The First Part of Henry the Fourth

 
 with the Life and Death of Henry Sirnamed Hot-Spvrre
 
 
 Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
 
 Enter the King, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland,
 with
 others.
 
   King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
 Finde we a time for frighted Peace to pant,
 And breath shortwinded accents of new broils
 To be commenc'd in Stronds a-farre remote:
 No more the thirsty entrance of this Soile,
 Shall daube her lippes with her owne childrens blood:
 No more shall trenching Warre channell her fields,
 Nor bruise her Flowrets with the Armed hoofes
 Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes,
 Which like the Meteors of a troubled Heauen,
 All of one Nature, of one Substance bred,
 Did lately meete in the intestine shocke,
 And furious cloze of ciuill Butchery,
 Shall now in mutuall well-beseeming rankes
 March all one way, and be no more oppos'd
 Against Acquaintance, Kindred, and Allies.
 The edge of Warre, like an ill-sheathed knife,
 No more shall cut his Master. Therefore Friends,
 As farre as to the Sepulcher of Christ,
 Whose Souldier now vnder whose blessed Crosse
 We are impressed and ingag'd to fight,
 Forthwith a power of English shall we leuie,
 Whose armes were moulded in their Mothers wombe,
 To chace these Pagans in those holy Fields,
 Ouer whose Acres walk'd those blessed feete
 Which fourteene hundred yeares ago were nail'd
 For our aduantage on the bitter Crosse.
 But this our purpose is a tweluemonth old,
 And bootlesse 'tis to tell you we will go:
 Therefore we meete not now. Then let me heare
 Of you my gentle Cousin Westmerland,
 What yesternight our Councell did decree,
 In forwarding this deere expedience
 
    West. My Liege: This haste was hot in question,
 And many limits of the Charge set downe
 But yesternight: when all athwart there came
 A Post from Wales, loaden with heauy Newes;
 Whose worst was, That the Noble Mortimer,
 Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
 Against the irregular and wilde Glendower,
 Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
 And a thousand of his people butchered:
 Vpon whose dead corpes there was such misuse,
 Such beastly, shamelesse transformation,
 By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
 (Without much shame) re-told or spoken of
 
    King. It seemes then, that the tidings of this broile,
 Brake off our businesse for the Holy land
 
    West. This matcht with other like, my gracious Lord,
 Farre more vneuen and vnwelcome Newes
 Came from the North, and thus it did report:
 On Holy-roode day, the gallant Hotspurre there,
 Young Harry Percy, and braue Archibald,
 That euer-valiant and approoued Scot,
 At Holmeden met, where they did spend
 A sad and bloody houre:
 As by discharge of their Artillerie,
 And shape of likely-hood the newes was told:
 For he that brought them, in the very heate
 And pride of their contention, did take horse,
 Vncertaine of the issue any way
 
    King. Heere is a deere and true industrious friend,
 Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his Horse,
 Strain'd with the variation of each soyle,
 Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours:
 And he hath brought vs smooth and welcome newes.
 The Earle of Dowglas is discomfited,
 Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights
 Balk'd in their owne blood did Sir Walter see
 On Holmedons Plaines. Of Prisoners, Hotspurre tooke
 Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldest sonne
 To beaten Dowglas, and the Earle of Atholl,
 Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith.
 And is not this an honourable spoyle?
 A gallant prize? Ha Cosin, is it not? Infaith it is
 
    West. A Conquest for a Prince to boast of
 
    King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, & mak'st me sin,
 In enuy, that my Lord Northumberland
 Should be the Father of so blest a Sonne:
 A Sonne, who is the Theame of Honors tongue;
 Among'st a Groue, the very straightest Plant,
 Who is sweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride:
 Whil'st I by looking on the praise of him,
 See Ryot and Dishonor staine the brow
 Of my yong Harry. O that it could be prou'd,
 That some Night-tripping-Faiery, had exchang'd
 In Cradle-clothes, our Children where they lay,
 And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet:
 Then would I haue his Harry, and he mine:
 But let him from my thoughts. What thinke you Coze
 Of this young Percies pride? The Prisoners
 Which he in this aduenture hath surpriz'd,
 To his owne vse he keepes, and sends me word
 I shall haue none but Mordake Earle of Fife
 
    West. This is his Vnckles teaching. This is Worcester
 Maleuolent to you in all Aspects:
 Which makes him prune himselfe, and bristle vp
 The crest of Youth against your Dignity
 
    King. But I haue sent for him to answer this:
 And for this cause a-while we must neglect
 Our holy purpose to Ierusalem.
 Cosin, on Wednesday next, our Councell we will hold
 At Windsor, and so informe the Lords:
 But come your selfe with speed to vs againe,
 For more is to be saide, and to be done,
 Then out of anger can be vttered
 
    West. I will my Liege.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Scaena Secunda.
 
 Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and Pointz.
 
   Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?
   Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of olde
 Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping
 vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten
 to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know.
 What a diuell hast thou to do with the time of the day?
 vnlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons,
 and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes
 of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire
 hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason,
 why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the
 time of the day
 
    Fal. Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that
 take Purses, go by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not
 by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I
 prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God saue
 thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte
 haue none
 
    Prin. What, none?
   Fal. No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to
 an Egge and Butter
 
    Prin. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly
 
    Fal. Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King,
 let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd
 Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forresters,
 Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone;
 and let men say, we be men of good Gouernment, being
 gouerned as the Sea, by our noble and chast mistris the
 Moone, vnder whose countenance we steale
 
    Prin. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the
 fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and
 flow like the Sea, beeing gouerned as the Sea is, by the
 Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most resolutely
 snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely
 spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by:
 and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe
 as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow
 as the ridge of the Gallowes
 
    Fal. Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of
 the Tauerne a most sweet Wench?
   Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is
 not a Buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?
   Fal. How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy
 quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe
 with a Buffe-Ierkin?
   Prin. Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Hostesse
 of the Tauerne?
   Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a
 time and oft
 
    Prin. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?
   Fal. No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid al there
 
    Prin. Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would
 stretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit
 
    Fal. Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it heere apparant,
 that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag,
 shall there be Gallowes standing in England when thou
 art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rustie
 curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou
 when thou art a King, hang a Theefe
 
    Prin. No, thou shalt
 
    Fal. Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge
 
    Prin. Thou iudgest false already. I meane, thou shalt
 haue the hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare
 Hangman
 
    Fal. Well Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with
 my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell
 you
 
    Prin. For obtaining of suites?
   Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hangman
 hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a
 Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beare
 
    Prin. Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute
 
    Fal. Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe
 
    Prin. What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly
 of Moore Ditch?
   Fal. Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art indeed
 the most comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince.
 But Hal, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I wold
 thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good names
 were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated
 me the other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd
 him not, and yet hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded
 him not, and yet he talkt wisely, and in the street too
 
    Prin. Thou didst well: for no man regards it
 
    Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeede
 able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vnto
 me Hall, God forgiue thee for it. Before I knew thee
 Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (if a man shold speake
 truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must giue ouer
 this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a
 Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Christendome
 
    Prin. Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke?
   Fal. Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I doe
 not, call me Villaine, and baffle me
 
    Prin. I see a good amendment of life in thee: From
 Praying, to Purse-taking
 
    Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a
 man to labour in his Vocation
 
    Pointz. Now shall wee know if Gads hill haue set a
 Watch. O, if men were to be saued by merit, what hole
 in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent
 Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true man
 
    Prin. Good morrow Ned
 
    Poines. Good morrow sweet Hal. What saies Monsieur
 remorse? What sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar:
 Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee about thy Soule,
 that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup of
 Madera, and a cold Capons legge?
   Prin. Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue
 his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs:
 He will giue the diuell his due
 
    Poin. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with
 the diuell
 
    Prin. Else he had damn'd cozening the diuell
 
    Poy. But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by
 foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes going
 to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders riding
 to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards for you
 all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads-hill lyes to
 night in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in
 Eastcheape; we may doe it as secure as sleepe: if you will
 go, I will stuffe your Purses full of Crownes: if you will
 not, tarry at home and be hang'd
 
    Fal. Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not,
 Ile hang you for going
 
    Poy. You will chops
 
    Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?
   Prin. Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I
 
    Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship
 in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royall,
 if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings
 
    Prin. Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap
 
    Fal. Why, that's well said
 
    Prin. Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home
 
    Fal. Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King
 
    Prin. I care not
 
    Poyn. Sir Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone,
 I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that
 he shall go
 
    Fal. Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion;
 and he the eares of profiting, that what thou speakest,
 may moue; and what he heares may be beleeued, that the
 true Prince, may (for recreation sake) proue a false theefe;
 for the poore abuses of the time, want countenance. Farwell,
 you shall finde me in Eastcheape
 
    Prin. Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown
 Summer
 
    Poy. Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs
 to morrow. I haue a iest to execute, that I cannot mannage
 alone. Falstaffe, Haruey, Rossill, and Gads-hill, shall
 robbe those men that wee haue already way-layde, your
 selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the booty,
 if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my
 shoulders
 
    Prin. But how shal we part with them in setting forth?
   Poyn. Why, we wil set forth before or after them, and
 appoint them a place of meeting, wherin it is at our pleasure
 to faile; and then will they aduenture vppon the exploit
 themselues, which they shall haue no sooner atchieued,
 but wee'l set vpon them
 
    Prin. I, but tis like that they will know vs by our
 horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to
 be our selues
 
    Poy. Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in
 the wood, our vizards wee will change after wee leaue
 them: and sirrah, I haue Cases of Buckram for the nonce,
 to immaske our noted outward garments
 
    Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for vs
 
    Poin. Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as
 true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third
 if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes.
 The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes
 that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper:
 how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what
 blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe
 of this, lyes the iest
 
    Prin. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things
 necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape,
 there Ile sup. Farewell
 
    Poyn. Farewell, my Lord.
 
 Exit Pointz
 
   Prin. I know you all, and will a-while vphold
 The vnyoak'd humor of your idlenesse:
 Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne,
 Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes
 To smother vp his Beauty from the world,
 That when he please againe to be himselfe,
 Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,
 By breaking through the foule and vgly mists
 Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him.
 If all the yeare were playing holidaies,
 To sport, would be as tedious as to worke;
 But when they seldome come, they wisht-for come,
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
 So when this loose behauiour I throw off,
 And pay the debt I neuer promised;
 By how much better then my word I am,
 By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes,
 And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground:
 My reformation glittering o're my fault,
 Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes,
 Then that which hath no foyle to set it off.
 Ile so offend, to make offence a skill,
 Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.
 
 Scoena Tertia.
 
 Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspurre, Sir Walter
 Blunt,
 and others.
 
