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Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts',

[could

Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?
P. Henry. So please your majesty, I would, I
Quit all offences with as clear excuse
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,-
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,-|
By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

K. Henry. Heaven pardon thee!—yet let me
wonder, Harry,

At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supply'd;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood:
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd; and the soul of every inan
Prophetically does fore-think thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company;
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession';
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:
That men would tell their children, 'This is he;'
Others would say, 'Where? which is Bolingbroke?'
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven*,
And dress'd myself in such humility,

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, shewed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin' wits,
Soon kindled, and soon burnt: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with carping' fools;

Had his great name profaned with their scorns;
And gave his countenance against his name,
To laugh at gybing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative':

5 Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:

That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey; and began
To loath the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
10 More than a little is by much too much.
So when he had occasion to be seen,

He was but as the cuckow is in June,
Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
15 Afford no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom with admiring eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
20 As cloudy men use to their adversaries;
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation; not an eye

25 But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth what I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

[lord,

P. Henry. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious

30 Be more myself.

K. Henry. For all the world,

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
35 Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the shadow of succession:
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm;
40 Turns head against the lion's armed jaws;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops or,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got

45 Against renowned Douglas; whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms,
Holds from all soldiers chief majority,
And military title capital,

Throughall the kingdoms that acknowledgeChrist?
50 Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing cloaths,
This infant warrior, in his enterprizes
Discomfited great Douglas; ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,

5

Mean attempts are unworthy undertakings. Lewd does not in this place barely signify wanton, but licentious. i. e. officious parasites. i. e. True to him that had then possession of the crown. * This is an allusion to the story of Prometheus's theft, who stole fire from thence; and as with this he made a man, so with that Bolingbroke made a king. Rash is heady, thoughtless: bavin is brushwood, which, fired, burns fiercely, but is soon out. The metaphor seems to be taken from mingling course wool with fine, and carding them together, whereby the value of the latter is diminished. The king means, that Richard mingled and carded together his royal state with carping fools, &c. To card is used by other writers for, to mix. 'i. e. jesting, prating, &c. The quarto 1598, reads cap'ring fools. i. e. made his presence injurious to his reputation. "Meaning, of every boy whose vanity incited him to try his wit against the king's. Comparative, means equal, or rival in any thing. 10 To enjeoff is a law term, signifying to invest with possessions.

Τα

To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mor-

timer,

Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough,-through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,-
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and curt'sy at his frowns,
To shew how much thou art degenerate.

[so:

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P. Henry. Do not think so, you shall not find it 15 And heaven forgive them, that so much have sway'd

Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son:
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favours in a bloody mask,
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet:
For every honour sitting on his helm,

'Would they were multitudes; and on my head
My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of life cancels all bands;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

K. Henry. A hundred thousand rebels die in
this:-

Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust herein.
Enter Blunt.

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of

speed.

Blunt. So is the business that I come to speak of. Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,That Douglas, and the English rebels met,

2

201

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The Boar's-head Tavern in East-cheap.
Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an 25 old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of 30a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse; the inside of a church :-Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.

35

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there it is:-come, sing me a bawdy song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore little; dic'd, not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quar40 ter-of an hour; paid money that I borrow'd, three or four times; liv'd well, and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you 45 must needs be out of all compass; out of all rea sonable compass, Sir John.

50

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lanthorn in the poop,-but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, sirJohn, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon 155hell-fire, and Dives that liv'd in purple; for

1i. e. make head. Dearest here means mostfatal, most mischievous, and should be spelled derest. 3 Favours mean some decoration usually worn by knights in their helmets, as a present from a mistress, or a trophy from an enemy. Mr. Steevens conjectures, that a brewer's horse does not, perhaps, mean a dray-horse, but the cross-beam on which beer-barrels are carried into cellars, &c. and that the allusion may be to the taper form of this machine; while Mr. Tyrwhitt thinks, that "Falstaff does not mean to point out any similitude to his own condition, but, on the contrary, some striking dissimili tude. He says here, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse; just as in act II. sc. iv. he asserts the truth of several parts of his narrative, on pain of being considered as a rogue-a Jew-an Ebrew Jew -a bunch of radish-u horse."

there

5

there he is in his robes, burning, burning.-Iff
thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear
by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire: but
thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed,
but for the light in thy face, the son of utter dark-
ness. When thou ran'st up Gad's-hill in the night
to catch my horse, if I did not think thou had'st
been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wild-fire, there's
no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual
triumph, an everlasting bonfire light! Thou hast 10
saved me a thousand marks in links and torches',
walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern
and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me,
would have bought me lights as good cheap, at
the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have main-|15|
tained that salamander of yours with fire, any time
this two-and-thirty years: Heaven reward me
for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly!

Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.

Enter Hostess.

20

How now, dame Partlet the hen'? have you en-[25] quir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house: I have search'd, have enquir'd, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the 30 tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shav'd, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was pick'd: Go to, you are a woman, go. Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never call'd 35 so in mine own house before.

Ful. Go to, I know you well enough.

Host. No, Sir John; you do not know me, Sir John: I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to be-40 guile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them.

Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell You owe money here be-l sides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings; and money lent you, four-and-twenty pounds.

Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. Host. He alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. Fal. How poor? look upon his face; what call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; P'il not pay a denier. What,

4

45

50

will you make a younkers of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket pick'd? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark.

Host. O, I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

Fal. How the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so.

Enter Prince Henry, and Poins, marching; and Falstaf
meets them, playing on bis truncheon, like a fife.
Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door.
'faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion'.
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Henry. What say'st thou, Mrs. Quickly?
How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an

honest man.

