HENRY PERCY, Earl of Northumberland: HENRY PERCY, surnamed HOTSPUR, his Son. ARCHIBALD, Earl of Douglas. OWEN GLENdower. SIR RICHARD VERNON. SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. SIR MICHAEL, a friend of the Archbishop of York. POINS. GADSHILL. PETO. BARDOLPH. LADY PERCY, Wife to Hotspur. LADY MORTIMER, Daughter to Glendower. MRS. QUICKLY, Hostess of a Tavern in Eastcheap. Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants. SCENE, England. ACT I. SCENE I.-London. An Apartment in the Palace. Enter King HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir WALTER BLUNT, and Others. K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote. No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, All of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery, Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, March all one way, and be no more oppos'd Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies: The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross, We are impressed, and engag'd to fight, Forthwith a power of English shall we levy, Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our advantage on the bitter cross. But this our purpose is a twelve-month old, And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go : West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land. West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord; For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north, and thus it did import. Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour, And pride of their contention did take horse, K. Hen. Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend, Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, To beaten Douglas, and the earl of Athol, West. 'Faith, 'tis a conquest for a prince to boast of. Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, he called thieves of the day's beauty: let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon; and let men say, we be men of good government, being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. P. Hen. Thou say'st well, and it holds well, too; for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearinglay by; and spent with crying-bring in; now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? In envy that my lord Northumberland coz', Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this; Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we [Exeunt. Palace. Enter HENRY, Prince of Wales, and FALSTAFF. Fal. Now, Hal; what time of day is it, lad? P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly, which thou would'st truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffeta, I see no reason why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of the day. Fal. Indeed you come near me, now, Hal; for we, that take purses, go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus,-he, "that wandering knight so fair." And, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, when thou art Fal. How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft. P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? Fal. No: I'll give thee thy due; thou hast paid all there. P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used my credit. Fal. Yea, and so used it, that it is here apparent that thou art heir apparent.-But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king, and resolution thus fobbed, as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antick, the law? Do not thou, when thou art a king, hang a thief. P. Hen. No: thou shalt. Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. P. Hen. Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear. P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch? Fal. Thou has the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascallest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir; but I marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not, and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too. P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it. Fal. O! thou hast damnable iteration, and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal:-God forgive thee for it. Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain: I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom. P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack? Fal. Zounds! where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do not, call me villain, and baffle me. P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying, to purse-taking. Enter POINS, at a distance. Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal: 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!-Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match.-O! if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain, that ever cried, Stand! to a true man. P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned. Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.-What says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg? P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word: the devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs; he will give the devil his due. Poins. Then, art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil. P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil. Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill. There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses: I have visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves. Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester; I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap: we may do it as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home, and be hanged. Fal. Hear ye, Yedward: if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going. Poins. You will, chops? Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one? P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. P. Hen. Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. Fal. Why, that's well said. P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. P. Hen. I care not. Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go. : Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion, and him the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap. P. Hen. Farewell thou latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer! [Exit FALSTAFF. Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow: I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already way-laid : yourself and I will not be there; and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders. P. Hen. How shall we part with them in setting forth? Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them. P. Hen. Yea, but 'tis like, that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves. Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see; I'll tie them in the wood: our visors we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to inmask our noted outward garments. P. Hen. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us. Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he'll fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty at least he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest. P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit POINS. P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold Enter King HENRY, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCESTER, K. Hen. Lord Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye. O, sir! your presence is too bold and peremptory, You have good leave to leave us: when we need [Exit WORCESTER. Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held He call'd them un taught knaves, unmannerly, With many holiday and lady terms He question'd me; among the rest, demanded I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, To be so pester'd with a popinjay, Out of my grief and my impatience, He should, or he should not; for he made me mad, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, God save the mark! And, I beseech you, let not his report Come current for an accusation, Betwixt my love and your high majesty. What then he said, so he unsay it now. K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, But with proviso, and exception, That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight Hot. Revolted Mortimer! He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, In single opposition, hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an hour drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Receive so many, and all willingly: Then, let him not be slander'd with revolt. K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him: He never did encounter with Glendower. I tell thee, He durst as well have met the devil alone, As Owen Glendower for an enemy. Art thou not asham'd? But, sirrah, henceforth [Exeunt King HENRY, BLUNT, and Train. awhile: Here comes your uncle. Hot. [Offers to go. Re-enter WORCESTER. Speak of Mortimer! 'Zounds! I will speak of him; and let my soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him: Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my lord, And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust, Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said, To such a person, and in such a place, May reasonably die, and never rise To do him wrong, or any way impeach But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high i' the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. North. Brother, [To WORCESTER.] the king hath made your nephew mad. Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone? Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; And when I urg'd the ransom once again Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. Wor. I cannot blame him. Was he not proclaim'd, By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood? North. He was: I heard the proclamation: From whence he intercepted did return To be depos'd, and shortly murdered. So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, That are your prisoners,— Hot. Those same noble Scots, I'll keep them all. Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's wide And lend no ear unto my purposes. mouth Hot. Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of. North. He did myself did hear it. Hot. Nay, then, I cannot blame his cousin king, That you a world of curses undergo, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?— Wor. Hot. If he fall in, good night!-or sink or swim, North. Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. Hot. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks, Nay, I will; that's flat. Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Wor. Hear you, cousin, a word. Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: And that same sword-and-buckler prince of Wales, But that I think his father loves him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would have him poison'd with a pot of ale. Wor. Farewell, kinsman. I will talk to you, When you are better temper'd to attend. North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou to break into this woman's mood, Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own! Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear In Richard's time,-what do ye call the place?— |