The Second Part of Henry the Fourth

Containing his Death: and the Coronation of King Henry the Fift

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

INDVCTION.

Enter Rumour.


Open your Eares: For which of you will stop
The vent of Hearing, when loud Rumor speakes?
I, from the Orient, to the drooping West
(Making the winde my Post-horse) still vnfold
The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth.
Vpon my Tongue, continuall Slanders ride,
The which, in euery Language, I pronounce,
Stuffing the Eares of them with false Reports:
I speake of Peace, while couert Enmitie
(Vnder the smile of Safety) wounds the World:
And who but Rumour, who but onely I
Make fearfull Musters, and prepar'd Defence,
Whil'st the bigge yeare, swolne with some other griefes,
Is thought with childe, by the sterne Tyrant, Warre,
And no such matter? Rumour, is a Pipe
Blowne by Surmises, Ielousies, Coniectures;
And of so easie, and so plaine a stop,
That the blunt Monster, with vncounted heads,
The still discordant, wauering Multitude,
Can play vpon it. But what neede I thus
My well-knowne Body to Anathomize
Among my houshold? Why is Rumour heere?
I run before King Harries victory,
Who in a bloodie field by Shrewsburie
Hath beaten downe yong Hotspurre, and his Troopes,
Quenching the flame of bold Rebellion,
Euen with the Rebels blood. But what meane I
To speake so true at first? My Office is
To noyse abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell
Vnder the Wrath of Noble Hotspurres Sword:
And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage
Stoop'd his Annointed head, as low as death.
This haue I rumour'd through the peasant-Townes,
Betweene the Royall Field of Shrewsburie,
And this Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone,
Where Hotspurres Father, old Northumberland,
Lyes crafty sicke. The Postes come tyring on,
And not a man of them brings other newes
Then they haue learn'd of Me. From Rumours Tongues,
They bring smooth-Comforts-false, worse then True-wrongs.
Enter.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.

  L.Bar. Who keepes the Gate heere hoa?
Where is the Earle?
  Por. What shall I say you are?
  Bar. Tell thou the Earle
That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him heere

   Por. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard,
Please it your Honor, knocke but at the Gate,
And he himselfe will answer.
Enter Northumberland.

  L.Bar. Heere comes the Earle

   Nor. What newes Lord Bardolfe? Eu'ry minute now
Should be the Father of some Stratagem;
The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse
Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose,
And beares downe all before him

   L.Bar. Noble Earle,
I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury

   Nor. Good, and heauen will

   L.Bar. As good as heart can wish:
The King is almost wounded to the death:
And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,
Prince Harrie slaine out-right: and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Yong Prince Iohn,
And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.
And Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir Iohn)
Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day,
(So fought, so follow'd, and so fairely wonne)
Came not, till now, to dignifie the Times
Since Cæsars Fortunes

   Nor. How is this deriu'd?
Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
  L.Bar. I spake with one (my L[ord].) that came fro[m] thence,
A Gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely render'd me these newes for true

   Nor. Heere comes my Seruant Trauers, whom I sent
On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes.
Enter Trauers.

  L.Bar. My Lord, I ouer-rod him on the way,
And he is furnish'd with no certainties,
More then he (haply) may retaile from me

   Nor. Now Trauers, what good tidings comes fro[m] you?
  Tra. My Lord, Sir Iohn Vmfreuill turn'd me backe
With ioyfull tydings; and (being better hors'd)
Out-rod me. After him, came spurring head
A Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed)
That stopp'd by me, to breath his bloodied horse.
He ask'd the way to Chester: And of him
I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury:
He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke,
And that yong Harry Percies Spurre was cold.
With that he gaue his able Horse the head,
And bending forwards strooke his able heeles
Against the panting sides of his poore Iade
Vp to the Rowell head, and starting so,
He seem'd in running, to deuoure the way,
Staying no longer question

   North. Ha? Againe:
Said he yong Harrie Percyes Spurre was cold?
(Of Hot-Spurre, cold-Spurre?) that Rebellion,
Had met ill lucke?
  L.Bar. My Lord: Ile tell you what,
If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day,
Vpon mine Honor, for a silken point
Ile giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it

   Nor. Why should the Gentleman that rode by Trauers
Giue then such instances of Losse?
  L.Bar. Who, he?
He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolne
The Horse he rode-on: and vpon my life
Speake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes.
Enter Morton.

