Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

For all the world

  As thou art to this hour was Richard then

  When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh,

  And even as I was then is Percy now.

  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,

  Turns head against the lion’s armed jaws,

  And, being no more in debt to years than thou,

  Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on

  To bloody battles and to bruising arms.

  What never-dying honour hath he got

  Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds,

  Whose hot incursions and great name in arms

  Holds from all soldiers chief majority

  And military title capital

  Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ:

  Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes,

  This infant warrior, in his enterprises

  Discomfited great Douglas, ta’en him once,

  Enlarged him and made a friend of him,

  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, Mortimer,

  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 curtsy at his frowns,

  To show how much thou art degenerate.

  Prince Henry

  Do not think so; you shall not find it so:

  And God 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 pleased 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.

  King Henry IV

  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.

  Sir Walter Blunt

  So hath the business that I come to speak of.

  Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word

  That Douglas and the English rebels met

  The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury

  A mighty and a fearful head they are,

  If promises be kept on every hand,

  As ever offer’d foul play in the state.

  King Henry IV

  The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day;

  With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster;

  For this advertisement is five days old:

  On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward;

  On Thursday we ourselves will march: our meeting

  Is Bridgenorth: and, Harry, you shall march

  Through Gloucestershire; by which account,

  Our business valued, some twelve days hence

  Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet.

  Our hands are full of business: let’s away;

  Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay.

  Exeunt

  SCENE III. EASTCHEAP. THE BOAR’S-HEAD TAVERN.

  Enter Falstaff and Bardolph

  Falstaff

  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 like an old lady’s loose gown; I am withered 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 a church is made of, I am a peppercorn, a brewer’s horse: the inside of a church! Company, villanous company, hath been the spoil of me.

  Bardolph

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

  Falstaff

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

  Bardolph

  Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

  Falstaff

  Do thou amend thy face, and I’ll amend my life: thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop, but ’tis in the nose of thee; thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp.

  Bardolph

  Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.

  Falstaff

  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 hell-fire and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be “By this fire, that’s God’s angel:” but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, there’s no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast 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 maintained that salamander of yours with fire any time this two and thirty years; God reward me for it!

  Bardolph

  ’sblood, I would my face were in your belly!

  Falstaff

  God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned.

  Enter Hostess

  How now, Dame Partlet the hen! have you inquired yet who picked my pocket?

  Hostess

  Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

  Falstaff

&n
bsp; Ye lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved and lost many a hair; and I’ll be sworn my pocket was picked. Go to, you are a woman, go.

  Hostess

  Who, I? no; I defy thee: God’s light, I was never called so in mine own house before.

  Falstaff

  Go to, I know you well enough.

  Hostess

  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 beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.

  Falstaff

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

  Hostess

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

  Falstaff

  He had his part of it; let him pay.

  Hostess

  He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing.

  Falstaff

  How! poor? look upon his face; what call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks: Ill not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine case in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather’s worth forty mark.

  Hostess

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

  Falstaff

  How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup: ’sblood, an he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.

  Enter Prince Henry and Peto, marching, and Falstaff meets them playing on his truncheon like a life

  How now, lad! is the wind in that door, i’ faith? must we all march?

  Bardolph

  Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.

  Hostess

  My lord, I pray you, hear me.

  Prince Henry

  What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man.

  Hostess

  Good my lord, hear me.

  Falstaff

  Prithee, let her alone, and list to me.

  Prince Henry

  What sayest thou, Jack?

  Falstaff

  The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house; they pick pockets.

  Prince Henry

  What didst thou lose, Jack?

  Falstaff

  Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound apiece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather’s.

  Prince Henry

  A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

  Hostess

  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-mouthed man as he is; and said he would cudgel you.

  Prince Henry

  What! he did not?

  Hostess

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

  Falstaff

  There’s no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, Maid Marian may be the deputy’s wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go

  Hostess

  Say, what thing? what thing?

  Falstaff

  What thing! why, a thing to thank God on.

  Hostess

  I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it; I am an honest man’s wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

  Falstaff

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

  Hostess

  Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?

  Falstaff

  What beast! why, an otter.

  Prince Henry

  An otter, Sir John! Why an otter?

  Falstaff

  Why, she’s neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.

  Hostess

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

  Prince Henry

  Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.

  Hostess

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

  Prince Henry

  Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

  Falstaff

  A thousand pound, Ha! a million: thy love is worth a million: thou owest me thy love.

  Hostess

  Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

  Falstaff

  Did I, Bardolph?

  Bardolph

  Indeed, Sir John, you said so.

  Falstaff

  Yea, if he said my ring was copper.

  Prince Henry

  I say ’tis copper: darest thou be as good as thy word now?

  Falstaff

  Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of a lion’s whelp.

  Prince Henry

  And why not as the lion?

  Falstaff

  The king is to be feared as the lion: dost thou think I’ll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break.

  Prince Henry

  O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there’s no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine; it is all filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything 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 enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain: and yet you will stand to if; you will not pocket up wrong: art thou not ashamed?

  Falstaff

  Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty. You confess then, you picked my pocket?

  Prince Henry

  It appears so by the story.

  Falstaff

  Hostess, I forgive thee: go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest I am pacified still. Nay, prithee, be gone.

  Exit Hostess

  Now Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad, how is that answered?

  Prince Henry

  O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee: the money is paid back again.

  Falstaff

  O, I do not like that paying back; ’tis a double labour.

  Prince Henry

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

  Falstaff

  Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too.

  Bardolph

  Do, my lord.

  Prince Henry

  I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

  Falstaff

  I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age 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.

  Prince Henry

  Bardolph!

  Bardolph

  My lord?

  Prince Henry

  Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, to my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland.

  Exit Bardolph

  Go, Peto, to horse, to horse; for thou and I have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.

  Exit Peto

  Jack, meet me to-morrow in the temple hall at two o’clock in the afternoon.

  There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive

  Money and order for their furniture.

/>   The land is burning; Percy stands on high;

  And either we or they must lower lie.

  Exit Prince Henry

  Falstaff

  Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast, come!

  O, I could wish this tavern were my drum!

  Exit

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. THE REBEL CAMP NEAR SHREWSBURY.

  Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas

  Hotspur

  Well said, my noble Scot: if speaking truth

  In this fine age were not thought flattery,

  Such attribution should the Douglas have,

  As not a soldier of this season’s stamp

  Should go so general current through the world.

  By God, I cannot flatter; I do defy

  The tongues of soothers; but a braver place

  In my heart’s love hath no man than yourself:

  Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.

  Earl Of Douglas

  Thou art the king of honour:

  No man so potent breathes upon the ground

  But I will beard him.

  Hotspur

  Do so, and ’tis well.

  Enter a Messenger with letters

  What letters hast thou there?— I can but thank you.

  Messenger

  These letters come from your father.

  Hotspur

  Letters from him! why comes he not himself?

  Messenger

  He cannot come, my lord; he is grievous sick.

  Hotspur

  ’Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick

  In such a rustling time? Who leads his power?

  Under whose government come they along?

  Messenger

  His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord.

  Earl Of Worcester

  I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?

  Messenger

  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.

  Earl Of Worcester

  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.

  Hotspur

  Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect

  The very life-blood of our enterprise;

  ’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 removed but on his own.

  Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,