct of my Soule,
And neuer shall you see, that I will begge
A ragged, and fore-stall'd Remission.
If Troth, and vpright Innocency fayle me,
Ile to the King (my Master) that is dead,
And tell him, who hath sent me after him

   War. Heere comes the Prince.
Enter Prince Henrie.

  Ch.Iust. Good morrow: and heauen saue your Maiesty
  Prince. This new, and gorgeous Garment, Maiesty,
Sits not so easie on me, as you thinke.
Brothers, you mixe your Sadnesse with some Feare:
This is the English, not the Turkish Court:
Not Amurah, an Amurah succeeds,
But Harry, Harry: Yet be sad (good Brothers)
For (to speake truth) it very well becomes you:
Sorrow, so Royally in you appeares,
That I will deeply put the Fashion on,
And weare it in my heart. Why then be sad,
But entertaine no more of it (good Brothers)
Then a ioynt burthen, laid vpon vs all.
For me, by Heauen (I bid you be assur'd)
Ile be your Father, and your Brother too:
Let me but beare your Loue, Ile beare your Cares;
But weepe that Harrie's dead, and so will I.
But Harry liues, that shall conuert those Teares
By number, into houres of Happinesse

   Iohn, &c. We hope no other from your Maiesty

   Prin. You all looke strangely on me: and you most,
You are (I thinke) assur'd, I loue you not

   Ch.Iust. I am assur'd (if I be measur'd rightly)
Your Maiesty hath no iust cause to hate mee

   Pr. No? How might a Prince of my great hopes forget
So great Indignities you laid vpon me?
What? Rate? Rebuke? and roughly send to Prison
Th' immediate Heire of England? Was this easie?
May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?
  Ch.Iust. I then did vse the Person of your Father:
The Image of his power, lay then in me,
And in th' administration of his Law,
Whiles I was busie for the Commonwealth,
Your Highnesse pleased to forget my place,
The Maiesty, and power of Law, and Iustice,
The Image of the King, whom I presented,
And strooke me in my very Seate of Iudgement:
Whereon (as an Offender to your Father)
I gaue bold way to my Authority,
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the Garland,
To haue a Sonne, set your Decrees at naught?
To plucke downe Iustice from your awefull Bench?
To trip the course of Law, and blunt the Sword
That guards the peace, and safety of your Person?
Nay more, to spurne at your most Royall Image,
And mocke your workings, in a Second body?
Question your Royall Thoughts, make the case yours:
Be now the Father, and propose a Sonne:
Heare your owne dignity so much prophan'd,
See your most dreadfull Lawes, so loosely slighted;
Behold your selfe, so by a Sonne disdained:
And then imagine me, taking your part,
And in your power, soft silencing your Sonne:
After this cold considerance, sentence me;
And, as you are a King, speake in your State,
What I haue done, that misbecame my place,
My person, or my Lieges Soueraigntie

   Prin. You are right Iustice, and you weigh this well:
Therefore still beare the Ballance, and the Sword:
And I do wish your Honors may encrease,
Till you do liue, to see a Sonne of mine
Offend you, and obey you, as I did.
So shall I liue, to speake my Fathers words:
Happy am I, that haue a man so bold,
That dares do Iustice, on my proper Sonne;
And no lesse happy, hauing such a Sonne,
That would deliuer vp his Greatnesse so,
Into the hands of Iustice. You did commit me:
For which, I do commit into your hand,
Th' vnstained Sword that you haue vs'd to beare:
With this Remembrance; That you vse the same
With the like bold, iust, and impartiall spirit
As you haue done 'gainst me. There is my hand,
You shall be as a Father, to my Youth:
My voice shall sound, as you do prompt mine eare,
And I will stoope, and humble my Intents,
To your well-practis'd, wise Directions.
And Princes all, beleeue me, I beseech you:
My Father is gone wilde into his Graue,
(For in his Tombe, lye my Affections)
And with his Spirits, sadly I suruiue,
To mocke the expectation of the World;
To frustrate Prophesies, and to race out
Rotten Opinion, who hath writ me downe
After my seeming. The Tide of Blood in me,
Hath prowdly flow'd in Vanity, till now.
Now doth it turne, and ebbe backe to the Sea,
Where it shall mingle with the state of Floods,
And flow henceforth in formall Maiesty.
Now call we our High Court of Parliament,
And let vs choose such Limbes of Noble Counsaile,
That the great Body of our State may go
In equall ranke, with the best gouern'd Nation,
That Warre, or Peace, or both at once may be
As things acquainted and familiar to vs,
In which you (Father) shall haue formost hand.
Our Coronation done, we will accite
(As I before remembred) all our State,
And heauen (consigning to my good intents)
No Prince, nor Peere, shall haue iust cause to say,
Heauen shorten Harries happy life, one day.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe, Page, and Pistoll.

  Shal. Nay, you shall see mine Orchard: where, in an
Arbor we will eate a last yeares Pippin of my owne graffing,
with a dish of Carrawayes, and so forth. (Come Cosin
Silence, and then to bed

   Fal. You haue heere a goodly dwelling, and a rich

   Shal. Barren, barren, barren: Beggers all, beggers all
Sir Iohn: Marry, good ayre. Spread Dauy, spread Dauie:
Well said Dauie

   Falst. This Dauie serues you for good vses: he is your
Seruingman, and your Husband

   Shal. A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Varlet,
Sir Iohn: I haue drunke too much Sacke at Supper. A
good Varlet. Now sit downe, now sit downe: Come
Cosin

   Sil. Ah sirra (quoth-a) we shall doe nothing but eate,
and make good cheere, and praise heauen for the merrie
yeere: when flesh is cheape, and Females deere, and lustie
Lads rome heere, and there: so merrily, and euer among
so merrily

   Fal. There's a merry heart, good M[aster]. Silence, Ile giue
you a health for that anon

   Shal. Good M[aster]. Bardolfe: some wine, Dauie

   Da. Sweet sir, sit: Ile be with you anon: most sweete
sir, sit. Master Page, good M[aster]. Page, sit: Proface. What
you want in meate, wee'l haue in drinke: but you beare,
the heart's all

   Shal. Be merry M[aster]. Bardolfe, and my little Souldiour
there, be merry

   Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife ha's all.
For women are Shrewes, both short, and tall:
'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wagge all;
And welcome merry Shrouetide. Be merry, be merry

   Fal. I did not thinke M[aster]. Silence had bin a man of this
Mettle

   Sil. Who I? I haue beene merry twice and once, ere
now

   Dauy. There is a dish of Lether-coats for you

   Shal. Dauie

   Dau. Your Worship: Ile be with you straight. A cup
of Wine, sir?
  Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's briske and fine, & drinke
vnto the Leman mine: and a merry heart liues long-a

   Fal. Well said, M[aster]. Silence

   Sil. If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweete of
the night

   Fal. Health, and long life to you, M[aster]. Silence

   Sil. Fill the Cuppe, and let it come. Ile pledge you a
mile to the bottome

   Shal. Honest Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want'st any
thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome my
little tyne theefe, and welcome indeed too: Ile drinke to
M[aster]. Bardolfe, and to all the Cauileroes about London

   Dau. I hope to see London, once ere I die

   Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie

   Shal. You'l cracke a quart together? Ha, will you not
M[aster]. Bardolfe?
  Bar. Yes Sir, in a pottle pot

   Shal. I thanke thee: the knaue will sticke by thee, I
can assure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred

   Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir

   Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry.
Looke, who's at doore there, ho: who knockes?
  Fal. Why now you haue done me right

   Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't
not so?
  Fal. 'Tis so

   Sil. Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somwhat

   Dau. If it please your Worshippe, there's one Pistoll
come from the Court with newes

   Fal. From the Court? Let him come in.
Enter Pistoll.

How now Pistoll?
  Pist. Sir Iohn, 'saue you sir

   Fal. What winde blew you hither, Pistoll?
  Pist. Not the ill winde which blowes none to good,
sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men in
the Realme

   Sil. Indeed, I thinke he bee, but Goodman Puffe of
Barson

   Pist. Puffe? puffe in thy teeth, most recreant Coward
base. Sir Iohn, I am thy Pistoll, and thy Friend: helter
skelter haue I rode to thee, and tydings do I bring, and
luckie ioyes, and golden Times, and happie Newes of
price

   Fal. I prethee now deliuer them, like a man of this
World

   Pist. A footra for the World, and Worldlings base,
I speake of Affrica, and Golden ioyes

   Fal. O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy newes?
Let King Couitha know the truth thereof

   Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and Iohn

   Pist. Shall dunghill Curres confront the Hellicons?
And shall good newes be baffel'd?
Then Pistoll lay thy head in Furies lappe

   Shal. Honest Gentleman,
I know not your breeding

   Pist. Why then Lament therefore

   Shal. Giue me pardon, Sir.
If sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there
is but two wayes, either to vtter them, or to conceale
them. I am Sir, vnder the King, in some Authority

   Pist. Vnder which King?
Bezonian, speake, or dye

   Shal. Vnder King Harry

   Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fift?
  Shal. Harry the Fourth

   Pist. A footra for thine Office.
Sir Iohn, thy tender Lamb-kinne, now is King,
Harry the Fift's the man, I speake the truth.
When Pistoll lyes, do this, and figge-me, like
The bragging Spaniard

   Fal. What, is the old King dead?
  Pist. As naile in doore.
The things I speake, are iust

   Fal. Away Bardolfe, Sadle my Horse,
Master Robert Shallow, choose what Office thou wilt
In the Land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee
With Dignities

   Bard. O ioyfull day:
I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune

   Pist. What? I do bring good newes

   Fal. Carrie Master Silence to bed: Master Shallow, my
Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortunes Steward.
Get on thy Boots, wee'l ride all night. Oh sweet Pistoll:
Away Bardolfe: Come Pistoll, vtter more to mee: and
withall deuise something to do thy selfe good. Boote,
boote Master Shallow, I know the young King is sick for
mee. Let vs take any mans Horsses: The Lawes of England
are at my command'ment. Happie are they, which
haue beene my Friendes: and woe vnto my Lord Chiefe
Iustice

   Pist. Let Vultures vil'de seize on his Lungs also:
Where is the life that late I led, say they?
Why heere it is, welcome those pleasant dayes.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Hostesse Quickly, Dol Teare-sheete, and Beadles.

  Hostesse. No, thou arrant knaue: I would I might dy,
that I might haue thee hang'd: Thou hast drawne my
shoulder out of ioynt

   Off. The Constables haue deliuer'd her ouer to mee:
and shee shall haue Whipping cheere enough, I warrant
her. There hath beene a man or two (lately) kill'd about
her

   Dol. Nut-hooke, nut-hooke, you Lye: Come on, Ile
tell thee what, thou damn'd Tripe-visag'd Rascall, if the
Childe I now go with, do miscarrie, thou had'st better
thou had'st strooke thy Mother, thou Paper-fac'd Villaine

   Host. O that Sir Iohn were come, hee would make
this a bloody day to some body. But I would the Fruite
of her Wombe might miscarry

   Officer. If it do, you shall haue a dozen of Cushions
againe, you haue but eleuen now. Come, I charge you
both go with me: for the man is dead, that you and Pistoll
beate among you

   Dol. Ile tell thee what, thou thin man in a Censor; I
will haue you as soundly swindg'd for this, you blewBottel'd
Rogue: you filthy famish'd Correctioner, if you
be not swing'd, Ile forsweare halfe Kirtles

   Off. Come, come, you shee-Knight-arrant, come

   Host. O, that right should thus o'recome might. Wel
of sufferance, comes ease

   Dol. Come you Rogue, come:
Bring me to a Iustice

   Host. Yes, come you staru'd Blood-hound

   Dol. Goodman death, goodman Bones

   Host. Thou Anatomy, thou

   Dol. Come you thinne Thing:
Come you Rascall

   Off. Very well.

Exeunt.


Scena Quinta.

Enter two Groomes.

  1.Groo. More Rushes, more Rushes

   2.Groo. The Trumpets haue sounded twice

   1.Groo. It will be two of the Clocke, ere they come
from the Coronation.

Exit Groo.

Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Pistoll, Bardolfe, and Page.

  Falstaffe. Stand heere by me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow, I will
make the King do you Grace. I will leere vpon him, as
he comes by: and do but marke the countenance that hee
will giue me

   Pistol. Blesse thy Lungs, good Knight

   Falst. Come heere Pistol, stand behind me. O if I had
had time to haue made new Liueries, I would haue bestowed
the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But it is
no matter, this poore shew doth better: this doth inferre
the zeale I had to see him

   Shal. It doth so

   Falst. It shewes my earnestnesse in affection

   Pist. It doth so

   Fal. My deuotion

   Pist. It doth, it doth, it doth

   Fal. As it were, to ride day and night,
And not to deliberate, not to remember,
Not to haue patience to shift me

   Shal. It is most certaine

   Fal. But to stand stained with Trauaile, and sweating
with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting
all affayres in obliuion, as if there were nothing els to bee
done, but to see him

   Pist. 'Tis semper idem: for obsque hoc nihil est. 'Tis all
in euery part

   Shal. 'Tis so indeed

   Pist. My Knight, I will enflame thy Noble Liuer, and
make thee rage. Thy Dol, and Helen of thy noble thoghts
is in base Durance, and contagious prison: Hall'd thither
by most Mechanicall and durty hand. Rowze vppe
Reuenge from Ebon den, with fell Alecto's Snake, for
Dol is in. Pistol, speakes nought but troth

   Fal. I will deliuer her

   Pistol. There roar'd the Sea: and Trumpet Clangour
sounds.