  Nor. Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title-leafe,
Fore-tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume:
So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood
Hath left a witnest Vsurpation.
Say Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?
  Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)
Where hatefull death put on his vgliest Maske
To fright our party

   North. How doth my Sonne, and Brother?
Thou trembl'st; and the whitenesse in thy Cheeke
Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.
Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse,
So dull, so dead in looke, so woe-be-gone,
Drew Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night,
And would haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd.
But Priam found the Fire, ere he his Tongue:
And I, my Percies death, ere thou report'st it.
This, thou would'st say: Your Sonne did thus, and thus:
Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble Dowglas,
Stopping my greedy eare, with their bold deeds.
But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed)
Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise,
Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead

   Mor. Dowglas is liuing, and your Brother, yet:
But for my Lord, your Sonne

   North. Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue Suspition hath:
He that but feares the thing, he would not know,
Hath by Instinct, knowledge from others Eyes,
That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake (Morton)
Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies,
And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace,
And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong

   Mor. You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid:
Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine

   North. Yet for all this, say not that Percies dead.
I see a strange Confession in thine Eye:
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne,
To speake a truth. If he be slaine, say so:
The Tongue offends not, that reports his death:
And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead:
Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue:
Yet the first bringer of vnwelcome Newes
Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue,
Sounds euer after as a sullen Bell
Remembred, knolling a departing Friend

   L.Bar. I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead

   Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to beleeue
That, which I would to heauen, I had not seene.
But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd)
To Henrie Monmouth, whose swift wrath beate downe
The neuer-daunted Percie to the earth,
From whence (with life) he neuer more sprung vp.
In few; his death (whose spirit lent a fire,
Euen to the dullest Peazant in his Campe)
Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate away
From the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes.
For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd;
Which once, in him abated, all the rest
Turn'd on themselues, like dull and heauy Lead:
And as the Thing, that's heauy in it selfe,
Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speede,
So did our Men, heauy in Hotspurres losse,
Lend to this weight, such lightnesse with their Feare,
That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their ayme,
Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety)
Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Worcester
Too soone ta'ne prisoner: and that furious Scot,
(The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slaine th' appearance of the King,
Gan vaile his stomacke, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backes: and in his flight,
Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The summe of all,
Is, that the King hath wonne: and hath sent out
A speedy power, to encounter you my Lord,
Vnder the Conduct of yong Lancaster
And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full

   North. For this, I shall haue time enough to mourne.
In Poyson, there is Physicke: and this newes
(Hauing beene well) that would haue made me sicke,
Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well.
And as the Wretch, whose Feauer-weakned ioynts,
Like strengthlesse Hindges, buckle vnder life,
Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fire
Out of his keepers armes: Euen so, my Limbes
(Weak'ned with greefe) being now inrag'd with greefe,
Are thrice themselues. Hence therefore thou nice crutch,
A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of Steele
Must gloue this hand. And hence thou sickly Quoife,
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest, ayme to hit.
Now binde my Browes with Iron and approach
The ragged'st houre, that Time and Spight dare bring
To frowne vpon th' enrag'd Northumberland.
Let Heauen kisse Earth: now let not Natures hand
Keepe the wilde Flood confin'd: Let Order dye,
And let the world no longer be a stage
To feede Contention in a ling'ring Act:
But let one spirit of the First-borne Caine
Reigne in all bosomes, that each heart being set
On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end,
And darknesse be the burier of the dead

   L.Bar. Sweet Earle, diuorce not wisedom from your Honor

   Mor. The liues of all your louing Complices
Leane-on your health, the which if you giue-o're
To stormy Passion, must perforce decay.
You cast th' euent of Warre (my Noble Lord)
And summ'd the accompt of Chance, before you said
Let vs make head: It was your presurmize,
That in the dole of blowes, your Son might drop.
You knew he walk'd o're perils, on an edge
More likely to fall in, then to get o're:
You were aduis'd his flesh was capeable
Of Wounds, and Scarres; and that his forward Spirit
Would lift him, where most trade of danger rang'd,
Yet did you say go forth: and none of this
(Though strongly apprehended) could restraine
The stiffe-borne Action: What hath then befalne?
Or what hath this bold enterprize bring forth,
More then that Being, which was like to be?
  L.Bar. We all that are engaged to this losse,
Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous Seas,
That if we wrought out life, was ten to one:
And yet we ventur'd for the gaine propos'd,
Choak'd the respect of likely perill fear'd,
And since we are o're-set, venture againe.
Come, we will all put forth; Body, and Goods,
  Mor. 'Tis more then time: And (my most Noble Lord)
I heare for certaine, and do speake the truth:
The gentle Arch-bishop of Yorke is vp
With well appointed Powres: he is a man
Who with a double Surety bindes his Followers.
My Lord (your Sonne) had onely but the Corpes,
But shadowes, and the shewes of men to fight.
For that same word (Rebellion) did diuide
The action of their bodies, from their soules,
And they did fight with queasinesse, constrain'd
As men drinke Potions; that their Weapons only
Seem'd on our side: but for their Spirits and Soules,
This word (Rebellion) it had froze them vp,
As Fish are in a Pond. But now the Bishop
Turnes Insurrection to Religion,
Suppos'd sincere, and holy in his Thoughts:
He's follow'd both with Body, and with Minde:
And doth enlarge his Rising, with the blood
Of faire King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones,
Deriues from heauen, his Quarrell, and his Cause:
Tels them, he doth bestride a bleeding Land,
Gasping for life, vnder great Bullingbrooke,
And more, and lesse, do flocke to follow him