   King. My blood hath beene too cold and temperate,
 Vnapt to stirre at these indignities,
 And you haue found me; for accordingly,
 You tread vpon my patience: But be sure,
 I will from henceforth rather be my Selfe,
 Mighty, and to be fear'd, then my condition
 Which hath beene smooth as Oyle, soft as yong Downe,
 And therefore lost that Title of respect,
 Which the proud soule ne're payes, but to the proud
 
    Wor. Our house (my Soueraigne Liege) little deserues
 The scourge of greatnesse to be vsed on it,
 And that same greatnesse too, which our owne hands
 Haue holpe to make so portly
 
    Nor. My Lord
 
    King. Worcester get thee gone: for I do see
 Danger and disobedience in thine eye.
 O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
 And Maiestie might neuer yet endure
 The moody Frontier of a seruant brow,
 You haue good leaue to leaue vs. When we need
 Your vse and counsell, we shall send for you.
 You were about to speake
 
    North. Yea, my good Lord.
 Those Prisoners in your Highnesse demanded,
 Which Harry Percy heere at Holmedon tooke,
 Were (as he sayes) not with such strength denied
 As was deliuered to your Maiesty:
 Who either through enuy, or misprision,
 Was guilty of this fault; and not my Sonne
 
    Hot. My Liege, I did deny no Prisoners.
 But, I remember when the fight was done,
 When I was dry with Rage, and extreame Toyle,
 Breathlesse, and Faint, leaning vpon my Sword,
 Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly drest;
 Fresh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapt,
 Shew'd like a stubble Land at Haruest home.
 He was perfumed like a Milliner,
 And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held
 A Pouncet-box: which euer and anon
 He gaue his Nose, and took't away againe:
 Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
 Tooke it in Snuffe. And still he smil'd and talk'd:
 And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by,
 He call'd them vntaught Knaues, Vnmannerly,
 To bring a slouenly vnhandsome Coarse
 Betwixt the Winde, and his Nobility.
 With many Holiday and Lady tearme
 He question'd me: Among the rest, demanded
 My Prisoners, in your Maiesties behalfe.
 I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold,
 (To be so pestered with a Popingay)
 Out of my Greefe, and my Impatience,
 Answer'd (neglectingly) I know not what,
 He should, or should not: For he made me mad,
 To see him shine so briske, and smell so sweet,
 And talke so like a Waiting-Gentlewoman,
 Of Guns, & Drums, and Wounds: God saue the marke;
 And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth
 Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise:
 And that it was great pitty, so it was,
 That villanous Salt-peter should be digg'd
 Out of the Bowels of the harmlesse Earth,
 Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroy'd
 So Cowardly. And but for these vile Gunnes,
 He would himselfe haue beene a Souldier.
 This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord)
 Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.)
 And I beseech you, let not this report
 Come currant for an Accusation,
 Betwixt my Loue, and your high Maiesty
 
    Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my Lord,
 What euer Harry Percie then had said,
 To such a person, and in such a place,
 At such a time, with all the rest retold,
 May reasonably dye, and neuer rise
 To do him wrong, or any way impeach
 What then he said, so he vnsay it now
 
    King. Why yet doth deny his Prisoners,
 But with Prouiso and Exception,
 That we at our owne charge, shall ransome straight
 His Brother-in-Law, the foolish Mortimer,
 Who (in my soule) hath wilfully betraid
 The liues of those, that he did leade to Fight,
 Against the great Magitian, damn'd Glendower:
 Whose daughter (as we heare) the Earle of March
 Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then,
 Be emptied, to redeeme a Traitor home?
 Shall we buy Treason? and indent with Feares,
 When they haue lost and forfeyted themselues.
 No: on the barren Mountaine let him sterue:
 For I shall neuer hold that man my Friend,
 Whose tongue shall aske me for one peny cost
 To ransome home reuolted Mortimer
 
    Hot. Reuolted Mortimer?
 He neuer did fall off, my Soueraigne Liege,
 But by the chance of Warre: to proue that true,
 Needs no more but one tongue. For all those Wounds,
 Those mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he tooke,
 When on the gentle Seuernes siedgie banke,
 In single Opposition hand to hand,
 He did confound the best part of an houre
 In changing hardiment with great Glendower:
 Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink
 Vpon agreement, of swift Seuernes flood;
 Who then affrighted with their bloody lookes,
 Ran fearefully among the trembling Reeds,
 And hid his crispe-head in the hollow banke,
 Blood-stained with these Valiant Combatants.
 Neuer did base and rotten Policy
 Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
 Nor neuer could the Noble Mortimer
 Receiue so many, and all willingly:
 Then let him not be sland'red with Reuolt
 
    King. Thou do'st bely him Percy, thou dost bely him;
 He neuer did encounter with Glendower:
 I tell thee, he durst as well haue met the diuell alone,
 As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
 Art thou not asham'd? But Sirrah, henceforth
 Let me not heare you speake of Mortimer.
 Send me your Prisoners with the speediest meanes,
 Or you shall heare in such a kinde from me
 As will displease ye. My Lord Northumberland,
 We License your departure with your sonne,
 Send vs your Prisoners, or you'l heare of it.
 
 Exit King.
 
   Hot. And if the diuell come and roare 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
 
    Nor. What? drunke with choller? stay & pause awhile,
 Heere comes your Vnckle.
 Enter Worcester.
 
   Hot. Speake of Mortimer?
 Yes, I will speake of him, and let my soule
 Want mercy, if I do not ioyne with him.
 In his behalfe, Ile empty all these Veines,
 And shed my deere blood drop by drop i'th dust,
 But I will lift the downfall Mortimer
 As high i'th Ayre, as this Vnthankfull King,
 As this Ingrate and Cankred Bullingbrooke
 
    Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad
   Wor. Who strooke this heate vp after I was gone?
   Hot. He will (forsooth) haue all my Prisoners:
 And when I vrg'd the ransom once againe
 Of my Wiues Brother, then his cheeke look'd pale,
 And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
 Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer
 
    Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd
 By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?
   Nor. He was: I heard the Proclamation,
 And then it was, when the vnhappy King
 (Whose wrongs in vs God pardon) did set forth
 Vpon his Irish Expedition:
 From whence he intercepted, did returne
 To be depos'd, and shortly murthered
 
    Wor. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide mouth
 Liue scandaliz'd, and fouly spoken of
 
    Hot. But soft I pray you; did King Richard then
 Proclaime my brother Mortimer,
 Heyre to the Crowne?
   Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it
 
    Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King,
 That wish'd him on the barren Mountaines staru'd.
 But shall it be, that you that set the Crowne
 Vpon the head of this forgetfull man,
 And for his sake, wore the detested blot
 Of murtherous subornation? Shall it be,
 That you a world of curses vndergoe,
 Being the Agents, or base second meanes,
 The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather?
 O pardon, if that I descend so low,
 To shew the Line, and the Predicament
 Wherein you range vnder this subtill King.
 Shall it for shame, be spoken in these dayes,
 Or fill vp Chronicles in time to come,
 That men of your Nobility and Power,
 Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe
 (As Both of you, God pardon it, haue done)
 To put downe Richard, that sweet louely Rose,
 And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke?
 And shall it in more shame be further spoken,
 That you are fool'd, discarded, and shooke off
 By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent?
 No: yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme
 Your banish'd Honors, and restore your selues
 Into the good Thoughts of the world againe.
 Reuenge the geering and disdain'd contempt
 Of this proud King, who studies day and night
 To answer all the Debt he owes vnto you,
 Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths:
 Therefore I say-
   Wor. Peace Cousin, say no more.
 And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke,
 And to your quicke conceyuing Discontents,
 Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous,
 As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit,
 As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud
 On the vnstedfast footing of a Speare
 
    Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sinke or swimme:
 Send danger from the East vnto the West,
 So Honor crosse it from the North to South,
 And let them grapple: The blood more stirres
 To rowze a Lyon, then to start a Hare
 
    Nor. Imagination of some great exploit,
 Driues him beyond the bounds of Patience
 
    Hot. By heauen, me thinkes it were an easie leap,
 To plucke bright Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone,
 Or diue into the bottome of the deepe,
 Where Fadome-line could neuer touch the ground,
 And plucke vp drowned Honor by the Lockes:
 So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare
 Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities:
 But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowship
 
    Wor. He apprehends a World of Figures here,
 But not the forme of what he should attend:
 Good Cousin giue me audience for a-while,
 And list to me
 
    Hot. I cry you mercy
 
    Wor. Those same Noble Scottes
 That are your Prisoners
 
    Hot. Ile keepe them all.
 By heauen, he shall not haue a Scot of them:
 No, if a Scot would saue his Soule, he shall not.
 Ile keepe them, by this Hand
 
    Wor. You start away,
 And lend no eare vnto my purposes.
 Those Prisoners you shall keepe
 
    Hot. Nay, I will: that's flat:
 He said, he would not ransome Mortimer:
 Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer.
 But I will finde him when he lyes asleepe,
 And in his eare, Ile holla Mortimer.
 Nay, Ile haue a Starling shall be taught to speake
 Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him,
 To keepe his anger still in motion
 
    Wor. Heare you Cousin: a word
 
    Hot. All studies heere I solemnly defie,
 Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke,
 And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales.
 But that I thinke his Father loues him not,
 And would be glad he met with some mischance,
 I would haue poyson'd him with a pot of Ale
 
    Wor. Farewell Kinsman: Ile talke to you
 When you are better temper'd to attend
 
    Nor. Why what a Waspe-tongu'd & impatient foole
 Art thou, to breake into this Womans mood,
 Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne?
   Hot. Why look you, I am whipt & scourg'd with rods,
 Netled, and stung with Pismires, when I heare
 Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke.
 In Richards time: What de'ye call the place?
 A plague vpon't, it is in Gloustershire:
 'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept,
 His Vncle Yorke, where I first bow'd my knee
 Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke:
 When you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh
 
    Nor. At Barkley Castle
 
    Hot. You say true:
 Why what a caudie deale of curtesie,
 This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me,
 Looke when his infant Fortune came to age,
 And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Cousin:
 O, the Diuell take such Couzeners, God forgiue me,
 Good Vncle tell your tale, for I haue done
 
    Wor. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe,
 Wee'l stay your leysure
 
    Hot. I haue done insooth
 
    Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners.
 Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight,
 And make the Dowglas sonne your onely meane
 For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reasons
 Which I shall send you written, be assur'd
 Will easily be granted you, my Lord.
 Your Sonne in Scotland being thus imploy'd,
 Shall secretly into the bosome creepe
 Of that same noble Prelate, well belou'd,
 The Archbishop
 
    Hot. Of Yorke, is't not?
   Wor. True, who beares hard
 His Brothers death at Bristow, the Lord Scroope.
 I speake not this in estimation,
 As what I thinke might be, but what I know
 Is ruminated, plotted, and set downe,
 And onely stayes but to behold the face
 Of that occasion that shall bring it on
 
    Hot. I smell it:
 Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well
 
    Nor. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip
 
    Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot,
 And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke
 To ioyne with Mortimer, Ha
 
    Wor. And so they shall
 
    Hot. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd
 
    Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids vs speed,
 To saue our heads, by raising of a Head:
 For, beare our selues as euen as we can,
 The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt,
 And thinke, we thinke our selues vnsatisfied,
 Till he hath found a time to pay vs home.
 And see already, how he doth beginne
 To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue
 
    Hot. He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him
 
    Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this,
 Then I by Letters shall direct your course
 When time is ripe, which will be sodainly:
 Ile steale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer,
 Where you, and Dowglas, and our powres at once,
 As I will fashion it, shall happily meete,
 To beare our fortunes in our owne strong armes,
 Which now we hold at much vncertainty
 
    Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thriue, I trust
 
    Hot. Vncle, adieu: O let the houres be short,
 Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our sport.
 
