To fright our party. North. How doth my fon and brother? "Thou trembleft; and the whitenefs in thy cheek "Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. "Even fuch a man, fo faint, fo fpiritlefs, "So dull, fo dead in look, fo woe-be-gone, "Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, "And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd: "But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue; And I my Percy's death ere thou report't it. This thou would't fay: Your fon did thus and thus: Your brother, thus: fo fought the noble Douglas: Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds. But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed, Thou haft a figh to blow away this praise, Ending with, Brother, fon, and all are dead. hort. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet; But for my Lord your fon North. Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue fufpicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know, That what he fear'd is chance'd. Yet, Morton, fpeak: And make thee rich for doing me fuch wrong. North. Yet, for all this, fay not that Percy's dead. I fee a ftrange confeffion in thine eye : Thou fhak'ft thy head. and hold't it fear *, or fin, Bard. I cannot think, my Lord, your fon is dead. That That which I would to heaven I had not seen. From whence, with life, he never more fprung up. North. For this I fhall have time enough to mourn. In poifon there is phyfic: and this news, That would, had I been well, have made me sick, Out of his keeper's arms; ev'n fo my limbs, [crutch; Muft glove this hand. And hence, thou fickly quoil, 66 Thou "Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, "Which princes, fleih'd with conqueft, aim to hit. "Now bind my brows with iron, and approach "The ruggedit hour that time and spight dare bring "To frown upon th' enrage'd Northumberland! "Let heav'n kifs earth! now let not nature's hand Keep the wild flood confin'd; let order die, "And let this world no longer be a ftage "To feed contention in a lingering act: "But let one fpirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bofoms, that each heart being fet "On bloody courfes, the rude fcene may end, "And darkness be the burier of the dead! [Lord! Bard. This trained paffion doth you wrong, my Sweet Earl, divorce not wifdom from your honour. Mort. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er To ftormy paffion, muft perforce decay. You caft th' event of war, my noble Lord, And fumm'd th' account of chance, before you faid, Of wounds and fears; and that his forward fpirit Bard. We all that are engaged to this lofs, With well-appointed powers. He is a man, Suppos'd fincere and holy in his thoughts, Get pofts, and letters, and make friends with speed; [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to a street in London. Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his Page bearing his fword and buckler. Fal. Sirrah, you, giant! what fays the doctor to my water? Page. He faid, Sir, the water itself was a good healthy water. But for the party that own'd it, he might have more diseases than he knew for. Fal. Men of all forts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded-clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myfelf, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow, that hath overwhelm ed ed all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my fervice for any other reafon than to fet me off, why, then I have no judgment. Thou whorfon mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was never mann'd with an agot till now: but I will fet you neither in gold nor filver, but in vile apparel, and fend you back again to your mafter, for a jewel. The Juvenal, the Prince your master! whose chin is not yet fledg'd; I will fooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his cheek; yet he will not stick to say, his face is a faceroyal. Heav'n may finish it when it will, it is not a hair amifs yet; he may keep it ftill as a face-royal, for a barber fhall never earn fixpence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever fince his father was a batchelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almoft out of mine, I can affure him. What faid Mr. Dombledon, about the fatten for my fhort cloak and flops ? Page. He faid, Sir, you should procure him better afsurance than Bardolph: he would not take his bond and your's, he lik'd not the security. Fal. Let him be damn'd like the glutton, may his tongue be hotter! a whorfon Achitophel, a rafcally ye-forfooth-knave, to bear a gentleman in hand, and then ftand upon fecurity! the whorfon-fmooth-pates do now wear nothing but high fhoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is thorough with them in honeft taking up, then they muft ftand upon fecurity. I had as lief they would put rats-bane in my mouth, as offer to ftop it with fecurity. I looked he fhould have fent me two and twenty yards of fatten, as I am a true knight, and he fends me fecurity. Well, he may fleep in fecurity, for he hath the horn of abundance. And the lightnefs of his wife fhines through it, and yet cannot he fee, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. Where's Bardolph ? Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your Worship a horfe. Fal. I bought him in Paul's*, and he'll buy me a At that time the refort of idle people, cheats, and knights of the poft. 2 horfe |