   North. I knew of this before. But to speake truth,
This present greefe had wip'd it from my minde.
Go in with me, and councell euery man
The aptest way for safety, and reuenge:
Get Posts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed,
Neuer so few, nor neuer yet more need.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, and Page.

  Fal. Sirra, you giant, what saies the Doct[or]. to my water?
  Pag. He said sir, the water it selfe was a good healthy
water: but for the party that ow'd it, he might haue more
diseases then he knew for

   Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at mee: the
braine of this foolish compounded Clay-man, is not able
to inuent any thing that tends to laughter, more then I
inuent, or is inuented on me. I am not onely witty in my
selfe, but the cause that wit is in other men. I doe heere
walke before thee, like a Sow, that hath o'rewhelm'd all
her Litter, but one. If the Prince put thee into my Seruice
for any other reason, then to set mee off, why then I
haue no iudgement. Thou horson Mandrake, thou art
fitter to be worne in my cap, then to wait at my heeles. I
was neuer mann'd with an Agot till now: but I will sette
you neyther in Gold, nor Siluer, but in vilde apparell, and
send you backe againe to your Master, for a Iewell. The
Iuuenall (the Prince your Master) whose Chin is not yet
fledg'd, I will sooner haue a beard grow in the Palme of
my hand, then he shall get one on his cheeke: yet he will
not sticke to say, his Face is a Face-Royall. Heauen may
finish it when he will, it is not a haire amisse yet: he may
keepe it still at a Face-Royall, for a Barber shall neuer
earne six pence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if
he had writ man euer since his Father was a Batchellour.
He may keepe his owne Grace, but he is almost out of
mine, I can assure him. What said M[aster]. Dombledon, about
the Satten for my short Cloake, and Slops?
  Pag. He said sir, you should procure him better Assurance,
then Bardolfe: he wold not take his Bond & yours,
he lik'd not the Security

   Fal. Let him bee damn'd like the Glutton, may his
Tongue be hotter, a horson Achitophel; a
Rascally-yea-forsooth-knaue,
to beare a Gentleman in hand, and then
stand vpon Security? The horson smooth-pates doe now
weare nothing but high shoes, and bunches of Keyes at
their girdles: and if a man is through with them in honest
Taking-vp, then they must stand vpon Securitie: I
had as liefe they would put Rats-bane in my mouth, as
offer to stoppe it with Security. I look'd hee should haue
sent me two and twenty yards of Satten (as I am true
Knight) and he sends me Security. Well, he may sleep in
Security, for he hath the horne of Abundance: and the
lightnesse of his Wife shines through it, and yet cannot
he see, though he haue his owne Lanthorne to light him.
Where's Bardolfe?
  Pag. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship
a horse

   Fal. I bought him in Paules, and hee'l buy mee a horse
in Smithfield. If I could get mee a wife in the Stewes, I
were Mann'd, Hors'd, and Wiu'd.
Enter Chiefe Iustice, and Seruant.

  Pag. Sir, heere comes the Nobleman that committed
the Prince for striking him, about Bardolfe

   Fal. Wait close, I will not see him

   Ch.Iust. What's he that goes there?
  Ser. Falstaffe, and't please your Lordship

   Iust. He that was in question for the Robbery?
  Ser. He my Lord, but he hath since done good seruice
at Shrewsbury: and (as I heare) is now going with some
Charge, to the Lord Iohn of Lancaster

   Iust. What to Yorke? Call him backe againe

   Ser. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

   Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deafe

   Pag. You must speake lowder, my Master is deafe

   Iust. I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good.
Go plucke him by the Elbow, I must speake with him

   Ser. Sir Iohn

   Fal. What? a yong knaue and beg? Is there not wars? Is
there not imployment? Doth not the K[ing]. lack subiects? Do
not the Rebels want Soldiers? Though it be a shame to be
on any side but one, it is worse shame to begge, then to
be on the worst side, were it worse then the name of Rebellion
can tell how to make it