 Exit
 
 
 Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
 
 Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.
 
   1.Car. Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, Ile be
 hang'd. Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet
 our horse not packt. What Ostler?
   Ost. Anon, anon
 
    1.Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few
 Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the withers,
 out of all cesse.
 Enter another Carrier.
 
   2.Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog,
 and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes:
 This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler
 dyed
 
    1.Car. Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats
 rose, it was the death of him
 
    2.Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al
 London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench
 
    1.Car. Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Christendome,
 could be better bit, then I haue beene since the
 first Cocke
 
    2.Car. Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and
 then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye
 breeds Fleas like a Loach
 
    1.Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come
 away
 
    2.Car. I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of
 Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse
 
    1.Car. The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued.
 What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in
 thy head? Can'st not heare? And t'were not as good a
 deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Villaine.
 Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee?
 Enter Gads-hill.
 
   Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke?
   Car. I thinke it be two a clocke
 
    Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding
 in the stable
 
    1.Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two
 of that
 
    Gad. I prethee lend me thine
 
    2.Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne
 (quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first
 
    Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come
 to London?
   2.Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I
 warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp
 the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they
 haue great charge.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Enter Chamberlaine.
 
   Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine?
   Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse
 
    Gad. That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine:
 For thou variest no more from picking of Purses,
 then giuing direction, doth from labouring. Thou
 lay'st the plot, how
 
    Cham. Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds currant
 that I told you yesternight. There's a Franklin in the
 wilde of Kent, hath brought three hundred Markes with
 him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company last
 night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abundance
 of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp already,
 and call for Egges and Butter. They will away
 presently
 
    Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S[aint]. Nicholas Clarks,
 Ile giue thee this necke
 
    Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the
 Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S[aint]. Nicholas as truly
 as a man of falshood may
 
    Gad. What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I
 hang, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang,
 old Sir Iohn hangs with mee, and thou know'st hee's no
 Starueling. Tut, there are other Troians that y dream'st
 not of, the which (for sport sake) are content to doe the
 Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee
 look'd into) for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole.
 I am ioyned with no Foot-land-Rakers, No Long-staffe
 six-penny strikers, none of these mad
 Mustachio-purple-hu'd-Maltwormes,
 but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie;
 Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can holde in,
 such as will strike sooner then speake; and speake sooner
 then drinke, and drinke sooner then pray: and yet I lye,
 for they pray continually vnto their Saint the Commonwealth;
 or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for
 they ride vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots
 
    Cham. What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will
 she hold out water in foule way?
   Gad. She will, she will; Iustice hath liquor'd her. We
 steale as in a Castle, cocksure: we haue the receit of Fernseede,
 we walke inuisible
 
    Cham. Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding
 to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking inuisible
 
    Gad. Giue me thy hand.
 Thou shalt haue a share in our purpose,
 As I am a true man
 
    Cham. Nay, rather let mee haue it, as you are a false
 Theefe
 
    Gad. Goe too: Homo is a common name to all men.
 Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Farewell,
 ye muddy Knaue.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scaena Secunda.
 
 
 Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.
 
   Poines. Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs
 Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet
 
    Prin. Stand close.
 Enter Falstaffe.
 
   Fal. Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines
 
    Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling
 dost thou keepe
 
    Fal. What Poines. Hal?
   Prin. He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek
 him
 
    Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that
 Rascall hath remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not
 where. If I trauell but foure foot by the squire further a
 foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but
 to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing
 that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely
 any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht
 with the Rogues company. If the Rascall haue not giuen
 me medicines to make me loue him, Ile be hang'd; it could
 not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a
 Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I
 rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to
 drinke, to turne True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I
 am the veriest Varlet that euer chewed with a Tooth.
 Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten miles
 afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it
 well enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be
 true one to another.
 
 They Whistle.
 
 Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you
 Rogues: giue me my Horse, and be hang'd
 
    Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare
 close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of
 Trauellers
 
    Fal. Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being
 downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again,
 for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague
 meane ye to colt me thus?
   Prin. Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted
 
    Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse,
 good Kings sonne
 
    Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?
   Fal. Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters:
 If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not
 Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of
 Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote
 too, I hate it.
 Enter Gads-hill.
 
   Gad. Stand
 
    Fal. So I do against my will
 
    Poin. O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce:
 Bardolfe, what newes?
   Bar. Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's
 mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going
 to the Kings Exchequer
 
    Fal. You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern
 
    Gad. There's enough to make vs all
 
    Fal. To be hang'd
 
    Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane:
 Ned and I, will walke lower; if they scape from your encounter,
 then they light on vs
 
    Peto. But how many be of them?
   Gad. Some eight or ten
 
    Fal. Will they not rob vs?
   Prin. What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch?
   Fal. Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather;
 but yet no Coward, Hal
 
    Prin. Wee'l leaue that to the proofe
 
    Poin. Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg,
 when thou need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell,
 and stand fast
 
    Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd
 
    Prin. Ned, where are our disguises?
   Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close
 
    Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I:
 euery man to his businesse.
 Enter Trauellers
 
    Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses
 downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our
 Legges
 
    Theeues. Stay
 
    Tra. Iesu blesse vs
 
    Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats;
 a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs
 youth; downe with them, fleece them
 
    Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer
 
    Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No
 ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Bacons,
 on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are
 Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.
 
 Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines.
 
   Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now
 could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London,
 it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a
 Moneth, and a good iest for euer
 
    Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming.
 Enter Theeues againe.
 
   Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse
 before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand
 Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe
 valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke
 
    Prin. Your money
 
    Poin. Villaines.
 
 As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all
 run
 away, leauing the booty behind them.
 
   Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse:
 The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly,
 that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow
 for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to
 death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't
 not for laughing, I should pitty him
 
    Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scoena Tertia.
 
 Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.
 
 But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to
 be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.
 He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of
 the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues
 his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me
 see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous.
 Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to
 sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of
 this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The
 purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named
 vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole
 Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition.
 Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a
 shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine
 is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer
 was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte,
 good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot,
 very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this?
 Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the
 generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now
 by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan.
 Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord
 Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour?
 Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters,
 to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth?
 and are they not some of them set forward already?
 What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall
 see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he
 to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could
 diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish
 of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him,
 let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards
 to night.
 Enter his Lady.
 
 How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours
 
    La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?
 For what offence haue I this fortnight bin
 A banish'd woman from my Harries bed?
 Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee
 Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe?
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth?
 And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
 Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes?
 And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee,
 To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly?
 In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht,
 And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres:
 Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed,
 Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd
 Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,
 Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,
 Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,
 Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine,
 And all the current of a headdy fight.
 Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre,
 And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe,
 That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow,
 Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame;
 And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd,
 Such as we see when men restraine their breath
 On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these?
 Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand,
 And I must know it: else he loues me not
 
    Hot. What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?
   Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone
 
    Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses fro[m] the Sheriffe?
   Ser. One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now
 
    Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not
 
    Ser. It is my Lord
 
    Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will
 backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth
 into the Parke
 
    La. But heare you, my lord
 
    Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?
   La. What is it carries you away?
   Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse
 
    La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not
 such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile
 know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Brother
 Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent
 for you to line his enterprize. But if you go-
   Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue
 
    La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly
 vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake
 thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true
 
    Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not,
 I care not for thee Kate: this is no world
 To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.
 We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,
 And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.
 What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?
   La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?
 Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,
 I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?
 Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no
 
    Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
 And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare
 I loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate,
 I must not haue you henceforth, question me,
 Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.
 Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,
 This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate.
 I know you wise, but yet no further wise
 Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,
 But yet a woman: and for secrecie,
 No Lady closer. For I will beleeue
 Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know,
 And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate
 
    La. How so farre?
   Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate,
 Whither I go, thither shall you go too:
 To day will I set forth, to morrow you.
 Will this content you Kate?
   La. It must of force.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Scena Quarta.
 
 Enter Prince and Poines.
 
   Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend
 me thy hand to laugh a little
 
    Poines. Where hast bene Hall?
   Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3.
 or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base
 string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of
 Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke,
 and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence,
 that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King
 of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Falstaffe,
 but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and
 when I am King of England, I shall command al the good
 Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dying
 Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then
 they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am
 so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can
 drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my
 life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou
 wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to sweeten
 which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar,
 clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker,
 one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight
 shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril
 addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the
 Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Falstaffe
 come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome,
 while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue
 me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his
 Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile
 shew thee a President
 
    Poines. Francis
 
    Prin. Thou art perfect
 
    Poin. Francis.
 Enter Drawer.
 
   Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet,
 Ralfe
 
    Prince. Come hither Francis
 
    Fran. My Lord
 
    Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?
   Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to-
   Poin. Francis
 
    Fran. Anon, anon sir
 
    Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking
 of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as
 to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a faire
 paire of heeles, and run from it?
   Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in
 England, I could finde in my heart
 
    Poin. Francis
 
    Fran. Anon, anon sir
 
    Prin. How old art thou, Francis?
   Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe-
   Poin. Francis
 
    Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord
 
    Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou
 gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?
   Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two
 
    Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske
 me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it
 
    Poin. Francis
 
    Fran. Anon, anon
 
    Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis:
 or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou
 wilt. But Francis
 
    Fran. My Lord
 
    Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall
 button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice
 garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch
 
    Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane?
   Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onely
 drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doublet
 will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much
 
    Fran. What sir?
   Poin. Francis
 
    Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?
 
 Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing
 which way
 to go.
 
 Enter Vintner.
 
   Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling?
 Looke to the Guests within: My Lord, olde Sir
 Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let
 them in?
   Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore.
 Poines.
 Enter Poines.
 
