HENRY PERCY, earl of Northumberland.
HENRY PERCY, surnamed Hotspur, his son.
EDMUND MORTIMER, earl of March.

RICHARD SCROOP, archbishop of York.
ARCHIBALD, earl of Douglas.

OWEN GLENDOWER.

SIR RICHARD VERNON.

SIR JOHN FALSTAFF..

SIR MICHAEL, a friend to the archbishop of York.
POINS.
GADSHILL.
PETO.
BARDOLPH.

ACT I

SCENE I. [London. The palace.] Enter KING HENRY, LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, the EARL OF WESTMORELAND, [SIR WALTER BLUNT] with others.

King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted Peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new
broils

To be commenc'd in strands afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's
blood;

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No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowerets 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,

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Such beastly shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done as may not be
Without much shame retold or spoken of.
King. It seems then that the tidings of this
broil

Brake off our business for the Holy Land. West. This match'd with other did, my gracious lord;

For more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did import:
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour,
As by discharge of their artillery,
And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

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King. Here is a dear, a true industrious friend,

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of

It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and
mak'st me sin

In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son,

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A son who is the theme of Honour's tongue,
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant,
Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride;;
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O that it could be prov'd
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts. What think

you, coz,

90

Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Murdoch Earl of Fife. 95
West. This is his uncle's teaching; this is
Worcester,

Malevolent to you in all aspects;

Which makes him prune himself, and bristle

SCENE II. [London. An apartment of the Prince's.]

Enter the PRINCE OF WALES and FALSTAFF. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? Prince. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack and unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldest truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless [6 hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta,

Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty. Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon; and let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

Prince. Thou 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 snatch'd [39 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 ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

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Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

Prince. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

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Fal. How now, how now, mad wag! What, in thy quips and thy quiddities, what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?

Prince. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

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Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

Prince. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

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Prince. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and where it would not, I have us'd my credit.

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Fal. Yea, and so us'd it that, were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent But, I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

Prince. No; thou shalt.

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Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

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

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it

Prince. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

Prince. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

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Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes and art indeed the most comparative, rascalbest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I prithee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the [94 street about you, sir, but I mark'd him not and yet he talk'd very wisely, but I regarded him not; and yet he talk'd wisely, and in the

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 Lothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I [106 must give over this life, and I will give it wer. By the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain. I'll be damn'd for never a king's son in Christendom.

Prince. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?

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Fal. Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll nake one. An I do not, call me villain and affle me.

Prince. I see a good amendment of life in hee; from praying to purse-taking.

Fal. Why, Hal, 't is my vocation, Hal. 'Tis 10 sin for a man to labour in his vocation. [117 Enter POINS.

Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set match. O, if rnen were to be saved by merit, that hole in hell were hot enough for him? his is the most omnipotent villain that ever red "Stand! to a true man. Prince. Good morrow, Ned.

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Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says [onsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack nd Sugar? Jack! how agrees the devil and ee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on god. Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a ld capon's leg?

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Prince. Sir John stands to his word, the vil shall have his bargain; for he was never breaker of proverbs. He will give the devil s due.

Poins. Then art thou damn'd for keeping y word with the devil.

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Prince. Else he had been damn'd for cozenz 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 (140 with fat purses. I have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves. Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester. I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff [145 your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd.

Fal. Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang you for going, Poins. You will, chops?

150

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one? Prince. Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.

154

Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal, if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings.

Prince. Well, then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.

160

Fal. Why, that 's well said. Prince. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

Fal. By the lord, I 'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.

Prince. I care not.

165

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.

176

Prince. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer! [Exit Falstaff]

Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff [Bardolph, Peto] and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself [182 and I will not be there; and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders.

Prince. How shall we part with them in setting forth?

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And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time when men think least I will.
[Exit.

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As is delivered to your Majesty. Either envy, therefore, or misprision Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

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Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd

Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home. 35
He was perfumed like a milliner;

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon

He gave his nose and took 't away again;
Who therewith angry, when it next came there.
Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd,
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,

He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

With many holiday and lady terms

He question'd me; amongst the rest, demanded My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf.

I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold
Out of my grief, and my impatience

To be so pest'red with a popinjay,
Answer'd neglectingly-I know not what,
He should, or he should not; for he made m

mad

To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
Of guns and drums and wounds,
God sav

the mark!

And telling me the sovereign'st thing on eart
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villanous salt-petre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answered indirectly, as I said;
And I beseech you, let not his report
Come current for an accusation

Betwixt my love and your high Majesty. Blunt. The circumstance considered, go my lord,

Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said
To such a person and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest retold,
May reasonably die and never rise

King. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners But with proviso and exception That we at our own charge shall ransom straight

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His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;;
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd'
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against that great magician, damn'd Glen-
dower,

Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then, 85
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason, and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I shall never hold that man my friend
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer!

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North. What, drunk with choler? Stay and

pause a while.

Here comes your uncle.

Hot.

Re-enter WORCESTER.

129

Speak of Mortimer! 'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him. Yea, on his part I 'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust,

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But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high in the air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and cank'red Bolingbroke.
North. Brother, the King hath made your
nephew mad.

Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone?

Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my pris