The Trumpets sound. Enter King Henrie the Fift, Brothers, Lord
Chiefe
Iustice.

  Falst. Saue thy Grace, King Hall, my Royall Hall

   Pist. The heauens thee guard, and keepe, most royall
Impe of Fame

   Fal. 'Saue thee my sweet Boy

   King. My Lord Chiefe Iustice, speake to that vaine
man

   Ch.Iust. Haue you your wits?
Know you what 'tis you speake?
  Falst. My King, my Ioue; I speake to thee, my heart

   King. I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy Prayers:
How ill white haires become a Foole, and Iester?
I haue long dream'd of such a kinde of man,
So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so prophane:
But being awake, I do despise my dreame.
Make lesse thy body (hence) and more thy Grace,
Leaue gourmandizing; Know the Graue doth gape
For thee, thrice wider then for other men.
Reply not to me, with a Foole-borne Iest,
Presume not, that I am the thing I was,
For heauen doth know (so shall the world perceiue)
That I haue turn'd away my former Selfe,
So will I those that kept me Companie.
When thou dost heare I am, as I haue bin,
Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou was't
The Tutor and the Feeder of my Riots:
Till then, I banish thee, on paine of death,
As I haue done the rest of my Misleaders,
Not to come neere our Person, by ten mile.
For competence of life, I will allow you,
That lacke of meanes enforce you not to euill:
And as we heare you do reforme your selues,
We will according to your strength, and qualities,
Giue you aduancement. Be it your charge (my Lord)
To see perform'd the tenure of our word. Set on.

Exit King.

  Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound

   Shal. I marry Sir Iohn, which I beseech you to let me
haue home with me

   Fal. That can hardly be, M[aster]. Shallow, do not you grieue
at this: I shall be sent for in priuate to him: Looke you,
he must seeme thus to the world: feare not your aduancement:
I will be the man yet, that shall make you great

   Shal. I cannot well perceiue how, vnlesse you should
giue me your Doublet, and stuffe me out with Straw. I
beseech you, good Sir Iohn, let mee haue fiue hundred of
my thousand

   Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you
heard, was but a colour

   Shall. A colour I feare, that you will dye in, Sir Iohn

   Fal. Feare no colours, go with me to dinner:
Come Lieutenant Pistol, come Bardolfe,
I shall be sent for soone at night

   Ch.Iust. Go carry Sir Iohn Falstaffe to the Fleete,
Take all his Company along with him

   Fal. My Lord, my Lord

   Ch.Iust. I cannot now speake, I will heare you soone:
Take them away

   Pist. Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento.

Exit. Manent Lancaster and Chiefe Iustice

   Iohn. I like this faire proceeding of the Kings:
He hath intent his wonted Followers
Shall all be very well prouided for:
But all are banisht, till their conuersations
Appeare more wise, and modest to the world

   Ch.Iust. And so they are

   Iohn. The King hath call'd his Parliament,
My Lord

   Ch.Iust. He hath

   Iohn. I will lay oddes, that ere this yeere expire,
We beare our Ciuill Swords, and Natiue fire
As farre as France. I heare a Bird so sing,
Whose Musicke (to my thinking) pleas'd the King.
Come, will you hence?

Exeunt.

FINIS.

EPILOGVE.

First, my Feare: then, my Curtsie: last, my Speech.
My Feare, is your Displeasure: My Curtsie, my Dutie:
And my speech, to Begge your Pardons. If you looke for a
good speech now, you vndoe me: For what I haue to say, is
of mine owne making: and what (indeed) I should say, will
(I doubt) prooue mine owne marring. But to the Purpose,
and so to the Venture. Be it knowne to you (as it is very
well) I was lately heere in the end of a displeasing Play, to pray
your
Patien for it, and to promise you a Better: I did meane (indeede) to
pay you with
thi which if (like an ill Venture) it come vnluckily home, I breake;
and you,
my Creditors lose. Heere I promist you I would be, and heere I
commit my Bodie
to your Mercies: Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and (as
most Debtors d
promise you infinitely.
If my Tongue cannot entreate you to acquit me: will you command
me to vse
my Legges? And yet that were but light payment, to Dance out of
your debt:
But
a good Conscience, will make any possible satisfaction, and so
will I. All
the
heere haue forgiuen me, if the Gentlemen will not, then the
Gentlemen
do not agree with the Gentlewomen, which was neuer seene
before, in such an
As
One word more, I beseech you: if you be not too much cloid with
Fat Meate,
our humble Author will continue the Story (with Sir Iohn in it) and
make yo

merry, with faire Katherine of France: where (for any thing I
know) Fals
shall dye of a sweat, vnlesse already he be kill'd with your hard
Opinions:

For Old-Castle dyed a Martyr, and this is not the man. My Tongue
is wearie
when my Legs are too, I will bid you good night; and so kneele
downe before
yo
But (indeed) to pray for the Queene.

THE ACTORS NAMES.

 Rumour the Presentor.
 King Henry the Fourth.
 Prince Henry, afterwards Crowned King Henrie the Fift.
 Prince Iohn of Lancaster.
 Humphrey of Gloucester.
 Thomas of Clarence.
 Sonnes to Henry the Fourth, & brethren to Henry 5.
 Northumberland.
 The Arch Byshop of Yorke.
 Mowbray.
 Hastings.
 Lord Bardolfe.
 Trauers.
 Morton.
 Coleuile.
 Opposites against King Henrie the
 Fourth.
 Warwicke.
 Westmerland.
 Surrey.
 Gowre.
 Harecourt.
 Lord Chiefe Iustice.
 Of the Kings
 Partie.
 Shallow.
 Silence.
 Both Country
 Iustices.
 Dauie, Seruant to Shallow.
 Phang, and Snare, 2. Serieants
 Mouldie.
 Shadow.
 Wart.
 Feeble.
 Bullcalfe.
 Country Soldiers
 Pointz.
 Falstaffe.
 Bardolphe.
 Pistoll.
 Peto.
 Page.
 Irregular
 Humorists.
 Drawers
 Beadles.
 Groomes
 Northumberlands Wife.
 Percies Widdow.
 Hostesse Quickly.
 Doll Teare-sheete.

Epilogue. The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Containing his
Death: and
the Coronation of King Henry the Fift.


The Life of Henry the Fift

Enter Prologue.

O For a Muse of Fire, that would ascend
The brightest Heauen of Inuention:
A Kingdome for a Stage, Princes to Act,
And Monarchs to behold the swelling Scene.
Then should the Warlike Harry, like himselfe,
Assume the Port of Mars, and at his heeles
(Leasht in, like Hounds) should Famine, Sword, and Fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, Gentles all:
The flat vnraysed Spirits, that hath dar'd,
On this vnworthy Scaffold, to bring forth
So great an Obiect. Can this Cock-Pit hold
The vastie fields of France? Or may we cramme
Within this Woodden O, the very Caskes
That did affright the Ayre at Agincourt?
O pardon: since a crooked Figure may
Attest in little place a Million,
And let vs, Cyphers to this great Accompt,
On your imaginarie Forces worke.
Suppose within the Girdle of these Walls
Are now confin'd two mightie Monarchies,
Whose high, vp-reared, and abutting Fronts,
The perillous narrow Ocean parts asunder.
Peece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand parts diuide one Man,
And make imaginarie Puissance.
Thinke when we talke of Horses, that you see them
Printing their prowd Hoofes i'th' receiuing Earth:
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our Kings,
Carry them here and there: Iumping o're Times;
Turning th' accomplishment of many yeeres
Into an Howre-glasse: for the which supplie,
Admit me Chorus to this Historie;
Who Prologue-like, your humble patience pray,
Gently to heare, kindly to iudge our Play.
Enter.


Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.

  Bish.Cant. My Lord, Ile tell you, that selfe Bill is vrg'd,
Which in th' eleue[n]th yere of y last Kings reign
Was like, and had indeed against vs past,
But that the scambling and vnquiet time
Did push it out of farther question

   Bish.Ely. But how my Lord shall we resist it now?
  Bish.Cant. It must be thought on: if it passe against vs,
We loose the better halfe of our Possession:
For all the Temporall Lands, which men deuout
By Testament haue giuen to the Church,
Would they strip from vs; being valu'd thus,
As much as would maintaine, to the Kings honor,
Full fifteene Earles, and fifteene hundred Knights,
Six thousand and two hundred good Esquires:
And to reliefe of Lazars, and weake age
Of indigent faint Soules, past corporall toyle,
A hundred Almes-houses, right well supply'd:
And to the Coffers of the King beside,
A thousand pounds by th' yeere. Thus runs the Bill

   Bish.Ely. This would drinke deepe

   Bish.Cant. 'Twould drinke the Cup and all

   Bish.Ely. But what preuention?
  Bish.Cant. The King is full of grace, and faire regard

   Bish.Ely. And a true louer of the holy Church

   Bish.Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it not.
The breath no sooner left his Fathers body,
But that his wildnesse, mortify'd in him,
Seem'd to dye too: yea, at that very moment,
Consideration like an Angell came,
And whipt th' offending Adam out of him;
Leauing his body as a Paradise,
T' inuelop and containe Celestiall Spirits.
Neuer was such a sodaine Scholler made:
Neuer came Reformation in a Flood,
With such a heady currance scowring faults:
Nor neuer Hidra-headed Wilfulnesse
So soone did loose his Seat; and all at once;
As in this King

   Bish.Ely. We are blessed in the Change

   Bish.Cant. Heare him but reason in Diuinitie;
And all-admiring, with an inward wish
You would desire the King were made a Prelate:
Heare him debate of Common-wealth Affaires;
You would say, it hath been all in all his study:
List his discourse of Warre; and you shall heare
A fearefull Battaile rendred you in Musique.
Turne him to any Cause of Pollicy,
The Gordian Knot of it he will vnloose,
Familiar as his Garter: that when he speakes,
The Ayre, a Charter'd Libertine, is still,
And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares,
To steale his sweet and honyed Sentences:
So that the Art and Practique part of Life,
Must be the Mistresse to this Theorique.
Which is a wonder how his Grace should gleane it,
Since his addiction was to Courses vaine,
His Companies vnletter'd, rude, and shallow,
His Houres fill'd vp with Ryots, Banquets, Sports;
And neuer noted in him any studie,
Any retyrement, any sequestration,
From open Haunts and Popularitie

   B.Ely. The Strawberry growes vnderneath the Nettle,
And holesome Berryes thriue and ripen best,
Neighbour'd by Fruit of baser qualitie:
And so the Prince obscur'd his Contemplation
Vnder the Veyle of Wildnesse, which (no doubt)
Grew like the Summer Grasse, fastest by Night,
Vnseene, yet cressiue in his facultie

   B.Cant. It must be so; for Miracles are ceast:
And therefore we must needes admit the meanes,
How things are perfected

   B.Ely. But my good Lord:
How now for mittigation of this Bill,
Vrg'd by the Commons? doth his Maiestie
Incline to it, or no?
  B.Cant. He seemes indifferent:
Or rather swaying more vpon our part,
Then cherishing th' exhibiters against vs:
For I haue made an offer to his Maiestie,
Vpon our Spirituall Conuocation,
And in regard of Causes now in hand,
Which I haue open'd to his Grace at large,
As touching France, to giue a greater Summe,
Then euer at one time the Clergie yet
Did to his Predecessors part withall

   B.Ely. How did this offer seeme receiu'd, my Lord?
  B.Cant. With good acceptance of his Maiestie:
Saue that there was not time enough to heare,
As I perceiu'd his Grace would faine haue done,
The seueralls and vnhidden passages
Of his true Titles to some certaine Dukedomes,
And generally, to the Crowne and Seat of France,
Deriu'd from Edward, his great Grandfather

   B.Ely. What was th' impediment that broke this off?
  B.Cant. The French Embassador vpon that instant
Crau'd audience; and the howre I thinke is come,
To giue him hearing: Is it foure a Clock?
  B.Ely. It is

   B.Cant. Then goe we in, to know his Embassie:
Which I could with a ready guesse declare,
Before the Frenchman speake a word of it

   B.Ely. Ile wait vpon you, and I long to heare it.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Humfrey, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick,
Westmerland, and
Exeter.

  King. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
  Exeter. Not here in presence

   King. Send for him, good Vnckle

   Westm. Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my Liege?
  King. Not yet, my Cousin: we would be resolu'd,
Before we heare him, of some things of weight,
That taske our thoughts, concerning vs and France.
Enter two Bishops.

