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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 scepter, 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 realm; 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 enterprizes 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, Northumberland, 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?
P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so:
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this: Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein, ,
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 offer'd 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, you shall set Forward; on Thursday, we ourselves will march: Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you Shall march through Glostershire; by which account, 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. [E.reunt. SCENE III.
Eastcheap. 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 suddenly, 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 off, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse 65: The inside of a church: Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot
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 borrow'd, 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 'tis 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 hellfire, 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 ran'st up Gad’s-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a bal} of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! 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-burn'd.