Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
And start so often when thou sit’st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks;
And given my treasures and my rights of thee
To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars;
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
Cry “Courage! to the field!” And thou hast talk’d
Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
Of prisoners’ ransom and of soldiers slain,
And all the currents of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war
And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream;
And in thy face strange motions have appear’d,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hotspur
What, ho!
Enter Servant
Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
Servant
He is, my lord, an hour ago.
Hotspur
Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?
Servant
One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
Hotspur
What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
Servant
It is, my lord.
Hotspur
That roan shall by my throne.
Well, I will back him straight: O esperance!
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
Exit Servant
Lady Percy
But hear you, my lord.
Hotspur
What say’st thou, my lady?
Lady Percy
What is it carries you away?
Hotspur
Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
Lady Percy
Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
As you are toss’d with. In faith,
I’ll know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title, and hath sent for you
To line his enterprise: but if you go,—
Hotspur
So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady Percy
Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly unto this question that I ask:
In faith, I’ll break thy little finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
Hotspur
Away,
Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world
To play with mammets and to tilt with lips:
We must have bloody noses and crack’d crowns,
And pass them current too. God’s me, my horse!
What say’st thou, Kate? what would’st thou have with me?
Lady Percy
Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?
Well, do not then; for since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.
Hotspur
Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am on horseback, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate;
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout:
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no farther wise
Than Harry Percy’s wife: constant you are,
But yet a woman: and for secrecy,
No lady closer; for I well believe
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.
Lady Percy
How! so far?
Hotspur
Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate:
Whither I go, thither shall you go too;
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.
Will this content you, Kate?
Lady Percy
It must of force.
Exeunt
SCENE IV. THE BOAR’S-HEAD TAVERN, EASTCHEAP.
Enter Prince Henry and Poins
Prince Henry
Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little.
Poins
Where hast been, Hal?
Prince Henry
With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base-string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that though I be but the prince of Wales, yet I am king of courtesy; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, by the Lord, so they call me, and when I am king of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dyeing scarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they cry “hem!” and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert not with me in this sweet action. But, sweet Ned,— to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that never spake other English in his life than “Eight shillings and sixpence” and “You are welcome,” with this shrill addition, “Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-Moon,” or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling “Francis,” that his tale to me may be nothing but “Anon.” Step aside, and I’ll show thee a precedent.
Poins
Francis!
Prince Henry
Thou art perfect.
Poins
Francis!
Exit Poins
Enter Francis
Francis
Anon, anon, sir. Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph.
Prince Henry
Come hither, Francis.
Francis
My lord?
Prince Henry
How long hast thou to serve, Francis?
Francis
Forsooth, five years, and as much as to —
Poins
[Within] Francis!
Francis
Anon, anon, sir.
Prince Henry
Five year! by’r lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture and show it a fair pair of heels and run from it?
Francis
O Lord, sir, I’ll be sworn upon all the books in
England, I could find in my heart.
Poins
[Within] Francis!
Francis
Anon, sir.
Prince Henry
How old art thou, Francis?
Francis
Let me see — about Michaelmas next I shall be —
Poins
[Within] Francis!
Francis
Anon, sir. Pray stay a little, my lord.
Prince Henry
Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou gavest me,’twas a pennyworth, wast’t not?
Fr
ancis
O Lord, I would it had been two!
Prince Henry
I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.
Poins
[Within] Francis!
Francis
Anon, anon.
Prince Henry
Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis; or, Francis, o’ Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis!
Francis
My lord?
Prince Henry
Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal-button, not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,—
Francis
O Lord, sir, who do you mean?
Prince Henry
Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink; for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.
Francis
What, sir?
Poins
[Within] Francis!
Prince Henry
Away, you rogue! dost thou not hear them call?
Here they both call him; the drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go
Enter Vintner
Vintner
What, standest thou still, and hearest such a calling? Look to the guests within.
Exit Francis
My lord, old Sir John, with half-a-dozen more, are at the door: shall I let them in?
