West.
In faith,
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
By God,
it is a triumph for a prince to boast of.
King.
Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son-
A son who is the theme of honour's tongue,
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride;
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O that it could be prov'd
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd
To his own use he keeps, and sends me word
I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.
Well, saying that you make me sad, can make me sin
by envying my Lord Northumberland
for being the father of such a wonderful son;
a son who is the very soul of honour,
the very straightest tree in the forest,
who is the darling of fate and her joy;
when I look at people praising him
all I can see is the riotous behaviour and dishonour
which mars the appearance of my young Harry. Oh, if it could be proved
that some fairy in the night had exchanged
our children when they lay in their cots,
and called mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then I would have his Harry, and he mine:
but I won't think about him. What do you think, cousin,
of the arrogance of this young Percy? The prisoners
whom he has captured in this adventure
he is keeping for his own purposes, and he sends me word
that I shall have none except Mordrake, Earl of Fife.
West.
This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester,
Malevolent to you In all aspects,
Which makes him prune himself and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.
This is the teaching of his uncle, this Worcester,
who hates you in every respect,
this is what makes him puff himself up
and oppose your dignity with his youth.
King.
But I have sent for him to answer this;
And for this cause awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor. So inform the lords;
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said and to be done
Than out of anger can be uttered.
I have summonsed him to answer for this;
and because of this for a while we must
neglect our holy business in Jerusalem.
Cousin, next Wednesday we will hold a council
at Windsor. Inform the lords;
but afterwards hurry back to me;
I am so angry that there is more to be said and to be done
than we can speak of in public.
West.
I will my liege.
I will, my lord.
Exeunt.
[Enter Prince Henry and Falstaff.]
FAL.
Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
PRINCE.
Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and
unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches
after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which
thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the
time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes
capons, and the blessed Sun himself a fair hot wench in
flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be
so superfluous to demand the time of the day.
You've become so stupid by drinking Spanish wine
and slobbing out after supper, and taking
afternoon naps, that you have forgotten
to ask for the things you really want to know.
What the devil has the time of day got to do with you?
Unless hours were cups of wine, and minutes
chickens, and clocks the tongues of brothel keepers, and dials
the signs of their brothels, and the blessed sun itself
a saucy hot lass in a flame coloured petticoat,
I can't see any reason why you would be so interested
in the time of day.
FAL.
Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take purses go
by the Moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus,--he, that
wandering knight so fair. And I pr'ythee, sweet wag, when thou
art king,--as, God save thy Grace--Majesty I should say, for
grace
thou wilt have none,--
You're getting warm now, Hal, for we who
steal purses follow the moon and the seven stars,
and not Phoebus, that fair wandering knight.
And I pray, sweet lad, that when you are king,
as which, God save your grace - Majesty, I should say,
as you won't have any grace-
PRINCE.
What, none?
What, none?
FAL.
No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue
to an egg and butter.
No, I swear, not enough to say grace for a buttered egg.
PRINCE.
Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.
What is it then?Get to the point.
FAL.
Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that
are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's
beauty:let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade,
minions of the Moon; and let men say we be men of good
government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and
chaste mistress the Moon, under whose countenance we steal.
Well then, sweet lad, when you are king, don't let we who are
active by night be accused of being lazy in the day.
Let us be rangers for Diana, attendants of the shadows,
servants of the moon; and let men say we are well ruled men,
being governed by our noble mistress the moon as the sea is,
and we steal under her gaze.
PRINCE.
Thou say'st well, and it holds well too; for the fortune of
us that are the Moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea,
being governed, as the sea is, by the Moon. As, for proof, now: A
purse of gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday night, and most
dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing Lay by,
and spent with crying Bring in; now ill as low an ebb as the foot
of the ladder, and by-and-by in as high a flow as the ridge of the
gallows.
You're speaking well, and it's the truth; for the fate of
we who are the moon's men ebbs and flows like the tide,
as we are ruled, like the sea, by the moon.To prove this:
a purse of gold that's well stolen on Monday night, and
profligately spent by Tuesday morning, got by shouting "Stand and deliver"
and spent by shouting, "Bring the drink!" brings one to the low tide of
t
he foot of the ladder, and soon you'll climb as high as the summit
of the gallows.
FAL.
By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad.And is not my hostess of the
tavern a most sweet wench?
By God, you're telling the truth, lad. And isn't the landlady
the sweetest lass?
PRINCE.
As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle.And is not a
buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?
Sweet as the honey of Sicily, my old lad of the castle. and isn't
a convict's uniform the sweetest outfit?
FAL.
How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips and thy
quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
What, what, mad lad?What are you saying with your subtle jokes?
What the devil has a convict's uniform to do with me?
PRINCE.
Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?
Well, what the devil have I to do with the landlady?
FAL.
Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning many a time and oft.
Well, you've paid her bill often enough.
PRINCE.
Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
Did I ever ask you to pay your share?
FAL.
No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
No, I'll give you that, you paid the lot there.
