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And thus hath so bestir'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 haste. O, what portents are

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.

Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Enter Servant.

Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago.

Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?

Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? Serv. It is, my lord. Hot. That roan shall be my throne. Well, I will back him straight: O esperance! Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.

[Exit Servant.
What say'st, my lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
My horse,

Lady. But hear you, my lord.


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My love, my horse.


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 enterprize: But if you go.

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me Directly to this question that I ask. In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. Hot. 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. Gods me, my horse! What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have with me?

Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?

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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.

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o'horse-back, 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 further 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. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate? Whither I go, thither shall you go too;

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P. Hen. Thou art perfect. Poins. Francis !

Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern.


P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little.

It must, of force. [Exeunt.

Poins. Where hast been, Hal?

P. Hen. 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 christian names, as- Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the 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, dying 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 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 pr'ythee, 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 !

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[Exit POINS.

P. Hen. Five years! by'rlady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and to shew it a fair pair of heels, and rur from it?


Fran. O lord, sir! I'll be sworn upon all the
books in England, I could find in my heart
Poins. [Within.] Francis!
Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis?
Fran. Let me see,
shall be
Poins. [Wuhin.] Francis!

About Michaelmas next 1

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Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is-up-stairs, and down-stairs; 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, Fye 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 pr'ythee, call in Falstaff: I'll play Fercy, and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.


sack, boy.- Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew netherstocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, Is there no virtue extant? rogue. [He drinks. P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the son! if thou didst, then behold that compound.

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man: Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it: a villainous 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.

P. Hen. How now, woolsack? what mutter you? Fal. A king's son ! 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'й never wear hair on my face more. You prince of



P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that; and Poins there?

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Poins. 'Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

Fal. 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.


P. Hen. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last.

Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I. [He drinks.

P. Hen. What's the matter?

Fal. What's the matter? there be four of us here

have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.

P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Fal. Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four us.

P. Hen. What, a hundred, man?

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scap'd 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.

Hen. Speak, sirs; how was it? Gads. We four set upon some dozen, Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord. Gads. And bound them.

Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and amen! — Give me a cup of | men set upon us,

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.

Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh

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Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.

P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all?

Fal. All? I know not what ye 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. Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered soine of them.

Fal. 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,

P. Hen. What, four? thou said'st but two, even


Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four.
Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal. 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.

P. Hen. Seven? why, there were but four, even


Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. P. Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall have

more anon.

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Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I 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 plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.

P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed presser, this horse backbreaker, this huge hill of flesh;·

Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish,—O, for breath to utter what is like thee!-- you tailor's yard, yo sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck;

P. Hen. Well, breathe a while, and then to it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.

Poins. Mark, Jack.

P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how plain a 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 ran and roared, as ver 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?


Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; What trick hast thou now?

Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it for me, to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules but beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself, and thee, during my life; I, for a valiant lion, and thou, for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow.

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thy running away.

Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. Enter Hostess.

Host. My lord the prince, P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? what say'st thou to me?

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Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door, would speak with you: he s: ys, he comes from your father.

P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother. Fal. What manner of man is he? Host. An old man.

Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him his answer? P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do, Jack.

Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing.


P. Hen. Now, sirs; by'r lady, you fought fair; -so did you, Peto; -so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true prince; no,- fye!

Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run.

P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came Falstaff's sword so hacked?

Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger; and said, he would swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight; and persuaded us to do the like.

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass, to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and to swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices.

P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner,

and ever since thou hast blush'd extempore: Thou | golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st away; What instinct hadst thou for it?

rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown!

Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations?

P. Hen. I do.

Bard. What think you they portend?
P. Hen. Hot livers and cold purses.
Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter.
Re-enter FALstaff.

Here comes lean Jack, here coines bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee?

Fal. My own knee? when I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: here was sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the North, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook, What, a plague, call you him?

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Poins. O, Glendower.

Fal. Owen, Owen; the same; — - and his son-inlaw, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o'horseback up a hill perpendicular.

P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying.

Fal. You have hit it.

P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow.

Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him: he will not run.

P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running.

Fal. O'horseback, ye cuckoo! but, afoot, he will not budge a foot.

P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more: Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father's beard is turned white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel.

P. Hen. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds.

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like, we shall have good trading that way. - But, tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it?

P. Hen. Not a whit, i'faith; I lack some of thy


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Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in king Cambyses' vein. P. Hen. Well, here is my leg. Fal. And here is my speech: —

Stand aside, no


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Host. This is excellent sport, i'faith.

Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.

Host. O the father, how he holds his countenance! Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen,

For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes.

Host. O rare! he doth it as like one of these harlotry players, as I ever see.


Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good ticklebrain. Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I have partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly, a villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant If then thou be son to me, here lies the point ;Why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries? a question not to be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief, and take purses? a question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only, but in woes also: - And yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.


P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your majesty?

Fal. A good portly man, i'faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r-lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month?


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P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? hence- | bringing up! I hope, I shall as soon be strangled forth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried with a halter, as another. away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man : a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years! Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villainy? wherein villainous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?

Fal. I would, your grace would take me with you; Whom means your grace?

P. Hen. That villainous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.

Fal. My lord, the man I know.
P. Hen. I know, thou dost.


Fal. But to say, I know more harm in him than in myself, were to say more than I know. That he is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do witness it: but that he is (saving your reverence,) a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know, is damned: if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's company; banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. P. Hen. I do, I will.

[A knocking heard. [Exeunt Hostess, FRANCIS, and BARDOLPH.

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P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras; the rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true face, and good conscience.

Fal. Both which I have had: but their date is out, and therefore I'll hide me.

[Exeunt all but the PRINCE and Poiss. P. Hen. Call in the sheriff.

Fal. I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, so; if not, let him enter: if I become not 2 cart as well as another man, a plague on my

Enter Sheriff and Carrier.

Now, master sheriff; what's your will with me?
Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry
Hath follow'd certain men unto this house.
P. Hen. What men?

Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious

A gross fat man.


As fat as butter.

P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here;

For I myself at this time have employ'd him.
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time,
Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg'd withal:
And so let me entreat you leave the house.

Sher. I will, my lord: There are two gentlemen
Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.

P. Hen. It may be so: if he have robb'd these


He shall be answerable; and so, farewell.
Sher. Good night, my noble lord.

P. Hen. I think it is good morrow; Is it not?
Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock.
[Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier.
P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as
Paul's. Go, call him forth.

Poins. Falstaff! fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a horse.

P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: Search his pockets. [Poins searches.] What hast thou found?

Re-enter Hostess, hastily.

Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord!

Fal. Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddle- Item, Bread, a halfpenny. stick: What's the matter?

Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door: they are come to search the house; Shall I let them in?

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece of gold, a counterfeit thou art essentially mad, without seeming so.

P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without instinct.

Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord.

P. Hen. Let's see what they be read them.
Poins. Item, A capon, 2s. 2d.

Item, Sauce, 4d.

Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d.
Item, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2s. 6d.

P. Hen. O monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack ! — What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning: we must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, his death will be a march of twelve-score. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Poins.

Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt.

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