Prince Henry
Let them alone awhile, and then open the door.
Exit Vintner
Poins!
Re-enter Poins
Poins
Anon, anon, sir.
Prince Henry
Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door: shall we be merry?
Poins
As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? come, what’s the issue?
Prince Henry
I am now of all humours that have showed themselves humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o’clock at midnight.
Re-enter Francis
What’s o’clock, Francis?
Francis
Anon, anon, sir.
Exit
Prince Henry
That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is upstairs and downstairs; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy’s mind, the Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife “Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.” “O my sweet Harry,” says she, “how many hast thou killed to-day?” “Give my roan horse a drench,” says he; and answers “some fourteen,” an hour after; “a trifle, a trifle.” I prithee, call in Falstaff: I’ll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. “Rivo!” says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.
Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto; Francis following with wine
Poins
Welcome, Jack: where hast thou been?
Falstaff
A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I’ll sew nether stocks and mend them and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant?
He drinks
Prince Henry
Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun’s! if thou didst, then behold that compound.
Falstaff
You rogue, here’s lime in this sack too: there is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it. A villanous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say. I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing. A plague of all cowards, I say still.
Prince Henry
How now, wool-sack! what mutter you?
Falstaff
A king’s son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild-geese, I’ll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales!
Prince Henry
Why, you whoreson round man, what’s the matter?
Falstaff
Are not you a coward? answer me to that: and Poins there?
Poins
’Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by the
Lord, I’ll stab thee.
Falstaff
I call thee coward! I’ll see thee damned ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me. Give me a cup of sack: I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.
Prince Henry
O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunkest last.
Falstaff
All’s one for that.
He drinks
A plague of all cowards, still say I.
Prince Henry
What’s the matter?
Falstaff
What’s the matter! there be four of us here have ta’en a thousand pound this day morning.
Prince Henry
Where is it, Jack? where is it?
Falstaff
Where is it! taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us.
Prince Henry
What, a hundred, man?
Falstaff
I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have ’scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw — ecce signum! I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards! Let them speak: if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness.
Prince Henry
Speak, sirs; how was it?
Gadshill
We four set upon some dozen —
Falstaff
Sixteen at least, my lord.
Gadshill
And bound them.
Peto
No, no, they were not bound.
Falstaff
You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
Gadshill
As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us —
Falstaff
And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.
Prince Henry
What, fought you with them all?
Falstaff
All! I know not what you call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature.
Prince Henry
Pray God you have not murdered some of them.
Falstaff
Nay, that’s past praying for: I have peppered two of them; two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward; here I lay and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me —
Prince Henry
What, four? thou saidst but two even now.
Falstaff
Four, Hal; I told thee four.
Poins
Ay, ay, he said four.
Falstaff
These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado but took all their seven points in my target, thus.
Prince Henry
Seven? why, there were but four even now
.
Falstaff
In buckram?
Poins
Ay, four, in buckram suits.
Falstaff
Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
Prince Henry
Prithee, let him alone; we shall have more anon.
Falstaff
Dost thou hear me, Hal?
Prince Henry
Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
Falstaff
Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of —
Prince Henry
So, two more already.
Falstaff
Their points being broken,—
Poins
Down fell their hose.
Falstaff
Began to give me ground: but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid.
Prince Henry
O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!
Falstaff
But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at my back and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.
Prince Henry
These lies are like their father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson, obscene, grease tallow-catch,—
Falstaff
What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?
Prince Henry
Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this?
Poins
Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.
Falstaff
What, upon compulsion? ’Zounds, an I were at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.
Prince Henry
I’ll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,—
Falstaff
’sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s tongue, you bull’s pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor’s-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile standing-tuck,—
Prince Henry
Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.
Poins
Mark, Jack.
Prince Henry
We two saw you four set on four and bound them, and were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four; and, with a word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house: and, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy and still run and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight! What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?
Complete Plays, The Page 169