  B.Cant. God and his Angels guard your sacred Throne,
And make you long become it

   King. Sure we thanke you.
My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,
And iustly and religiously vnfold,
Why the Law Salike, that they haue in France,
Or should or should not barre vs in our Clayme:
And God forbid, my deare and faithfull Lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
Or nicely charge your vnderstanding Soule,
With opening Titles miscreate, whose right
Sutes not in natiue colours with the truth:
For God doth know, how many now in health,
Shall drop their blood, in approbation
Of what your reuerence shall incite vs to.
Therefore take heed how you impawne our Person,
How you awake our sleeping Sword of Warre;
We charge you in the Name of God take heed:
For neuer two such Kingdomes did contend,
Without much fall of blood, whose guiltlesse drops
Are euery one, a Woe, a sore Complaint,
'Gainst him, whose wrongs giues edge vnto the Swords,
That makes such waste in briefe mortalitie.
Vnder this Coniuration, speake my Lord:
For we will heare, note, and beleeue in heart,
That what you speake, is in your Conscience washt,
As pure as sinne with Baptisme

   B.Can. Then heare me gracious Soueraign, & you Peers,
That owe your selues, your liues, and seruices,
To this Imperiall Throne. There is no barre
To make against your Highnesse Clayme to France,
But this which they produce from Pharamond,
In terram Salicam Mulieres ne succedant,
No Woman shall succeed in Salike Land:
Which Salike Land, the French vniustly gloze
To be the Realme of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this Law, and Female Barre.
Yet their owne Authors faithfully affirme,
That the Land Salike is in Germanie,
Betweene the Flouds of Sala and of Elue:
Where Charles the Great hauing subdu'd the Saxons,
There left behind and settled certaine French:
Who holding in disdaine the German Women,
For some dishonest manners of their life,
Establisht then this Law; to wit, No Female
Should be Inheritrix in Salike Land:
Which Salike (as I said) 'twixt Elue and Sala,
Is at this day in Germanie, call'd Meisen.
Then doth it well appeare, the Salike Law
Was not deuised for the Realme of France:
Nor did the French possesse the Salike Land,
Vntill foure hundred one and twentie yeeres
After defunction of King Pharamond,
Idly suppos'd the founder of this Law,
Who died within the yeere of our Redemption,
Foure hundred twentie six: and Charles the Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French
Beyond the Riuer Sala, in the yeere
Eight hundred fiue. Besides, their Writers say,
King Pepin, which deposed Childerike,
Did as Heire Generall, being descended
Of Blithild, which was Daughter to King Clothair,
Make Clayme and Title to the Crowne of France.
Hugh Capet also, who vsurpt the Crowne
Of Charles the Duke of Loraine, sole Heire male
Of the true Line and Stock of Charles the Great:
To find his Title with some shewes of truth,
Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught,
Conuey'd himselfe as th' Heire to th' Lady Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemaine, who was the Sonne
To Lewes the Emperour, and Lewes the Sonne
Of Charles the Great: also King Lewes the Tenth,
Who was sole Heire to the Vsurper Capet,
Could not keepe quiet in his conscience,
Wearing the Crowne of France, 'till satisfied,
That faire Queene Isabel, his Grandmother,
Was Lineall of the Lady Ermengare,
Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Loraine:
By the which Marriage, the Lyne of Charles the Great
Was re-vnited to the Crowne of France.
So, that as cleare as is the Summers Sunne,
King Pepins Title, and Hugh Capets Clayme,
King Lewes his satisfaction, all appeare
To hold in Right and Title of the Female:
So doe the Kings of France vnto this day.
Howbeit, they would hold vp this Salique Law,
To barre your Highnesse clayming from the Female,
And rather chuse to hide them in a Net,
Then amply to imbarre their crooked Titles,
Vsurpt from you and your Progenitors

   King. May I with right and conscience make this claim?
  Bish.Cant. The sinne vpon my head, dread Soueraigne:
For in the Booke of Numbers is it writ,
When the man dyes, let the Inheritance
Descend vnto the Daughter. Gracious Lord,
Stand for your owne, vnwind your bloody Flagge,
Looke back into your mightie Ancestors:
Goe my dread Lord, to your great Grandsires Tombe,
From whom you clayme; inuoke his Warlike Spirit,
And your Great Vnckles, Edward the Black Prince,
Who on the French ground play'd a Tragedie,
Making defeat on the full Power of France:
Whiles his most mightie Father on a Hill
Stood smiling, to behold his Lyons Whelpe
Forrage in blood of French Nobilitie.
O Noble English, that could entertaine
With halfe their Forces, the full pride of France,
And let another halfe stand laughing by,
All out of worke, and cold for action

   Bish. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
And with your puissant Arme renew their Feats;
You are their Heire, you sit vpon their Throne:
The Blood and Courage that renowned them,
Runs in your Veines: and my thrice-puissant Liege
Is in the very May-Morne of his Youth,
Ripe for Exploits and mightie Enterprises

   Exe. Your Brother Kings and Monarchs of the Earth
Doe all expect, that you should rowse your selfe,
As did the former Lyons of your Blood

   West. They know your Grace hath cause, and means, and might;
So hath your Highnesse: neuer King of England
Had Nobles richer, and more loyall Subiects,
Whose hearts haue left their bodyes here in England,
And lye pauillion'd in the fields of France

   Bish.Can. O let their bodyes follow my deare Liege
With Bloods, and Sword and Fire, to win your Right:
In ayde whereof, we of the Spiritualtie
Will rayse your Highnesse such a mightie Summe,
As neuer did the Clergie at one time
Bring in to any of your Ancestors

   King. We must not onely arme t' inuade the French,
But lay downe our proportions, to defend
Against the Scot, who will make roade vpon vs,
With all aduantages

   Bish.Can. They of those Marches, gracious Soueraign,
Shall be a Wall sufficient to defend
Our in-land from the pilfering Borderers

   King. We do not meane the coursing snatchers onely,
But feare the maine intendment of the Scot,
Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to vs:
For you shall reade, that my great Grandfather
Neuer went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot, on his vnfurnisht Kingdome,
Came pouring like the Tyde into a breach,
With ample and brim fulnesse of his force,
Galling the gleaned Land with hot Assayes,
Girding with grieuous siege, Castles and Townes:
That England being emptie of defence,
Hath shooke and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood

   B.Can. She hath bin the[n] more fear'd the[n] harm'd, my Liege:
For heare her but exampl'd by her selfe,
When all her Cheualrie hath been in France,
And shee a mourning Widdow of her Nobles,
Shee hath her selfe not onely well defended,
But taken and impounded as a Stray,
The King of Scots: whom shee did send to France,
To fill King Edwards fame with prisoner Kings,
And make their Chronicle as rich with prayse,
As is the Owse and bottome of the Sea
With sunken Wrack, and sum-lesse Treasuries

   Bish.Ely. But there's a saying very old and true,
If that you will France win, then with Scotland first begin.
For once the Eagle (England) being in prey,
To her vnguarded Nest, the Weazell (Scot)
Comes sneaking, and so sucks her Princely Egges,
Playing the Mouse in absence of the Cat,
To tame and hauocke more then she can eate

   Exet. It followes then, the Cat must stay at home,
Yet that is but a crush'd necessity,
Since we haue lockes to safegard necessaries,
And pretty traps to catch the petty theeues.
While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad,
Th' aduised head defends it selfe at home:
For Gouernment, though high, and low, and lower,
Put into parts, doth keepe in one consent,
Congreeing in a full and natural close,
Like Musicke

   Cant. Therefore doth heauen diuide
The state of man in diuers functions,
Setting endeuour in continual motion:
To which is fixed as an ayme or butt,
Obedience: for so worke the Hony Bees,
Creatures that by a rule in Nature teach
The Act of Order to a peopled Kingdome.
They haue a King, and Officers of sorts,
Where some like Magistrates correct at home:
Others, like Merchants venter Trade abroad:
Others, like Souldiers armed in their stings,
Make boote vpon the Summers Veluet buddes:
Which pillage, they with merry march bring home
To the Tent-royal of their Emperor:
Who busied in his Maiesties surueyes
The singing Masons building roofes of Gold,
The ciuil Citizens kneading vp the hony;
The poore Mechanicke Porters, crowding in
Their heauy burthens at his narrow gate:
The sad-ey'd Iustice with his surly humme,
Deliuering ore to Executors pale
The lazie yawning Drone: I this inferre,
That many things hauing full reference
To one consent, may worke contrariously,
As many Arrowes loosed seuerall wayes
Come to one marke: as many wayes meet in one towne,
As many fresh streames meet in one salt sea;
As many Lynes close in the Dials center:
So may a thousand actions once a foote,
And in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my Liege,
Diuide your happy England into foure,
Whereof, take you one quarter into France,
And you withall shall make all Gallia shake.
If we with thrice such powers left at home,
Cannot defend our owne doores from the dogge,
Let vs be worried, and our Nation lose
The name of hardinesse and policie

   King. Call in the Messengers sent from the Dolphin.
Now are we well resolu'd, and by Gods helpe
And yours, the noble sinewes of our power,
France being ours, wee'l bend it to our Awe,
Or breake it all to peeces. Or there wee'l sit,
(Ruling in large and ample Emperie,
Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedomes)
Or lay these bones in an vnworthy Vrne,
Tomblesse, with no remembrance ouer them:
Either our History shall with full mouth
Speake freely of our Acts, or else our graue
Like Turkish mute, shall haue a tonguelesse mouth,
Not worshipt with a waxen Epitaph.
Enter Ambassadors of France.

Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our faire Cosin Dolphin: for we heare,
Your greeting is from him, not from the King

   Amb. May't please your Maiestie to giue vs leaue
Freely to render what we haue in charge:
Or shall we sparingly shew you farre off
The Dolphins meaning, and our Embassie

   King. We are no Tyrant, but a Christian King,
Vnto whose grace our passion is as subiect
As is our wretches fettred in our prisons,
Therefore with franke and with vncurbed plainnesse,
Tell vs the Dolphins minde

   Amb. Thus than in few:
Your Highnesse lately sending into France,
Did claime some certaine Dukedomes, in the right
Of your great Predecessor, King Edward the third.
In answer of which claime, the Prince our Master
Sayes, that you sauour too much of your youth,
And bids you be aduis'd: There's nought in France,
That can be with a nimble Galliard wonne:
You cannot reuell into Dukedomes there.
He therefore sends you meeter for your spirit
This Tun of Treasure; and in lieu of this,
Desires you let the dukedomes that you claime
Heare no more of you. This the Dolphin speakes

   King. What Treasure Vncle?
  Exe. Tennis balles, my Liege

   Kin. We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with vs,
His Present, and your paines we thanke you for:
When we haue matcht our Rackets to these Balles,
We will in France (by Gods grace) play a set,
Shall strike his fathers Crowne into the hazard.
Tell him, he hath made a match with such a Wrangler,
That all the Courts of France will be disturb'd
With Chaces. And we vnderstand him well,
How he comes o're vs with our wilder dayes,
Not measuring what vse we made of them.
We neuer valew'd this poore seate of England,
And therefore liuing hence, did giue our selfe
To barbarous license: As 'tis euer common,
That men are merriest, when they are from home.
But tell the Dolphin, I will keepe my State,
Be like a King, and shew my sayle of Greatnesse,
When I do rowse me in my Throne of France.
For that I haue layd by my Maiestie,
And plodded like a man for working dayes:
But I will rise there with so full a glorie,
That I will dazle all the eyes of France,
Yea strike the Dolphin blinde to looke on vs,
And tell the pleasant Prince, this Mocke of his
Hath turn'd his balles to Gun-stones, and his soule
Shall stand sore charged, for the wastefull vengeance
That shall flye with them: for many a thousand widows
Shall this his Mocke, mocke out of their deer husbands;
Mocke mothers from their sonnes, mock Castles downe:
And some are yet vngotten and vnborne,
That shal haue cause to curse the Dolphins scorne.
But this lyes all within the wil of God,
To whom I do appeale, and in whose name
Tel you the Dolphin, I am comming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightfull hand in a wel-hallow'd cause.
So get you hence in peace: And tell the Dolphin,
His Iest will sauour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weepe more then did laugh at it.
Conuey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.

Exeunt. Ambassadors.

  Exe. This was a merry Message

   King. We hope to make the Sender blush at it:
Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy howre,
That may giue furth'rance to our Expedition:
For we haue now no thought in vs but France,
Saue those to God, that runne before our businesse.
Therefore let our proportions for these Warres
Be soone collected, and all things thought vpon,
That may with reasonable swiftnesse adde
More Feathers to our Wings: for God before,
Wee'le chide this Dolphin at his fathers doore.
Therefore let euery man now taske his thought,
That this faire Action may on foot be brought.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Chorus.

Now all the Youth of England are on fire,
And silken Dalliance in the Wardrobe lyes:
Now thriue the Armorers, and Honors thought
Reignes solely in the breast of euery man.
They sell the Pasture now, to buy the Horse;
Following the Mirror of all Christian Kings,
With winged heeles, as English Mercuries.
For now sits Expectation in the Ayre,
And hides a Sword, from Hilts vnto the Point,
With Crownes Imperiall, Crownes and Coronets,
Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.
The French aduis'd by good intelligence
Of this most dreadfull preparation,
Shake in their feare, and with pale Pollicy
Seeke to diuert the English purposes.
O England: Modell to thy inward Greatnesse,
Like little Body with a mightie Heart:
What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kinde and naturall:
But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out,
A nest of hollow bosomes, which he filles
With treacherous Crownes, and three corrupted men:
One, Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the second
Henry Lord Scroope of Masham, and the third
Sir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland,
Haue for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed)
Confirm'd Conspiracy with fearefull France,
And by their hands, this grace of Kings must dye.
If Hell and Treason hold their promises,
Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton.
Linger your patience on, and wee'l digest
Th' abuse of distance; force a play:
The summe is payde, the Traitors are agreed,
The King is set from London, and the Scene
Is now transported (Gentles) to Southampton,
There is the Play-house now, there must you sit,
And thence to France shall we conuey you safe,
And bring you backe: Charming the narrow seas
To giue you gentle Passe: for if we may,
Wee'l not offend one stomacke with our Play.
But till the King come forth, and not till then,
Vnto Southampton do we shift our Scene.