   Ser. You mistake me Sir

   Fal. Why sir? Did I say you were an honest man? Setting
my Knight-hood, and my Souldiership aside, I had
lyed in my throat, if I had said so

   Ser. I pray you (Sir) then set your Knighthood and
your Souldier-ship aside, and giue mee leaue to tell you,
you lye in your throat, if you say I am any other then an
honest man

   Fal. I giue thee leaue to tell me so? I lay a-side that
which growes to me? If thou get'st any leaue of me, hang
me: if thou tak'st leaue, thou wer't better be hang'd: you
Hunt-counter, hence: Auant

   Ser. Sir, my Lord would speake with you

   Iust. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, a word with you

   Fal. My good Lord: giue your Lordship good time of
the day. I am glad to see your Lordship abroad: I heard
say your Lordship was sicke. I hope your Lordship goes
abroad by aduise. Your Lordship (though not clean past
your youth) hath yet some smack of age in you: some rellish
of the saltnesse of Time, and I most humbly beseech
your Lordship, to haue a reuerend care of your health

   Iust. Sir Iohn, I sent you before your Expedition, to
Shrewsburie

   Fal. If it please your Lordship, I heare his Maiestie is
return'd with some discomfort from Wales

   Iust. I talke not of his Maiesty: you would not come
when I sent for you?
  Fal. And I heare moreouer, his Highnesse is falne into
this same whorson Apoplexie

   Iust. Well, heauen mend him. I pray let me speak with you

   Fal. This Apoplexie is (as I take it) a kind of Lethargie,
a sleeping of the blood, a horson Tingling

   Iust. What tell you me of it? be it as it is

   Fal. It hath it originall from much greefe; from study
and perturbation of the braine. I haue read the cause of
his effects in Galen. It is a kinde of deafenesse

   Iust. I thinke you are falne into the disease: For you
heare not what I say to you

   Fal. Very well (my Lord) very well: rather an't please
you) it is the disease of not Listning, the malady of not
Marking, that I am troubled withall

   Iust. To punish you by the heeles, would amend the
attention of your eares, & I care not if I be your Physitian
  Fal. I am as poore as Iob, my Lord; but not so Patient:
your Lordship may minister the Potion of imprisonment
to me, in respect of Pouertie: but how I should bee your
Patient, to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make
some dram of a scruple, or indeede, a scruple it selfe

   Iust. I sent for you (when there were matters against
you for your life) to come speake with me

   Fal. As I was then aduised by my learned Councel, in
the lawes of this Land-seruice, I did not come

   Iust. Wel, the truth is (sir Iohn) you liue in great infamy
  Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, ca[n]not liue in lesse

   Iust. Your Meanes is very slender, and your wast great

   Fal. I would it were otherwise: I would my Meanes
were greater, and my waste slenderer

   Iust. You haue misled the youthfull Prince

   Fal. The yong Prince hath misled mee. I am the Fellow
with the great belly, and he my Dogge

   Iust. Well, I am loth to gall a new-heal'd wound: your
daies seruice at Shrewsbury, hath a little gilded ouer
your Nights exploit on Gads-hill. You may thanke the
vnquiet time, for your quiet o're-posting that Action

   Fal. My Lord?
  Iust. But since all is wel, keep it so: wake not a sleeping Wolfe

   Fal. To wake a Wolfe, is as bad as to smell a Fox

   Iu. What? you are as a candle, the better part burnt out
  Fal. A Wassell-Candle, my Lord; all Tallow: if I did
say of wax, my growth would approue the truth

   Iust. There is not a white haire on your face, but shold
haue his effect of grauity

   Fal. His effect of grauy, grauy, grauy

   Iust. You follow the yong Prince vp and downe, like
his euill Angell

   Fal. Not so (my Lord) your ill Angell is light: but I
hope, he that lookes vpon mee, will take mee without,
weighing: and yet, in some respects I grant, I cannot go:
I cannot tell. Vertue is of so little regard in these Costormongers,
that true valor is turn'd Beare-heard. Pregnancie
is made a Tapster, and hath his quicke wit wasted in
giuing Recknings: all the other gifts appertinent to man
(as the malice of this Age shapes them) are not woorth a
Gooseberry. You that are old, consider not the capacities
of vs that are yong: you measure the heat of our Liuers,
with the bitternes of your gals: & we that are in the
vaward of our youth, I must confesse, are wagges too

