grass to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven years 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 blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou rann'st away: what instinct hadst thou for it?

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 comes barebone. 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 villanous 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? 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 bluecaps 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 mackerel.

P. Hen. Why then 't is like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hobnails, by the hundreds.

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayst 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 not thou horribly afraid; doth not thy blood thrill at it?

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

Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, when thou comest to thy father: if thou love me, practise an answer.

P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life.

Fal. Shall I? content.-This chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown.

P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown!

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, nobility.

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 floodgates 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 villanous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. 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?

P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king?-Do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father.

Fal. Depose me! If thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare.

P. Hen. Well, here I am set.

Fal. And here I stand:-judge, my masters. P. Hen. Now, Harry, whence come you? Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.

P. Hen. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.

Fal. 'S blood, my lord, they are false :-nay, I'll tickle ye for a young prince, i' faith.

P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried 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 cloakbag 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 villany; wherein villanous 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 villanous 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, Heaven 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 plump Jack, and banish all the world.

P. Hen. I do, I will. [A knocking heard. [Exeunt Hostess, FRANCIS, and Bardolph.

Enter BARDOLPH, running.

Bard. O my lord, my lord! the sheriff, with a most monstrous watch, is at the door. Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play. I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.

Re-enter Hostess, hastily.

Host. O my lord, my lord!

Fal. Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddle-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.

Fal. I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, so if not, let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up: I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another.

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 POINS. P. Hen. Call in the sheriff.

Enter Sheriff and Carrier.

Now, master sheriff; what's your will with me?

cry

Hath followed certain men unto this house.

P. Hen. What men?

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

lord:

A gross fat man.

Car. As fat as butter.

P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here: For I myself at this time have employed 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 anything he shall be charged withal: And so let me entreat you leave the house.

Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gentle

men

Here in this robbery lost three hundred marks. P. Hen. It may be so: if he have robbed

these men

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. Nothing but papers, my lord.

P. Hen. Let's see what they be read them.

POINS reads.

"Item, a capon, 28. 2d.

Item, Sauce, 4d.

Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d.

Item, Anchovies and Sack after supper, 2s. 6d.
Item, Bread, a halfpenny."

P. Hen. O monstrous! but one halfpenny-worth 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.

Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur:
For by that name as oft as Lancaster
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and, with
A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven.

Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glend. I cannot blame him. At my nativity The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets; and at my birth The frame and huge foundation of the earth Shaked like a coward.

Hot.

Why, so it would have done At the same season, if your mother's cat Had but kittened, though yourself had ne'er been born.

Glend. I say the earth did shake when I was born. Hot. And I say the earth was not of my mind, If you suppose as fearing you it shook.

Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth

did tremble.

Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,

And not in fear of your nativity.

Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions: oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of cholic pinched and vexed,
By the imprisoning of unruly wind

Within her womb; which for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldam earth, and topples down
Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.

To tell you once again, that at my birth
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes;
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do shew
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living (clipped in with the sea
That chides the banks of England, Scotland,
Wales)

Which calls me pupil or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but woman's son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
And hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot. I think there is no man speaks better
Welsh.-

I will to dinner.

Mort. Peace, cousin Percy: you will make him mad.

Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man:

But will they come when you do call for them? Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command The devil.

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil:

By telling truth: tell truth, and shame the devil. If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence.

O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. Mort. Come, come;

No more of this unprofitable chat.

Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head

Against my power: thrice, from the banks of

Wye

And sandy-bottomed Severn, have I sent him Bootless home and weather-beaten back.

Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too!

How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? Glend. Come, here's the map: shall we divide our right,

According to our threefold order ta'en?

Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it Into three limits, very equally. England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, By south and east, is to my part assigned: All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, And all the fertile land within that bound, To Owen Glendower:—and, dear coz, to you The remnant northward lying off from Trent. And our indentures tripartite are drawn: Which being sealed interchangeably (A business that this night may execute), To-morrow, cousin Percy, you and I,

And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days :-
Within that space [To GLENDOWER] you may have
drawn together

Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentle

men.

Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords, And in my conduct shall your ladies come: From whom you now must steal and take no leave;

For there will be a world of water shed
Upon the parting of your wives and you.

Hot. Methinks my moiety, north from Burton
here,

In quantity equals not one of yours.
See how this river comes me cranking in,
And cuts me, from the best of all my land,
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.
I'll have the current in this place dammed up;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run,
In a new channel, fair and evenly:

It shall not wind with such a deep intent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

Glend. Not wind! it shall, it must: you see it
doth.

Mort. Yea, but mark how he bears his course,
and runs me up

With like advantage on the other side:
Gelding the opposéd continent as much
As on the other side it takes from you.

Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you: For I was trained up in the English court: Where, being but young, I framéd to the harp Many an English ditty lovely well, And gave the tongue a helpful ornament: A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart: I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew, Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers. I had rather hear a brazen can'stick turned, Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,

With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish,

A clip-winged griffin and a moulten raven,
A couching lion and a ramping cat;
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,-
He held me, last night, at least nine hours
In reckoning up the several devils' names,
That were his lackeys. I cried, "Humph," and,
"Well, go to ;"

But marked him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;
Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live
With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith he is a worthy gentleman :
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable; and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even in his natural scope
When you do cross his humour: 'faith he does.
I warrant you that man is not alive
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof:
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-
blame;

And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault.
Though sometimes it shew greatness, courage,
blood

(And that's the dearest grace it renders you),
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,

Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain :
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am schooled: good manners be

your speed!

Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

Re-enter GLENDOWER, with the Ladies. Mort.This is the deadly spite that angers me.My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. Glend. My daughter weeps: she will not part with you:

She'll be a soldier too, she 'll to the wars.
Mort. Good father, tell her that she and my aunt
Percy

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.
[GLENDOWER speaks to his daughter in Welsh,
and she answers him in the same.
Glend. She's desperate here: a peevish self-
willed harlotry!

One that no persuasion can do good upon.

[LADY MORTIMER speaks to MORTIMER in Welsh.

Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens

I am too perfect in: and, but for shame,
In such a parley would I answer thee.

[LADY MORTIMer speaks.
I understand thy kisses and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learned thy language: for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
[LADY MORTIMER speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this!
Glend. She bids you on the wanton rushes lay
you down

And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness:
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

Mort. With all my heart I 'll sit and hear her

sing:

By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. Glend. Do so:

And those musicians that shall play to you