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So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
find we a time for frighted peace to pant

And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
to be commenced in strands afar remote

No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
shall daub her lips with her own children′s blood

No more shall trenching war channel her fields...

...nor bruise her flowerets
with the armed hoofs of hostile paces

Those opposed eyes, which, lately met
in the intestine shock and furious close of civil butchery...

...shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,
march all one way

And be no more opposed
against acquaintance, kindred and allies

The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
no more shall cut his master

Therefore, friends,
as far as to the sepulchre of Christ...

Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
we are impressed and engaged to fight

...forthwith a power of English shall we levy,
whose arms were moulded in their mother′s womb...

...to chase these pagans in those holy fields
over whose acres walked those blessed feet

Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed
for our advantage on the bitter cross

Then let me hear of you,
my gentle cousin Westmoreland...

...what yesternight our council did decree
in forwarding this dear expedience

My liege, this haste was hot in question,
and many limits of the charge set down but yesternight

When all athwart there came a post from Wales
loaden with heavy news. Whose worst was that...

...the noble Mortimer, leading the men of Herefordshire
to fight against the irregular and wild Glendower...

...was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
and a thousand of his people butchered

It seems then that the tidings of this broil
brake off our business for the Holy Land

This matched with other like, my gracious lord

Far more uneven and unwelcome news
came from the north and thus it did report

On Holy Rood day,
the gallant Hotspur there, young Harry Percy...

...and brave Lord Douglas,
that ever-valiant and approved Scot...

...at Holmedon met,
where they did spend a sad and bloody hour

Here is a dear and true industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse

And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news

The Earl of Douglas is discomfited.
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights...

...balked in their own blood did I see, my liege,
on Holmedon′s plains

Of prisoners, Hotspur took Mordake, Earl of Fife,
the eldest son to beaten Douglas

And the Earl of Athol,
of Murray, Angus, and Menteith

And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? Ha, cousin, is it not?

In faith, it is a conquest for a prince to boast of

Yea, there thou makest me sad
and makest me sin in envy...

...that my Lord Northumberland
should be the father of so blest a son

A son who is the theme of honour′s tongue,
who is sweet fortune′s minion and her pride

Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, see riot
and dishonour stain the brow of my young Harry

O that it could be proved that some night-tripping fair
y had
exchanged in cradle-clothes our children where theylay

And called mine Hotspur, his Plantagenet.
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine

But let him from my thoughts.
What think you, coz, of this young Percy′s pride?

The prisoners, which he in this adventure hath surprised,
to his own use he keeps

And sends me word
I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife

This is his uncle′s teaching.
This is Worcester, malevolent to you in all aspects

And I will send for him to answer this

And for this cause awhile
we must neglect our holy purpose to Jerusalem

Cousin, on Wednesday next our council
we will hold at Windsor, and so inform the lords

But come yourself with speed to us again,
for more is to be done and to be said...

- ...than out of anger can be uttered
- I will, my liege

Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack...

...and unbuttoning thee after supper
and sleeping upon benches in the afternoon...

...that thou hast forgotten to demand
that truly which thou wouldst truly know

What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day?

Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes capons
and clocks the tongues of bawds...

And the blessed sun himself
a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta...

I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous
to demand the time of the day

Indeed, you come near me now, Hal,
for we that take purses go by the moon and seven stars...

...and not by Phoebus, he,
that wandering knight so fair

And, I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king,
as God save thy grace... majesty I should say

- For grace thou wilt have none
- What, none?

No, not so much as will serve to be prologue
to an egg and butter

- Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly
- Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king...

...let not us that are squires of the night′s body
be called thieves of the day′s beauty

Let us be Diana′s foresters, gentlemen of the shade,
minions of the moon our noble and chaste mistress...

- ...under whose countenance we steal
- Thou sayest well and it holds well too

For the fortune of us that are the moon′s men
doth ebb and flow like the sea...

...being governed, as the sea is, by the moon.
As, for proof, now:

A purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night
and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning

Now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder,
and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows

Thou sayest true, lad.
But as it is here apparent, that thou art heir-apparent...

...shall there be gallows standing in England when thou
art king? Do not thou, when thou art a king, hang a thief

- No, thou shalt
- Shall I? O rare! I′ll be a brave judge

Thou judgest false already. I mean, thou shalt have
the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman

Well, Hal, well.
I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear

- Or an old lion, or a lover′s lute
- Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe

- Yea, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch
- Thou hast the most unsavoury similes...

...and art indeed the most comparative,
rascalliest, sweet young prince

But, Hal, I would thou and I knew where
a commodity of good names were to be bought

An old lord of the council rated me the other day
in the street about you, sir, but I marked him not

And yet he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not.
And yet he talked wisely, and in the street too

Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out in the streets,
and no man regards it

O, thou hast damnable iteration
and art indeed able to corrupt a saint

Thou hast done much harm unto me, Hal,
God forgive thee for it

Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing

And now I am, if a man should speak truly,
little better than one of the wicked

I must give over this life, and I will give it over

An I do not, I am a villain.
I′ll be damned for never a king′s son in Christendom

Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?

Where thou wilt, lad, I′ll make one.
An I do not, call me a villain and baffle me

I see a good amendment of life in thee,
from praying to purse-taking

Why, Hal, ′tis my vocation, Hal.
′Tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation

Poins!

- Good morrow, Ned
- Good morrow, sweet Hal

What says Monsieur Remorse?
What says Sir John Sack and Sugar, Jack?

How agrees the devil and thee about thy soul...

...that thou soldest him on Good Friday last
for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon′s leg?

Sir John stands to his word,
the devil shall have his bargain

For he was never yet a breaker of proverbs.
He will give the devil his due

- Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil
- Else he had been damned for cozening the devil

But, my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning,
by four o′clock, early at Gad′s Hill...

...there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings,
and traders riding to London with fat purses

I have vizards for you all, you have horses for yourselves

Our setter, Rakehell, lies tonight in Rochester,
we may do it as secure as sleep

If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns.
If you will not, tarry at home and be hanged

Hear ye, Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not...

- ...I′ll hang you for going
- You will, chops?

- Hal, wilt thou make one?
- Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I

- Then thou camest not of the blood royal
- Well then, once in my days I′ll be a madcap

- Why, that′s well said
- Well, come what will, I′ll tarry at home

- I′ll be a traitor then, when thou art king
- I care not

Sir John, I prithee leave the prince and me alone. I wi
ll lay
him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall go

Well, mayst thou have the spirit of persuasion
and he the ears of profiting

That what thou speakest may move
and what he hears may be believed

That the true prince may, for recreation sake,
prove a false thief

- Farewell. You know where to find me
- Farewell, thou latter spring. Farewell, All-hallown summer

Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us tomorrow.
I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone

Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto and Rakehell
shall rob those men. Yourself and I will not be there

And when they have the booty, if you and I
do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders

Ay, but ′tis like that they will know us
by our horses, by our habits

Tut, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce,
to immask our noted outward garments

Well, I′ll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary
and meet me tomorrow night in Eastcheap

- There I′ll sup. Farewell
- Farewell, my lord

I know you all, and will awhile uphold
the unyoked humour of your idleness

Yet herein will I imitate the sun, who doth permit the
base
contagious clouds to smother up his beauty from the world

That when he please again to be himself,
being wanted, he may be more wondered at...

...by breaking through the foul and ugly mists
of vapours that did seem to strangle him

If all the year were playing holidays,
to sport would be as tedious as to work

But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
and nothing pleaseth but rare accidents

So, when this loose behaviour I throw off
and pay the debt I never promised...

...by how much better than my word I am,
by so much shall I falsify men′s hopes

And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
my reformation, glittering over my fault...

...shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
than that which hath no foil to set it off

I′ll so offend to make offence a skill,
redeeming time when men think least I will

My blood hath been too cold and temperate,
unapt to stir at these indignities

And you have found me,
for accordingly you tread upon my patience

But be sure I will from henceforth rather be myself,
mighty and to be feared, than my condition

Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
and therefore lost that title of respect

Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
the scourge of greatness to be used on it

And that same greatness too
which our own hands have holp to make so portly

Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see
danger and disobedience in thine eye

O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory.
You have good leave to leave us

When we need your use and counsel,
we shall send for you

- You were about to speak
- Yea, my good lord

Those prisoners in your highness′ name demanded,
which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took...

...were, as he says, not with such strength denied
as was delivered to your majesty

Either envy, therefore, or misprision
was guilty of this fault, and not my son

My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remember, when the fight was done...

...when I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword...

...came there a certain lord,
neat and trimly dressed, fresh as a bridegroom

And his chin new reaped
showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home

He was perfumed like a milliner, and ′twixt his finger
and his thumb he held a pouncet-box...

...which ever and anon he gave his nose
and took it away again

Who therewith angry,
when it next came there, took it in snuff

And still he smiled and talked

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
he called them untaught knaves

Unmannerly, to bring a slovenly unhandsome corpse
betwixt the wind and his nobility

With many holiday and lady terms
he questioned me

Among the rest demanded my prisoners
in your majesty′s behalf

I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,
to be so pestered with a popinjay...

...out of my grief and my impatience, answered
neglectingly I know not what, he should or he should not

For he made me mad
to see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet

And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
of guns and drums and wounds, God save the mark!

And telling me the sovereignest thing on earth
was parmaceti for an inward bruise

And that it was great pity, so it was,
that villainous saltpetre should be digged...

...out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
which many a good tall fellow had destroyed so cowardly

And but for these vile guns,
he would himself have been a soldier

This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, made me
to answer indirectly, as I said, and I beseech you:

Let not his report come current for an accusation
betwixt my love and your high majesty

The circumstance considered, good my lord,
whatever Harry Percy then had said...

...to such a person and in such a place,
at such a time, with all the rest retold...

- ...may reasonably die, so he unsay it now
- Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners

But with proviso and exception,
that we at our own charge shall ransom straight...

...his brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer.
Who, on my soul...

...hath wilfully betrayed the lives of those that he di
d lead
to fight against that great magician, damned Glendower

Whose daughter, as we hear,
this Mortimer hath lately married

Shall our coffers, then,
be emptied to redeem a traitor home?

No, on the barren mountain let him starve.
For I shall never hold that man my friend...

...whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
to ransom home revolted Mortimer

Revolted Mortimer? He never did fall off,
my sovereign liege, but by the chance of war

To prove that true needs no more but one tongue
for all those wounds, those mouthed wounds...

...which valiantly he took when on the gentle Severn′s
sedgy bank, in single opposition, hand to hand...

...he did confound the best part of an hour
in changing hardiment with great Glendower

- Then let him not be slandered with revolt
- Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him

He never did encounter with Glendower.
Art thou not ashamed?

But, sirrah, henceforth
let me not hear you speak of Mortimer

Send me your prisoners with the speediest means

Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
as will displease ye

My Lord Northumberland,
we license your departure with your son

Send us your prisoners, or you′ll hear of it

An if the devil come and roar for them
I will not send them

I will after straight and tell him so, for I will ease my heart,
although it be with hazard of my head

What, drunk with choler? Stay and pause awhile.
Here comes your uncle

Speak of Mortimer? Zouns, I will speak of him,
and let my soul want mercy, if I do not join with him

In his behalf I′ll empty all these veins,
and shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust

But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer
as high in the air as this unthankful king

As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke

- Who struck this heat up after I was gone?
- Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad

He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners. And when I urged
the ransom once again of my wife′s brother...

...then his cheek looked pale, and on my face he turned
an eye of death, trembling even at the name of Mortimer

I cannot blame him. Was not Mortimer proclaimed
by Richard, that dead is, the next of blood?

He was. I heard the proclamation.
And then it was...

...when the unhappy king, whose wrongs in us
God pardon, did set forth upon his Irish expedition

From whence he intercepted did return
to be deposed and shortly murdered

And for whose death we in the world′s wide mouth
live scandalized and foully spoken of

But soft, I pray you; did King Richard then proclaim
my brother Edmund Mortimer heir to the crown?

- He did. Myself did hear it
- Nay

Then I cannot blame his cousin king,
that wished him on the barren mountains starved

But shall it be that you that set the crown
upon the head of this forgetful man...

Shall it for shame be spoken in these days,
or fill up chronicles in time to come...

That men of your nobility and power
did gage them both in an unjust behalf...

As both of you, God pardon it, have done

...to put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
and plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?

And shall it in more shame be further spoken...

...that you are fooled, discarded and shook off
by him for whom these shames ye underwent?

No. Yet time serves
wherein you may redeem your banished honours

And restore yourselves
into the good thoughts of the world again

- Therefore, I say...
- Peace, nephew, say no more

And now I will unclasp a secret book

And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I′ll read you matter deep and dangerous

As full of peril and adventurous spirit as to over-walk
a current roaring loud on the unsteadfast footing of a spear

If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim

By God, methinks it were an easy leap,
to pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon

Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
where fathom-line could never touch the ground...

...and pluck up drowned honour by the locks

So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
without corrival, all her dignities

He apprehends a world of figures here,
but not the form of what he should attend

- Good nephew, give me audience for a while
- I cry you mercy

- Those same noble Scots that are your prisoners...
- I′ll keep them all. By God...

...he shall not have a Scot of them. No, if a Scot woul
d
save his soul, he shall not. I′ll keep them, by this hand.

You start away
and lend no ear unto my purposes

- Those prisoners you shall keep
- Nay, I will. That′s flat

He said he would not ransom Mortimer,
forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer

But I will find him when he lies asleep,
and in his ear I′ll holla ‵Mortimer!′

Nay, I′ll have a starling shall be taught to speak noth
ing but
‵Mortimer′, and give it him to keep his anger still in motion

- Hear you, nephew, a word
- All studies here I solemnly defy...

...save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke

And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales,
but that I think his father loves him not...

...and would be glad he met with some mischance,
I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale

Farewell, kinsman. I′ll talk to you
when you are better tempered to attend

Why, what a wasp-tongued
and impatient fool art thou

To break into this woman′s mood,
tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!

Why, look you, I am whipped and scourged with rods,
nettled and stung with pismires...

...when I hear of this vile politician, Bolingbroke

- Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done
- Nay, if you have not, to it again

- We will stay your leisure
- I have done, in sooth

Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
Deliver them up without their ransom straight...

...and make the Douglas′ son
your only means for powers in Scotland

The which, for divers reasons which I shall
send you written, be assured will easily be granted

You, my lord,
your son in Scotland being thus employed...

...shall secretly into the bosom creep of that same
noble prelate well beloved, the archbishop

- Of York, is it not?
- True...

...who bears hard his brother′s death at Bristol,
the Lord Scroop

I speak not this in estimation of what I think might be,
but what I know is ruminated, plotted and set down

And only stays but to behold the face
of that occasion that shall bring it on

- I smell it. Upon my life, it will do wondrous well
- Before the game′s afoot, thou still let′st slip

Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot

And then the power of Scotland and of York
to join with Mortimer, ha?

- And so they shall
- In faith, it is exceedingly well aimed

And ′tis no little reason bids us speed,
to save our heads by raising of a head

For, bear ourselves as even as we can,
the king will always think him in our debt

And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,
till he hath found a time to pay us home

And see already how he doth begin
to make us strangers to his looks of love

- He does, he does. We′ll be revenged on him
- Nephew, farewell

No further go in this
than I by letters shall direct your course

Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust

Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short
till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport

Heigh-ho! An′t be not four by the day, I′ll be hanged

Charles′ wain is over the new chimney,
and yet our horse not packed

- What, ostler!
- Anon, anon

I prithee Tom, beat Cut′s saddle, put a few flocks in t
he
point. The poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess

Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog,
and this is the next way to give poor jades the bots

This house is turned upside down
since Robin the ostler died

Poor fellow, never joyed since the price of oats rose.
It was the death of him

I think this is the most villainous house
in all London Road for fleas. I am stung like a tench

Like a tench? There is never a king in Christendom
could be better bit than I have been since the first cock

Why, you will allow us never a jordan,
and then we leak in your chimney...

...and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach

What, ostler! Come away and be hanged! Come away

I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger,
to be delivered as far as Charing Cross

The turkeys in my pannier are quite starved

What, ostler!

- Good morrow, carriers. What′s o′clock?
- I think it be two o′clock

I prithee lend me thy lantern
to see my gelding in the stable

Nay, soft, I pray ye,
I know a trick worth two of that

- I prithee lend me thine
- Ay, when? Can′st tell?

Lend me thy lantern, quotha?
Marry, I′ll see thee hanged first

- Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to Lond
on?
- Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant you

Come, neighbour Mugs, we′ll call up the gentlemen.
They will along with company, for they have great charge

- What, ho, Chamberlain
- Good morrow, Master Rakehell

It holds current that I told you yesternight

There′s a franklin in the wild of Kent
hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold

I heard him tell it to one of his company
last night at supper

They are up already, and call for eggs and butter.
They will away presently

If they meet not with Saint Nicholas′ clerks,
I′ll give thee this neck

No, I′ll none of it.
I prithee keep that for the hangman

What, talkest thou to me of the hangman?
If I hang, I′ll make a fat pair of gallows

For if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me,
and thou know′st he′s no starveling

Tut, there are other Trojans that thou dream′st not of

I am joined with none of these
mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms

But with nobility such as will strike sooner than speak
,
and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray

And yet, I lie, for they pray continually
unto their saint, the commonwealth. Or rather...

...not pray to her, but prey on her, for they ride
up and down on her and make her their booty

We have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible

Nay, I think rather you are more beholding to the night
than to fern-seed for your walking invisible

Give me your hand.
You shall have a share in our purpose, as I am a true man

Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief

Go to. Bid the ostler bring the gelding out of the stable.
On, ye muddy knave

Come, Bardolph, Peto. I have removed Falstaff′s horse,
and he frets like a gummed velvet

Stand close

Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!

Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal.
What a brawling dost thou keep

- What, Poins? Hal?
- He is walked up to the top of the hill. I′ll go seek him

Poins! I am accursed to rob in that thief′s company

That rascal hath removed my horse
and tied him I know not where

If I travel but four foot further afoot,
I shall break my wind

Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this,
if I ′scape hanging for killing that rogue

Poins, Hal, a plague upon you both!

Bardolph! Peto! I′ll starve ere I go a foot further

Eight yards of uneven ground
is threescore and ten miles afoot with me

And the stony-hearted villains know it well enough

A plague upon it
when thieves cannot be true to one another

A plague light upon you all. Give me my horse, you rogues.
Give me my horse, and be hanged

Peace, ye fat-guts. Lie down, lay thine ear close to th
e
ground and list if thou can hear the tread of travellers

Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down?

I prithee, good Prince Hal,
help me to my horse, good king′s son

- Out, you rogue. Shall I be your ostler?
- Go, hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters

If I be taken, I′ll peach for this

An I have not ballads made on all and sung to filthy tu
nes,
I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth

- Stand
- So I do, against my will

O, ′tis our setter. I know his voice.
What news?

Case ye, case ye. On with your vizards

There′s money of the king′s coming down the hill,
′tis going to the king′s exchequer

You lie, you rogue,
′tis going to the King′s Tavern, hey Bardolph?

- There′s enough to make us all
- To be hanged

You four shall front them in the narrow lane.
Ned and I will walk lower

If they ′scape from your encounter,
then they light on us

- But how many be of them?
- Some eight or ten

- Will they not rob us?
- What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?

Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather,
but yet no coward, Hal

- We′ll leave that to the proof
- Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge

When thou need′st him, there thou shalt find him.
Farewell, and stand fast

Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged

- Ned, where are our disguises?
- Here, hard by. Stand close

Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I. Peto!
Every man to his business

Come, neighbour.
The boy shall lead our horses down the hill

We′ll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs

Stay!

- Jesu bless us
- Help, help! God save us

Strike, down with them! Cut the villains′ throats

Ah, whoreson caterpillars, bacon-fed knaves!

They hate us youth, down with them, fleece them

O, we are undone, both we and ours together

- Hang ye, gorbellied knaves
- Now are you undone?