Exit

Enter Corporall Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe.

  Bar. Well met Corporall Nym

   Nym. Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolfe

   Bar. What, are Ancient Pistoll and you friends yet?
  Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little: but when
time shall serue, there shall be smiles, but that shall be as
it may. I dare not fight, but I will winke and holde out
mine yron: it is a simple one, but what though? It will
toste Cheese, and it will endure cold, as another mans
sword will: and there's an end

   Bar. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friendes,
and wee'l bee all three sworne brothers to France: Let't
be so good Corporall Nym

   Nym. Faith, I will liue so long as I may, that's the certaine
of it: and when I cannot liue any longer, I will doe
as I may: That is my rest, that is the rendeuous of it

   Bar. It is certaine Corporall, that he is marryed to
Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you
were troth-plight to her

   Nym. I cannot tell, Things must be as they may: men
may sleepe, and they may haue their throats about them
at that time, and some say, kniues haue edges: It must
be as it may, though patience be a tyred name, yet shee
will plodde, there must be Conclusions, well, I cannot
tell.
Enter Pistoll, & Quickly.

  Bar. Heere comes Ancient Pistoll and his wife: good
Corporall be patient heere. How now mine Hoaste Pistoll?
  Pist. Base Tyke, cal'st thou mee Hoste, now by this
hand I sweare I scorne the terme: nor shall my Nel keep
Lodgers

   Host. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge
and board a dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that liue
honestly by the pricke of their Needles, but it will bee
thought we keepe a Bawdy-house straight. O welliday
Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall see wilful adultery
and murther committed

   Bar. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer nothing
heere

   Nym. Pish

   Pist. Pish for thee, Island dogge: thou prickeard cur
of Island

   Host. Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and put
vp your sword

   Nym. Will you shogge off? I would haue you solus

   Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile; The solus
in thy most meruailous face, the solus in thy teeth, and
in thy throate, and in thy hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw
perdy; and which is worse, within thy nastie mouth. I
do retort the solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pistols
cocke is vp, and flashing fire will follow

   Nym. I am not Barbason, you cannot coniure mee: I
haue an humor to knocke you indifferently well: If you
grow fowle with me Pistoll, I will scoure you with my
Rapier, as I may, in fayre tearmes. If you would walke
off, I would pricke your guts a little in good tearmes, as
I may, and that's the humor of it

   Pist. O Braggard vile, and damned furious wight,
The Graue doth gape, and doting death is neere,
Therefore exhale

   Bar. Heare me, heare me what I say: Hee that strikes
the first stroake, Ile run him vp to the hilts, as I am a soldier

   Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
Giue me thy fist, thy fore-foote to me giue: Thy spirites
are most tall

   Nym. I will cut thy throate one time or other in faire
termes, that is the humor of it

   Pistoll. Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee againe.
O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No, to the spittle goe, and from the Poudring tub of infamy,
fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Cressids kinde, Doll
Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I haue, and I
will hold the Quondam Quickely for the onely shee: and
Pauca, there's enough to go to.
Enter the Boy.

  Boy. Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my Mayster,
and your Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed.
Good Bardolfe, put thy face betweene his sheets, and do
the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill

   Bard. Away you Rogue

   Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one
of these dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Husband
come home presently.

Exit

  Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must
to France together: why the diuel should we keep kniues
to cut one anothers throats?
  Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle
on

   Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you
at Betting?
  Pist. Base is the Slaue that payes

   Nym. That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it

   Pist. As manhood shal compound: push home.

Draw

  Bard. By this sword, hee that makes the first thrust,
Ile kill him: By this sword, I wil

   Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their course
  Bar. Coporall Nym, & thou wilt be friends be frends,
and thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me to: prethee
put vp

   Pist. A Noble shalt thou haue, and present pay, and
Liquor likewise will I giue to thee, and friendshippe
shall combyne, and brotherhood. Ile liue by Nymme, &
Nymme shall liue by me, is not this iust? For I shal Sutler
be vnto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Giue mee
thy hand

   Nym. I shall haue my Noble?
  Pist. In cash, most iustly payd

   Nym. Well, then that the humor of't.
Enter Hostesse.

  Host. As euer you come of women, come in quickly
to sir Iohn: A poore heart, hee is so shak'd of a burning
quotidian Tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold.
Sweet men, come to him

   Nym. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight,
that's the euen of it

   Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is fracted
and corroborate

   Nym. The King is a good King, but it must bee as it
may: he passes some humors, and carreeres

   Pist. Let vs condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we
will liue.
Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.

  Bed. Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitors
  Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by

   West. How smooth and euen they do bear themselues,
As if allegeance in their bosomes sate
Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty

   Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend,
By interception, which they dreame not of

   Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious fauours;
That he should for a forraigne purse, so sell
His Soueraignes life to death and treachery.

Sound Trumpets.

Enter the King, Scroope, Cambridge, and Gray.

  King. Now sits the winde faire, and we will aboord.
My Lord of Cambridge, and my kinde Lord of Masham,
And you my gentle Knight, giue me your thoughts:
Thinke you not that the powres we beare with vs
Will cut their passage through the force of France?
Doing the execution, and the acte,
For which we haue in head assembled them

   Scro. No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best

   King. I doubt not that, since we are well perswaded
We carry not a heart with vs from hence,
That growes not in a faire consent with ours:
Nor leaue not one behinde, that doth not wish
Successe and Conquest to attend on vs

   Cam. Neuer was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd,
Then is your Maiesty; there's not I thinke a subiect
That sits in heart-greefe and vneasinesse
Vnder the sweet shade of your gouernment

   Kni. True: those that were your Fathers enemies,
Haue steep'd their gauls in hony, and do serue you
With hearts create of duty, and of zeale

   King. We therefore haue great cause of thankfulnes,
And shall forget the office of our hand
Sooner then quittance of desert and merit,
According to the weight and worthinesse

   Scro. So seruice shall with steeled sinewes toyle,
And labour shall refresh it selfe with hope
To do your Grace incessant seruices

   King. We Iudge no lesse. Vnkle of Exeter,
Inlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rayl'd against our person: We consider
It was excesse of Wine that set him on,
And on his more aduice, We pardon him

   Scro. That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd Soueraigne, least example
Breed (by his sufferance) more of such a kind

   King. O let vs yet be mercifull

   Cam. So may your Highnesse, and yet punish too

   Grey. Sir, you shew great mercy if you giue him life,
After the taste of much correction

   King. Alas, your too much loue and care of me,
Are heauy Orisons 'gainst this poore wretch:
If little faults proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
When capitall crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appeare before vs? Wee'l yet inlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in their deere care
And tender preseruation of our person
Wold haue him punish'd. And now to our French causes,
Who are the late Commissioners?
  Cam. I one my Lord,
Your Highnesse bad me aske for it to day

   Scro. So did you me my Liege

   Gray. And I my Royall Soueraigne

   King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours:
There yours Lord Scroope of Masham, and Sir Knight:
Gray of Northumberland, this same is yours:
Reade them, and know I know your worthinesse.
My Lord of Westmerland, and Vnkle Exeter,
We will aboord to night. Why how now Gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you loose
So much complexion? Looke ye how they change:
Their cheekes are paper. Why, what reade you there,
That haue so cowarded and chac'd your blood
Out of apparance

   Cam. I do confesse my fault,
And do submit me to your Highnesse mercy

   Gray. Scro. To which we all appeale

   King. The mercy that was quicke in vs but late,
By your owne counsaile is supprest and kill'd:
You must not dare (for shame) to talke of mercy,
For your owne reasons turne into your bosomes,
As dogs vpon their maisters, worrying you:
See you my Princes, and my Noble Peeres,
These English monsters: My Lord of Cambridge heere,
You know how apt our loue was, to accord
To furnish with all appertinents
Belonging to his Honour; and this man,
Hath for a few light Crownes, lightly conspir'd
And sworne vnto the practises of France
To kill vs heere in Hampton. To the which,
This Knight no lesse for bounty bound to Vs
Then Cambridge is, hath likewise sworne. But O,
What shall I say to thee Lord Scroope, thou cruell,
Ingratefull, sauage, and inhumane Creature?
Thou that didst beare the key of all my counsailes,
That knew'st the very bottome of my soule,
That (almost) might'st haue coyn'd me into Golde,
Would'st thou haue practis'd on me, for thy vse?
May it be possible, that forraigne hyer
Could out of thee extract one sparke of euill
That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange,
That though the truth of it stands off as grosse
As black and white, my eye will scarsely see it.
Treason, and murther, euer kept together,
As two yoake diuels sworne to eythers purpose,
Working so grossely in an naturall cause,
That admiration did not hoope at them.
But thou (gainst all proportion) didst bring in
Wonder to waite on treason, and on murther:
And whatsoeuer cunning fiend it was
That wrought vpon thee so preposterously,
Hath got the voyce in hell for excellence:
And other diuels that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle vp damnation,
With patches, colours, and with formes being fetcht
From glist'ring semblances of piety:
But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand vp,
Gaue thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Vnlesse to dub thee with the name of Traitor.
If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world,
He might returne to vastie Tartar backe,
And tell the Legions, I can neuer win
A soule so easie as that Englishmans.
Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infected
The sweetnesse of affiance? Shew men dutifull,
Why so didst thou: seeme they graue and learned?
Why so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family?
Why so didst thou. Seeme they religious?
Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,
Free from grosse passion, or of mirth, or anger,
Constant in spirit, not sweruing with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
Not working with the eye, without the eare,
And but in purged iudgement trusting neither,
Such and so finely boulted didst thou seeme:
And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot,
To make thee full fraught man, and best indued
With some suspition, I will weepe for thee.
For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes is like
Another fall of Man. Their faults are open,
Arrest them to the answer of the Law,
And God acquit them of their practises

   Exe. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of
Richard Earle of Cambridge.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas
Lord Scroope of Marsham.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas
Grey, Knight of Northumberland

   Scro. Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd,
And I repent my fault more then my death,
Which I beseech your Highnesse to forgiue,
Although my body pay the price of it

   Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not seduce,
Although I did admit it as a motiue,
The sooner to effect what I intended:
But God be thanked for preuention,
Which in sufferance heartily will reioyce,
Beseeching God, and you, to pardon mee

   Gray. Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyce
At the discouery of most dangerous Treason,
Then I do at this houre ioy ore my selfe,
Preuented from a damned enterprize;
My fault, but not my body, pardon Soueraigne

   King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence
You haue conspir'd against Our Royall person,
Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his Coffers,
Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death:
Wherein you would haue sold your King to slaughter,
His Princes, and his Peeres to seruitude,
His Subiects to oppression, and contempt,
And his whole Kingdome into desolation:
Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge,
But we our Kingdomes safety must so tender,
Whose ruine you sought, that to her Lawes
We do deliuer you. Get you therefore hence,
(Poore miserable wretches) to your death:
The taste whereof, God of his mercy giue
You patience to indure, and true Repentance
Of all your deare offences. Beare them hence.
Enter.

Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you as vs, like glorious.
We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre,
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous Treason, lurking in our way,
To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now,
But euery Rubbe is smoothed on our way.
Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuer
Our Puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance,
No King of England, if not King of France.

Flourish.

Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.

  Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring
thee to Staines

   Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph,
be blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle
thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe hee is dead, and wee must
erne therefore

   Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is,
eyther in Heauen, or in Hell

   Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs
Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a
finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome
Childe: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue and One, eu'n
at the turning o'th' Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with
the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fingers
end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was
as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now
Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a good cheare: so a
cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now I,
to comfort him, bid him a should not thinke of God; I
hop'd there was no neede to trouble himselfe with any
such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more Clothes on his
feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they
were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and so
vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone

   Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack

   Hostesse. I, that a did

   Bard. And of Women

   Hostesse. Nay, that a did not

   Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate

   Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Colour
he neuer lik'd

   Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him about
Women

   Hostesse. A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women:
but then hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of
Babylon

   Boy. Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon
Bardolphs Nose, and a said it was a blacke Soule burning
in Hell

   Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that fire:
that's all the Riches I got in his seruice

   Nim. Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone from
Southampton

   Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes:
Looke to my Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences
rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: trust none: for Oathes
are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and hold-fast
is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee
thy Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yokefellowes
in Armes, let vs to France, like Horseleeches
my Boyes, to sucke, to sucke, the very blood to
sucke

   Boy. And that's but vnwholesome food, they say

   Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march

   Bard. Farwell Hostesse

   Nim. I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: but
adieu

   Pist. Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I thee
command

   Hostesse. Farwell: adieu.

Exeunt.

Flourish.

Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry and
Britaine.