Host. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Henry. What say'st thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket pick'd: this house is turn'd bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Henry. What didst thou lose, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Henry. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks. most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Henry. What! he did not?

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox: and for woman-hood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.

10

Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
Fal. What beast? why, an otter.

P. Henry. An otter, Sir John? why an otter?
Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man
Iknows not where to have her.

Mr. Steevens remarks on this passage, that in Shakspeare's time, (long before the streets were illuminated with lamps) candles and lanthorns to let, were cried about London. 2 Cheap is market, and good cheap therefore is a bon marché. From this word East-cheap, Chep-stow, Cheap-side, &c. are derived. 3 Dame Partlet is the name of the hen in the old story-book of Reynard the Fox. A face set with carbuncles is called a rich face. A younker is a novice, a young inexperienced man easily guil'd. To take mine ease in mine inne, was an ancient proverb, not very different in its application from that maxim, “Every man's house is his castle;" for inne originally signified a house or habitation. 'i. e. as prisoners are conveyed to Newgate, fastened two and two together. Meaning a bawd; a dish of stew'd prunes being not only the ancient designation of a brothel, but a constant appendage to it, as has been before observed. 9A drawn for may perhaps mean, a fox drawn over the ground to exercise the hounds, 10 Maid Marian is either a man dressed like a woman, or the ady who atteds the dances of the inorris.

7

Host.

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!

P. Henry. Thou say'st true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.

Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound.

P. Henry. Surrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

P. Henry. It appears so by the story. Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, and cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable 5 to any honest reason: thou seest I am pacify'd.— Still? Nay, I pr'ythee, begone. [Exit Hostess. Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad,-How is that answer'd?

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Ful. Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but man, I dare; but as thou art prince, I fear thee, 20| as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Henry. And why not as the lion? Fal. The king himself is to be fear'd as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an if I do, let my girdle break!

25

P. Henry. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, s.rrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is all fill'd up with guts, and midriff.Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket: 30 Why, thou whoreson, impudent, imboss'd' rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd 35 with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket| up wrong: Art thou not asham'd?

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou know'st, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should 40 poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest, I have more flesh than any other man; and therefore more frailty.- -You confess then, you pick'd my pocket?

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P. Henry, I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with unwash'd hands too2. Bard. Do, my lord.

P.Henry. I have procur'd thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

Fat. I would it had been of horse. Where shalt i find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. "Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.

P. Henry. Bardolph,Bard. My lord.

Lancaster,

P.Henry. Go bear this letter to lord John of
[land.-
My brother John; this to my lord of Westmore-
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou and I
Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time.~
Jack,

Meet me to-morrow in the Temple-hall
At two o'clock i'the afternoon:
There shalt thou know thy charge; and there re-
Money, and order for their furniture. [ceive
The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bard. Fal. Rare words! brave world!-Hostess, my breakfast; come:

O, I could wish this tavern were my drum. [Exit.

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father. To beard

Hot.

i. e. swol'n, puffy. 2 i. e do it immediately, or the first thing in the morning.

is to oppose face to face in a hostile or daring manner.

464

Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not him-f
[sick.
self?
Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous
Hot. "Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick,
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?
Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I.
Hot. His mind!

Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?
Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth;
And, at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been
whole,

Ere he by sickness had been visited;

His health was never better worth than now.
Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth
infect

The very life-blood of our enterprize;
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
He writes me here,-that inward sickness-
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul remov'd, but on his own1.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,—
That with our small conjunction, we should on,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing2 now;
Because the king is certainly possess'd
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopt off:
And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it:-Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast? to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good: for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope;
The very list', the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.

Doug. Faith, and so we should;
Where now remains a sweet reversion:

We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
Is to come in:

A comfort of retirement lives in this.

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,

If that the devil and mischance look big
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.

Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here.
The quality and air of our attempt
Brooks no division: It will be thought

1i. e. on any less near to himself.

By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence;
And think, how such an apprehension

5 May turn the tide of fearful faction,

10

15

And breed a kind of question in our cause:
For, well you know, we of the offering side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement;

And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :

This absence of your father's draws a curtain
That shews the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.

Hot. You strain too far.

I rather of his absence make this use ;-
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger dare to our great enterprize,

Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head
20 To push against the kingdom; with his belp,
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.—
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
Doug. As heart can think: there is not such
word

25 Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.
Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul.
Ver. Pray God, my news may be worth a wel-
come, lord.

30 The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherwards: with him prince John.
Hot. No harm: What more?

Ver. And further, I have learn'd,— The king himself in person is set forth, 35 Or hitherwards intended speedily,

With strong and mighty preparation.

Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
The nimble-footed' mad-cap prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside,
40 And bid it pass?

Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms,

All plum'd like estridges, that with the wind
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd3:
Glittering in golden coats, like images':
45 As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsuniiner;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuisses To on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,-
50 Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropt down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,

'The

4i. e. a sup

To quail is to languish, to sink into dejection.
i. e. of the assailing
list is the selvage; figuratively, the utmost line of circumference, the utmost extent.
i. e. the complexion, the character.
port to which we may have recourse.
"Stowe says of the Prince, "He was passing swift in
side. Some latter editions read, offending.
running, insomuch that he with two other of his lords, without hounds, bow, or other engine, would
Mr. Steevens observes, that all birds, after bathing
take a wild-buck, or doe, in a large park."

(which almost all birds are fond of), spread out their wings to catch the wind, and flutter violently
with them in order to dry themselves. This in the falconer's language is called bating, and by Shak-
speare, bating with the wind. It may be observed, that birds never appear so lively and full of spirits,
Alluding to the manner of dressing up images in the Romish
as immediately after bathing.
churches on holy-days, when they are bedecked in robes very richly laced and embroidered.
Cuisses, French, armour for the thighs.

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9

And

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