No, ye fat chuffs, I′m glad your store is here.
On, bacons, on

Poins, Hal!
Come, young men must live

If the prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards,
there′s no equity stirring

There′s no more valour in that Poins than in a wild duck

Come. My masters, let us share,
and then to horse before day

Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
and lards the lean earth as he walks along

- Were it not for laughing, I should pity him
- How the rogue roared

‵To my lord Percy...′

‵But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well conten
ted
to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house′

He could be contented. Why is he not, then?
In respect of the love he bears our house

He shows in this, he loves his own barn
better than he loves our house. Let me see some more

‵The purpose you undertake is dangerous′. Why, that′s
c
ertain. ′Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink

But I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger,
we pluck this flower, safety

‵The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends
you have named uncertain, the time itself unsorted′

‵And your whole plot too light
for the counterpoise of so great an opposition′

Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again,
you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie

What a lack-brain is this? I protest, our plot is as go
od a plot
as ever was laid, our friends true and constant

A good plot, good friends, and full of expectation.
An excellent plot, very good friends

What a frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of Y
ork
commends the plot and the general course of the action

Zouns! if I were now by this rascal,
I could brain him with his lady′s fan

Is there not my father, my uncle and myself...

...Lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York
and Owen Glendower? Is there not besides the Douglas?

Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms
by the ninth of the next month?

And are they not some of them set forward already?
What a pagan rascal is this? An infidel

You shall see now in very sincerity of fear and cold he
art,
will he to the king and lay open all our proceedings

O, I could divide myself and go to buffets, for moving
such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action

Hang him. Let him tell the king. We are prepared.
I will set forwards tonight

How now, Kate?
I must leave you within these two hours

O, my good lord, why are you thus alone?

For what offence have I this fortnight been
a banished woman from my Harry′s bed?

Tell me, sweet lord, what is it that takes from thee
thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep?

Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
and start so often when thou sit′st alone?

Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks?

And given my treasures and my rights of thee
to thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy?

In my faint slumbers I by thee have watched

And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,
speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed

Cry ‵Courage! To the field!′
And thou hast talked of sallies and retires...

...trenches, tents, of palisadoes, frontiers,
parapets, of basilisks, of cannon, culverin

Of prisoners′ ransom and of soldiers slain,
and all the current of a heady fight

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war
and thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep...

...that beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
and I must know it, else he loves me not

- What, ho! Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
- He is, my lord, an hour agone

- Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?
- One horse, my lord, he brought even now

- What horse? A roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
- It is, my lord

That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight

O Esperance!
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park

- But hear you, my lord
- What sayest thou, my lady?

- What is it carries you away?
- Why, my horse, my love, my horse

Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not
such a deal of spleen as you are tossed with

In sooth, I′ll know your business, Harry, that I will

I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
and hath sent for you to line his enterprise

- But if you go...
- So far afoot, I shall be weary, love

Come, come, you paraquito, answer me

Indeed, I′ll break thy little finger, Harry,
if thou wilt not tell me true

Away, away, you trifler!
Love? I love thee not. I care not for thee, Kate

This is no world
to play with mammets and to tilt with lips

We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns,
and pass them current too. God′s me, my horse!

What sayest thou, Kate?
What wouldst thou have with me?

Do ye not love me? Do ye not, indeed?

Well, do not then, for since you love me not,
I will not love myself

Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me if thou speakest in jest or no

Come...

Wilt thou see me ride?

And when I am a-horseback,
I will swear I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate

I must not have you henceforth question me
whither I go, nor reason whereabout

Whither I must, I must. And to conclude,
this evening must I leave thee, gentle Kate

I know you wise, but yet no further wise
than Harry Percy′s wife

Constant you are, but yet a woman.
And for secrecy, no lady closer, for I well believe...

...thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,
and so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate

- How? So far?
- Not an inch further

But hark you, Kate. Whither I go,
thither shall you go too. Today will I set forth, tomorrow you

- Will this content you, Kate?
- It must of force

Ned, prithee come out of that fat room,
and lend me thy hand to laugh a little

Where hast been, Hal?

With three or four loggerheads amongst three or foursco
re
hogsheads. I have sounded the very base-string of humility

Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers...

...and can call them by their names,
as Tom, Dick and...

- ...and Harry
- Francis

They take it already upon their confidence that though
I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy

Telling me flatly I am no proud Jack like Falstaff,
but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy

And when I am king of England,
I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap

To conclude, I am so good a proficient
in one quarter of an hour...

...that I can drink with any tinker
in his own language during my life

I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour
that thou wert not with me in this action

But, sweet Ned, to sweeten which name of Ned,
I give thee this pennyworth of sugar...

....clapped even now into my hand by an under-skinker,
one that never spake other English in his life than...

‵Anon, anon, sir!′
‵Score a pint of bastard in the Half-Moon′, or so

But, Ned, to drive away time till Falstaff come,
I prithee do thou stand in some by-room...

...while I question my puny drawer
to what end he gave me the sugar

And do never leave calling ‵Francis′,
that his tale to me may be nothing but ‵Anon′

Step aside, and I′ll show thee a precedent

- Francis!
- Thou art perfect

- Francis!
- Anon, anon, sir... Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph

- Come hither, Francis
- My lord?

- How long hast thou to serve, Francis?
- Forsooth, five years, and as much as to...

- Francis!
- Anon, anon, sir

Five years. By our lady, a long lease
for the clinking of pewter. But Francis...

...darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with
thy
indenture and show it a fair pair of heels and run from it?

O lord, sir, I′ll be sworn upon all the books in England,
I could find in my heart...

- Francis!
- Anon, anon, sir

- How old art thou, Francis?
- Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shall be...

- Francis!
- Anon, sir. Pray you stay a little, my lord

Nay, but hark you, Francis,
for the sugar thou gavest me...

- ...′twas a pennyworth, was′t not?
- O lord, sir, I would it had been two

I will give thee for it a thousand pound.
Ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it

- Francis!
- Anon, anon

Anon, Francis? No, Francis. But tomorrow, Francis, or,
Francis, on Thursday, or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt

- But, Francis
- My lord?

Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal-button,
not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter...

- ...smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch...
- O lord, sir, who do you mean?

Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink,
for look you, Francis...

...your white canvas doublet will sully.
In Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much

- What, sir?
- Francis!

Away, you rogue! Dost thou hear them call?

What, stand′st thou still, and hear′st such a calling?
Look to the guests within

My lord, old Sir John, with half-a-dozen more,
are at the door. Shall I let them in?

Let them alone awhile, and then open the door

- Poins!
- Anon, anon, sir

Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door

- Shall we be merry?
- As merry as crickets, my lad

But hark ye: what cunning match have you made
with this jest of the drawer? Come, what′s the issue?

I am now of all humours
that have showed themselves humours...

...since the old days of goodman Adam
to the pupil age of this present twelve o′clock at midnight

- What′s o′clock, Francis?
- Anon, anon, sir

That ever this fellow should have fewer words
than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman

His industry is upstairs and downstairs,
his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning

I am not yet of Percy′s mind, the Hotspur of the north

He that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots
at a breakfast, washes his hands...

...then says to his wife
‵Fie upon this quiet life! I want work′

‵O my sweet Harry′, says she,
‵how many hast thou killed today?′

‵Give my roan horse a drench′, says he, and answers
‵Some fourteen′, an hour after, ‵a trifle, a trifle′

I prithee call in Falstaff. Call in ribs, call in tallow

- Francis!
- Anon

Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?

A plague of all cowards, I say,
and a vengeance too, marry and amen

Give me a cup of sack, boy.
A plague of all cowards

Give me a cup of sack, rogue.
Is there no virtue extant?

Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter,
pitiful-hearted Titan...

...that melted at the sweet tale of the sun?
If thou didst, then behold that compound

You rogue, here′s lime in this sack too.
There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man

Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it.
A villainous coward!

Go thy ways, old Jack, die when thou wilt

If manhood, good manhood, be not forgot
upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring

There lives not three good men unhanged in England,
and one of them is fat and grows old

I would I could sing all manner of songs.
A plague of all cowards, I say still

- How now, wool-sack, what mutter you?
- A king′s son?

If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom
with a dagger of lath...

...and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock
of wild geese, I′ll never wear hair on my face more

- You Prince of Wales?
- Why, you whoreson round man, what′s the matter?

Are you not a coward? Answer me to that.
And Poins there?

- Ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I′ll stab thee
- I call thee coward?

I′ll see thee damned ere I call thee coward, but I woul
d
give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst

You care not who sees your back.
Call you that backing of your friends?

A plague upon such backing.
Give me them that will face me

Give me a cup of sack.
I am a rogue, if I drunk today

- O, villain, thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk′st last
- All′s one for that

- A plague of all cowards, still say I
- What′s the matter?

What′s the matter? Here be four of us have taken
a thousand pound this morning

Where is it, Jack? Where is it?

Where is it? Taken from us it is.
A hundred upon poor four of us

- What, a hundred, man?
- I have ′scaped by miracle

I am eight times thrust through the doublet,
four through the hose

My buckler cut through and through,
my sword hacked like a hand-saw: ecce signum

I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do.
A plague of all cowards! Let them speak

If they speak more or less than truth,
they are villains and the sons of darkness

Speak, sirs, how was it?

- We four set upon some dozen...
- Sixteen at least, my lord

- And bound them
- No, no, they were not bound

- You rogue, they were bound, every man of them
- As we were sharing...

- ..some six or seven fresh men set upon us
- And unbound the rest, and then come in the others

What, fought ye with them all?

All? I know not what ye call all,
but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish

- Pray God you have not murdered some of them
- Nay, that′s past praying for

I have peppered two of them.
Two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits

I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie,
spit in my face, call me horse

Thou knowest my old ward.
Here I lay and thus I bore my point

- Four rogues in buckram let drive at me...
- What, four? Thou saidst but two even now

- Four, Hal, I told thee four
- Ay, ay, he said four

These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me

I made no more ado
but took all their seven points in my target, thus

- Seven? Why, there were but four even now
- In buckram?

- Ay, four, in buckram suits
- Seven, by this hilt, or I am a villain else

- Prithee let him alone. We shall have more anon
- Dost thou hear me, Hal?

- Ay, and mark thee too, Jack
- Do so, for it is worth the listening to

- These nine in buckram that I told thee of...
- So, two more already

- Their points being broken...
- Down fell his hose

...began to give me ground.
But I followed me close, came in hand and foot

- And with a thought seven of the eleven I paid
- O, monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out of two?

But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves
in Kendal green came at my back...

...and let drive at me. For it was so dark, Hal,
that thou couldst not see thy hand

These lies are like the father that begets them,
gross as a mountain, open, palpable

Why, thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool,
thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-catch

What, art thou mad? Art thou mad?
Is not the truth the truth?

Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green
when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand?

Come, tell us your reason. What sayest thou to this?

- Come, your reason, Jack, your reason
- What, upon compulsion? No

Were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world,
I would not tell you on compulsion

Give you a reason on compulsion?

If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries,
I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I

I′ll be no longer guilty of this sin

This sanguine coward, this bed-presser,
this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh...

Away, you starveling, you elf-skin,
you dried neat′s tongue, bull′s pizzle, you stock-fish

O for breath to utter what is like thee!
You tailor′s-yard, you sheath, you vile standing-tuck

Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again.
And when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons...

- ...hear me speak but this
- Mark, Jack

We two saw you four set on four and bound them,
and were masters of their wealth

Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down

Then did we two set on you four, and with a word,
out-faced you from your prize, and have it

Yea, and can show it you in the house

And, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly,
with as quick dexterity...

...and roared for mercy and still ran and roared,
as ever I heard bull-calf

What trick, what device, what hole canst thou now find out
to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?

Come, let′s hear, Jack. What trick hast thou now?

I knew ye as well as he that made ye

Why, hear ye, my masters,
was it for me to kill the heir-apparent?

Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest
I am as valiant as Hercules, but beware instinct

The lion will not touch the true prince.
Instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct

I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life.
I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince

But, lads, I am glad you have the money

Hostess, clap to the doors.
Play tonight, pray tomorrow

- Francis
- Anon, anon

Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold,
all the good titles of fellowship come to you

What, shall we be merry?
Shall we have a play extempore?

- Content, and the argument shall be thy running away
- Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me

- My lord the prince?
- How now, my lady the hostess? What sayest thou to me?

There is a nobleman of the court at door
would speak with you. He says he comes from your father

Give him as much as will make him a royal man,
and send him back again to my mother

- What manner of man is he?
- An old man

What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?
Shall I give him his answer?

- Prithee do, Jack
- ′Faith, and I′ll send him packing

Now, sirs, you fought fair.
So did you, Peto, so did you, Bardolph

You are lions too, you ran away upon instinct.
You will not touch the true prince, no, fie!

′Faith, I ran when I saw others run

Tell me now in earnest,
how came Falstaff′s sword so hacked?

Why, he hacked it with his dagger,
and said he would swear truth out of England...

...but he would make you believe it was done in fight,
and persuaded us to do the like

Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass
to make them bleed

And then to beslubber our garments with it
and swear it was the blood of true men

I did that I did not this seven years before,
I blushed to hear his monstrous devices

O, villain, thou stolest a cup of sack
eighteen years ago...

...and wert taken with the manner,
and ever since thou hast blushed extempore

Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side,
and yet thou ran′st away. What instinct hadst thou for it?

My lord, do you see these meteors?
Do you behold these exhalations?

- I do
- What think you they portend?

- Hot livers and cold purses
- Choler, my lord, if rightly taken

No, if rightly taken, halter.
Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone

How now, my sweet creature of bombast?
How long is it ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee?

My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal,
I was not an eagle′s talon in the waist

I could have crept into any alderman′s thumb-ring

A plague of sighing and grief.
It blows a man up like a bladder

There′s villainous news abroad. Here was Sir John Braby
from your father. You must go to the court in the morning

That same mad fellow of the north, Percy,
and he of Wales that made Lucifer cuckold

- What a plague call you him?
- O, Glendower

Owen, Owen the same, and his son-in-law Mortimer,
and old Northumberland

And that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas,
that runs on horseback up a hill perpendicular...

He that rides at high speed
and with a pistol kills a sparrow flying

- You have hit it
- So did he never the sparrow

Well, he is there too and a thousand blue-caps more.
Worcester is stolen away by night

Thy father′s beard is turned white with the news.
You may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel

Then ′tis like, if there come a hot sun
and this civil buffeting hold...

...we shall buy maidenheads
as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds

But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible afeard?

Thou being heir-apparent,
could the world pick thee out three such enemies again...

...as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy,
and that devil Glendower?

Art not thou horrible afraid?
Doth not thy blood tremble at it?

Not a whit, I lack some of thy instinct

Well, thou wilt be horrible chid tomorrow when thou
co
mest to thy father. If thou do love me, practise an answer

Do thou stand for my father,
and examine me upon the particulars of my life

Shall I? Content

This chair shall be my state,
this dagger my sceptre and this cushion my crown

An the fire of grace be not quite out of thee,
now shalt thou be moved

Give me a cup of sack

To make mine eyes look red,
that it may be thought I have wept

For I must speak in passion,
and I will do it in King Cambyses′ vein

- Well, here is my leg
- And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility

Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time,
but also how thou art accompanied

For though the camomile, the more it is trodden
the faster it grows...

...yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears

- This is excellent sport, i′faith
- Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain

O, the father, how he holds his countenance!

Thou art my son,
I have partly thy mother′s word, partly my opinion

But chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye and
a foolish hanging of thy nether lip that doth warrant me

If then thou be son to me, here lieth the point:
why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at?

Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a filcher
and eat blackberries? A question not to be asked

Shall the son of England prove a thief and take purses?
A question to be asked

O, rare, he doth it
as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see

Peace, good pint-pot, peace, good tickle-brain

There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of
and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch

This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile.
So doth the company thou keepest

For, Harry,
now I do not speak to thee in drink but in tears

Not in pleasure but in passion,
not in words only, but in woes also

And yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted
in thy company, but I know not his name

- What manner of man, an it like your majesty?
- A goodly portly man, i′faith, and a corpulent

Of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye
and a most noble carriage, and as I think...

...his age some fifty.
Or, by our lady, inclining to three score

And now I remember me, his name is Falstaff

If that man should be lewdly given, he deceives me.
For, Harry, I see virtue in that Falstaff

Him keep with, the rest banish

Dost thou speak like a king?
Do thou stand for me, and I′ll play my father

Depose me? If thou dost it half so gravely,
so majestically, both in word and matter...

....hang me up by the heels
for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter′s hare

- Well, here I am set
- And here I stand. Judge, my masters

- Now, Harry, whence come you?
- My noble lord, from Eastcheap

- The complaints I hear of thee are grievous
- In faith, my lord, they are false

Nay, I′ll tickle ye for a young prince

Swearest thou, ungracious boy? Henceforth never
look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace

There is a devil haunts thee in the likeness
of an old fat man. A tun of man is thy companion

Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours,
that bolting-hutch of beastliness?

That swollen parcel of dropsies,
that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts?

That roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly,
that reverend Vice?

That grey Iniquity,
that father Ruffian, that Vanity in years?

Wherein is he good,
but to taste sack and drink it?

Wherein neat and cleanly,
but to carve a capon and eat it?

Wherein cunning, but in craft?
Wherein crafty, but in villainy?

Wherein villainous, but in all things?
Wherein worthy, but in nothing?

I would your grace would take me with you.
Whom means your grace?

That villainous abominable misleader of youth,
Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan

- My lord, the man I know
- I know thou dost

But to say I know more harm in him than in myself,
were to say more than I know

That he is old, the more the pity
his white hairs do witness it

But that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster,
that I utterly deny

If sack and sugar be a fault,
heaven help the wicked

If to be old and merry be a sin,
then many an old host that I know is damned

If to be fat be to be hated,
then Pharaoh′s lean cows are to be loved

No, my good lord,
banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins

But for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff,
true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff...

...and therefore more valiant,
being, as he is old Jack Falstaff...

...banish not him thy Harry′s company

Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world

I do, I will

O, my lord, my lord!
The sheriff with a most monstrous watch is at the door

Out, you rogue! Play out the play.
I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff

Heigh, heigh! The devil rides upon a fiddlestick.
What′s the matter?

The sheriff and all the watch are at the door.
They are come to search the house

- Shall I let them in?
- Dost thou hear, Hal?

Never call a true piece of gold a counterfeit.
Thou art essentially made, without seeming so

And thou a natural coward, without instinct

I deny your major.
If you will deny the sheriff, so. If not, let him enter

If I become not the hangman′s cart
as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up

Go, hide thee behind the arras.
The rest walk up above

Now, my masters,
for a true face and good conscience

Both which I have had.
But their date is out, and therefore I′ll hide me

Call in the sheriff

- Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me?
- Pardon me, my lord

- I pray you, your grace, know you who I am?
- You, who knows not you?

- Why man, you are Lord Chief Justice of England
- I am glad to see your grace in good health

A hue and cry hath followed certain men unto this house

- What men?
- One of them is well known, my gracious lord

- A gross fat man
- As fat as butter

The man, I do assure you, is not here,
for I myself at this time have employed him

And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee
that I will, by tomorrow dinnertime...

...send him to answer thee, or any man,
for anything he shall be charged withal

- And so let me entreat you leave the house
- I will, my lord

There are two gentlemen
have in this robbery lost three hundred marks

It may be so. If he have robbed these men,
he shall be answerable

- Why, there be one.
- Bind him

- Why my lord, this Bardolph is my man
- I′ Gogs wounds that I am, try me who dare

You′ll find small credit to acknowledge him.
And please your grace, the law must pass on him

Why then, belike you mean to hang my man?

An like your grace, I must needs do justice.
I am sorry that his case is so ill

Tush, case me no casings. Shall I have my man?

- I cannot, nor I may not, good my lord
- Nay then...

Gog′s wounds my lord, shall I cut off his head?

- Good night, my noble lord
- I think it is good morrow, is it not?

Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o′clock

Falstaff! Fast asleep behind the arras,
and snorting like a horse

Hark, how hard this oily rascal fetches breath.
Search his pockets

- What hast thou found?
- Nothing but papers, my lord

Let′s see, what be they? Read them

Item: A capon, 2s. 2d. Item: Sauce, 4d.
Item: Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d

Item: Anchovies and sack after supper, 2s. 6d.
Item: Bread, ha′penny

O, monstrous! But one half-penny-worth of bread
to this intolerable deal of sack?

What there is else, keep close,
we′ll read it at more advantage

There let him sleep till day.
I′ll to the court in the morning

We must all to the wars,
and thy place shall be honourable

I′ll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot soldiers,
and I know his death will be a march of twelve-score yards

The money shall be paid back again with advantage.
Be with me betimes in the morning

- And so, good morrow, Peto
- Good morrow, good my lord

These promises are fair, the parties sure,
and our induction full of prosperous hope

Lord Mortimer and cousin Glendower,
will you sit down? And uncle Worcester...