   Poin. Anon, anon sir
 
    Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at
 the doore, shall we be merry?
   Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee,
 What cunning match haue you made this iest of the
 Drawer? Come, what's the issue?
   Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues
 humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to
 the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight.
 What's a clocke Francis?
   Fran. Anon, anon sir
 
    Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words
 then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry
 is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcell
 of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre
 of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen
 dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies
 to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my
 sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day?
 Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres,
 some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee
 call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne
 shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the drunkard.
 Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.
 Enter Falstaffe.
 
   Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?
   Fal. A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance
 too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere
 I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend
 them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of
 Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant?
   Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter,
 pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of
 the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound
 
    Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there
 is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet
 a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A villanous
 Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou
 wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the
 face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues
 not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them
 is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I
 say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of
 songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still
 
    Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?
   Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy
 Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Subiects
 afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer
 weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?
   Prin. Why you horson round man? what's the matter?
   Fal. Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and
 Poines there?
   Prin. Ye fat paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile
 stab thee
 
    Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call
 the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could
 run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the
 shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you
 that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such backing:
 giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup
 of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day
 
    Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since
 thou drunk'st last
 
    Falst. All's one for that.
 
 He drinkes.
 
 A plague of all Cowards still, say I
 
    Prince. What's the matter?
   Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue
 ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning
 
    Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?
   Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred
 vpon poore foure of vs
 
    Prince. What, a hundred, man?
   Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with
 a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by
 miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,
 foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and
 through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum.
 I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe.
 A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake
 more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes
 of darknesse
 
    Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?
   Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen
 
    Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord
 
    Gad. And bound them
 
    Peto. No, no, they were not bound
 
    Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of
 them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew
 
    Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men
 set vpon vs
 
    Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the
 other
 
    Prince. What, fought yee with them all?
   Falst. All? I know not what yee call all: but if I
 fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish:
 if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde
 Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature
 
    Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of
 them
 
    Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd
 two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues
 in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
 Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde
 word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues
 in Buckrom let driue at me
 
    Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now
 
    Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure
 
    Poin. I, I, he said foure
 
    Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust
 at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen
 points in my Targuet, thus
 
    Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now
 
    Falst. In buckrom
 
    Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes
 
    Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else
 
    Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon
 
    Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal?
   Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack
 
    Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these
 nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of
 
    Prin. So, two more alreadie
 
    Falst. Their Points being broken
 
    Poin. Downe fell his Hose
 
    Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me
 close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of
 the eleuen I pay'd
 
    Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne
 out of two?
   Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten
 Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and
 let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st
 not see thy Hand
 
    Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them,
 grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd
 Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson obscene
 greasie Tallow Catch
 
    Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the
 truth, the truth?
   Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in
 Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not
 see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou
 to this?
   Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason
 
    Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the
 Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not
 tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion?
 If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would
 giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I
 
    Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine
 Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker,
 this huge Hill of Flesh
 
    Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried
 Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth
 to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath
 you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke
 
    Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and
 when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare
 me speake but thus
 
    Poin. Marke Iacke
 
    Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound
 them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how
 a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set
 on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your
 prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House.
 And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with
 as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne
 and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art
 thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say
 it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting
 hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open
 and apparant shame?
   Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast
 thou now?
   Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare
 ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant?
 Should I turne vpon 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 thinke the better of
 my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion,
 and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue
 the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night,
 pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold,
 all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What,
 shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory
 
    Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing
 away
 
    Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.
 
 Enter Hostesse
 
   Host. My Lord, the Prince?
   Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st
 thou to me?
   Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the
 Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee
 comes from your Father
 
    Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall
 man, and send him backe againe to my Mother
 
    Falst. What manner of man is hee?
   Hostesse. An old man
 
    Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?
 Shall I giue him his answere?
   Prin. Prethee doe Iacke
 
    Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing.
 Enter.
 
   Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you
 Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne
 away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince;
 no, fie
 
    Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne
 
    Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes
 Sword so hackt?
   Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee
 would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make
 you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe
 the like
 
    Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse,
 to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments
 with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did
 that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare
 his monstrous deuices
 
    Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene
 yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and
 euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire
 and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what
 instinct hadst thou for it?
   Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you
 behold these Exhalations?
   Prin. I doe
   Bard. What thinke you they portend?
   Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses
 
    Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken
 
    Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.
 Enter Falstaffe.
 
 Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How
 now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe,
 Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee?
   Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres
 (Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could
 haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague
 of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder.
 There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn
 Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in
 the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy;
 and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado,
 and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true
 Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a
 plague call you him?
   Poin. O, Glendower
 
    Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law
 Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly
 Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a
 Hill perpendicular
 
    Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll
 kills a Sparrow flying
 
    Falst. You haue hit it
 
    Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow
 
    Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him,
 hee will not runne
 
    Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him
 so for running?
   Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will
 not budge a foot
 
    Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct
 
    Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too,
 and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more.
 Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is
 turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now
 as cheape as stinking Mackrell
 
    Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this
 ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as
 they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds
 
    Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee
 shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art
 not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant,
 could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes againe,
 as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that
 Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth
 not thy blood thrill at it?
   Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct
 
    Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow,
 when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me,
 practise an answere
 
    Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee
 vpon the particulars of my Life
 
    Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my
 State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my
 Crowne
 
    Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden
 Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich
 Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne
 
    Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of
 thee now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke
 to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I
 haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it
 in King Cambyses vaine
 
    Prin. Well, heere is my Legge
 
    Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie
 
    Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith
 
    Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares
 are vaine
 
    Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance?
   Falst. For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen,
 For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes
 
    Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry
 Players, as euer I see
 
    Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine.
 Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy
 time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though
 the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes;
 yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares.
 Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word,
 partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of
 thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that
 doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere
 lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so
 poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a
 Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee
 askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and
 take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing,
 Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to
 many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as
 ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie
 thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to
 thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion;
 not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet
 there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy
 companie, but I know not his Name
 
    Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie?
   Falst. A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent,
 of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble
 Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady)
 inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his
 Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen,
 hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes.
 If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit
 by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue
 in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And
 tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast
 thou beene this moneth?
   Prin. Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand
 for mee, and Ile play my Father
 
    Falst. Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so
 maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the
 heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare
 
    Prin. Well, heere I am set
 
    Falst. And heere I stand: iudge my Masters
 
    Prin. Now Harry, whence come you?
   Falst. My Noble Lord, from East-cheape
 
    Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous
 
    Falst. Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle
 ye for a young Prince
 
    Prin. Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth
 ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from
 Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a
 fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why
 do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that
 Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of
 Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloakebagge
 of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the
 Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey iniquitie,
 that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? wherein
 is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein
 neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein
 Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie?
 wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy,
 but in nothing?
   Falst. I would your Grace would take me with you:
 whom meanes your Grace?
   Prince. That villanous abhominable mis-leader of
 Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan
 
    Falst. My Lord, the man I know
 
    Prince. I know thou do'st
 
    Falst. But to say, I know more harme in him then in
 my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde
 (the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it:
 but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-master,
 that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault,
 Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a
 sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd:
 if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are
 to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish
 Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe,
 kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Falstaffe,
 and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack
 Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish
 not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and
 banish all the World
 
    Prince. I doe, I will.
 Enter Bardolph running.
 
   Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most
 monstrous Watch, is at the doore
 
    Falst. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much
 to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe.
 Enter the Hostesse.
 
   Hostesse. O, my Lord, my Lord
 
    Falst. Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddlesticke:
 what's the matter?
   Hostesse. The Sherife and all the Watch are at the
 doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let
 them in?
   Falst. Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of
 Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without
 seeming so
 
    Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct
 
    Falst. I deny your Maior: if you will deny the
 Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart
 as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I
 hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as another
 
    Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest
 walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and
 good Conscience
 
    Falst. Both which I haue had: but their date is out,
 and therefore Ile hide me.
 Enter.
 
   Prince. Call in the Sherife.
 Enter Sherife and the Carrier.
 
   Prince. Now Master Sherife, what is your will with
 mee?
   She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath
 followed certaine men vnto this house
 
    Prince. What men?
   She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord,
 a grosse fat man
 
    Car. As fat as Butter
 
    Prince. The man, I doe assure you, is not heere,
 For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him:
 And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee,
 That I will by to morrow Dinner time,
 Send him to answere thee, or any man,
 For any thing he shall be charg'd withall:
 And so let me entreat you, leaue the house
 
    She. I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen
 Haue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes
 
    Prince. It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men,
 He shall be answerable: and so farewell
 
    She. Good Night, my Noble Lord
 
    Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?
   She. Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.
 Enter.
 
   Prince. This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules:
 goe call him forth
 
    Peto. Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and
 snorting like a Horse
 
    Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his
 Pockets.
 
 He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth certaine Papers.
 
   Prince. What hast thou found?
   Peto. Nothing but Papers, my Lord
 
    Prince. Let's see, what be they? reade them
 
    Peto. Item, a Capon. ii.s.ii.d.
 Item, Sawce iiii.d.
 Item, Sacke, two Gallons. v.s.viii.d.
 Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper. ii.s.vi.d.
 Item, Bread. ob
 
    Prince. O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of
 Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is
 else, keepe close, wee'le reade it at more aduantage: there
 let him sleepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning:
 Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall be honorable.
 Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot,
 and I know his death will be a Match of Twelue-score.
 The Money shall be pay'd backe againe with aduantage.
 Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good morrow
 Peto
 
    Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
 
 Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.
 
