Glend. No, nor you shall not. Hot. Who shall say me nay? Glend. Why, that will I. Hot. Let me not understand you then, Speak it in Welsh.

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as
you:

For I was train'd up in the English court:
Where, being but young, I framed 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 't 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 candlestick b turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry;
"Tis like the fore'd gait of a shuffling nag.

Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. Hot. I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land

To any well-deserving friend :

But in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by night:

I'll haste the writer, and, withal,

Break with your wives of your departure hence :
I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
Mort. Fye, cousin Percy! how you cross my
father!

[Exit.

Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers

me,

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-wing'd 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,

a The tongue-the English language, according to Jchn

son.

b Candlestick. So the folios; the quartos canstick, which

is not an uncommon word in the old poets.

I'll haste the writer. So all the old copies. The earlier modern editors read "I'll in and haste the writer."

In reckoning up the several devils' names That were his lackeys: I cried, hum,—and well, -go to,

But mark'd 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 garlick 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 wond'rous 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 of 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 wilfulblame;

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 school'd; good manners be your speed!

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

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

Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she run
mad.
[Lady M. speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
Glend. She bids you on the wanton rushes3
lay you down,b

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 betwixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd 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,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend.

Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy lap.

Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.

GLENDOWER speaks some Welsh words, and then the Music plays.

Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands
Welsh ;

And 't is no marvel, he's so humorous.
By 'r-lady, he's a good musician.

Lady P. Then would you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.

That no persuasion. All the old copies retain that.

b All the old copies gives this as one line. Steevens reads "She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down."

Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish.

Lady P. Would's have thy head broken?
Hot. No.

Lady P. Then be still.

Hot. Neither; 't is a woman's fault.
Lady P. Now God he'p thee!
Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.

Lady P. What's that?
Hot. Peace! she sings.

A Welsh SONG, sung by Lady M.

Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good sooth; and, As true as I live; and, As God shall mend me; and, As sure as day : And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth, And such protest of pepper-gingerbread," To velvet-guards, and Sunday-citizens. Come, sing.

Lady P. I will not sing.

Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so come in when [Exit. will. ye Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow,

As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.

By this our book's drawn; we'll but scal, and
then
To horse immediately.
Mort.

my

With all heart. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, and Lords.

K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I

Must have some private conference: But be near at hand,

For we shall presently have need of you.—
[Ereunt Lords.

I know not whether God will have it so,
For some displeasing service I have done,
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me·

But thou dost, in thy passages of life,
Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate and low desires,

Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts,

Such barren pleasures, rude society,

As thou art match'd withal and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?
P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would I
could

Quit all offences with as clear excuse,
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,—
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,—
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

K. Hen. God pardon thee!-yet let me won-
der, Harry,

At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood:
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does forethink thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of
So stale and cheap to vulgar company,
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:
That men would tell their children,―This is he;
Others would say,-Where? which is Boling-
broke?

men,

And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility,
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus I did keep my person fresh, and new ;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,

a Reproof-disproof.

Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, shewed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and soon burn'd: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with carping fools,
Had his great name profaned with their scorns :
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative :
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:

That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey, and began

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,
Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze,

Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:

But rather drows'd, and hung their eyelids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries;
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou:
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With vile participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord, Be more myself.

K. Hen.

For all the world,

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
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 realin :

a Barin. Bavin is brushwood, used for kindling fires. b Carded. It is possible that Henry simply means that "the skipping king" discarded his state. But in the sense in which Shelton, in his translation of Don Quixote, uses the word "it is necessary that this book be carded and purged of certain base things" we may consider that Richard fretted away his state, as the wool-carder makes the lock attenuated by continual tearing.

c Carping. So the folio, and all the quartos except that of 1598, which reads capring. Carping was formerly used in the sense of jesting.

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 swathing 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, Northumber
land,

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 court'sy at his frowns,
To shew how much thou art degenerate.

P. Hen. 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, when'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.

a Capitulate to settle the heads of an agreement. Facours-features. So in Richard II.

"Yet I well remember The favours of these men."

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 pleas'd 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.

K. Hen. 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.

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 offered foul play in a state.

K. Hen. 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, thou shalt set for-
ward;

On Thursday, we ourselves will march:
Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you
Shall march through Glostershire; by which ac-

count,

Our business valued, some twelve days hence Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet. Our hands are full of business: let's away; Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-East cheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern.

Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.

Fal. 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 old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that sud

denly, 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, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.

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

Fal. 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, not above once in a quarter-of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

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

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,—but 't is in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp. Bard. Why, sir John, my face does you no

harm.

Fal. 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: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'st up Gadshill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis futuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfirelight! 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; Heaven reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly!

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

a In some liking-in some substance.

Enter Hostess.

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

Host. 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.

Fal. You 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. Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.

well enough.

Fal. Go to, I know you Host. 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.

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

Host. Now, as I am a true womar, 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. Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay.

Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark.

Host. I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper.

Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.

Enter PRINCE HENRY and PETO, marching. FALSTAFF meets the PRINCE, playing on his truncheon, like a fife.

Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i' faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.

Host. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Prithee, let her alone and list to me.