- A plague upon it, I have forgot the map
- No, here it is

Sit, cousin Percy, sit, good cousin Hotspur,
for by that name as oft as Bolingbroke doth speak of you...

...his cheeks look pale and with
a rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven

And you in hell,
as oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of

I cannot blame him. At my nativity the front of heaven
was full of fiery shapes, of burning cressets

And at my birth the frame and foundation
of the earth shaked like a coward

Why, so it would have done at the same season,
if your mother′s cat had but kittened...

- ...though yourself had never been born
- I say the earth did shake when I was born

And I say the earth was not of my mind,
if you suppose as fearing you it shook

The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble

O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,
and not in fear of your nativity

Cousin, of many men I do not bear these crossings.
Give me leave to tell you once again...

...that at my birth
the front of heaven was full of fiery shapes

The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields

These signs have marked me extraordinary

And all the courses of my life do show
I am not in the roll of common men

And bring him out that is but woman′s son...

...can trace me in the tedious ways of art
and hold me pace in deep experiments

I think there′s no man speaks better Welsh.
I′ll to dinner

Peace, cousin Percy, you will make him mad

I can call spirits from the vasty deep

Why, so can I, or so can any man.
But will they come when you do call for them?

Why, I can teach thee, cousin, to command the devil

And I can teach thee, cousin, to shame the devil
by telling truth. Tell truth and shame the devil

If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
and I′ll be sworn I have power to shame him hence

- O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil
- Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat

Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke
made head against my power

Thrice from the banks of Wye and sandy-bottomed Severn
have I sent him bootless home and weather-beaten back

Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
How ′scapes he agues, in the devil′s name?

Come, here is the map. Shall we divide our right
according to our threefold order taken?

My father hath divided it into three limits very equally

England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
by south and east is to my part assigned

All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore...

...and all the fertile land within that bound,
to Owen Glendower

And, dear coz, to you
the remnant northward, lying off from Trent

And our indentures tripartite are drawn,
which being sealed interchangeably...

...tomorrow, cousin Percy,
you and I and my good Lord of Worcester...

...will set forth to meet your father and the Scottish power,
as is appointed us, at Shrewsbury

My father Glendower is not ready yet,
nor shall we need his help these fourteen days

Within that space you may have drawn together
your tenants, friends and neighbouring gentlemen

A shorter time shall send me to you, lords,
and in my conduct shall your ladies come...

...from whom you now must steal and take no leave

For there will be a world of water shed
upon the parting of your wives and you

Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here,
in quantity equals not one of yours

See how this river comes me cranking in...

...and cuts me from the best of all my land
a huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out

I′ll have the current in this place dammed up

And here the smug and silver Trent
shall run in a new channel, fair and evenly

It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
to rob me of so rich a bottom here

Not wind? It shall, it must. You see it doth

Yea, but mark how he bears his course,
and runs me up with like advantage on the other side

Yea, but a little charge will trench him here
and on this north side win this cape of land

And then he runs straight and even

- I′ll have it so. A little charge will do it
- I′ll not have it altered

- Will not you?
- No, nor you shall not

- Who shall say me nay?
- Why, that will I

Let me not understand you, then.
Speak it in Welsh

I can speak English, lord, as well as you,
for I was trained up in the English court

Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
many an English ditty lovely well...

...and gave the tongue a helpful ornament.
A virtue that was never seen in you

Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew
than one of these same metre ballad-mongers

I had rather hear a brazen candlestick turned,
or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree

And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
nothing so much as mincing poetry

′Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag

Come, you shall have Trent turned

I do not care. I′ll give thrice so much land
to any well-deserving friend

But in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I′ll cavil on the ninth part of a hair

- Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone?
- The moon shines fair, you may away by night

I′ll haste the writer and withal
break with your wives of your departure hence

I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
so much she doteth on her Mortimer

- Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father!
- I cannot choose

Sometime he angers me
with telling me of the mouldwarp and the ant...

Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies,
and of a dragon and a finless fish...

A clip-winged griffin and a moulten raven,
a couching lion and a ramping cat...

And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
as puts me from my faith

I tell you what,
he held me last night at least nine hours...

...in reckoning up the several devils′ names
that were his lackeys

I cried ‵hum′, and ‵well, go to′,
but marked him not a word

O, he is as tedious as a tired horse,
a railing wife, worse than a smoky house

I had rather live with cheese and garlic
in a windmill far...

...than feed on cates and have him talk to me
in any summer-house in Christendom

In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, exceeding
well read, and profited in strange concealments

Shall I tell you, cousin?
He holds your temper in a high respect...

...and curbs himself even of his natural scope
when you do cross his humour, ′faith, he does

I warrant you, that man is not alive
might so have tempted him as you have done

In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame

And since your coming hither have done enough
to put him quite besides his patience

You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault

Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,
and that′s the dearest grace it renders you

Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
defect of manners, want of government

Pride, haughtiness, opinion and disdain, the least
of which haunting a nobleman loseth men′s hearts

And leaves behind a stain upon the beauty
of all parts besides, beguiling them of commendation

Well, I am schooled.
Good manners be your speed

Here come our wives, and let us take our leave

This is the deadly spite that angers me:
my wife can speak no English, I no Welsh

My daughter weeps. She′ll not part with you,
she′ll be a soldier too, she′ll to the wars

Good father, tell her that she and my sister Percy
shall follow in your conduct speedily

She is desperate here. A peevish self-willed harlotry,
one that no persuasion can do good upon

I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh
which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens...

...I am too perfect in, and, but for shame,
in such a parley should I answer thee

I understand thy kisses and thou mine,
and that′s a feeling disputation

But I will never be a truant, love,
till I have learned thy language

For thy tongue makes Welsh
as sweet as ditties highly penned...

...sung by a fair queen in a summer′s bower,
with ravishing division, to her lute

Nay, if thou melt, then will she run mad

O, I am ignorance itself in this

She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
and rest your gentle head upon her lap

And she will sing the song that pleaseth you

Crowning your eyelids with the god of sleep,
charming your blood with pleasing heaviness

Making such difference ′twixt wake and sleep
as is the difference betwixt day and night...

...the hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
begins his golden progress in the east

- With all my heart I′ll sit and hear her sing
- Do so, and those musicians that shall play to you...

...hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence,
and straight they shall be here. Sit, and attend

Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down

- Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap
- Go, ye giddy goose

Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh.
By our lady, he′s a good musician

- Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh
- I had rather hear Lady my brach howl in Irish

- Wouldst have thy head broken?
- No

- Then be still
- Neither, ′tis a woman′s fault

- Now God help thee
- To the Welsh lady′s bed

- What′s that?
- Peace, she sings

- Come, I′ll have your song too
- Not mine, in good sooth

Not yours, in good sooth?
You swear like a comfit-maker′s wife

Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
a good mouth-filling oath, and leave ‵in sooth′...

...and such protest of pepper-gingerbread,
to velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens

- Come, sing
- I will not sing

An the indentures be drawn, I′ll away within
these two hours, and so, come in when ye will

Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow
as hot Lord Hotspur is on fire to go

By this our contracts drawn, we′ll but seal,
and then to horse immediately

With all my heart

I know not whether God will have it so,
for some displeasing service I have done...

...that in his secret doom, out of my blood
he′ll breed revengement and a scourge for me

But thou dost in thy passages of life
make me believe that thou art only marked...

...for the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven
to punish my mistreadings

Tell me else, could such inordinate and low desires,
such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts...

Such barren pleasures, rude society,
accompany the greatness of thy blood?

So please your majesty, I would I could
quit all offences with as clear excuse...

...as well as I am doubtless
I can purge myself of many I am charged withal

Yet such extenuation let me beg,
as, in reproof of many tales devised...

Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear
by smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers

...I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
hath faulty wandered and irregular...

- ...find pardon on my true submission
- God pardon thee

Yet let me wonder, Harry, at thy affections, which do hold
a wing quite from the flight of all thy ancestors

Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
which by thy younger brother is supplied

And art almost an alien to the hearts
of all the court and princes of my blood

The hope and expectation of thy time is ruined,
and the soul of every man prophetically do forethink thy fall

Had I so lavish of my presence been,
so common-hackneyed in the eyes of men...

So stale and cheap to vulgar company...

Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
had still kept loyal to possession

And left me in reputeless banishment,
a fellow of no mark nor likelihood

By being seldom seen, I could not stir
but like a comet I was wondered at

That men would tell their children ‵This is he′.
Others would say ‵Where? Which is Bolingbroke?′

And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
and dressed myself in such humility...

...that I did pluck allegiance from men′s hearts,
loud shouts and salutations from their mouths

Even in the presence of the crowned king

Thus I did keep my person fresh and new

My presence, like a robe pontifical,
never seen but wondered at

And so my state, seldom but sumptuous, showed
like a feast and won by rareness such solemnity

The skipping king, he ambled up and down
with shallow jesters and rash bavin wits

Mingled his royalty with carping fools,
enfeoffed himself to popularity

So when he had occasion to be seen, he was
but as the cuckoo is in June, heard, not regarded

And in that very line, Harry, standest thou

For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
with vile participation

Not an eye but is a-weary of thy common sight,
save mine, which hath desired to see thee more

Which now doth that I would not have it do,
make blind itself with foolish tenderness

I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,
be more myself

For all the world
as thou art to this hour was Richard then

And even as I was then is Hotspur now

He hath more worthy interest to the state
than thou, the shadow of succession

What never-dying honour hath he got
against renowned Douglas, whose high deeds...

...through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ
ho
lds from all soldiers chief majority and military title capital

Thrice hath this Hotspur, in his enterprise
discomfited great Douglas

Taken him once, enlarged him and made a friend of him,
to shake the peace and safety of our throne

And what say you to this?
Percy, Northumberland...

...the Archbishop′s grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
capitulate against us and are up

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?

Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
which art my nearest and dearest enemy?

Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
base inclination and the start of spleen...

...to fight against me under Percy′s pay

To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns,
to show how much thou art degenerate

Do not think so. You shall not find it so

And God forgive them that so much have swayed
your majesty′s good thoughts away from me

I will redeem all this on Percy′s head
and in the closing of some glorious day...