   Iust. Do you set downe your name in the scrowle of
youth, that are written downe old, with all the Charracters
of age? Haue you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow
cheeke? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an incresing
belly? Is not your voice broken? your winde short? your
wit single? and euery part about you blasted with Antiquity?
and wil you cal your selfe yong? Fy, fy, fy, sir Iohn

   Fal. My Lord, I was borne with a white head, & somthing
a round belly. For my voice, I haue lost it with hallowing
and singing of Anthemes. To approue my youth
farther, I will not: the truth is, I am onely olde in iudgement
and vnderstanding: and he that will caper with mee
for a thousand Markes, let him lend me the mony, & haue
at him. For the boxe of th' eare that the Prince gaue you,
he gaue it like a rude Prince, and you tooke it like a sensible
Lord. I haue checkt him for it, and the yong Lion repents:
Marry not in ashes and sacke-cloath, but in new
Silke, and old Sacke

   Iust. Wel, heauen send the Prince a better companion

   Fal. Heauen send the Companion a better Prince: I
cannot rid my hands of him

   Iust. Well, the King hath seuer'd you and Prince Harry,
I heare you are going with Lord Iohn of Lancaster, against
the Archbishop, and the Earle of Northumberland
  Fal. Yes, I thanke your pretty sweet wit for it: but
looke you pray, (all you that kisse my Ladie Peace, at
home) that our Armies ioyn not in a hot day: for if I take
but two shirts out with me, and I meane not to sweat
extraordinarily:
if it bee a hot day, if I brandish any thing
but my Bottle, would I might neuer spit white againe:
There is not a daungerous Action can peepe out his head,
but I am thrust vpon it. Well, I cannot last euer

   Iust. Well, be honest, be honest, and heauen blesse your
Expedition

   Fal. Will your Lordship lend mee a thousand pound,
to furnish me forth?
  Iust. Not a peny, not a peny: you are too impatient
to beare crosses. Fare you well. Commend mee to my
Cosin Westmerland

   Fal. If I do, fillop me with a three-man-Beetle. A man
can no more separate Age and Couetousnesse, then he can
part yong limbes and letchery: but the Gowt galles the
one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the Degrees
preuent my curses. Boy?
  Page. Sir

   Fal. What money is in my purse?
  Page. Seuen groats, and two pence

   Fal. I can get no remedy against this Consumption of
the purse. Borrowing onely lingers, and lingers it out,
but the disease is incureable. Go beare this letter to my
Lord of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earle of
Westmerland, and this to old Mistris Vrsula, whome I
haue weekly sworne to marry, since I perceiu'd the first
white haire on my chin. About it: you know where to
finde me. A pox of this Gowt, or a Gowt of this Poxe:
for the one or th' other playes the rogue with my great
toe: It is no matter, if I do halt, I haue the warres for my
colour, and my Pension shall seeme the more reasonable.
A good wit will make vse of any thing: I will turne diseases
to commodity.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Archbishop, Hastings, Mowbray, and Lord Bardolfe.

  Ar. Thus haue you heard our causes, & kno our Means:
And my most noble Friends, I pray you all
Speake plainly your opinions of our hopes,
And first (Lord Marshall) what say you to it?
  Mow. I well allow the occasion of our Armes,
But gladly would be better satisfied,
How (in our Meanes) we should aduance our selues
To looke with forhead bold and big enough
Vpon the Power and puisance of the King

   Hast. Our present Musters grow vpon the File
To fiue and twenty thousand men of choice:
And our Supplies, liue largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosome burnes
With an incensed Fire of Iniuries

   L.Bar. The question then (Lord Hastings) standeth thus
Whether our present fiue and twenty thousand
May hold-vp-head, without Northumberland:
  Hast. With him, we may

   L.Bar. I marry, there's the point:
But if without him we be thought to feeble,
My iudgement is, we should not step too farre
Till we had his Assistance by the hand.
For in a Theame so bloody fac'd, as this,
Coniecture, Expectation, and Surmise
Of Aydes incertaine, should not be admitted

   Arch. 'Tis very true Lord Bardolfe, for indeed
It was yong Hotspurres case, at Shrewsbury

   L.Bar. It was (my Lord) who lin'd himself with hope,
Eating the ayre, on promise of Supply,
Flatt'ring himselfe with Proiect of a power,
Much smaller, then the smallest of his Thoughts,
And so with great imagination
(Proper to mad men) led his Powers to death,
And (winking) leap'd into destruction

   Hast. But (by your leaue) it neuer yet did hurt,
To lay downe likely-hoods, and formes of hope