   Mort. These promises are faire, the parties sure,
 And our induction full of prosperous hope
 
    Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,
 Will you sit downe?
 And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,
 I haue forgot the Mappe
 
    Glend. No, here it is:
 Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:
 For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you,
 His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh,
 He wisheth you in Heauen
 
    Hotsp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower
 spoke of
 
    Glend. I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie,
 The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
 Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,
 The frame and foundation of the Earth
 Shak'd like a Coward
 
    Hotsp. Why so it would haue done at the same season,
 if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe
 had neuer beene borne
 
    Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne
 
    Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde,
 If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke
 
    Glend. The heauens were all on fire, the Earth did
 tremble
 
    Hotsp. Oh, then the Earth shooke
 To see the Heauens on fire,
 And not in feare of your Natiuitie.
 Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth
 In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth
 Is with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext,
 By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde
 Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing,
 Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe
 Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,
 Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature,
 In passion shooke
 
    Glend. Cousin: of many men
 I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue
 To tell you once againe, that at my Birth
 The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
 The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards
 Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:
 These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,
 And all the courses of my Life doe shew,
 I am not in the Roll of common men.
 Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,
 That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,
 Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?
 And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,
 Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,
 And hold me pace in deepe experiments
 
    Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:
 Ile to Dinner
 
    Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad
 
    Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe
 
    Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man:
 But will they come, when you doe call for them?
   Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the
 Deuill
 
    Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,
 By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.
 If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither,
 And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence.
 Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill
 
    Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable
 Chat
 
    Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head
 Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,
 And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent him
 Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe
 
    Hotsp. Home without Bootes,
 And in foule Weather too,
 How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?
   Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe:
 Shall wee diuide our Right,
 According to our three-fold order ta'ne?
   Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it
 Into three Limits, very equally:
 England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto,
 By South and East, is to my part assign'd:
 All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore,
 And all the fertile Land within that bound,
 To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to you
 The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.
 And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne:
 Which being sealed enterchangeably,
 (A Businesse that this Night may execute)
 To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,
 And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,
 To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power,
 As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.
 My Father Glendower is not readie yet,
 Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes:
 Within that space, you may haue drawne together
 Your Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen
 
    Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, Lords:
 And in my Conduct shall your Ladies come,
 From whom you now must steale, and take no leaue,
 For there will be a World of Water shed,
 Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you
 
    Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here,
 In quantitie equals not one of yours:
 See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in,
 And cuts me from the best of all my Land,
 A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out.
 Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp,
 And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne,
 In a new Channell, faire and euenly:
 It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,
 To rob me of so rich a Bottome here
 
    Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth
 
    Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course,
 And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side,
 Gelding the opposed Continent as much,
 As on the other side it takes from you
 
    Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,
 And on this North side winne this Cape of Land,
 And then he runnes straight and euen
 
    Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it
 
    Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd
 
    Hotsp. Will not you?
   Glend. No, nor you shall not
 
    Hotsp. Who shall say me nay?
   Glend. Why, that will I
 
    Hotsp. let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in
 Welsh
 
    Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you:
 For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court;
 Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe
 Many an English Dittie, louely well,
 And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament;
 A Vertue that was neuer seene in you
 
    Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,
 I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
 Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:
 I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,
 Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,
 And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
 Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;
 'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge
 
    Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd
 
    Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land
 To any well-deseruing friend;
 But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,
 Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.
 Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?
   Glend. The Moone shines faire,
 You may away by Night:
 Ile haste the Writer; and withall,
 Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence:
 I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde,
 So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
 Enter.
 
   Mort. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father
 
    Hotsp. I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me,
 With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,
 Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;
 And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,
 A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen,
 A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat,
 And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,
 As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,
 He held me last Night, at least, nine howres,
 In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names,
 That were his Lacqueyes:
 I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,
 But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious
 As a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife,
 Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue
 With Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre,
 Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me,
 In any Summer-House in Christendome
 
    Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,
 Exceeding well read, and profited,
 In strange Concealements:
 Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,
 And as Bountifull, as Mynes of India.
 Shall I tell you, Cousin,
 He holds your temper in a high respect,
 And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope,
 When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does.
 I warrant you, that man is not aliue,
 Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done,
 Without the taste of danger, and reproofe:
 But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you
 
    Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame,
 And since your comming hither, haue done enough,
 To put him quite besides his patience.
 You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault:
 Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood,
 And that's the dearest grace it renders you;
 Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage,
 Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment,
 Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine:
 The least of which, haunting a Nobleman,
 Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne
 Vpon the beautie of all parts besides,
 Beguiling them of commendation
 
    Hotsp. Well, I am school'd:
 Good-manners be your speede;
 Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue.
 Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.
 
   Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me,
 My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh
 
    Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you,
 Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres
 
    Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy
 Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.
 
 Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the
 same.
 
   Glend. Shee is desperate heere:
 A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,
 One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.
 
 The Lady speakes in Welsh.
 
   Mort. I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty Welsh
 Which thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens,
 I am too perfect in: and but for shame,
 In such a parley should I answere thee.
 
 The Lady againe in welsh.
 
   Mort. I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine,
 And that's a feeling disputation:
 But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,
 Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue
 Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
 Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
 With rauishing Diuision to her Lute
 
    Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.
 
 The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.
 
   Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this
 
    Glend. She bids you,
 On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,
 And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe,
 And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you,
 And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
 Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse;
 Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,
 As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
 The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme
 Begins his Golden Progresse in the East
 
    Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing:
 By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne
 
    Glend. Doe so:
 And those Musitians that shall play to you,
 Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence;
 And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend
 
    Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:
 Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy
 Lappe
 
    Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.
 
 The Musicke playes.
 
   Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,
 And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous:
 Byrlady hee's a good Musitian
 
    Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall,
 For you are altogether gouerned by humors:
 Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh
 
    Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in
 Irish
 
    Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?
   Hotsp. No
 
    Lady. Then be still
 
    Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault
 
    Lady. Now God helpe thee
 
    Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed
 
    Lady. What's that?
   Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.
 
 Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.
 
   Hotsp. Come, Ile haue your Song too
 
    Lady. Not mine, in good sooth
 
    Hotsp. Not yours, in good sooth?
 You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:
 Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue;
 And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day:
 And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes,
 As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury.
 Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
 A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth,
 And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,
 To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.
 Come, sing
 
    Lady. I will not sing
 
    Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest
 teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away
 within these two howres: and so come in, when yee
 will.
 Enter.
 
   Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow,
 As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe.
 By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale,
 And then to Horse immediately
 
    Mort. With all my heart.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scaena Secunda.
 
 Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.
 
   King. Lords, giue vs leaue:
 The Prince of Wales, and I,
 Must haue some priuate conference:
 But be neere at hand,
 For wee shall presently haue neede of you.
 
 Exeunt. Lords.
 
 I know not whether Heauen will haue it so,
 For some displeasing seruice I haue done;
 That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood,
 Hee'le breede Reuengement, and a Scourge for me:
 But thou do'st in thy passages of Life,
 Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd
 For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauen
 To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,
 Could such inordinate and low desires,
 Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts,
 Such barren pleasures, rude societie,
 As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too,
 Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood,
 And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?
   Prince. So please your Maiesty, I would I could
 Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,
 As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge
 My selfe of many I am charg'd withall:
 Yet such extenuation let me begge,
 As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd,
 Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare,
 By smiling Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers;
 I may for some things true, wherein my youth
 Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,
 Finde pardon on my true submission
 
    King. Heauen pardon thee:
 Yet let me wonder, Harry,
 At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing
 Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
 Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost,
 Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de;
 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 ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man
 Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.
 Had I so lauish of my presence beene,
 So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,
 So stale and cheape to vulgar Company;
 Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne,
 Had still kept loyall to possession,
 And left me in reputelesse banishment,
 A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood.
 By being seldome seene, I could not stirre,
 But like a Comet, I was wondred at,
 That men would tell their Children, This is hee:
 Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke.
 And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen,
 And drest my selfe in such Humilitie,
 That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts,
 Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes,
 Euen in the presence of the Crowned King.
 Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new,
 My Presence like a Robe Pontificall,
 Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State,
 Seldome but sumptuous, shewed like a Feast,
 And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie.
 The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe,
 With shallow Iesters, and rash Bauin Wits,
 Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his state,
 Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles,
 Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes,
 And gaue his Countenance, against his Name,
 To laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the push
 Of euery Beardlesse vaine Comparatiue;
 Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,
 Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie:
 That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes,
 They surfeted with Honey, and began to loathe
 The taste of Sweetnesse, whereof a little
 More then a little, is by much too much.
 So when he had occasion to be seene,
 He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune,
 Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes,
 As sicke and blunted with Communitie,
 Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze,
 Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie,
 When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes:
 But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe,
 Slept in his Face, and rendred such aspect
 As Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries,
 Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
 And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou:
 For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge,
 With vile participation. Not an Eye
 But is awearie of thy common sight,
 Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more:
 Which now doth that I would not haue it doe,
 Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse
 
    Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
 Be more my selfe
 
    King. For all the World,
 As thou art to this houre, was Richard then,
 When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh;
 And euen as I was then, is Percy now:
 Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,
 He hath more worthy interest to the State
 Then thou, the shadow of Succession;
 For of no Right, nor colour like to Right.
 He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme,
 Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes;
 And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou,
 Leades ancient Lords, and reuerent Bishops on
 To bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes.
 What neuer-dying Honor hath he got,
 Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes,
 Whose hot Incursions, and great Name in Armes,
 Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie,
 And Militarie Title Capitall.
 Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ,
 Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes,
 This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises,
 Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once,
 Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
 To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp,
 And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne.
 And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
 The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas, Mortimer,
 Capitulate against vs, and are vp.
 But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee?
 Why, Harry, doe I tell thee of my Foes,
 Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie?
 Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare,
 Base Inclination, and the start of Spleene,
 To fight against me vnder Percies pay,
 To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes,
 To shew how much thou art degenerate
 
    Prince. Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so:
 And Heauen forgiue them, that so much haue sway'd
 Your Maiesties good thoughts away from me:
 I will redeeme all this on Percies head,
 And in the closing of some glorious day,
 Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne,
 When I will weare a Garment all of Blood,
 And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske:
 Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it.
 And that shall be the day, when ere it lights,
 That this same Child of Honor and Renowne.
 This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight.
 And your vnthought-of Harry chance to meet:
 For euery Honor sitting on his Helme,
 Would they were multitudes, and on my head
 My shames redoubled. For the time will come,
 That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchange
 His glorious Deedes for my Indignities:
 Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord,
 To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe:
 And I will call him to so strict account,
 That he shall render euery Glory vp,
 Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time,
 Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart.
 This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here:
 The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue,
 I doe beseech your Maiestie, may salue
 The long-growne Wounds of my intemperature:
 If not, the end of Life cancells all Bands,
 And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths,
 Ere breake the smallest parcell of this Vow
 
    King. A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this:
 Thou shalt haue Charge, and soueraigne trust herein.
 Enter Blunt.
 
 How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed
 
    Blunt. So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of.
 Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
 That Dowglas and the English Rebels met
 The eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury:
 A mightie and a fearefull Head they are,
 (If Promises be kept on euery hand)
 As euer offered foule play in a State
 
    King. The earle of Westmerland set forth to day:
 With him my sonne, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
 For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old.
 On Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward:
 On thursday, wee our selues will march.
 Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march
 Through Glocestershire: by which account,
 Our Businesse valued some twelue dayes hence,
 Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete.
 Our Hands are full of Businesse: let's away,
 Aduantage feedes him fat, while men delay.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scena Tertia.
 
 Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
 
   Falst. Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this
 last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why
 my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose
 Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well,
 Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking:
 I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no
 strength to repent. And i haue not forgotten what the
 in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper-Corne, a
 Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villanous
 Company hath beene the spoyle of me
 
    Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue
 long
 
    Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song,
 make me merry; I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman
 need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not
 aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not
 aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I
 borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good
 compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of compasse
 
    Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must
 needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable
 compasse, Sir Iohn
 
    Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy
 Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne
 in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the
 Knight of the burning Lampe
 
    Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme
 
    Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as
 many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori.
 I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues
 that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning,
 burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would
 sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire:
 But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede,
 but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse.
 When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to
 catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene
 an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase
 in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting
 Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand
 Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the
 Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that
 thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as
 good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue
 maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time
 this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it
 
    Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly
 
    Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.
 Enter Hostesse.
 