...be bold to tell you that I am your son,
when I will wear a garment all of blood

And stain my favours in a bloody mask,
which, washed away, shall scour my shame with it

And that shall be the day, whenever it lights,
that this same child of honour and renown...

...this gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
and your unthought-of Harry chance to meet

For every honour sitting on his helm,
would they were multitudes

And on my head my shames redoubled.
For the time will come...

...that I shall make this northern youth
exchange his glorious deeds for my indignities

Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
to engross up glorious deeds on my behalf

And I will call him to so strict account,
that he shall render every glory up

Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
or I will tear the reckoning from his heart

This, in the name of God, I promise here

And I will die a hundred thousand deaths
ere break the smallest parcel of this vow

A hundred thousand rebels die in this.
Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein

- How now, good Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed
- So hath the business that I come to speak of

Lord Dunbar of Scotland hath sent word...

...that Douglas and the English rebels met
the eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury

A mighty and a fearful head they are, if promises be kept
on every hand, as ever offered foul play in a state

The Earl of Westmoreland set forth today,
with him my son, Lord John of Lancaster

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou shalt set forward

On Thursday we ourselves will march.
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet

Our hands are full of business, let′s away.
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay

Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely
since this last action on Gad′s Hill?

Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle?

Why my skin hangs about me
like an old lady′s loose gown

I am withered like an old apple-john

Well, I′ll repent, and that suddenly,
while I am in some liking

I shall be out of heart shortly,
and then I shall have no strength to repent

An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church
is made of, I am a brewer′s horse

The inside of a church!
Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me

Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long

Why, there it is. Come sing me a bawdy song,
make me merry

I was as virtuously given
as a gentleman need to be, virtuous enough

Swore little, paid money that I borrowed...

Three or four times

Diced not, above seven times...

...a week

Went to a bawdy-house not above once in a quarter...

...of an hour

Lived well and in good compass.
And now I live out of all order, out of all compass

Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be
out of all compass, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John

Do thou amend thy face, and I′ll amend my life

Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,
but ′tis in the nose of thee

- Thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp
- Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm

No, I′ll be sworn, I make as good use of it as many
a man doth of a death′s-head or a memento mori

I never see thy face but I think upon hellfire

And Dives that lived in purple,
for there he is in his robes, burning, burning

When thou ran′st up Gad′s Hill in the night
to catch my horse...

...if I did not think that thou hadst been
a ball of wildfire, there′s no purchase in money

O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire

Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in torches,
walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern

But the sack that thou hast drunk me
to maintain that salamander of yours with fire...

...any time this two and thirty years,
God reward me for it

- I would my face were in your belly
- So should I be sure to be heart-burned

How now, Dame Partlet the hen.
Have you inquired yet who picked my pocket?

Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John?
Do you think I keep thieves in my house?

I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband,
man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant

- The tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before
- Ye lie, hostess I′ll be sworn my pocket was picked

- Go to, you are a woman, go
- Who, I? I defy thee

- I was never called so in mine own house before
- Go to, I know you well enough

No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John.
I know you, Sir John

You owe me money, Sir John,
and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it

- I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back
- Muslin, filthy muslin

I have given them away to bakers′ wives,
and they have made bolters of them

Now, as I am a honest woman,
holland of eight shillings an ell

You owe money here besides, Sir John,
for your diet and by-drinkings

And money lent you, four and twenty pounds

- He had his part of it, let him pay
- He? Alas, he is poor, he hath nothing

How? Poor? Look upon his face.
What call you rich?

Let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks.
I′ll not pay a denier

Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn
but I shall have my pocket picked?

I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather′s
worth forty mark

I have heard the prince tell him,
I know not how oft, that that ring was copper

How? The prince is a jack, a sneak-cup. If he were here,
I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so

How now, lad? Is the wind in that door?

- Must we all march?
- Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion

- My lord, I pray you hear me
- What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly?

How does thy husband?
I love him well, he is an honest man

Good my lord, hear me

- Prithee let her alone, and list to me
- What sayest thou, Jack?

The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras
and had my pocket picked

- This house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets
- What didst thou lose, Jack?

Wilt thou believe me, Hal,
three or four bonds of forty pound apiece

- And a seal-ring of my grandfather′s
- A trifle, some eight-penny matter

So I told him, my lord. And I said I heard your grace say so.
And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you...

...like a foul-mouthed man as he is,
and said he would cudgel you

- What? He did not?
- There′s neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else

There′s no more faith in thee than a stewed prune,
nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox

And for womanhood, go, you nothing, go

- Say, what thing? What thing?
- What thing? Why, a thing to thank heaven on

I am no thing to thank heaven on,
I would thou shouldst know it

I am an honest man′s wife, and,
setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so

Setting thy womanhood aside,
thou art a beast to say otherwise

- Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
- What beast? Why, an otter

An otter, Sir John? Why an otter?

Why? She′s neither fish nor flesh.
A man knows not where to have her

Thou art an unjust man in saying so.
Thou or any man knows where to have me

Thou sayest true, hostess,
and he slanders thee most grossly

So he doth you, my lord,
and said this other day you owed him a thousand pound

- Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
- A thousand pound, Hal?

A million.
Thy love is worth a million. Thou owest me thy love

Nay, my lord, he called you Jack,
and said he would cudgel you

- Did I, Bardolph?
- Indeed, Sir John, you said so

- Yea, if he said my ring was copper
- I say it is copper

- Darest thou be as good as thy word now?
- Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but a man, I dare

But as thou art a prince,
I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion′s whelp

- And why not as the lion?
- The king himself is to be feared as the lion

Dost thou think I′ll fear thee as I fear thy father?
Nay, if I do, let my girdle break

O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees

But, sirrah, there′s no room for faith, truth, nor hone
sty
in this bosom of thine. It is all filled up with guts and midriff

Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket?
Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal

If there were anything in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings,
memorandums of bawdy-houses...

...and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy
to make thee long-winded, I am a villain

And yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket up wrong.
Art thou not ashamed?

- You confess then, you picked my pocket?
- It appears so by the story

Hostess, I forgive thee.
Go, make ready breakfast...

...love thy husband, look to thy servants
and cherish thy guests

Thou seest I am pacified still.
Nay, prithee be gone

Now Hal, to the news at court.
For the robbery, lad, how is that answered?

O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee.
The money is paid back again

O, I do not like that paying back, ′tis a double labour

I am good friends with my father and may do anything

Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou dost,
and do it with unwashed hands too

Do, my lord

- I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot
- I would it had been of horse

Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend
none but the virtuous. I laud them, I praise them

- Bardolph
- My lord?

Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster,
to my brother John. This to my Lord of Westmoreland

Go, Peto, to horse, for thou and I
have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time

Jack, meet me tomorrow in the Temple hall
at two o′clock in the afternoon

There shalt thou know thy charge and there receive
money and order for their furniture

The land is burning, Percy stands on high,
and either they or we must lower lie

Rare words! Brave world!
Hostess, my breakfast, come

O, I could wish this tavern were my drum

Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truth
in this fine age were not thought flattery...

...such attribution should the Douglas have,
as not a soldier of this season′s stamp....

...should go so general current through the world

Thou art the king of honour,
no man so potent breathes upon the ground

What letters hast there?
I can but thank you

These letters come from your father

- Letters from him? Why comes he not himself?
- He cannot come, my lord, he is grievous sick

How? Has he the leisure to be sick now
In such a jostling time? Who leads his power?

- Under whose government come they along?
- His letters bears his mind, not I his mind

I prithee tell me, doth he keep his bed?

He did, lord, as I departed thence,
he was much feared by his physician

I would the state of time had first been whole
ere he by sickness had been visited

His health was never better worth than now

Sick now? Droop now? This sickness doth infect
the very life-blood of our enterprise

′Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
He writes me here that inward sickness

And that his friends by deputation could not
so soon be drawn

Nor did he think it meet to lay so dangerous
and dear a trust on any soul removed but on his own

Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
that with our small conjunction we should on...

...to see how fortune is disposed to us,
for, as he writes, there is no quailing now

Because the king is certainly possessed
of all our purposes

- What say you to it?
- Your father′s sickness is a maim to us

A perilous gash, a very limb lopped off.
And yet, in faith, it is not

Were it good to set the exact wealth
of all our states all at one cast?

To set so rich a main
on the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?

It were not good, for therein should we read
the very bottom and the soul of hope

The very list, the very utmost bound
of all our fortunes

- ′Faith, and so we should
- But yet I would your father had been here

The quality and hair of our attempt
brooks no division

It will be thought by some,
that know not why he is away...

...that wisdom, loyalty and mere dislike
of our proceedings kept the earl from hence

And think how such an apprehension may turn the tide of
fearful faction and breed a kind of question in our cause

This absence of your father draws a curtain,
that shows the ignorant a kind of fear before not dreamt of

You strain too far. I rather of his absence make this use:
if we without his help...

...can make a head to push against the kingdom,
with his help we shall overturn it topsy-turvy down

Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole

As heart can think. There is not such a word
spoke of in Scotland as this dream of fear

- My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul
- Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord

The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
is marching hitherwards, with him Prince John

- No harm, what more?
- And further, I have learned...

- ...the king himself in person hath set forth
- He shall be welcome too

Where is his son,
the nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales...

....and his comrades
that daffed the world aside and bid it pass?

All furnished, all in arms, all plumed like estridges
that with the wind bated like eagles having lately bathed

Glittering in golden coats like images,
as full of spirit as the month of May

And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer.
I saw young Harry with his beaver on...

...his cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed,
rise from the ground like feathered Mercury

And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
as if an angel dropped down from the clouds...