   L.Bar. Yes, if this present quality of warre,
Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot,
Liues so in hope: As in an early Spring,
We see th' appearing buds, which to proue fruite,
Hope giues not so much warrant, as Dispaire
That Frosts will bite them. When we meane to build,
We first suruey the Plot, then draw the Modell,
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the Erection,
Which if we finde out-weighes Ability,
What do we then, but draw a-new the Modell
In fewer offices? Or at least, desist
To builde at all? Much more, in this great worke,
(Which is (almost) to plucke a Kingdome downe,
And set another vp) should we suruey
The plot of Situation, and the Modell;
Consent vpon a sure Foundation:
Question Surueyors, know our owne estate,
How able such a Worke to vndergo,
To weigh against his Opposite? Or else,
We fortifie in Paper, and in Figures,
Vsing the Names of men, instead of men:
Like one, that drawes the Modell of a house
Beyond his power to builde it; who (halfe through)
Giues o're, and leaues his part-created Cost
A naked subiect to the Weeping Clouds,
And waste, for churlish Winters tyranny

   Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of faire byrth)
Should be still-borne: and that we now possest
The vtmost man of expectation:
I thinke we are a Body strong enough
(Euen as we are) to equall with the King

   L.Bar. What is the King but fiue & twenty thousand?
  Hast. To vs no more: nay not so much Lord Bardolf.
For0his diuisions (as the Times do braul)
Are in three Heads: one Power against the French,
And one against Glendower: Perforce a third
Must take vp vs: So is the vnfirme King
In three diuided: and his Coffers sound
With hollow Pouerty, and Emptinesse

   Ar. That he should draw his seuerall strengths togither
And come against vs in full puissance
Need not be dreaded

   Hast. If he should do so,
He leaues his backe vnarm'd, the French, and Welch
Baying him at the heeles: neuer feare that

   L.Bar. Who is it like should lead his Forces hither?
  Hast. The Duke of Lancaster, and Westmerland:
Against the Welsh himselfe, and Harrie Monmouth.
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I haue no certaine notice

   Arch. Let vs on:
And publish the occasion of our Armes.
The Common-wealth is sicke of their owne Choice,
Their ouer-greedy loue hath surfetted:
An habitation giddy, and vnsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond Many, with what loud applause
Did'st thou beate heauen with blessing Bullingbrooke,
Before he was, what thou would'st haue him be?
And being now trimm'd in thine owne desires,
Thou (beastly Feeder) art so full of him,
That thou prouok'st thy selfe to cast him vp.
So, so, (thou common Dogge) did'st thou disgorge
Thy glutton-bosome of the Royall Richard,
And now thou would'st eate thy dead vomit vp,
And howl'st to finde it. What trust is in these Times?
They, that when Richard liu'd, would haue him dye,
Are now become enamour'd on his graue.
Thou that threw'st dust vpon his goodly head
When through proud London he came sighing on,
After th' admired heeles of Bullingbrooke,
Cri'st now, O Earth, yeeld vs that King againe,
And take thou this (O thoughts of men accurs'd)
``Past, and to Come, seemes best; things Present, worst

   Mow. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on?
  Hast. We are Times subiects, and Time bids, be gon.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Hostesse, with two Officers, Fang, and Snare.

  Hostesse. Mr. Fang, haue you entred the Action?
  Fang. It is enter'd

   Hostesse. Wher's your Yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman?
Will he stand to it?
  Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare?
  Hostesse. I, I, good M[aster]. Snare

   Snare. Heere, heere

   Fang. Snare, we must Arrest Sir Iohn Falstaffe

   Host. I good M[aster]. Snare, I haue enter'd him, and all

   Sn. It may chance cost some of vs our liues: he wil stab
  Hostesse. Alas the day: take heed of him: he stabd me
in mine owne house, and that most beastly: he cares not
what mischeefe he doth, if his weapon be out. Hee will
foyne like any diuell, he will spare neither man, woman,
nor childe

   Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust

   Hostesse. No, nor I neither: Ile be at your elbow

   Fang. If I but fist him once: if he come but within my
Vice

   Host. I am vndone with his going: I warrant he is an
infinitiue thing vpon my score. Good M[aster]. Fang hold him
sure: good M[aster]. Snare let him not scape, he comes
continuantly
to Py-Corner (sauing your manhoods) to buy a saddle,
and hee is indited to dinner to the Lubbars head in
Lombardstreet, to M[aster]. Smoothes the Silkman. I pra' ye, since
my Exion is enter'd, and my Case so openly known to the
world, let him be brought in to his answer: A 100. Marke
is a long one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I haue
borne, and borne, and borne, and haue bin fub'd off, and
fub'd-off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to
be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, vnles
a woman should be made an Asse and a Beast, to beare euery
Knaues wrong.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolfe.

Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose Bardolfe
with him. Do your Offices, do your offices: M[aster]. Fang, &
M[aster].
Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices

   Fal. How now? whose Mare's dead? what's the matter?
  Fang. Sir Iohn, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly

   Falst. Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the
Villaines head: throw the Queane in the Channel

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

   Falst. Keep them off, Bardolfe

   Fang. A rescu, a rescu

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Host. Yes in troth my Lord

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

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

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

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

   Falst. As I am a Gentleman

   Host. Nay, you said so before

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Ch.Iust. I haue heard bitter newes

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

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

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

   Fal. My Lord

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page.

  Prin. Trust me, I am exceeding weary

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Prin. Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I should be
sad now my Father is sicke: albeit I could tell to thee (as
to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend)
I could be sad, and sad indeed too

   Poin. Very hardly, vpon such a subiect

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

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

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

   Prin. And to thee

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

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

  Bar. Saue your Grace

   Prin. And yours, most Noble Bardolfe

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

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

   Page. Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Poin.

Letter.

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

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

   Poin. Why this is a Certificate

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

   Poin. Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short-winded.
I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leaue thee. Bee
not too familiar with Pointz, for hee misuses thy Fauours so
much, that he sweares thou art to marrie his Sister Nell. Repent
at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell.
Thine, by yea and no: which is as much as to say, as thou
vsest him. Iacke Falstaffe with my Familiars:
Iohn with my Brothers and Sister: & Sir
Iohn, with all Europe.
My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make him
eate it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Bar. I haue no tongue, sir

   Page. And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Northumberland, his Ladie, and Harrie Percies Ladie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.


Scaena Quarta.

Enter two Drawers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enter Hostesse, and Dol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Dol. I marry, our Chaynes, and our Iewels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Dol. So you doe, Hostesse

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

  Pist. 'Saue you, Sir Iohn

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Pist. I know you, Mistris Dorothie

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

   Pist. I will murther your Ruffe, for this

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

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

   Bard. 'Pray thee goe downe, good Ancient

   Falst. Hearke thee hither, Mistris Dol

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

   Page. 'Pray thee goe downe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Bard. Come, get you downe stayres

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

   Host. Here's good stuffe toward

   Fal. Giue me my Rapier, Boy

   Dol. I prethee Iack, I prethee doe not draw

   Fal. Get you downe stayres

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

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

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

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

   Fal. A Rascall to braue me

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

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

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

  Page. The Musique is come, Sir

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

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

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

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

   Dol. They say Poines hath a good Wit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Fal. I am olde, I am olde

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

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

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

   Fal. Some Sack, Francis

   Prin. Poin. Anon, anon, Sir

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

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

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

   Dol. How? you fat Foole, I scorne you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Host. No, I warrant you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Falst. Farewell, farewell.
Enter.

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

   Bard. Mistris Teare-sheet

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

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

Exeunt.


Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, with a Page.

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

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

  War. Many good-morrowes to your Maiestie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Sil. Your good Worship is welcome

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Fal. Pricke him

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

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

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

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

   Shal. Where's Shadow?
  Shad. Heere sir

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

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

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

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

   Falst. Is thy name Wart?
  Wart. Yea sir

   Fal. Thou art a very ragged Wart

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

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

   Feeble. Heere sir

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

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

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

   Feeble. I would Wart might haue gone sir

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

   Feeble. It shall suffice

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

   Falst. Yea marry, let vs see Bulcalfe

   Bul. Heere sir

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

   Bul. Oh, good my Lord Captaine

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

   Bul. Oh sir, I am a diseased man

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Shal. She neuer could away with me

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

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

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

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

   Sil. That's fiftie fiue yeeres agoe

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

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

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

   Bard. Go-too: stand aside

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

   Bard. Go-too: stand aside

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

   Bard. Well said, thou art a good fellow

   Feeble. Nay, I will beare no base minde

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

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

   Falst. Go-too: well

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Falst. I would you would, Master Shallow

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

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

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

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

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

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

   Hast. Wee haue sent forth alreadie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Bish. My Lord, wee will doe so

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Bish. I take your Princely word, for these redresses

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

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

  Bish. To you, my Noble Lord of Westmerland

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

   Bish. I doe not doubt you

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

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

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

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

   Bish. Beleeue me, I am passing light in spirit

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

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

   Mow. This had been chearefull, after Victorie

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

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

Wee should haue coap'd withall

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

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

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

   Iohn. They know their duties.
Enter Hastings.