  King. Thus comes the English with full power vpon vs,
And more then carefully it vs concernes,
To answer Royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britaine,
Of Brabant and of Orleance, shall make forth,
And you Prince Dolphin, with all swift dispatch
To lyne and new repayre our Townes of Warre
With men of courage, and with meanes defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As Waters to the sucking of a Gulfe.
It fits vs then to be as prouident,
As feare may teach vs, out of late examples
Left by the fatall and neglected English,
Vpon our fields

   Dolphin. My most redoubted Father,
It is most meet we arme vs 'gainst the Foe:
For Peace it selfe should not so dull a Kingdome,
(Though War nor no knowne Quarrel were in question)
But that Defences, Musters, Preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,
As were a Warre in expectation.
Therefore I say, 'tis meet we all goe forth,
To view the sick and feeble parts of France:
And let vs doe it with no shew of feare,
No, with no more, then if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitson Morris-dance:
For, my good Liege, shee is so idly King'd,
Her Scepter so phantastically borne,
By a vaine giddie shallow humorous Youth,
That feare attends her not

   Const. O peace, Prince Dolphin,
You are too much mistaken in this King:
Question your Grace the late Embassadors,
With what great State he heard their Embassie,
How well supply'd with Noble Councellors,
How modest in exception; and withall,
How terrible in constant resolution:
And you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent,
Were but the out-side of the Roman Brutus,
Couering Discretion with a Coat of Folly;
As Gardeners doe with Ordure hide those Roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate

   Dolphin. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable.
But though we thinke it so, it is no matter:
In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The Enemie more mightie then he seemes,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd:
Which of a weake and niggardly proiection,
Doth like a Miser spoyle his Coat, with scanting
A little Cloth

   King. Thinke we King Harry strong:
And Princes, looke you strongly arme to meet him.
The Kindred of him hath beene flesht vpon vs:
And he is bred out of that bloodie straine,
That haunted vs in our familiar Pathes:
Witnesse our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy Battell fatally was strucke,
And all our Princes captiu'd, by the hand
Of that black Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:
Whiles that his Mountaine Sire, on Mountaine standing
Vp in the Ayre, crown'd with the Golden Sunne,
Saw his Heroicall Seed, and smil'd to see him
Mangle the Worke of Nature, and deface
The Patternes, that by God and by French Fathers
Had twentie yeeres been made. This is a Stem
Of that Victorious Stock: and let vs feare
The Natiue mightinesse and fate of him.
Enter a Messenger.

  Mess. Embassadors from Harry King of England,
Doe craue admittance to your Maiestie

   King. Weele giue them present audience.
Goe, and bring them.
You see this Chase is hotly followed, friends

   Dolphin. Turne head, and stop pursuit: for coward Dogs
Most spend their mouths, whe[n] what they seem to threaten
Runs farre before them. Good my Soueraigne
Take vp the English short, and let them know
Of what a Monarchie you are the Head:
Selfe-loue, my Liege, is not so vile a sinne,
As selfe-neglecting.
Enter Exeter.

  King. From our Brother of England?
  Exe. From him, and thus he greets your Maiestie:
He wills you in the Name of God Almightie,
That you deuest your selfe, and lay apart
The borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heauen,
By Law of Nature, and of Nations, longs
To him and to his Heires, namely, the Crowne,
And all wide-stretched Honors, that pertaine
By Custome, and the Ordinance of Times,
Vnto the Crowne of France: that you may know
'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward Clayme,
Pickt from the worme-holes of long-vanisht dayes,
Nor from the dust of old Obliuion rakt,
He sends you this most memorable Lyne,
In euery Branch truly demonstratiue;
Willing you ouer-looke this Pedigree:
And when you find him euenly deriu'd
From his most fam'd, of famous Ancestors,
Edward the third; he bids you then resigne
Your Crowne and Kingdome, indirectly held
From him, the Natiue and true Challenger

   King. Or else what followes?
  Exe. Bloody constraint: for if you hide the Crowne
Euen in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
Therefore in fierce Tempest is he comming,
In Thunder and in Earth-quake, like a Ioue:
That if requiring faile, he will compell.
And bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord,
Deliuer vp the Crowne, and to take mercie
On the poore Soules, for whom this hungry Warre
Opens his vastie Iawes: and on your head
Turning the Widdowes Teares, the Orphans Cryes,
The dead-mens Blood, the priuy Maidens Groanes,
For Husbands, Fathers, and betrothed Louers,
That shall be swallowed in this Controuersie.
This is his Clayme, his Threatning, and my Message:
Vnlesse the Dolphin be in presence here;
To whom expressely I bring greeting to

   King. For vs, we will consider of this further:
To morrow shall you beare our full intent
Back to our Brother of England

   Dolph. For the Dolphin,
I stand here for him: what to him from England?
  Exe. Scorne and defiance, sleight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mis-become
The mightie Sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus sayes my King: and if your Fathers Highnesse
Doe not, in graunt of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter Mock you sent his Maiestie;
Hee'le call you to so hot an Answer of it,
That Caues and Wombie Vaultages of France
Shall chide your Trespas, and returne your Mock
In second Accent of his Ordinance

   Dolph. Say: if my Father render faire returne,
It is against my will: for I desire
Nothing but Oddes with England.
To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanitie,
I did present him with the Paris-Balls

   Exe. Hee'le make your Paris Louer shake for it,
Were it the Mistresse Court of mightie Europe:
And be assur'd, you'le find a diff'rence,
As we his Subiects haue in wonder found,
Betweene the promise of his greener dayes,
And these he masters now: now he weighes Time
Euen to the vtmost Graine: that you shall reade
In your owne Losses, if he stay in France

   King. To morrow shall you know our mind at full.

Flourish.

  Exe. Dispatch vs with all speed, least that our King
Come here himselfe to question our delay;
For he is footed in this Land already

   King. You shalbe soone dispatcht, with faire conditions.
A Night is but small breathe, and little pawse,
To answer matters of this consequence.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus.

Flourish. Enter Chorus.

Thus with imagin'd wing our swift Scene flyes,
In motion of no lesse celeritie then that of Thought.
Suppose, that you haue seene
The well-appointed King at Douer Peer,
Embarke his Royaltie: and his braue Fleet,
With silken Streamers, the young Phebus fayning;
Play with your Fancies: and in them behold,
Vpon the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boyes climbing;
Heare the shrill Whistle, which doth order giue
To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden Sayles,
Borne with th' inuisible and creeping Wind,
Draw the huge Bottomes through the furrowed Sea,
Bresting the loftie Surge. O, doe but thinke
You stand vpon the Riuage, and behold
A Citie on th' inconstant Billowes dauncing:
For so appeares this Fleet Maiesticall,
Holding due course to Harflew. Follow, follow:
Grapple your minds to sternage of this Nauie,
And leaue your England as dead Mid-night, still,
Guarded with Grandsires, Babyes, and old Women,
Eyther past, or not arriu'd to pyth and puissance:
For who is he, whose Chin is but enricht
With one appearing Hayre, that will not follow
These cull'd and choyse-drawne Caualiers to France?
Worke, worke your Thoughts, and therein see a Siege:
Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages,
With fatall mouthes gaping on girded Harflew.
Suppose th' Embassador from the French comes back:
Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him
Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie,
Some petty and vnprofitable Dukedomes.
The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner
With Lynstock now the diuellish Cannon touches,

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

And downe goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eech out our performance with your mind.
Enter.

Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester. Alarum: Scaling
Ladders
at Harflew.

  King. Once more vnto the Breach,
Deare friends, once more;
Or close the Wall vp with our English dead:
In Peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
As modest stillnesse, and humilitie:
But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares,
Then imitate the action of the Tyger:
Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood,
Disguise faire Nature with hard-fauour'd Rage:
Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:
Let it pry through the portage of the Head,
Like the Brasse Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelme it,
As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke
O're-hang and iutty his confounded Base,
Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean.
Now set the Teeth, and stretch the Nosthrill wide,
Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery Spirit
To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English,
Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe:
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,
Haue in these parts from Morne till Euen fought,
And sheath'd their Swords, for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your Mothers: now attest,
That those whom you call'd Fathers, did beget you.
Be Coppy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen,
Whose Lyms were made in England; shew vs here
The mettell of your Pasture: let vs sweare,
That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not:
For there is none of you so meane and base,
That hath not Noble luster in your eyes.
I see you stand like Grey-hounds in the slips,
Straying vpon the Start. The Game's afoot:
Follow your Spirit; and vpon this Charge,
Cry, God for Harry, England, and S[aint]. George.

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, and Boy.

  Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach

   Nim. 'Pray thee Corporall stay, the Knocks are too
hot: and for mine owne part, I haue not a Case of Liues:
the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song
of it

   Pist. The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe abound:
Knocks goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and
dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloody Field, doth winne
immortall fame

   Boy. Would I were in a Ale-house in London, I
would giue all my fame for a Pot of Ale, and safetie

   Pist. And I: If wishes would preuayle with me, my
purpose should not fayle with me; but thither would I
high

   Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on
bough.
Enter Fluellen.

  Flu. Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you
Cullions

   Pist. Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould: abate
thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage,
great Duke. Good Bawcock bate thy Rage: vse lenitie
sweet Chuck

   Nim. These be good humors: your Honor wins bad
humors.
Enter.

  Boy. As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three
Swashers: I am Boy to them all three, but all they three,
though they would serue me, could not be Man to me;
for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount to a man:
for Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by the
meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for Pistoll,
hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the
meanes whereof, a breakes Words, and keepes whole
Weapons: for Nim, hee hath heard, that men of few
Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say
his Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his
few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for
a neuer broke any mans Head but his owne, and that was
against a Post, when he was drunke. They will steale any
thing, and call it Purchase. Bardolph stole a Lute-case,
bore it twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence.
Nim and Bardolph are sworne Brothers in filching: and
in Callice they stole a fire-shouell. I knew by that peece
of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would
haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues
or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much against my
Manhood, if I should take from anothers Pocket, to put
into mine; for it is plaine pocketting vp of Wrongs.
I must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their
Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore
I must cast it vp.
Enter.

Enter Gower.

  Gower. Captaine Fluellen, you must come presently to
the Mynes; the Duke of Gloucester would speake with
you

   Flu. To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so
good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes
is not according to the disciplines of the Warre; the concauities
of it is not sufficient: for looke you, th' athuersarie,
you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt
himselfe foure yard vnder the Countermines: by Cheshu,
I thinke a will plowe vp all, if there is not better directions

   Gower. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the Order
of the Siege is giuen, is altogether directed by an Irish
man, a very valiant Gentleman yfaith

   Welch. It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not?
  Gower. I thinke it be

   Welch. By Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I will
verifie as much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions
in the true disciplines of the Warres, looke you, of the
Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.
Enter Makmorrice, and Captaine Iamy.

  Gower. Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine
Iamy, with him

   Welch. Captaine Iamy is a maruellous falorous Gentleman,
that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge
in th' aunchiant Warres, vpon my particular knowledge
of his directions: by Cheshu he will maintaine his
Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in
the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans

   Scot. I say gudday, Captaine Fluellen

   Welch. Godden to your Worship, good Captaine
Iames

   Gower. How now Captaine Mackmorrice, haue you
quit the Mynes? haue the Pioners giuen o're?
  Irish. By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke ish
giue ouer, the Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand
I sweare, and my fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done:
it ish giue ouer: I would haue blowed vp the Towne,
so Chrish saue me law, in an houre. O tish ill done, tish ill
done: by my Hand tish ill done

   Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I beseech you now,
will you voutsafe me, looke you, a few disputations with
you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of
the Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way of Argument,
looke you, and friendly communication: partly to satisfie
my Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of
my Mind: as touching the direction of the Militarie discipline,
that is the Point

   Scot. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath,
and I sall quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion:
that sall I mary

   Irish. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue me:
the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the
King, and the Dukes: it is no time to discourse, the Town
is beseech'd: and the Trumpet call vs to the breech, and
we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs all:
so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my
hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be
done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa'me law

   Scot. By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take themselues
to slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge i'th'
grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as valorously
as I may, that sal I suerly do, that is the breff and
the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some question
tween you tway

   Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you,
vnder your correction, there is not many of your Nation

   Irish. Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a
Villaine, and a Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What
ish my Nation? Who talkes of my Nation?
  Welch. Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise
then is meant, Captaine Mackmorrice, peraduenture I
shall thinke you doe not vse me with that affabilitie, as in
discretion you ought to vse me, looke you, being as good
a man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre, and
in the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particularities

   Irish. I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe:
so Chrish saue me, I will cut off your Head

   Gower. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other

   Scot. A, that's a foule fault.

A Parley.

  Gower. The Towne sounds a Parley

   Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, when there is more
better oportunitie to be required, looke you, I will be
so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of Warre:
and there is an end.
Enter.

Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.

  King. How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne?
This is the latest Parle we will admit:
Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues,
Or like to men prowd of destruction,
Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier,
A Name that in my thoughts becomes me best;
If I begin the batt'rie once againe,
I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew,
Till in her ashes she lye buryed.
The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp,
And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart,
In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge
With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse
Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants.
What is it then to me, if impious Warre,
Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends,
Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats,
Enlynckt to wast and desolation?
What is't to me, when you your selues are cause,
If your pure Maydens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing Violation?
What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse,
When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere?
We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command
Vpon th' enraged Souldiers in their spoyle,
As send Precepts to the Leuiathan, to come ashore.
Therefore, you men of Harflew,
Take pitty of your Towne and of your People,
Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command,
Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace
O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds
Of heady Murther, Spoyle, and Villany.
If not: why in a moment looke to see
The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand
Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters:
Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards,
And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls:
Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes,
Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd,
Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry,
At Herods bloody-hunting slaughter-men.
What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd?
Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd.
Enter Gouernour.