...to turn and wind a fiery Pegasus
and witch the world with noble horsemanship

No more, no more

Worse than the sun in March, this praise
doth nourish agues. Let them come

They come like sacrifices in their trim, and to the fir
e-eyed
maid of smoky war all hot and bleeding will we offer them

The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit
up to the ears in blood

I am on fire to hear this rich reprisal
is so nigh and yet not ours

Come, let me take my horse, who is to bear me like
a thunderbolt against the bosom of the Prince of Wales

Harry to Harry, shall hot horse to horse meet
and never part till one drop down a corpse

- O, that Glendower were come
- There is more news

I learned in Worcester that my lord Glendower
cannot draw his power this fourteen days

- That′s the worst tidings that I hear of yet
- Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound

- What may the king′s whole battle reach unto?
- To thirty thousand

Forty let it be. My father and Glendower being both away,
the powers of us may serve so great a day

Come, let us take a muster speedily.
Doomsday is near. Die all, die merrily

Talk not of dying. I am out of fear
of death or death′s hand for this one-half year

Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry.
Fill me a bottle of sack

Our soldiers shall march through,
we′ll to Sutton Coldfield tonight

- Will you give me money, captain?
- Lay out, lay out

- Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town′s end
- I will, captain. Farewell

If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet.
I have misused the king′s press damnably

I have got, in exchange for a hundred and fifty soldiers,
three hundred and odd pounds

I press me none but good householders and contracted
bachelors, such as had as lieve hear the devil as a drum

Such as fear the report of a musket
worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck

I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter,
and they have bought out their services

And now my whole charge consists of slaves as ragged
as Lazarus and such as indeed were never soldiers...

...but discarded servingmen, revolted tapsters and ostl
ers
trade-fallen, the cankers of a calm world and a long peace

A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had
unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies

No eye hath seen such scarecrows.
I′ll not march through Coventry with them, that′s flat

Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs,
as if they had shackles on

For indeed, I had the most of them out of prison

There′s not a shirt and a half in all my company,
but that′s all one, they′ll find linen enough on every hedge

How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt?

What, Hal? How now, mad wag?
What a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?

My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy.
I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury

′Faith, Sir John, ′tis more than time that I were there,
and you too

The king, I can tell you, looks for us all.
We must away all tonight

Tut, never fear me.
I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream

I think to steal cream indeed,
for thy theft hath already made thee butter

But tell me, Jack,
whose fellows are these that come after?

- Mine, Hal, mine
- I did never see such pitiful rascals

Tut, tut, good enough to toss

Food for powder, food for powder.
They′ll fill a pit as well as better

Tush, man, mortal men, mortal men

Ay, but, Sir John, methinks
they are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly

Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had tha
t, and
for their bareness, I am sure they never learned that of me

Sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the field

- What, is the king encamped?
- He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long

Well, to the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast
fits a dull fighter and a keen guest

- We′ll fight with him tonight
- It may not be

- You give him then advantage
- Not a whit

- Why say you so? Looks he not for supply?
- So do we

- His is certain, ours is doubtful
- Good nephew, be advised, stir not tonight

- Do not, my lord
- You do not counsel well

- You speak it out of fear and cold heart
- Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life...

And I dare well maintain it with my life,
if well-respected honour bid me on...

...I hold as little counsel with weak fear
as you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives

- Let it be seen tomorrow in the battle which of us fears
- Yea, or tonight

- Content
- Tonight, say I

Come, come it may not be.
I wonder much...

...being men of such great leading as you are, that you
foresee not what impediments drag back our expedition

Certain horse of my good cousin
are not yet come up

Your uncle Worcester′s horse came but today,
and not a horse is half the half of himself

So are the horses of the enemy.
The better part of ours are full of rest

The number of the king exceedeth ours.
For God′s sake, nephew, stay till all come in

I come with gracious offers from the king,
if you vouchsafe me hearing and respect

Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt,
and would to God you were of our determination

The king hath sent to know the nature of your griefs,
and whereupon you conjure from the breast of civil peace...

...such bold hostility,
teaching his duteous land audacious cruelty

If that the king have any way your good deserts forgot,
which he confesseth to be manifold...

...he bids you name your griefs, and with all speed
you shall have your desires with interest

And pardon absolute for yourself
and these herein misled by your suggestion

The king is kind, and well we know the king
knows at what time to promise, when to pay

My father, my uncle and myself
did give him that same royalty he wears

And when he was not six and twenty strong,
sick in the world′s regard, wretched and low...

...a poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,
my father gave him welcome to the shore

And when he heard him swear and vow to God
he came but to be Duke of Lancaster...

...my father, in kind heart and pity moved,
swore him assistance and performed it too

He presently, as greatness knows itself,
steps me a little higher than his vow made to my father...

...while his blood was poor,
upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh

And now, cries out
and seems to weep over his country′s wrongs

And by this face, this seeming brow of justice,
did he win the hearts of all that he did angle for

- Tut, I came not to hear this
- Then to the point

In short time after, he deposed the king.
Soon after that, deprived him of his life

Disgraced me in my happy victories,
sought to entrap me by intelligence

Rated my uncle from the council-board,
in rage dismissed my father from the court

Broke oath on oath,
committed wrong on wrong

And in conclusion,
drove us to seek out this head of safety

And withal to pry into his title, the which
we find too indirect for long continuance

Shall I return this answer to the king?

Not so, Sir Walter. We′ll withdraw awhile

Go to the king, and in the morning early
shall my uncle bring him our purpose. And so farewell

- I would you would accept of grace and love
- And it may be so we shall

Pray God you do

Hie, good Sir Michael.
Bear this sealed brief to the Lord Marshal

This to my cousin Scroop,
and all the rest to whom they are directed

If you knew how much they do import,
you would make haste

- My good lord, I guess their tenor
- Like enough you do

Tomorrow, good Sir Michael, is a day wherein
the fortune of ten thousand men must bide the touch

For, sir, at Shrewsbury,
as I am truly given to understand...

...the king with mighty and quick-raised power
meets with Lord Harry. And I fear, Sir Michael...

...what with the sickness of Lord Northumberland,
and what with Owen Glendower′s absence thence...

...I fear the power of Hotspur is too weak
to wage an instant trial with the king

Why, my good lord, you need not fear.
There is the Douglas and Lord Mortimer

- No, Mortimer is not there
- But there is Randolph, Vernon, Worcester too

And so there is. But yet the king hath drawn
the special head of all the land together

The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
the noble Westmoreland and warlike Blunt

- Doubt not, my lord, he shall be well opposed
- I hope no less, yet needful ′tis to fear

For if Lord Percy thrive not ere the king dismiss his power,
he means to visit us

For he hath heard of our confederacy,
and ′tis but wisdom to make strong against him

Therefore make haste. I must go write again
to other friends. And so farewell, Sir Michael

How bloodily the sun begins to peer above yon bosky hill.
The day looks pale at his distemperature

The southern wind
doth play the trumpet to his purposes

And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
foretells a tempest and a blustering day

Then with the losers let it sympathize,
for nothing can seem foul to those that win

How now, my Lord of Worcester

It is not well that you and I should meet
upon such terms as now we meet

You have deceived our trust, and made us doff our easy
robes of peace, to crush our old limbs in ungentle steel

This is not well, my lord, this is not well

What say you to it?
Will you again unknit this churlish knot of all-abhorred war?

Hear me, my liege

For mine own part, I could be well content
to entertain the lag-end of my life with quiet hours

- For I do protest, I have not sought the day of this dislike
- You have not sought it? How comes it, then?

- Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it
- Peace, chewet, peace

It pleased your majesty to turn your looks
of favour from myself and all our house

And yet I must remember you, my lord,
we were the first and dearest of your friends

For you my staff of office did I break in Richard′s time,
and posted day and night to meet you on the way

And kiss your hand, when yet you were in place
and in account nothing so strong and fortunate as I

It was myself, my brother and his son, that brought
you home and boldly did outdare the dangers of the time

You swore to us, and you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
that you did nothing purpose ′gainst the state

Nor claim no further than your new-fallen right,
the seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster

To this we swore our aid. But in short space
it rained down fortune showering on your head

And such a flood of greatness fell on you:
what with our help, what with the absent king...

What with the injuries of wanton time,
yea, from this swarm of fair advantages...

...you took occasion to be quickly wooed
to gripe the general sway into your hand

Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster,
and being fed by us, you used us so...

...as that ungentle gull, the cuckoo′s bird,
useth the sparrow, did oppress our nest

Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk that even our love
durst not come near your sight for fear of swallowing

But with nimble wing we were enforced, for safety sake,
to fly out of your sight and raise this present head

Whereby we stand opposed by such means
as you yourself have forged against yourself...

...by unkind usage, dangerous countenance, and violatio
n
of all faith and troth sworn to us in your younger enterprise

These things indeed you have articulated,
proclaimed at market-crosses, read in churches

To face the garment of rebellion with some fine colour
that may please the eye of fickle changelings...

...and poor discontents, which gape and rub the elbow
at the news of hurly-burly innovation

And never yet did insurrection want
such water-colours to impaint his cause

Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
of pell-mell havoc and confusion

In both our armies there is many a soul shall pay
full dearly for this encounter, if once they join in trial

Tell your nephew, the Prince of Wales
doth join with all the world in praise of Harry Percy

By my hopes, I do not think a braver gentleman,
more active-valiant or more valiant-young...

...more daring or more bold
is now alive to grace this latter age with noble deeds

For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant
been to chivalry, and so I hear he doth account me too

Yet this before my father′s majesty:

I am content that he shall take the odds
of his great name and estimation

And will, to save the blood on either side,
try fortune with him in a single fight

No, good Worcester, no

We love our people well. Even those we love
that are misled upon your nephew′s part

And, will they take the offer of our grace...

...both he and they and you, yea, every man
shall be my friend again and I′ll be his

So tell your nephew,
and bring me word what he will do

But if he will not yield, rebuke and dread correction
wait on us, and they shall do their office

- So, be gone
- My liege...

We will not now be troubled with reply.
We offer fair, take it advisedly

- It will not be accepted, on my life
- Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge

For on their answer will we set on them.
And God befriend us as our cause is just

Hal, if thou see me down in the battle,
bestride me, so. ′Tis a point of friendship

Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
Say thy prayers, and farewell

I would it were bedtime, Hal, and all well

Why, thou owest God a death

′Tis not due yet.
I would be loath to pay him before his day

What need I be so forward with him
that calls not on me?

Well, ′tis no matter, honour pricks me on

But how if honour prick me off when I come on?
How then?