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

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

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

Exeunt.

Enter Falstaffe and Colleuile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Iohn. Thine's too heauie to mount

   Falst. Let it shine then

   Iohn. Thine's too thick to shine

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

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

   Falst. And a famous true Subiect tooke him

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

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

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

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

Exit with Colleuile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Warwicke, Clarence, Gloucester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looke, heere's more newes

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

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

   Glo. Comfort your Maiestie

   Cla. Oh, my Royall Father

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

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

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

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

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

   War. Speake lower (Princes) for the King recouers

   Glo. This Apoplexie will (certaine) be his end

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

   War. Call for the Musicke in the other Roome

   King. Set me the Crowne vpon my Pillow here

   Clar. His eye is hollow, and hee changes much

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Clar. Let vs with-draw into the other Roome

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

Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.

  King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence

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

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

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

   Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where wee
stayd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.


Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

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

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

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

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

   Dauie. Heere sir

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Shallow. Well conceited Dauy: about thy Businesse,
Dauy

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

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

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

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

   Bard. I am glad to see your Worship

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

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

   Shal. Sir Iohn

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

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.


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

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

   Ch.Iust. I hope, not dead

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

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

   War. Indeed I thinke the yong King loues you not

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

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

   Iohn. Good morrow Cosin Warwick, good morrow

   Glou. Cla. Good morrow, Cosin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   War. Heere comes the Prince.
Enter Prince Henrie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Shal. Dauie

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

   Fal. Well said, M[aster]. Silence

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

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

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

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

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

   Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie

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

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

   Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and Iohn

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

   Shal. Honest Gentleman,
I know not your breeding

   Pist. Why then Lament therefore

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

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

   Shal. Vnder King Harry

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

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

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

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

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

   Pist. What? I do bring good newes

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

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

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Dol. Goodman death, goodman Bones

   Host. Thou Anatomy, thou

   Dol. Come you thinne Thing:
Come you Rascall

   Off. Very well.

Exeunt.


Scena Quinta.

Enter two Groomes.

  1.Groo. More Rushes, more Rushes

   2.Groo. The Trumpets haue sounded twice

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

Exit Groo.

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

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

   Pistol. Blesse thy Lungs, good Knight

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

   Shal. It doth so

   Falst. It shewes my earnestnesse in affection

   Pist. It doth so

   Fal. My deuotion

   Pist. It doth, it doth, it doth

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

   Shal. It is most certaine

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

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

   Shal. 'Tis so indeed

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

   Fal. I will deliuer her

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

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

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

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

   Fal. 'Saue thee my sweet Boy

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

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

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

Exit King.

  Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Fal. My Lord, my Lord

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

   Pist. Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento.

Exit. Manent Lancaster and Chiefe Iustice

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

   Ch.Iust. And so they are

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

   Ch.Iust. He hath

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

Exeunt.

FINIS.

EPILOGVE.

First, my Feare: then, my Curtsie: last, my Speech. My Feare, is your
Displeasure: My Curtsie, my Dutie: And my speech, to Begge your
Pardons. If you looke for a good speech now, you vndoe me: For what I
haue to say, is of mine owne making: and what (indeed) I should say,
will (I doubt) prooue mine owne marring. But to the Purpose, and so to
the Venture. Be it knowne to you (as it is very well) I was lately
heere in the end of a displeasing Play, to pray your Patience for it,
and to promise you a Better: I did meane (indeede) to pay you with this
which if (like an ill Venture) it come vnluckily home, I breake; and
you, my gentle Creditors lose. Heere I promist you I would be, and
heere I commit my Bodie to your Mercies: Bate me some, and I will pay
you some, and (as most Debtors do) promise you infinitely.

If my Tongue cannot entreate you to acquit me: will you command me to
vse my Legges? And yet that were but light payment, to Dance out of
your debt: But a good Conscience, will make any possible satisfaction,
and so will I. All the Gentlewomen heere haue forgiuen me, if the
Gentlemen will not, then the Gentlemen do not agree with the
Gentlewomen, which was neuer seene before, in such an Assembly.

One word more, I beseech you: if you be not too much cloid with Fat
Meate, our humble Author will continue the Story (with Sir Iohn in it)
and make you merry, with faire Katherine of France: where (for any
thing I know) Falstaffe shall dye of a sweat, vnlesse already he be
kill'd with your hard Opinions: For Old-Castle dyed a Martyr, and this
is not the man. My Tongue is wearie, when my Legs are too, I will bid
you good night; and so kneele downe before you: But (indeed) to pray
for the Queene.