  Gouer. Our expectation hath this day an end:
The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated,
Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready,
To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King,
We yeeld our Towne and Liues to thy soft Mercy:
Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours,
For we no longer are defensible

   King. Open your Gates: Come Vnckle Exeter,
Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine,
And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French:
Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle.
The Winter comming on, and Sicknesse growing
Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis.
To night in Harflew will we be your Guest,
To morrow for the March are we addrest.

Flourish, and enter the Towne.

Enter Katherine and an old Gentlewoman.

  Kathe. Alice, tu as este en Angleterre, & tu bien parlas
le Language

   Alice. En peu Madame

   Kath. Ie te prie m' ensigniez, il faut que ie apprend a parlen:
Comient appelle vous le main en Anglois?
  Alice. Le main il & appelle de Hand

   Kath. De Hand

   Alice. E le doyts

   Kat. Le doyts, ma foy Ie oublie, e doyt mays, ie me souemeray
le doyts ie pense qu'ils ont appelle de fingres, ou de fingres

   Alice. Le main de Hand, le doyts le Fingres, ie pense que ie
suis le bon escholier

   Kath. I'ay gaynie diux mots d' Anglois vistement, coment
appelle vous le ongles?
  Alice. Le ongles, les appellons de Nayles

   Kath. De Nayles escoute: dites moy, si ie parle bien: de
Hand, de Fingres, e de Nayles

   Alice. C'est bien dict Madame, il & fort bon Anglois

   Kath. Dites moy l' Anglois pour le bras

   Alice. De Arme, Madame

   Kath. E de coudee

   Alice. D' Elbow

   Kath. D' Elbow: Ie men fay le repiticio de touts les mots
que vous maves, apprins des a present

   Alice. Il & trop difficile Madame, comme Ie pense

   Kath. Excuse moy Alice escoute, d' Hand, de Fingre, de
Nayles, d' Arma, de Bilbow

   Alice. D' Elbow, Madame

   Kath. O Seigneur Dieu, ie men oublie d' Elbow, coment appelle
vous le col

   Alice. De Nick, Madame

   Kath. De Nick, e le menton

   Alice. De Chin

   Kath. De Sin: le col de Nick, le menton de Sin

   Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur en verite vous pronouncies
les mots ausi droict, que le Natifs d' Angleterre

   Kath. Ie ne doute point d' apprendre par de grace de Dieu,
& en peu de temps

   Alice. N' aue vos y desia oublie ce que ie vous a ensignie

   Kath. Nome ie recitera a vous promptement, d' Hand, de
Fingre, de Maylees

   Alice. De Nayles, Madame

   Kath. De Nayles, de Arme, de Ilbow

   Alice. Sans vostre honeus d' Elbow

   Kath. Ainsi de ie d' Elbow, de Nick, & de Sin: coment appelle
vous les pied & de roba

   Alice. Le Foot Madame, & le Count

   Kath. Le Foot, & le Count: O Seignieur Dieu, il sont le
mots de son mauvais corruptible grosse & impudique, & non
pour le Dames de Honeur d' vser: Ie ne voudray pronouncer ce
mots deuant le Seigneurs de France, pour toute le monde, fo le
Foot & le Count, neant moys, Ie recitera vn autrefoys ma lecon
ensembe, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arme, d' Elbow, de
Nick, de Sin, de Foot, le Count

   Alice. Excellent, Madame

   Kath. C'est asses pour vne foyes, alons nous a diner.
Enter.

Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the Constable of France,
and
others.

  King. 'Tis certaine he hath past the Riuer Some

   Const. And if he be not fought withall, my Lord,
Let vs not liue in France: let vs quit all,
And giue our Vineyards to a barbarous People

   Dolph. O Dieu viuant: Shall a few Sprayes of vs,
The emptying of our Fathers Luxurie,
Our Syens, put in wilde and sauage Stock,
Spirt vp so suddenly into the Clouds,
And ouer-looke their Grafters?
  Brit. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards:
Mort du ma vie, if they march along
Vnfought withall, but I will sell my Dukedome,
To buy a slobbry and a durtie Farme
In that nooke-shotten Ile of Albion

   Const. Dieu de Battailes, where haue they this mettell?
Is not their Clymate foggy, raw, and dull?
On whom, as in despight, the Sunne lookes pale,
Killing their Fruit with frownes. Can sodden Water,
A Drench for sur-reyn'd Iades, their Barly broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with Wine,
Seeme frostie? O, for honor of our Land,
Let vs not hang like roping Isyckles
Vpon our Houses Thatch, whiles a more frostie People
Sweat drops of gallant Youth in our rich fields:
Poore we call them, in their Natiue Lords

   Dolphin. By Faith and Honor,
Our Madames mock at vs, and plainely say,
Our Mettell is bred out, and they will giue
Their bodyes to the Lust of English Youth,
To new-store France with Bastard Warriors

   Brit. They bid vs to the English Dancing-Schooles,
And teach Lauolta's high, and swift Carranto's,
Saying, our Grace is onely in our Heeles,
And that we are most loftie Run-awayes

   King. Where is Montioy the Herald? speed him hence,
Let him greet England with our sharpe defiance.
Vp Princes, and with spirit of Honor edged,
More sharper then your Swords, high to the field:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France,
You Dukes of Orleance, Burbon, and of Berry,
Alanson, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonie,
Iaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont,
Beumont, Grand Pree, Roussi, and Faulconbridge,
Loys, Lestrale, Bouciquall, and Charaloyes,
High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords, and Kings;
For your great Seats, now quit you of great shames:
Barre Harry England, that sweepes through our Land
With Penons painted in the blood of Harflew:
Rush on his Hoast, as doth the melted Snow
Vpon the Valleyes, whose low Vassall Seat,
The Alpes doth spit, and void his rhewme vpon.
Goe downe vpon him, you haue Power enough,
And in a Captiue Chariot, into Roan
Bring him our Prisoner

   Const. This becomes the Great.
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
His Souldiers sick, and famisht in their March:
For I am sure, when he shall see our Army,
Hee'le drop his heart into the sinck of feare,
And for atchieuement, offer vs his Ransome

   King. Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy,
And let him say to England, that we send,
To know what willing Ransome he will giue.
Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with vs in Roan

   Dolph. Not so, I doe beseech your Maiestie

   King. Be patient, for you shall remaine with vs.
Now forth Lord Constable, and Princes all,
And quickly bring vs word of Englands fall.

Exeunt.

Enter Captaines, English and Welch, Gower and Fluellen.

  Gower. How now Captaine Fluellen, come you from
the Bridge?
  Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent Seruices committed
at the Bridge

   Gower. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
  Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon,
and a man that I loue and honour with my soule,
and my heart, and my dutie, and my liue, and my liuing,
and my vttermost power. He is not, God be praysed and
blessed, any hurt in the World, but keepes the Bridge
most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient
Lieutenant there at the Pridge, I thinke in my very
conscience hee is as valiant a man as Marke Anthony, and
hee is a man of no estimation in the World, but I did see
him doe as gallant seruice

   Gower. What doe you call him?
  Flu. Hee is call'd aunchient Pistoll

   Gower. I know him not.
Enter Pistoll.

  Flu. Here is the man

   Pist. Captaine, I thee beseech to doe me fauours: the
Duke of Exeter doth loue thee well

   Flu. I, I prayse God, and I haue merited some loue at
his hands

   Pist. Bardolph, a Souldier firme and sound of heart,
and of buxome valour, hath by cruell Fate, and giddie
Fortunes furious fickle Wheele, that Goddesse blind, that
stands vpon the rolling restlesse Stone

   Flu. By your patience, aunchient Pistoll: Fortune is
painted blinde, with a Muffler afore his eyes, to signifie
to you, that Fortune is blinde; and shee is painted also
with a Wheele, to signifie to you, which is the Morall of
it, that shee is turning and inconstant, and mutabilitie,
and variation: and her foot, looke you, is fixed vpon a
Sphericall Stone, which rowles, and rowles, and rowles:
in good truth, the Poet makes a most excellent description
of it: Fortune is an excellent Morall

   Pist. Fortune is Bardolphs foe, and frownes on him:
for he hath stolne a Pax, and hanged must a be: a damned
death: let Gallowes gape for Dogge, let Man goe free,
and let not Hempe his Wind-pipe suffocate: but Exeter
hath giuen the doome of death, for Pax of little price.
Therefore goe speake, the Duke will heare thy voyce;
and let not Bardolphs vitall thred bee cut with edge of
Penny-Cord, and vile reproach. Speake Captaine for
his Life, and I will thee requite

   Flu. Aunchient Pistoll, I doe partly vnderstand your
meaning

   Pist. Why then reioyce therefore

   Flu. Certainly Aunchient, it is not a thing to reioyce
at: for if, looke you, he were my Brother, I would desire
the Duke to vse his good pleasure, and put him to execution;
for discipline ought to be vsed

   Pist. Dye, and be dam'd, and Figo for thy friendship

   Flu. It is well

   Pist. The Figge of Spaine.
Enter.

  Flu. Very good

   Gower. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit Rascall, I
remember him now: a Bawd, a Cut-purse

   Flu. Ile assure you, a vtt'red as praue words at the
Pridge, as you shall see in a Summers day: but it is very
well: what he ha's spoke to me, that is well I warrant you,
when time is serue

   Gower. Why 'tis a Gull, a Foole, a Rogue, that now and
then goes to the Warres, to grace himselfe at his returne
into London, vnder the forme of a Souldier: and such
fellowes are perfit in the Great Commanders Names, and
they will learne you by rote where Seruices were done;
at such and such a Sconce, at such a Breach, at such a Conuoy:
who came off brauely, who was shot, who disgrac'd,
what termes the Enemy stood on: and this they
conne perfitly in the phrase of Warre; which they tricke
vp with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Generalls
Cut, and a horride Sute of the Campe, will doe among
foming Bottles, and Ale-washt Wits, is wonderfull
to be thought on: but you must learne to know such
slanders of the age, or else you may be maruellously mistooke

   Flu. I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceiue
hee is not the man that hee would gladly make shew to
the World hee is: if I finde a hole in his Coat, I will tell
him my minde: hearke you, the King is comming, and I
must speake with him from the Pridge.

Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poore Souldiers.

  Flu. God plesse your Maiestie

   King. How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge?
  Flu. I, so please your Maiestie: The Duke of Exeter
ha's very gallantly maintain'd the Pridge; the French is
gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and most praue
passages: marry, th' athuersarie was haue possession of
the Pridge, but he is enforced to retyre, and the Duke of
Exeter is Master of the Pridge: I can tell your Maiestie,
the Duke is a praue man

   King. What men haue you lost, Fluellen?
  Flu. The perdition of th' athuersarie hath beene very
great, reasonnable great: marry for my part, I thinke the
Duke hath lost neuer a man, but one that is like to be executed
for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Maiestie
know the man: his face is all bubukles and whelkes,
and knobs, and flames a fire, and his lippes blowes at his
nose, and it is like a coale of fire, sometimes plew, and
sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's
out

   King. Wee would haue all such offendors so cut off:
and we giue expresse charge, that in our Marches through
the Countrey, there be nothing compell'd from the Villages;
nothing taken, but pay'd for: none of the French
vpbrayded or abused in disdainefull Language; for when
Leuitie and Crueltie play for a Kingdome, the gentler
Gamester is the soonest winner.

Tucket. Enter Mountioy.

  Mountioy. You know me by my habit

   King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of
thee?
  Mountioy. My Masters mind

   King. Vnfold it

   Mountioy. Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry
of England, Though we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe:
Aduantage is a better Souldier then rashnesse. Tell him,
wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that wee
thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full
ripe. Now wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is imperiall:
England shall repent his folly, see his weakenesse,
and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider
of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we
haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we
haue digested; which in weight to re-answer, his pettinesse
would bow vnder. For our losses, his Exchequer is
too poore; for th' effusion of our bloud, the Muster of his
Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his
owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worthlesse
satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for
conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation
is pronounc't: So farre my King and Master;
so much my Office

   King. What is thy name? I know thy qualitie

   Mount. Mountioy

   King. Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee backe,
And tell thy King, I doe not seeke him now,
But could be willing to march on to Callice,
Without impeachment: for to say the sooth,
Though 'tis no wisdome to confesse so much
Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage,
My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled,
My numbers lessen'd: and those few I haue,
Almost no better then so many French;
Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald,
I thought, vpon one payre of English Legges
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgiue me God,
That I doe bragge thus; this your ayre of France
Hath blowne that vice in me. I must repent:
Goe therefore tell thy Master, heere I am;
My Ransome, is this frayle and worthlesse Trunke;
My Army, but a weake and sickly Guard:
Yet God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himselfe, and such another Neighbor
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountioy.
Goe bid thy Master well aduise himselfe.
If we may passe, we will: if we be hindred,
We shall your tawnie ground with your red blood
Discolour: and so Mountioy, fare you well.
The summe of all our Answer is but this:
We would not seeke a Battaile as we are,
Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it:
So tell your Master

   Mount. I shall deliuer so: Thankes to your Highnesse

   Glouc. I hope they will not come vpon vs now

   King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs:
March to the Bridge, it now drawes toward night,
Beyond the Riuer wee'le encampe our selues,
And on to morrow bid them march away.