PRINCE.
Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch;
and where it would not, I have used my credit.
Yes, and other places, as much as I could afford;
and when I couldn't, I used my credit.
FAL.
Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apparent that
thou art heir-apparent--But I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be
gallows standing in England when thou art king? and
resolution thus fobb'd as it is with the rusty curb of old father
antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.
Yes, so much so, that if it wasn't obvious that
you were the heir-apparent- but I ask you, sweet lad, will there be
gallows standing in England when you are king?And
will brave lads be constrained as they are now by the dull
mad old laws?When you're king, don't hang thieves.
PRINCE.
No; thou shalt.
No, but you will do some hanging.
FAL.
Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.
Shall I?Splendid!By God, I'll make a fine judge.
PRINCE.
Thou judgest false already:I mean, thou shalt have the
hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
You're already getting it wrong; I mean, you shall make sure
thieves are hung, and so you'll hang well.
FAL.
Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour;
as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you.
Good, Hal, good; in some ways that suits me;
it'll be as good as waiting in court, I can tell you.
PRINCE.
For obtaining of suits?
Waiting to get your suit?
FAL.
Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no
lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib-cat or a
lugg'd bear.
Yes, to get my suit, which the hangman has a good
stock of.By God, I am as depressed as a castrated cat or a
tormented bear.
PRINCE.
Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.
Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.
FAL.
Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
Yes, or a moaning Lincolnshire bagpipe.
PRINCE.
What say'st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?
What about a hare, or a filthy sewer by the Thames?
FAL.
Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, and art, indeed, the
most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince,--But, Hal, I
pr'ythee trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and
I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old
lord of the Council rated me the other day in the street about you,
sir,--but I mark'd him not; and yet he talk'd very wisely,--but I
regarded him not; and yet he talk'd wisely, and in the street too.
Your similes are extremely filthy, and indeed you are
the cheekiest, most rascally, sweet young prince.But, Hal,
please don't bother me with these trifles.I wish to God you and
I knew where one could purchase a good reputation.An old
lord of the Council had a go at me in the street the other day about you,
sir, - I didn't pay him any mind, though he spoke very wisely- but
I didn't pay attention, though he talked wisely, and in the street, too.
PRINCE.
Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man
regards it.
You did well, for there's plenty of wisdom in the streets, and
nobody pays it any mind.
FAL.
O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art, indeed, able to corrupt
a saint.
Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal; God forgive thee for it!
Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man
should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must
give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do
not, I am a villain:I'll be damn'd for never a king's son in
Christendom.
Oh, you're a wicked quoter of texts, and you could corrupt a saint.
You've done me a lot of harm, Hal; may God forgive you for it!
Before I knew you, Hal, I knew nothing; and now I am, if we're
honest, almost a bad man.I must
chuck in this life, and I shall; by God, if I don't,
then I'm a villain: I'll not risk damnation for any king's son in Christendom.
PRINCE.
Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack?
Where shall we go stealing tomorrow, Jack?
FAL.
Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll make one:an I do not, call
me villain, and baffle me.
By heaven, wherever you like, lad; I'll find somewhere:
if I don't, call me a villain, and disgrace me.
PRINCE.
I see a good amendment of life in thee,--from praying to
purse-taking.
I see you're making a good change of lifestyle - going from praying
to purse-stealing.
FAL.
Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour
in his vocation.
[Enter Pointz.]
--Pointz!--Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if
men were to be saved by merit, what hole in Hell were hot enough
for him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried
Stand! to a true man.
Why, Hal, it's my calling, lad; it's not a sin for a man
to work at his calling.
Pointz!Now we shall know if Gadshill has arranged a robbery.Oh, if
men were saved on merit, what pit of hell would be hot enough for him?
He's the most complete villain who ever cried "Stand and deliver"
to an honest man.
PRINCE.
Good morrow, Ned.
Good day, Ned.
POINTZ.
Good morrow, sweet Hal.--What says Monsieur Remorse? what
says Sir John Sack-and-sugar? Jack, how ag
rees the Devil and
thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last
for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg?
Good day, sweet Hal.- What does Mr.Repentance say?What does
Sir John wine-with-sugar say?Jack, what's the arrangement
between you and the devil about your soul, which you sold him
last Good Friday for a cup of Madeira and a cold chicken leg?
PRINCE.
Sir John stands to his word,--the Devil shall have his bargain;
for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs,--he will give the
Devil his due.
Sir John keeps his word - the Devil's price shall be paid;
he never went against a proverb - he will give the
Devil his due.
POINTZ.
Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the Devil.
Then you are damned for keeping your promise to the Devil.
PRINCE.
Else he had been damn'd for cozening the Devil.
Otherwise he would be damned for cheating the devil.
POINTZ.
But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock,
early at Gads-hill! there are pilgrims gong to Canterbury
with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat
purses: I have visards for you all; you have horses for
yourselves:Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester:I have bespoke
supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap:we may do it as secure as
sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns;
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) Page 62