Front matter (continued 24)

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