Exeunt.

Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs, Orleance,
Dolphin, with
others.

  Const. Tut, I haue the best Armour of the World:
would it were day

   Orleance. You haue an excellent Armour: but let my
Horse haue his due

   Const. It is the best Horse of Europe

   Orleance. Will it neuer be Morning?
  Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Constable,
you talke of Horse and Armour?
  Orleance. You are as well prouided of both, as any
Prince in the World

   Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change
my Horse with any that treades but on foure postures:
ch' ha: he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrayles were
hayres: le Cheual volante, the Pegasus, ches les narines de
feu. When I bestryde him, I soare, I am a Hawke: he trots
the ayre: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest
horne of his hoofe, is more Musicall then the Pipe of
Hermes

   Orleance. Hee's of the colour of the Nutmeg

   Dolph. And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beast
for Perseus: hee is pure Ayre and Fire; and the dull Elements
of Earth and Water neuer appeare in him, but only
in patient stillnesse while his Rider mounts him: hee
is indeede a Horse, and all other Iades you may call
Beasts

   Const. Indeed my Lord, it is a most absolute and excellent
Horse

   Dolph. It is the Prince of Palfrayes, his Neigh is like
the bidding of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces
Homage

   Orleance. No more Cousin

   Dolph. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from
the rising of the Larke to the lodging of the Lambe,
varie deserued prayse on my Palfray: it is a Theame as
fluent as the Sea: Turne the Sands into eloquent tongues,
and my Horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subiect
for a Soueraigne to reason on, and for a Soueraignes Soueraigne
to ride on: And for the World, familiar to vs,
and vnknowne, to lay apart their particular Functions,
and wonder at him, I once writ a Sonnet in his prayse,
and began thus, Wonder of Nature

   Orleance. I haue heard a Sonnet begin so to ones Mistresse

   Dolph. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd
to my Courser, for my Horse is my Mistresse

   Orleance. Your Mistresse beares well

   Dolph. Me well, which is the prescript prayse and perfection
of a good and particular Mistresse

   Const. Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistresse
shrewdly shooke your back

   Dolph. So perhaps did yours

   Const. Mine was not bridled

   Dolph. O then belike she was old and gentle, and you
rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your French Hose off, and in
your strait Strossers

   Const. You haue good iudgement in Horsemanship

   Dolph. Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and
ride not warily, fall into foule Boggs: I had rather haue
my Horse to my Mistresse

   Const. I had as liue haue my Mistresse a Iade

   Dolph. I tell thee Constable, my Mistresse weares his
owne hayre

   Const. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a
Sow to my Mistresse

   Dolph. Le chien est retourne a son propre vemissement est
la leuye lauee au bourbier: thou mak'st vse of any thing

   Const. Yet doe I not vse my Horse for my Mistresse,
or any such Prouerbe, so little kin to the purpose

   Ramb. My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw in
your Tent to night, are those Starres or Sunnes vpon it?
  Const. Starres my Lord

   Dolph. Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope

   Const. And yet my Sky shall not want

   Dolph. That may be, for you beare a many superfluously,
and 'twere more honor some were away

   Const. Eu'n as your Horse beares your prayses, who
would trot as well, were some of your bragges dismounted

   Dolph. Would I were able to loade him with his desert.
Will it neuer be day? I will trot to morrow a mile,
and my way shall be paued with English Faces

   Const. I will not say so, for feare I should be fac't out
of my way: but I would it were morning, for I would
faine be about the eares of the English

   Ramb. Who will goe to Hazard with me for twentie
Prisoners?
  Const. You must first goe your selfe to hazard, ere you
haue them

   Dolph. 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my selfe.
Enter.

  Orleance. The Dolphin longs for morning

   Ramb. He longs to eate the English

   Const. I thinke he will eate all he kills

   Orleance. By the white Hand of my Lady, hee's a gallant
Prince

   Const. Sweare by her Foot, that she may tread out the
Oath

   Orleance. He is simply the most actiue Gentleman of
France

   Const. Doing is actiuitie, and he will still be doing

   Orleance. He neuer did harme, that I heard of

   Const. Nor will doe none to morrow: hee will keepe
that good name still

   Orleance. I know him to be valiant

   Const. I was told that, by one that knowes him better
then you

   Orleance. What's hee?
  Const. Marry hee told me so himselfe, and hee sayd hee
car'd not who knew it

   Orleance. Hee needes not, it is no hidden vertue in
him

   Const. By my faith Sir, but it is: neuer any body saw
it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it
appeares, it will bate

   Orleance. Ill will neuer sayd well

   Const. I will cap that Prouerbe with, There is flatterie
in friendship

   Orleance. And I will take vp that with, Giue the Deuill
his due

   Const. Well plac't: there stands your friend for the
Deuill: haue at the very eye of that Prouerbe with, A
Pox of the Deuill

   Orleance. You are the better at Prouerbs, by how much
a Fooles Bolt is soone shot

   Const. You haue shot ouer

   Orleance. 'Tis not the first time you were ouer-shot.
Enter a Messenger.

  Mess. My Lord high Constable, the English lye within
fifteene hundred paces of your Tents

   Const. Who hath measur'd the ground?
  Mess. The Lord Grandpree

   Const. A valiant and most expert Gentleman. Would
it were day? Alas poore Harry of England: hee longs
not for the Dawning, as wee doe

   Orleance. What a wretched and peeuish fellow is this
King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers
so farre out of his knowledge

   Const. If the English had any apprehension, they
would runne away

   Orleance. That they lack: for if their heads had any intellectuall
Armour, they could neuer weare such heauie
Head-pieces

   Ramb. That Iland of England breedes very valiant
Creatures; their Mastiffes are of vnmatchable courage

   Orleance. Foolish Curres, that runne winking into
the mouth of a Russian Beare, and haue their heads crusht
like rotten Apples: you may as well say, that's a valiant
Flea, that dare eate his breakefast on the Lippe of a
Lyon

   Const. Iust, iust: and the men doe sympathize with
the Mastiffes, in robustious and rough comming on,
leauing their Wits with their Wiues: and then giue
them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they
will eate like Wolues, and fight like Deuils

   Orleance. I, but these English are shrowdly out of
Beefe

   Const. Then shall we finde to morrow, they haue only
stomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to
arme: come, shall we about it?
  Orleance. It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten
Wee shall haue each a hundred English men.

Exeunt.


Actus Tertius.

Chorus.

Now entertaine coniecture of a time,
When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke
Fills the wide Vessell of the Vniuerse.
From Camp to Camp, through the foule Womb of Night
The Humme of eyther Army stilly sounds;
That the fixt Centinels almost receiue
The secret Whispers of each others Watch.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each Battaile sees the others vmber'd face.
Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull Neighs
Piercing the Nights dull Eare: and from the Tents,
The Armourers accomplishing the Knights,
With busie Hammers closing Riuets vp,
Giue dreadfull note of preparation.
The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe towle:
And the third howre of drowsie Morning nam'd,
Prowd of their Numbers, and secure in Soule,
The confident and ouer-lustie French,
Doe the low-rated English play at Dice;
And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night,
Who like a foule and ougly Witch doth limpe
So tediously away. The poore condemned English,
Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate
The Mornings danger: and their gesture sad,
Inuesting lanke-leane Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats,
Presented them vnto the gazing Moone
So many horride Ghosts. O now, who will behold
The Royall Captaine of this ruin'd Band
Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent;
Let him cry, Prayse and Glory on his head:
For forth he goes, and visits all his Hoast,
Bids them good morrow with a modest Smyle,
And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countreymen.
Vpon his Royall Face there is no note,
How dread an Army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour
Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night:
But freshly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint,
With chearefull semblance, and sweet Maiestie:
That euery Wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes.
A Largesse vniuersall, like the Sunne,
His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one,
Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all
Behold, as may vnworthinesse define.
A little touch of Harry in the Night,
And so our Scene must to the Battaile flye:
Where, O for pitty, we shall much disgrace,
With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles,
(Right ill dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous)
The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and see,
Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee.
Enter.

Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.

  King. Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger,
The greater therefore should our Courage be.
God morrow Brother Bedford: God Almightie,
There is some soule of goodnesse in things euill,
Would men obseruingly distill it out.
For our bad Neighbour makes vs early stirrers,
Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry.
Besides, they are our outward Consciences,
And Preachers to vs all; admonishing,
That we should dresse vs fairely for our end.
Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed,
And make a Morall of the Diuell himselfe.
Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good soft Pillow for that good white Head,
Were better then a churlish turfe of France

   Erping. Not so my Liege, this Lodging likes me better,
Since I may say, now lye I like a King

   King. 'Tis good for men to loue their present paines,
Vpon example, so the Spirit is eased:
And when the Mind is quickned, out of doubt
The Organs, though defunct and dead before,
Breake vp their drowsie Graue, and newly moue
With casted slough, and fresh legeritie.
Lend me thy Cloake Sir Thomas: Brothers both,
Commend me to the Princes in our Campe;
Doe my good morrow to them, and anon
Desire them all to my Pauillion

   Gloster. We shall, my Liege

   Erping. Shall I attend your Grace?
  King. No, my good Knight:
Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England:
I and my Bosome must debate a while,
And then I would no other company

   Erping. The Lord in Heauen blesse thee, Noble
Harry.

Exeunt.

  King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearefully.
Enter Pistoll

   Pist. Che vous la?
  King. A friend

   Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou
base, common, and popular?
  King. I am a Gentleman of a Company

   Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke?
  King. Euen so: what are you?
  Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor

   King. Then you are a better then the King

   Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a
Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist
most valiant: I kisse his durtie shooe, and from heartstring
I loue the louely Bully. What is thy Name?
  King. Harry le Roy

   Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew?
  King. No, I am a Welchman

   Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen?
  King. Yes

   Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate vpon
S[aint]. Dauies day

   King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe
that day, least he knock that about yours

   Pist. Art thou his friend?
  King. And his Kinsman too

   Pist. The Figo for thee then

   King. I thanke you: God be with you

   Pist. My name is Pistol call'd.
Enter.

  King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.

Manet King.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

  Gower. Captaine Fluellen

   Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it
is the greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when
the true and aunchient Prerogatifes and Lawes of the
Warres is not kept: if you would take the paines but to
examine the Warres of Pompey the Great, you shall finde,
I warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor pibble bable
in Pompeyes Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde
the Ceremonies of the Warres, and the Cares of it, and
the Formes of it, and the Sobrietie of it, and the Modestie
of it, to be otherwise

   Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all
Night

   Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a prating
Coxcombe; is it meet, thinke you, that wee should
also, looke you, be an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe,
in your owne conscience now?
  Gow. I will speake lower

   Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.
Enter.

  King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion,
There is much care and valour in this Welchman.
Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael
Williams.


  Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning
which breakes yonder?
  Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause to
desire the approach of day

   Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day,
but I thinke wee shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes
there?
  King. A Friend

   Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you?
  King. Vnder Sir Iohn Erpingham

   Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde
Gentleman: I pray you, what thinkes he of our estate?
  King. Euen as men wrackt vpon a Sand, that looke to
be washt off the next Tyde

   Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King?
  King. No: nor it is not meet he should: for though I
speake it to you, I thinke the King is but a man, as I am:
the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the Element
shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but
humane Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse
he appeares but a man; and though his affections
are higher mounted then ours, yet when they stoupe,
they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees
reason of feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of
the same rellish as ours are: yet in reason, no man should
possesse him with any appearance of feare; least hee, by
shewing it, should dis-hearten his Army

   Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will:
but I beleeue, as cold a Night as 'tis, hee could wish himselfe
in Thames vp to the Neck; and so I would he were,
and I by him, at all aduentures, so we were quit here

   King. By my troth, I will speake my conscience of the
King: I thinke hee would not wish himselfe any where,
but where hee is

   Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be
sure to be ransomed, and a many poore mens liues saued

   King. I dare say, you loue him not so ill, to wish him
here alone: howsoeuer you speake this to feele other
mens minds, me thinks I could not dye any where so contented,
as in the Kings company; his Cause being iust, and
his Quarrell honorable

   Williams. That's more then we know

   Bates. I, or more then wee should seeke after; for wee
know enough, if wee know wee are the Kings Subiects:
if his Cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes
the Cryme of it out of vs

   Williams. But if the Cause be not good, the King himselfe
hath a heauie Reckoning to make, when all those
Legges, and Armes, and Heads, chopt off in a Battaile,
shall ioyne together at the latter day, and cry all, Wee dyed
at such a place, some swearing, some crying for a Surgean;
some vpon their Wiues, left poore behind them;
some vpon the Debts they owe, some vpon their Children
rawly left: I am afear'd, there are few dye well, that dye
in a Battaile: for how can they charitably dispose of any
thing, when Blood is their argument? Now, if these men
doe not dye well, it will be a black matter for the King,
that led them to it; who to disobey, were against all proportion
of subiection