 How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet
 who pick'd my Pocket?
   Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn?
 doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue
 search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by
 Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a
 hayre was neuer lost in my house before
 
    Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost
 many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd:
 goe to, you are a Woman, goe
 
    Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so
 in mine owne house before
 
    Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough
 
    Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn:
 I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and
 now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought
 you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe
 
    Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them
 away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of
 them
 
    Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight
 shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn,
 for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you,
 foure and twentie pounds
 
    Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay
 
    Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing
 
    Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call
 you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his
 Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a
 Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne,
 but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring
 of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke
 
    Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not
 how oft, that that Ring was Copper
 
    Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe:
 and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge,
 if hee would say so.
 Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his
 Trunchion like a Fife.
 
   Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore?
 Must we all march?
   Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion
 
    Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me
 
    Prince. What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How
 does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest
 man
 
    Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee
 
    Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee
 
    Prince. What say'st thou, Iacke?
   Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the
 Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd
 Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets
 
    Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke?
   Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds
 of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers
 
    Prince. A Trifle, some eight-penny matter
 
    Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your
 Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of
 you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee
 would cudgell you
 
    Prince. What hee did not?
   Host. There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood
 in me else
 
    Falst. There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune;
 nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for
 Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife
 of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go
 
    Host. Say, what thing? what thing?
   Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on
 
    Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou
 shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting
 thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so
 
    Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast
 to say otherwise
 
    Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?
   Fal. What beast? Why an Otter
 
    Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?
   Fal. Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes
 not where to haue her
 
    Host. Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie
 man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou
 
    Prince. Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee
 most grossely
 
    Host. So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other
 day, You ought him a thousand pound
 
    Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
   Falst. A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is
 worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue
 
    Host. Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee
 would cudgell you
 
    Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
   Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so
 
    Fal. Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper
 
    Prince. I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as
 thy word now?
   Fal. Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I
 dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the
 roaring of the Lyons Whelpe
 
    Prince. And why not as the Lyon?
   Fal. The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon:
 Do'st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay
 if I do, let my Girdle breake
 
    Prin. O, if it should, how would thy guttes fall about
 thy knees. But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth,
 nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe
 with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman
 with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent
 imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but
 Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses,
 and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee
 long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with anie other
 iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will
 stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not
 asham'd?
   Fal. Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state
 of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke
 Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue
 more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty.
 You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?
   Prin. It appeares so by the Story
 
    Fal. Hostesse, I forgiue thee:
 Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband,
 Looke to thy Seruants, and cherish thy Guests:
 Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason:
 Thou seest, I am pacified still.
 Nay, I prethee be gone.
 
 Exit Hostesse.
 
 Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad?
 How is that answered?
   Prin. O my sweet Beefe:
 I must still be good Angell to thee.
 The Monie is paid backe againe
 
    Fal. O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double
 Labour
 
    Prin. I am good Friends with my Father, and may do
 anything
 
    Fal. Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st,
 and do it with vnwash'd hands too
 
    Bard. Do my Lord
 
    Prin. I haue procured thee Iacke, A Charge of Foot
 
    Fal. I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde
 one that can steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and
 twentie, or thereabout: I am heynously vnprouided. Wel
 God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but
 the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them
 
    Prin. Bardolph
 
    Bar. My Lord
 
    Prin. Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster
 To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland,
 Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I,
 Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
 Iacke, meet me tomorrow in the Temple Hall
 At two a clocke in the afternoone,
 There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue
 Money and Order for their Furniture.
 The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye,
 And either they, or we must lower lye
 
    Fal. Rare words! braue world.
 Hostesse, my breakfast, come:
 Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.
 
 Exeunt. omnes.
 
 
 Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
 
 Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas.
 
   Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth
 In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie,
 Such attribution should the Dowglas haue,
 As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe,
 Should go so generall currant through the world.
 By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie
 The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place
 In my hearts loue, hath no man then your Selfe.
 Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord
 
    Dow. Thou art the King of Honor:
 No man so potent breathes vpon the ground,
 But I will Beard him.
 Enter a Messenger.
 
   Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What letters hast there?
 I can but thanke you
 
    Mess. These Letters come from your Father
 
    Hot. Letters from him?
 Why comes he not himselfe?
   Mes. He cannot come, my Lord,
 He is greeuous sicke
 
    Hot. How? haz he the leysure to be sicke now,
 In such a iustling time? Who leades his power?
 Vnder whose Gouernment come they along?
   Mess. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde
 
    Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?
   Mess. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth:
 And at the time of my departure thence,
 He was much fear'd by his Physician
 
    Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole,
 Ere he by sicknesse had beene visited:
 His health was neuer better worth then now
 
    Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect
 The very Life-blood of our Enterprise,
 'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe.
 He writes me here, that inward sicknesse,
 And that his friends by deputation
 Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet,
 To lay so dangerous and deare a trust
 On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne.
 Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,
 That with our small coniunction we should on,
 To see how Fortune is dispos'd to vs:
 For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
 Because the King is certainely possest
 Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
   Wor. Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs
 
    Hotsp. A perillous Gash, a very Limme lopt off:
 And yet, in faith, it is not his present want
 Seemes more then we shall finde it.
 Were it good, to set the exact wealth of all our states
 All at one Cast? To set so rich a mayne
 On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre,
 It were not good: for therein should we reade
 The very Bottome, and the Soule of Hope,
 The very List, the very vtmost Bound
 Of all our fortunes
 
    Dowg. Faith, and so wee should,
 Where now remaines a sweet reuersion.
 We may boldly spend, vpon the hope
 Of what is to come in:
 A comfort of retyrement liues in this
 
    Hotsp. A Randeuous, a Home to flye vnto,
 If that the Deuill and Mischance looke bigge
 Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires
 
    Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here:
 The qualitie and Heire of our Attempt
 Brookes no diuision: It will be thought
 By some, that know not why he is away,
 That wisedome, loyaltie, and meere dislike
 Of our proceedings, kept the Earle from hence.
 And thinke, how such an apprehension
 May turne the tyde of fearefull Faction,
 And breede a kinde of question in our cause:
 For well you know, wee of the offring side,
 Must keepe aloofe from strict arbitrement,
 And stop all sight-holes, euery loope, from whence
 The eye of reason may prie in vpon vs:
 This absence of your Father drawes a Curtaine,
 That shewes the ignorant a kinde of feare,
 Before not dreamt of
 
    Hotsp. You strayne too farre.
 I rather of his absence make this vse:
 It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion,
 A larger Dare to your great Enterprize,
 Then if the Earle were here: for men must thinke,
 If we without his helpe, can make a Head
 To push against the Kingdome; with his helpe,
 We shall o're-turne it topsie-turuy downe:
 Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole
 
    Dowg. As heart can thinke:
 There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland,
 At this Dreame of Feare.
 Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
 
   Hotsp. My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule
 
    Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord.
 The Earle of Westmerland, seuen thousand strong,
 Is marching hither-wards, with Prince Iohn
 
    Hotsp. No harme: what more?
   Vern. And further, I haue learn'd,
 The King himselfe in person hath set forth,
 Or hither-wards intended speedily,
 With strong and mightie preparation
 
    Hotsp. He shall be welcome too.
 Where is his Sonne,
 The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales,
 And his Cumrades, that daft the World aside,
 And bid it passe?
   Vern. All furnisht, all in Armes,
 All plum'd like Estridges, that with the Winde
 Bayted like Eagles, hauing lately bath'd,
 Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images,
 As full of spirit as the Moneth of May,
 And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-summer,
 Wanton as youthfull Goates, wilde as young Bulls.
 I saw young Harry with his Beuer on,
 His Cushes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd,
 Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
 And vaulted with such ease into his Seat,
 As if an Angell dropt downe from the Clouds,
 To turne and winde a fierie Pegasus,
 And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship
 
    Hotsp. No more, no more,
 Worse then the Sunne in March:
 This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come.
 They come like Sacrifices in their trimme,
 And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre,
 All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them:
 The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit
 Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,
 To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh,
 And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse,
 Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt,
 Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales.
 Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse
 Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse?
 Oh, that Glendower were come
 
    Ver. There is more newes:
 I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,
 He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes
 
    Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of
 yet
 
    Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound
 
    Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach
 vnto?
   Ver. To thirty thousand
 
    Hot. Forty let it be,
 My Father and Glendower being both away,
 The powres of vs, may serue so great a day.
 Come, let vs take a muster speedily:
 Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily
 
    Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare
 Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare.
 
 Exeunt. Omnes.
 
 
 Scaena Secunda.
 
 Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
 
   Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a
 Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le
 to Sutton-cop-hill to Night
 
    Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine?
   Falst. Lay out, lay out
 
    Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell
 
    Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it
 make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage.
 Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end
 
    Bard. I will Captaine: farewell.
 Enter.
 
   Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a
 sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse damnably.
 I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie
 Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me
 none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire
 me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd
 twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues,
 as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as
 feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole,
 or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes
 and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then
 Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices:
 And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Corporals,
 Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as
 ragged a Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Gluttons
 Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were
 neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, younger
 Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and
 Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and
 long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged,
 then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the
 roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that
 you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd
 Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating
 Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way,
 and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the
 dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile
 not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay,
 and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if
 they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them
 out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my
 Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt together,
 and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds
 Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth,
 stolne from my Host of S[aint]. Albones, or the Red-Nose
 Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde
 Linnen enough on euery Hedge.
 Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.
 
   Prince. How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt?
   Falst. What Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill
 do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmerland,
 I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had already
 beene at Shrewsbury
 
    West. 'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were
 there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie.
 The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away
 all to Night
 
    Falst. Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to
 steale Creame
 
    Prince. I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft
 hath alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose
 fellowes are these that come after?
   Falst. Mine, Hal, mine
 
    Prince. I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals
 
    Falst. Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Powder,
 foode for Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better:
 tush man, mortall men, mortall men
 
    Westm. I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding
 poore and bare, too beggarly
 
    Falst. Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they
 had that; and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer
 learn'd that of me
 
    Prince. No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers
 on the Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already
 in the field
 
    Falst. What, is the King encamp'd?
   Westm. Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too
 long
 
    Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning
 of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scoena Tertia.
 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.
 