Can honour set a leg? No

Or an arm? No.
Or take away the grief of a wound? No

Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? No

What is honour? A word

What is that word ‵honour′? Air

Who hath it? He that died o′ Wednesday

Doth he feel it? No
Doth he hear it? No

Is it insensible, then?
Yea, to the dead

But will it not live with the living? No

Why? Detraction will not suffer it.
Therefore I′ll none of it

Honour is a mere scutcheon.
And so ends my catechism

O, no, my nephew must not know,
Sir Richard, the liberal kind offer of the king

- ′Twere best he did
- Then we are all undone

It is not possible, it cannot be,
the king would keep his word in loving us

He will suspect us still and find a time
to punish this offence in other faults

Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes.
For treason is but trusted like the fox

Who, never so tame, so cherished and locked up,
will have a wild trick of his ancestors

My nephew′s trespass may be well forgot

It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood,
a hare-brained Hotspur, governed by a spleen

All his offences live upon my head
and on his father′s

We did train him on,
and as the spring of all, shall pay for all

Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know,
in any case, the offer of the king

Deliver what you will, I′ll say ′tis so.
Here comes your cousin

- Uncle, what news?
- The king will bid you battle presently

- Defy him. Douglas, go and tell him so
- Marry, and shall, and very willingly

- There is no seeming mercy in the king
- Did you beg any? God forbid

I told him gently of our grievances,
of his oath-breaking...

...which he mended thus,
by now forswearing that he is forsworn

He calls us rebels, traitors, and will scourge
with haughty arms this hateful name in us

Arm, gentlemen, to arms! For I have thrown
a brave defiance in King Henry′s teeth...

...which cannot choose but bring him quickly on

The Prince of Wales stepped forth before the king,
and, nephew, challenged you to single fight

O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads, and that no man
might draw short breath today but I and Harry Monmouth

Tell me, tell me, how showed his talking?
Seemed it in contempt?

No, by my soul. I never in my life
did hear a challenge urged more modestly

He gave you all the duties of a man,
trimmed up your praises with a princely tongue

And, which became him like a prince indeed,
he chid his truant youth with such a grace...

...as if he mastered there a double spirit
of teaching and of learning instantly

There did he pause. But let me tell the world,
if he outlive the envy of this day...

...England did never owe so sweet a hope,
so much misconstrued in his wantonness

Cousin, I think thou art enamoured on his follies.
Never did I hear of any prince so wild a liberty

But be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier′s arm

That he shall shrink under my courtesy

Arm, arm with speed. And, fellows, soldiers, friends,
better consider what you have to do...

...than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
can lift your blood up with persuasion

- My lord, here are letters for you
- I cannot read them now

O, gentlemen, the time of life is short.
To spend that shortness basely were too long

And if we live, we live to tread on kings.
If die, brave death, when princes die with us

My lord, prepare, the king comes on apace

I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,
for I profess not talking

Only this: let each man do his best

And here I draw a sword
whose worthy temper I intend to stain...

...with the best blood that I can meet withal
in the adventure of this perilous day

Now, Esperance! Percy! And set on

Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
and by that music let us all embrace

For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
a second time do such a courtesy

What is thy name, that in battle thus thou crossest me?
What honour dost thou seek upon my head?

Know then, my name is Douglas, and I do haunt thee
in the battle thus because some tell me that thou art a king

They tell thee true

The Lord of Stafford dear today hath bought thy likenes
s,
for instead of thee, King Harry, this arm hath ended him

So shall it thee,
unless thou yield thee as a prisoner

I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot

And thou shalt find a king
that will revenge lord Stafford′s death

O Douglas, had′st thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed over a Scot

- All′s done, all′s won, here breathless lies the king
- Where?

- Here
- This, Douglas? No. I know this face full well

A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt,
semblably furnished like the king himself

Ah, fool, go with thy soul, whither it goes.
A borrowed title hast thou bought too dear

- Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
- The king hath many marching in his coats

Now, by my arm, I will kill all his coats. I′ll murder
all his wardrobe, piece by piece, until I meet the king

Up, and away!
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day

I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too.
Heaven keep lead out of me

I need no more weight than mine own bowels

I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered

There′s not three of my hundred and fifty left alive,
and they for the town′s end, to beg during life

Soft, who are you? Sir Walter Blunt

There′s honour for you. Here′s no vanity

- But who comes here?
- What, stand′st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword

Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff under the hoofs
of vaunting enemies, whose deaths are unrevenged

- Prithee, lend me thy sword
- O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile

Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms
as I have done today

- I have paid Percy, I have made him sure
- He is, indeed, and living to kill thee

- I prithee lend me thy sword
- Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get′st not my sword

- But take my pistol, if thou wilt
- Give it me. What, is it in the case?

- Ay, Hal, ′tis hot. There′s that will sack a city
- What, is it a time to jest and dally now?

If Percy be alive, I′ll pierce him.
If he do come in my way, so

If he do not, if I come in his willingly,
let him make a carbonado of me

I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath

Give me life, which if I can save, so.
If not, honour comes unlooked for, and there′s an end

I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself,
thou bleed′st too much

- Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him
- Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too

I beseech your majesty, make up,
lest your retirement do amaze your friends

I will do so

- Come, my lord, I′ll lead you to your tent
- Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help

And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive
the Prince of Wales from such a field as this

We breathe too long. Come, cousin Westmoreland,
our duty this way lies. For God′s sake, come

By God, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster.
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit

I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point
with lustier maintenance than I did look for...

...of such an ungrown warrior
- O, this boy lends mettle to us all

Another king? They grow like Hydra′s heads

I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
that wear those colours on them

- What art thou, that counterfeit′st the person of a king?
- The king himself. Who, Douglas...

...grieves at heart so many of his shadows
thou hast met, and not the very king

I have two sons seek Percy and thyself about the field.
But, seeing thou fallest on me so luckily...

...I will assay thee, so defend thyself

I fear thou art another counterfeit,
and yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king

But mine I am sure thou art, whoever thou be,
and thus I win thee

Hold up thy head, vile Scot,
or thou art like never to hold it up again

It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
who never promiseth but he means to pay

Cheerly, my lord. How fares your grace?

My Lord Westmoreland for succour sends,
so doth my brother John of Lancaster

Stay, and breathe awhile.
Thou hast redeemed thy lost opinion

And showed thou makest some tender of my life,
in this fair rescue thou hast brought to me

O God, they did me too much injury
that ever said I hearkened for your death

Make up to John, I′ll to Westmoreland

- If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth
- Thou speakest as if I would deny my name

- My name is Harry Percy
- Why, then I see a very valiant rebel of that name

I am the Prince of Wales. And think not, Percy,
to share with me in glory any more

Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere

Nor can one England brook a double reign,
of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales

Nor shall it, Harry,
for the hour is come to end the one of us

And would to God
thy name in arms were now as great as mine

I′ll make it greater ere I part from thee

And all the budding honours on thy crest
I′ll crop, to make a garland for my head

I can no longer brook thy vanities

To it Hal!
You shall find no boy′s play here, I can tell you

O, Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth

I better brook the loss of brittle life
than those proud titles thou hast won of me

They wound my thoughts
worse than thy sword my flesh

But thought′s the slave of life,
and life, time′s fool

And time that takes survey of all the world
must have a stop

O, I could prophesy, but that the earth
and the cold hand of death lies on my tongue

No, Percy, thou art dust and food for...

For worms, brave Percy. Farewell, great heart

Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk

When that this body did contain a spirit,
a kingdom for it was too small a bound

But now two paces of the vilest earth
is room enough

This earth that bears the dead
bears not alive so stout a gentleman

Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven

Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
but not remembered in thy epitaph

What, old acquaintance?
Could not all this flesh keep in a little life?

Poor Jack, farewell.
I could have better spared a better man

O, I should have a heavy miss of thee,
if I were much in love with vanity

Death hath not struck so fat a deer today,
though many dearer, in this bloody fray

Embowelled will I see thee by and by.
Till then in blood by noble Percy lie

Embowelled?

If thou embowel me today, I′ll give you leave
to powder me and eat me too tomorrow

′Twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot
had paid me scot and lot too

The better part of valour is discretion,
in the which better part I have saved my life

I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy,
though he be dead

How, if he should counterfeit too and rise?
I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit

Therefore I′ll make him sure
yea, and I′ll swear I killed him

Nothing confutes me but eyes,
and nobody sees me

Therefore, sirrah, with a new wound in your thigh,
come you along with me

Before, I loved thee as a brother, John,
but now, I do respect thee as my soul

But, soft, who have we here?
Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?

I did. I saw him dead,
breathless and bleeding on the ground

I prithee speak. We will not trust our eyes without our ears.
Thou art not what thou seemest

No, that′s certain, I am not a double man.
But if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a jack

There is Percy. If your father will do me any honour, so.
If not, let him kill the next Percy himself

I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you

- Why, Percy I killed myself and saw thee dead
- Didst thou?

Lord, Lord, how the world is given to lying

I grant you I was down and out of breath,
and so was he

But we rose both at an instant
and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock

I′ll take it on my death,
I gave him this wound in the thigh

If the man were alive and would deny it,
I would make him eat a piece of my sword

This is the strangest tale that ever I heard

This is the strangest fellow, brother John

The trumpets sound retreat, the day is ours

Come, brother, let′s to the highest of the field,
to see what friends are living, who are dead

For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I′ll gild it with the happiest terms I have

Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back

I′ll follow, as they say, for reward.
He that rewards me, God reward him

If I do grow great again, I′ll grow less

For I′ll purge, and leave sack,
and live cleanly as a nobleman should do

Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke

Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send grace,
pardon and terms of love to all of you?

Three knights upon our party slain today, a noble earl
and many a creature else had been alive this hour...

...if like a Christian thou hadst truly borne
betwixt our armies true intelligence

What I have done my safety urged me to, and I embrace
this fortune patiently, since not to be avoided it falls on me

Bear Worcester to death and Vernon too.
Other offenders we will pause upon

How goes the field?

The noble scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw
the fortune of the day quite turned from him

The noble Percy slain, and all his men
upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest

Now is he taken and I beseech your grace
I may dispose of him

With all my heart

Then, brother John of Lancaster,
to you this honourable bounty shall belong

Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
up to his pleasure, ransomless and free

His valour shown upon our crests today
hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds...

...even in the bosom of our adversaries

Then this remains, that we divide our power

You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland
towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed...

...to meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop,
who, as we hear, are busily in arms

Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales,
to fight Glendower and Lord Mortimer

Rebellion in this land shall lose his way,
meeting the check of such another day

And since this business so fair is done,
let us not leave till all our own be won