   King. So, if a Sonne that is by his Father sent about
Merchandize, doe sinfully miscarry vpon the Sea; the imputation
of his wickednesse, by your rule, should be imposed
vpon his Father that sent him: or if a Seruant, vnder
his Masters command, transporting a summe of Money,
be assayled by Robbers, and dye in many irreconcil'd
Iniquities; you may call the businesse of the Master the
author of the Seruants damnation: but this is not so:
The King is not bound to answer the particular endings
of his Souldiers, the Father of his Sonne, nor the Master
of his Seruant; for they purpose not their death, when
they purpose their seruices. Besides, there is no King, be
his Cause neuer so spotlesse, if it come to the arbitrement
of Swords, can trye it out with all vnspotted Souldiers:
some (peraduenture) haue on them the guilt of
premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling
Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie; some,
making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored
the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie.
Now, if these men haue defeated the Law, and outrunne
Natiue punishment; though they can out-strip
men, they haue no wings to flye from God. Warre is
his Beadle, Warre is his Vengeance: so that here men
are punisht, for before breach of the Kings Lawes, in
now the Kings Quarrell: where they feared the death,
they haue borne life away; and where they would bee
safe, they perish. Then if they dye vnprouided, no more
is the King guiltie of their damnation, then hee was before
guiltie of those Impieties, for the which they are
now visited. Euery Subiects Dutie is the Kings, but
euery Subiects Soule is his owne. Therefore should
euery Souldier in the Warres doe as euery sicke man in
his Bed, wash euery Moth out of his Conscience: and
dying so, Death is to him aduantage; or not dying,
the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was
gayned: and in him that escapes, it were not sinne to
thinke, that making God so free an offer, he let him outliue
that day, to see his Greatnesse, and to teach others
how they should prepare

   Will. 'Tis certaine, euery man that dyes ill, the ill vpon
his owne head, the King is not to answer it

   Bates. I doe not desire hee should answer for me, and
yet I determine to fight lustily for him

   King. I my selfe heard the King say he would not be
ransom'd

   Will. I, hee said so, to make vs fight chearefully: but
when our throats are cut, hee may be ransom'd, and wee
ne're the wiser

   King. If I liue to see it, I will neuer trust his word after

   Will. You pay him then: that's a perillous shot out
of an Elder Gunne, that a poore and a priuate displeasure
can doe against a Monarch: you may as well goe about
to turne the Sunne to yce, with fanning in his face with a
Peacocks feather: You'le neuer trust his word after;
come, 'tis a foolish saying

   King. Your reproofe is something too round, I should
be angry with you, if the time were conuenient

   Will. Let it bee a Quarrell betweene vs, if you
liue

   King. I embrace it

   Will. How shall I know thee againe?
  King. Giue me any Gage of thine, and I will weare it
in my Bonnet: Then if euer thou dar'st acknowledge it,
I will make it my Quarrell

   Will. Heere's my Gloue: Giue mee another of
thine

   King. There

   Will. This will I also weare in my Cap: if euer thou
come to me, and say, after to morrow, This is my Gloue,
by this Hand I will take thee a box on the eare

   King. If euer I liue to see it, I will challenge it

   Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd

   King. Well, I will doe it, though I take thee in the
Kings companie

   Will. Keepe thy word: fare thee well

   Bates. Be friends you English fooles, be friends, wee
haue French Quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

Exit Souldiers.

  King. Indeede the French may lay twentie French
Crownes to one, they will beat vs, for they beare them
on their shoulders: but it is no English Treason to cut
French Crownes, and to morrow the King himselfe will
be a Clipper.
Vpon the King, let vs our Liues, our Soules,
Our Debts, our carefull Wiues,
Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the King:
We must beare all.
O hard Condition, Twin-borne with Greatnesse,
Subiect to the breath of euery foole, whose sence
No more can feele, but his owne wringing.
What infinite hearts-ease must Kings neglect,
That priuate men enioy?
And what haue Kings, that Priuates haue not too,
Saue Ceremonie, saue generall Ceremonie?
And what art thou, thou Idoll Ceremonie?
What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more
Of mortall griefes, then doe thy worshippers.
What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings in?
O Ceremonie, shew me but thy worth.
What? is thy Soule of Odoration?
Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Forme,
Creating awe and feare in other men?
Wherein thou art lesse happy, being fear'd,
Then they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet,
But poyson'd flatterie? O, be sick, great Greatnesse,
And bid thy Ceremonie giue thee cure.
Thinks thou the fierie Feuer will goe out
With Titles blowne from Adulation?
Will it giue place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggers knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou prowd Dreame,
That play'st so subtilly with a Kings Repose.
I am a King that find thee: and I know,
'Tis not the Balme, the Scepter, and the Ball,
The Sword, the Mase, the Crowne Imperiall,
The enter-tissued Robe of Gold and Pearle,
The farsed Title running 'fore the King,
The Throne he sits on: nor the Tyde of Pompe,
That beates vpon the high shore of this World:
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonie;
Not all these, lay'd in Bed Maiesticall,
Can sleepe so soundly, as the wretched Slaue:
Who with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressefull bread,
Neuer sees horride Night, the Child of Hell:
But like a Lacquey, from the Rise to Set,
Sweates in the eye of Phebus; and all Night
Sleepes in Elizium: next day after dawne,
Doth rise and helpe Hiperio[n] to his Horse,
And followes so the euer-running yeere
With profitable labour to his Graue:
And but for Ceremonie, such a Wretch,
Winding vp Dayes with toyle, and Nights with sleepe,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a King.
The Slaue, a Member of the Countreyes peace,
Enioyes it; but in grosse braine little wots,
What watch the King keepes, to maintaine the peace;
Whose howres, the Pesant best aduantages.
Enter Erpingham.

  Erp. My Lord, your Nobles iealous of your absence,
Seeke through your Campe to find you

   King. Good old Knight, collect them all together
At my Tent: Ile be before thee

   Erp. I shall doo't, my Lord.
Enter.

  King. O God of Battailes, steele my Souldiers hearts,
Possesse them not with feare: Take from them now
The sence of reckning of th' opposed numbers:
Pluck their hearts from them. Not to day, O Lord,
O not to day, thinke not vpon the fault
My Father made, in compassing the Crowne.
I Richards body haue interred new,
And on it haue bestowed more contrite teares,
Then from it issued forced drops of blood.
Fiue hundred poore I haue in yeerely pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold vp
Toward Heauen, to pardon blood:
And I haue built two Chauntries,
Where the sad and solemne Priests sing still
For Richards Soule. More will I doe:
Though all that I can doe, is nothing worth;
Since that my Penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloucester.

  Glouc. My Liege

   King. My Brother Gloucesters voyce? I:
I know thy errand, I will goe with thee:
The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs, and Beaumont.

  Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my
Lords

   Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay:
Ha

   Orleance. Oh braue Spirit

   Dolph. Via les ewes & terre

   Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu

   Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance.
Enter Constable.

Now my Lord Constable?
  Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present Seruice
neigh

   Dolph. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And doubt them with superfluous courage: ha

   Ram. What, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood?
How shall we then behold their naturall teares?
Enter Messenger.

  Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French
Peeres

   Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse.
Doe but behold yond poore and starued Band,
And your faire shew shall suck away their Soules,
Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men.
There is not worke enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly Veines,
To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne,
That our French Gallants shall to day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport. Let vs but blow on them,
The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them.
'Tis positiue against all exceptions, Lords,
That our superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants,
Who in vnnecessarie action swarme
About our Squares of Battaile, were enow
To purge this field of such a hilding Foe;
Though we vpon this Mountaines Basis by,
Tooke stand for idle speculation:
But that our Honours must not. What's to say?
A very little little let vs doe,
And all is done: then let the Trumpets sound
The Tucket Sonuance, and the Note to mount:
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch downe in feare, and yeeld.
Enter Graundpree.

  Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France?
Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-fauoredly become the Morning field:
Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose,
And our Ayre shakes them passing scornefully.
Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd Hoast,
And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes.
The Horsemen sit like fixed Candlesticks,
With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore Iades
Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides and hips:
The gumme downe roping from their pale-dead eyes,
And in their pale dull mouthes the Iymold Bitt
Lyes foule with chaw'd-grasse, still and motionlesse.
And their executors, the knauish Crowes,
Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre.
Description cannot sute it selfe in words,
To demonstrate the Life of such a Battaile,
In life so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe

   Const. They haue said their prayers,
And they stay for death

   Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes,
And giue their fasting Horses Prouender,
And after fight with them?
  Const. I stay but for my Guard: on
To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take,
And vse it for my haste. Come, come away,
The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Hoast:
Salisbury, and Westmerland.

  Glouc. Where is the King?
  Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Battaile

   West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand

   Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh

   Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes.
God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge:
If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen;
Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,
My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu

   Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee:
And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour

   Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day

   Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse,
Princely in both.
Enter the King.

  West. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England,
That doe no worke to day

   King. What's he that wishes so?
My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin:
If we are markt to dye, we are enow
To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold,
Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost:
It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sinne to couet Honor,
I am the most offending Soule aliue.
No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England:
Gods peace, I would not loose so great an Honor,
As one man more me thinkes would share from me,
For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more:
Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast,
That he which hath no stomack to this fight,
Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made,
And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse:
We would not dye in that mans companie,
That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs.
This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian:
He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rowse him at the Name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and liue old age,
Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian.
Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres:
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot:
But hee'le remember, with aduantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing Cups freshly remembred.
This story shall the good man teach his sonne:
And Crispine Crispian shall ne're goe by,
From this day to the ending of the World,
But we in it shall be remembred;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he to day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother: be he ne're so vile,
This day shall gentle his Condition.
And Gentlemen in England, now a bed,
Shall thinke themselues accurst they were not here;
And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes,
That fought with vs vpon Saint Crispines day.
Enter Salisbury.

  Sal. My Soueraign Lord, bestow your selfe with speed:
The French are brauely in their battailes set,
And will with all expedience charge on vs

   King. All things are ready, if our minds be so

   West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now

   King. Thou do'st not wish more helpe from England,
Couze?
  West. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone,
Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaile

   King. Why now thou hast vnwisht fiue thousand men:
Which likes me better, then to wish vs one.
You know your places: God be with you all.

Tucket. Enter Montioy.

  Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry,
If for thy Ransome thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured Ouerthrow:
For certainly, thou art so neere the Gulfe,
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy
The Constable desires thee, thou wilt mind
Thy followers of Repentance; that their Soules
May make a peacefull and a sweet retyre
From off these fields: where (wretches) their poore bodies
Must lye and fester

   King. Who hath sent thee now?
  Mont. The Constable of France

   King. I pray thee beare my former Answer back:
Bid them atchieue me, and then sell my bones.
Good God, why should they mock poore fellowes thus?
The man that once did sell the Lyons skin
While the beast liu'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
A many of our bodyes shall no doubt
Find Natiue Graues: vpon the which, I trust
Shall witnesse liue in Brasse of this dayes worke.
And those that leaue their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buryed in your Dunghills,
They shall be fam'd: for there the Sun shall greet them,
And draw their honors reeking vp to Heauen,
Leauing their earthly parts to choake your Clyme,
The smell whereof shall breed a Plague in France.
Marke then abounding valour in our English:
That being dead, like to the bullets crasing,
Breake out into a second course of mischiefe,
Killing in relapse of Mortalitie.
Let me speake prowdly: Tell the Constable,
We are but Warriors for the working day:
Our Gaynesse and our Gilt are all besmyrcht
With raynie Marching in the painefull field.
There's not a piece of feather in our Hoast:
Good argument (I hope) we will not flye:
And time hath worne vs into slouenrie.
But by the Masse, our hearts are in the trim:
And my poore Souldiers tell me, yet ere Night,
They'le be in fresher Robes, or they will pluck
The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads,
And turne them out of seruice. If they doe this,
As if God please, they shall; my Ransome then
Will soone be leuyed.
Herauld, saue thou thy labour:
Come thou no more for Ransome, gentle Herauld,
They shall haue none, I sweare, but these my ioynts:
Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm them,
Shall yeeld them little, tell the Constable

   Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Thou neuer shalt heare Herauld any more.
Enter.

  King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a
Ransome.
Enter Yorke.

  Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge
The leading of the Vaward

   King. Take it, braue Yorke.
Now Souldiers march away,
And how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistoll, French Souldier, Boy.

  Pist. Yeeld Curre

   French. Ie pense que vous estes le Gentilhome de bon qualitee

   Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a Gentleman?
What is thy Name? discusse

   French. O Seigneur Dieu

   Pist. O Signieur Dewe should be a Gentleman: perpend
my words O Signieur Dewe, and marke: O Signieur
Dewe, thou dyest on point of Fox, except O Signieur
thou doe giue to me egregious Ransome

   French. O prennes miserecordie aye pitez de moy

   Pist. Moy shall not serue, I will haue fortie Moyes: for
I will fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in droppes of
Crimson blood

   French. Est il impossible d' eschapper le force de ton bras

   Pist. Brasse, Curre? thou damned and luxurious Mountaine
Goat, offer'st me Brasse?
  French. O perdonne moy

   Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a Tonne of Moyes?
Come hither boy, aske me this slaue in French what is his
Name

   Boy. Escoute comment estes vous appelle?
  French. Mounsieur le Fer

   Boy. He sayes his Name is M. Fer

   Pist. M. Fer: Ile fer him, and firke him, and ferret him:
discusse the same in French vnto him

   Boy. I doe not know the French for fer, and ferret, and
firke

   Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat

   French. Que dit il Mounsieur?
  Boy. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faite vous
prest, car ce soldat icy est disposee tout asture de couppes vostre
gorge

   Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge permafoy pesant, vnlesse
thou giue me Crownes, braue Crownes; or mangled shalt
thou be by this my Sword