   Hotsp. Wee'le fight with him to Night
 
    Worc. It may not be
 
    Dowg. You giue him then aduantage
 
    Vern. Not a whit
 
    Hotsp. Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?
   Vern. So doe wee
 
    Hotsp. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull
 
    Worc. Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night
 
    Vern. Doe not, my Lord
 
    Dowg. You doe not counsaile well:
 You speake it out of feare, and cold heart
 
    Vern. Doe me no slander, Dowglas: by my Life,
 And I dare well maintaine it with my Life,
 If well-respected Honor bid me on,
 I hold as little counsaile with weake feare,
 As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day liues.
 Let it be seene to morrow in the Battell,
 Which of vs feares
 
    Dowg. Yea, or to night
 
    Vern. Content
 
    Hotsp. To night, say I
 
    Vern. Come, come, it may not be.
 I wonder much, being me[n] of such great leading as you are
 That you fore-see not what impediments
 Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horse
 Of my Cousin Vernons are not yet come vp,
 Your Vnckle Worcesters Horse came but to day,
 And now their pride and mettall is asleepe,
 Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
 That not a Horse is halfe the halfe of himselfe
 
    Hotsp. So are the Horses of the Enemie
 In generall iourney bated, and brought low:
 The better part of ours are full of rest
 
    Worc. The number of the King exceedeth ours:
 For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in.
 
 The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.
 
   Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King,
 If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect
 
    Hotsp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt:
 And would to God you were of our determination.
 Some of vs loue you well: and euen those some
 Enuie your great deseruings, and good name,
 Because you are not of our qualitie,
 But stand against vs like an Enemie
 
    Blunt. And Heauen defend, but still I should stand so,
 So long as out of Limit, and true Rule,
 You stand against anoynted Maiestie.
 But to my Charge.
 The King hath sent to know
 The nature of your Griefes, and whereupon
 You coniure from the Brest of Ciuill Peace,
 Such bold Hostilitie, teaching his dutious Land
 Audacious Crueltie. If that the King
 Haue any way your good Deserts forgot,
 Which he confesseth to be manifold,
 He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed
 You shall haue your desires, with interest;
 And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these,
 Herein mis-led, by your suggestion
 
    Hotsp. The King is kinde:
 And well wee know, the King
 Knowes at what time to promise, when to pay.
 My Father, my Vnckle, and my selfe,
 Did giue him that same Royaltie he weares:
 And when he was not sixe and twentie strong,
 Sicke in the Worlds regard, wretched, and low,
 A poore vnminded Out-law, sneaking home,
 My Father gaue him welcome to the shore:
 And when he heard him sweare, and vow to God,
 He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
 To sue his Liuerie, and begge his Peace,
 With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale;
 My Father, in kinde heart and pitty mou'd,
 Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
 Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realme
 Perceiu'd Northumberland did leane to him,
 The more and lesse came in with Cap and Knee,
 Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages,
 Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes,
 Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes,
 Gaue him their Heires, as Pages followed him,
 Euen at the heeles, in golden multitudes.
 He presently, as Greatnesse knowes it selfe,
 Step me a little higher then his Vow
 Made to my Father, while his blood was poore,
 Vpon the naked shore at Rauenspurgh:
 And now (forsooth) takes on him to reforme
 Some certaine Edicts, and some strait Decrees,
 That lay too heauie on the Common-wealth;
 Cryes out vpon abuses, seemes to weepe
 Ouer his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face,
 This seeming Brow of Iustice, did he winne
 The hearts of all that hee did angle for.
 Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads
 Of all the Fauorites, that the absent King
 In deputation left behinde him heere,
 When hee was personall in the Irish Warre
 
    Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this
 
    Hotsp. Then to the point.
 In short time after, hee depos'd the King.
 Soone after that, depriu'd him of his Life:
 And in the neck of that, task't the whole State.
 To make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March,
 Who is, if euery Owner were plac'd,
 Indeede his King, to be engag'd in Wales,
 There, without Ransome, to lye forfeited:
 Disgrac'd me in my happie Victories,
 Sought to intrap me by intelligence,
 Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord,
 In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court,
 Broke Oath on Oath, committed Wrong on Wrong,
 And in conclusion, droue vs to seeke out
 This Head of safetie; and withall, to prie
 Into his Title: the which wee finde
 Too indirect, for long continuance
 
    Blunt. Shall I returne this answer to the King?
   Hotsp. Not so, Sir Walter.
 Wee'le with-draw a while:
 Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd
 Some suretie for a safe returne againe,
 And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle
 Bring him our purpose: and so farewell
 
    Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Loue
 
    Hotsp. And't may be, so wee shall
 
    Blunt. Pray Heauen you doe.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Scena Quarta.
 
 Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.
 
   Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this sealed Briefe
 With winged haste to the Lord Marshall,
 This to my Cousin Scroope, and all the rest
 To whom they are directed.
 If you knew how much they doe import,
 You would make haste
 
    Sir Mich. My good Lord, I guesse their tenor
 
    Arch. Like enough you doe.
 To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day,
 Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
 Must bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury,
 As I am truly giuen to vnderstand,
 The King, with mightie and quick-raysed Power,
 Meetes with Lord Harry: and I feare, Sir Michell,
 What with the sicknesse of Northumberland,
 Whose Power was in the first proportion;
 And what with Owen Glendowers absence thence,
 Who with them was rated firmely too,
 And comes not in, ouer-rul'd by Prophecies,
 I feare the Power of Percy is too weake,
 To wage an instant tryall with the King
 
    Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, you need not feare,
 There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer
 
    Arch. No, Mortimer is not there
 
    Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
 And there is my Lord of Worcester,
 And a Head of gallant Warriors,
 Noble Gentlemen
 
    Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath Drawne
 The speciall head of all the Land together:
 The Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
 The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt;
 And many moe Corriuals, and deare men
 Of estimation, and command in Armes
 
    Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd
   Arch. I hope no lesse? Yet needfull 'tis to feare,
 And to preuent the worst, Sir Michell speed;
 For if Lord Percy thriue not, ere the King
 Dismisse his power, he meanes to visit vs:
 For he hath heard of our Confederacie,
 And, 'tis but Wisedome to make strong against him:
 Therefore make hast, I must go write againe
 To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michell.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
 
 Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
 Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaffe.
 
   King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere
 Aboue yon busky hill: the day lookes pale
 At his distemperature
   Prin. The Southerne winde
 Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes,
 And by his hollow whistling in the Leaues,
 Fortels a Tempest, and a blust'ring day
 
    King. Then with the losers let it sympathize,
 For nothing can seeme foule to those that win.
 
 The Trumpet sounds.
 
 Enter Worcester.
 
   King. How now my Lord of Worster? 'Tis not well
 That you and I should meet vpon such tearmes,
 As now we meet. You haue deceiu'd our trust,
 And made vs doffe our easie Robes of Peace,
 To crush our old limbes in vngentle Steele:
 This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.
 What say you to it? Will you againe vnknit
 This churlish knot of all-abhorred Warre?
 And moue in the obedient Orbe againe,
 Where you did giue a faire and naturall light,
 And be no more an exhall'd Meteor,
 A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent
 Of broached Mischeefe, to the vnborne Times?
   Wor. Heare me, my Liege:
 For mine owne part, I could be well content
 To entertaine the Lagge-end of my life
 With quiet houres: For I do protest,
 I haue not sought the day of this dislike
 
    King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then?
   Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it
 
    Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace
 
    Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookes
 Of Fauour, from my Selfe, and all our House;
 And yet I must remember you my Lord,
 We were the first, and dearest of your Friends:
 For you, my staffe of Office did I breake
 In Richards time, and poasted day and night
 To meete you on the way, and kisse your hand,
 When yet you were in place, and in account
 Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I;
 It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne,
 That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
 The danger of the time. You swore to vs,
 And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster,
 That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State,
 Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right,
 The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster,
 To this, we sware our aide: But in short space,
 It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your head,
 And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you,
 What with our helpe, what with the absent King.
 What with the iniuries of wanton time,
 The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
 And the contrarious Windes that held the King
 So long in the vnlucky Irish Warres,
 That all in England did repute him dead:
 And from this swarme of faire aduantages,
 You tooke occasion to be quickly woo'd,
 To gripe the generall sway into your hand,
 Forgot your Oath to vs at Doncaster,
 And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so,
 As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,
 Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our Nest
 Grew by our Feeding, to so great a builke,
 That euen our Loue durst not come neere your sight
 For feare of swallowing: But with nimble wing
 We were infor'd for safety sake, to flye
 Out of your sight, and raise this present Head,
 Whereby we stand opposed by such meanes
 As you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe,
 By vnkinde vsage, dangerous countenance,
 And violation of all faith and troth
 Sworne to vs in yonger enterprize
 
    Kin. These things indeed you haue articulated,
 Proclaim'd 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 poore Discontents,
 Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes
 Of hurly burly Innouation:
 And neuer yet did Insurrection want
 Such water-colours, to impaint his cause:
 Nor moody Beggars, staruing for a time
 Of pell-mell hauocke, and confusion
 
    Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a soule
 Shall pay full dearely for this encounter,
 If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your Nephew,
 The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the world
 In praise of Henry Percie: By my Hopes,
 This present enterprize set off his head,
 I do not thinke a brauer Gentleman,
 More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong,
 More daring, or more bold, is now aliue,
 To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds.
 For my part, I may speake it to my shame,
 I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry,
 And so I heare, he doth account me too:
 Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty,
 I am content that he shall take the oddes
 Of his great name and estimation,
 And will, to saue the blood on either side,
 Try fortune with him, in a Single Fight
 
    King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee,
 Albeit, considerations infinite
 Do make against it: No good Worster, no,
 We loue our people well; euen those we loue
 That are misled vpon your Cousins part:
 And will they take the offer of our Grace:
 Both he, and they, and you; yea euery man
 Shall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his.
 So tell your Cousin, and bring me word,
 What he will do. But if he will not yeeld,
 Rebuke and dread correction waite on vs,
 And they shall do their Office. So bee gone,
 We will not now be troubled with reply,
 We offer faire, take it aduisedly.
 
 Exit Worcester.
 
   Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life,
 The Dowglas and the Hotspurre both together,
 Are confident against the world in Armes
 
    King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge,
 For on their answer will we set on them;
 And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Manet Prince and Falstaffe.
 
   Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell,
 And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship
 
    Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendship
 Say thy prayers, and farewell
 
    Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well
 
    Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death
 
    Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him
 before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him,
 that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes
 me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come
 on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an
 arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No.
 Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour
 A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A
 trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday.
 Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it
 insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with
 the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, therfore
 Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so
 ends my Catechisme.
 Enter.
 
 
 Scena Secunda.
 
 
 Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.
 
   Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
 The liberall kinde offer of the King
 
    Ver. 'Twere best he did
 
    Wor. Then we are all vndone.
 It is not possible, it cannot be,
 The King would keepe his word in louing vs,
 He will suspect vs still, and finde a time
 To punish this offence in others faults:
 Supposition, all our liues, shall be stucke full of eyes;
 For Treason is but trusted like the Foxe,
 Who ne're so tame, so cherisht, and lock'd vp,
 Will haue a wilde tricke of his Ancestors:
 Looke how he can, or sad or merrily,
 Interpretation will misquote our lookes,
 And we shall feede like Oxen at a stall,
 The better cherisht, still the nearer death.
 My Nephewes Trespasse may be well forgot,
 It hath the excuse of youth, and heate of blood,
 And an adopted name of Priuiledge,
 A haire-brain'd Hotspurre, gouern'd by a Spleene:
 All his offences liue vpon my head,
 And on his Fathers. We did traine him on,
 And his corruption being tane from vs,
 We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all:
 Therefore good Cousin, let not Harry know
 In any case, the offer of the King
 
    Ver. Deliuer what you will, Ile say 'tis so.
 Heere comes your Cosin.
 Enter Hotspurre.
 
   Hot. My Vnkle is return'd,
 Deliuer vp my Lord of Westmerland.
 Vnkle, what newes?
   Wor. The King will bid you battell presently
 
    Dow. Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland
   Hot. Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so
 
    Dow. Marry and shall, and verie willingly.
 
 Exit Dowglas.
 
   Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King
 
    Hot. Did you begge any? God forbid
 
    Wor. I told him gently of our greeuances,
 Of his Oath-breaking: which he mended thus,
 By now forswearing that he is forsworne,
 He cals vs Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge
 With haughty armes, this hatefull name in vs.
 Enter Dowglas.
 
   Dow. Arme Gentlemen, to Armes, for I haue thrown
 A braue defiance in King Henries teeth:
 And Westmerland that was ingag'd did beare it,
 Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on
 
    Wor. The Prince of Wales stept forth before the king,
 And Nephew, challeng'd you to single fight
 
    Hot. O, would the quarrell lay vpon our heads,
 And that no man might draw short breath to day,
 But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell mee,
 How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt?
   Ver. No, by my Soule: I neuer in my life
 Did heare a Challenge vrg'd more modestly,
 Vnlesse a Brother should a Brother dare
 To gentle exercise, and proofe of Armes.
 He gaue you all the Duties of a Man,
 Trimm'd vp your praises with a Princely tongue,
 Spoke your deseruings like a Chronicle,
 Making you euer better then his praise,
 By still dispraising praise, valew'd with you:
 And which became him like a Prince indeed,
 He made a blushing citall of himselfe,
 And chid his Trewant youth with such a Grace,
 As if he mastred there a double spirit
 Of teaching, and of learning instantly:
 There did he pause. But let me tell the World,
 If he out-liue the enuie of this day,
 England did neuer owe so sweet a hope,
 So much misconstrued in his Wantonnesse,
   Hot. Cousin, I thinke thou art enamored
 On his Follies: neuer did I heare
 Of any Prince so wilde at Liberty.
 But be he as he will, yet once ere night,
 I will imbrace him with a Souldiers arme,
 That he shall shrinke vnder my curtesie.
 Arme, arme with speed. And Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends,
 Better consider what you haue to do,
 That I that haue not well the gift of Tongue,
 Can lift your blood vp with perswasion.
 Enter a Messenger.
 
   Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you
 
    Hot. I cannot reade them now.
 O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;
 To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long.
 If life did ride vpon a Dials point,
 Still ending at the arriuall of an houre,
 And if we liue, we liue to treade on Kings:
 If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs.
 Now for our Consciences, the Armes is faire,
 When the intent for bearing them is iust.
 Enter another Messenger.
 
   Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace
 
    Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale:
 For I professe not talking: Onely this,
 Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword,
 Whose worthy temper I intend to staine
 With the best blood that I can meete withall,
 In the aduenture of this perillous day.
 Now Esperance Percy, and set on:
 Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre,
 And by that Musicke, let vs all imbrace:
 For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall,
 A second time do such a curtesie.
 
 They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth with his
 power, alarum
 vnto the battell. Then enter Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.
 
   Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus y crossest me?
 What honor dost thou seeke vpon my head?
   Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,
 And I do haunt thee in the Battell thus,
 Because some tell me, that thou art a King
 
    Blunt. They tell thee true
 
    Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath bought
 Thy likenesse: for insted of thee King Harry,
 This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,
 Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner
 
    Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot,
 And thou shalt finde a King that will reuenge
 Lords Staffords death.
 
 Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.
 
   Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus
 I neuer had triumphed o're a Scot
 
    Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king
   Hot. Where?
   Dow. Heere
 
    Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well:
 A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
 Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe
 
    Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes,
 A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere.
 Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King?
   Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats
 
    Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,
 Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece,
 Vntill I meet the King
 
    Hot. Vp, and away,
 Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.
 
   Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear
 the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft
 who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you:
 here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as heauy
 too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more
 weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of
 Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my
 150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg during
 life. But who comes heere?
 Enter the Prince
 
    Pri. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword,
 Many a Nobleman lies starke and stiffe
 Vnder the hooues of vaunting enemies,
 Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy sword
   Fal. O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile:
 Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I haue
 done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure
 
    Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee:
 I prethee lend me thy sword
 
    Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my
 Sword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt
 
    Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the case?
   Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.
 
 The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke.
 
   Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.
 
 Enter.
 
 Throwes it at him.
 
   Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile 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: Giue mee life, which if I can
 saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an
 end.
 
 Exit
 
 
 Scena Tertia.
 
 Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince, Lord Iohn of
 Lancaster,
 and Earle of Westmerland.
 
   King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou bleedest
 too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him
 
    P.Ioh. Not I, My Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too
 
    Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp,
 Least your retirement do amaze your friends
 
    King. I will do so:
 My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent
 
    West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent
 
    Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe;
 And heauen forbid a shallow scratch should driue
 The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
 Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on,
 And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres
 
    Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland,
 Our duty this way lies, for heauens sake come
 
    Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster,
 I did not thinke thee Lord of such a spirit:
 Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn;
 But now, I do respect thee as my Soule
 
    King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,
 With lustier maintenance then I did looke for
 Of such an vngrowne Warriour
 
    Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all.
 Enter.
 
 Enter Dowglas.
 
   Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads:
 I am the Dowglas, fatall to all those
 That weare those colours on them. What art thou
 That counterfeit'st the person of a King?
   King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at hart
 So many of his shadowes thou hast met,
 And not the very King. I haue two Boyes
 Seeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field:
 But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
 I will assay thee: so defend thy selfe
 
    Dow. I feare thou art another counterfeit:
 And yet infaith thou bear'st thee like a King:
 But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be,
 And thus I win thee.
 
 They fight, the K[ing]. being in danger, Enter Prince.
 
   Prin. Hold vp thy head vile Scot, or thou art like
 Neuer to hold it vp againe: the Spirits
 Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Armes;
 it is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
 Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay.
 
 They Fight, Dowglas flyeth.
 
 Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace?
 Sir Nicolas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
 And so hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton straight
 
    King. Stay, and breath awhile.
 Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion,
 And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life
 In this faire rescue thou hast brought to mee
 
    Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniury,
 That euer said I hearkned to your death.
 If it were so, I might haue let alone
 The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,
 Which would haue bene as speedy in your end,
 As all the poysonous Potions in the world,
 And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne
 
    K. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.
 
 Exit
 
 Enter Hotspur.
 
   Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth
 
    Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name
 
    Hot. My name is Harrie Percie
 
    Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name.
 I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy,
 To share with me in glory any more:
 Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere,
 Nor can one England brooke a double reigne,
 Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales
 
    Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come
 To end the one of vs; and would to heauen,
 Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine
 
    Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee,
 And all the budding Honors on thy Crest,
 Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head
 
    Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.
 
 Fight.
 
 Enter Falstaffe.
 
   Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no
 Boyes play heere, I can tell you.
 Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if he
 were dead.
 The Prince killeth Percie.
 
   Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth:
 I better brooke the losse of brittle life,
 Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me,
 They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh:
 But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole;
 And Time, that takes suruey of all the world,
 Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie,
 But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,
 Lyes on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dust
 And food for-
   Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart:
 Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke?
 When that this bodie did containe a spirit,
 A Kingdome for it was too small a bound:
 But now two paces of the vilest Earth
 Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead,
 Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman.
 If thou wer't sensible of curtesie,
 I should not make so great a shew of Zeale.
 But let my fauours hide thy mangled face,
 And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe
 For doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse.
 Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heauen,
 Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue,
 But not remembred in thy Epitaph.
 What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh
 Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell:
 I could haue better spar'd a better man.
 O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee,
 If I were much in loue with Vanity.
 Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day,
 Though many dearer in this bloody Fray:
 Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by,
 Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye.
 Enter.
 
 Falstaffe riseth vp.
 
   Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile
 giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow.
 'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot,
 had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit;
 to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the
 counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But
 to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be
 no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeede.
 The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the
 which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of
 this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee
 should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would
 proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure:
 yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as
 well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie
 sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh
 come you along me.
 
 Takes Hotspurre on his backe.
 
 Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.
 
   Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht
 thy Maiden sword
 
    Iohn. But soft, who haue we heere?
 Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?
   Prin. I did, I saw him dead,
 Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue?
 Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight?
 I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes
 Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st
 
    Fal. No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but
 if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Percy,
 if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him
 kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or
 Duke, I can assure you
 
    Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead
 
    Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen
 to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of breath,
 and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought
 a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee beleeued,
 so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare
 the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death
 I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were aliue,
 and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece
 of my sword
 
    Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard
 
    Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn.
 Come bring your luggage Nobly on your backe:
 For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,
 Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.
 
 A Retreat is sounded.
 
 The Trumpets sound Retreat, the day is ours:
 Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field,
 To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead.
 
 Exeunt.
 
   Fal. Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards
 me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again,
 Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue
 cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.
 
 Exit
 
 Scaena Quarta.
 
 The Trumpets sound.
 
 Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
 Westmerland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners.
 
   King. Thus euer did Rebellion finde Rebuke.
 Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace,
 Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you?
 And would'st thou turne our offers contrary?
 Misuse the tenor of thy Kinsmans trust?
 Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day,
 A Noble Earle, and many a creature else,
 Had beene aliue this houre,
 If like a Christian thou had'st truly borne
 Betwixt our Armies, true Intelligence
 
    Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to,
 And I embrace this fortune patiently,
 Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee
 
    King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too:
 Other offenders we will pause vpon.
 
 Exit Worcester and Vernon.
 
 How goes the Field?
   Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw
 The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
 The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men,
 Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest;
 And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'd
 That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent
 The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace,
 I may dispose of him
 
    King. With all my heart
 
    Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster,
 To you this honourable bounty shall belong:
 Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer him
 Vp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free:
 His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day,
 Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds,
 Euen in the bosome of our Aduersaries
 
    King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power.
 You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin Westmerland
 Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speed
 To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope,
 Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes.
 My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales,
 To fight with Glendower, and the Earle of March.
 Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way,
 Meeting the Checke of such another day:
 And since this Businesse so faire is done,
 Let vs not leaue till all our owne be wonne.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 FINIS. The First Part of Henry the Fourth, with the Life and Death
 of
 HENRY Sirnamed HOT-SPVRRE.