SCENE II.

A publick Road near Coventry.

Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.

Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night.

Bard. Will you give me money, captain?

Fal. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This bottle makes an angel.

Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end.

Bard. I will, captain: farewell.

[Exit.

Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a souced gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the bans; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores: and, such as, indeed, were never soldiers; but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of

7

souced gurnet.] Souced gurnet is an appellation of contempt very frequently employed in the old comedies. A gurnet is a fish resembling a piper.

a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient : and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think, that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat; - Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves9 on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daintry: 1 But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.

Enter Prince HENRY and WESTMORELAND.

P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now quilt? Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? - My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry your mercy; I thought, your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already: The king, I can tell you, looks for us all; we must away all night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant, as a cat to steal cream.

8 ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient:] An old faced ancient, is an old standard mended with a different colour. It should not be written in one word, as old and faced are distinct epithets.

9

1

gyves on ;] i. e. shackles.
of Daintry.] i. e. Daventry.

P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter.

But tell me, Jack;

Whose fellows are these that come after?

Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. :

P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. !

Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss 2; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.

f

West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly.

Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that: and for their bareness, I am sure, they never learned that of me.

P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste; Percy is already in the field.

Fal. What, is the king encamped?

West. He is, sir John; I fear, we shall stay too long. Fal. Well,

To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast, Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and VERNON.

Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
Wor.

Doug. You give him then advantage.

Ver.

It may not be.

Not a whit.

Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply?

Ver. So do we.

Hot.

His is certain, ours is doubtful.

good enough to toss ;] That is, to toss upon a pike.

Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.

Doug.

You do not counsel well;

You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.

Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life,
(And I dare well maintain it with my life,)
If well-respected honour bid me on,

I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives: +---
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,

Ver.

Come, come, it may not be.

I wonder much, being men of such great leading, 3
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition: Certain horse

Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up:
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half himself. +
Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-bated, and brought low;
The better part of ours is full of rest.

Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours:
For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.

[The Trumpet sounds a Parley.

Enter Sir WALTER BLUNT.

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king,

If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.

+ "Scot that this day lives:"- Malone.

S

such great leading,] Such conduct, such experience in mar

tial business. Malone reads

キ "half of himself."

"such great leading as you are."

MALone.

Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; And 'would to

God,

You were of our determination!

Some of us love you well: and even those some
Envy your great deserving, and good name;
Because you are not of our quality,

But stand against us like an enemy.

4

Blunt. And God defend, but still I should stand so, So long as, out of limit, and true rule, You stand against anointed majesty!

But, to my charge. The king hath sent to know
The nature of your griefs 5; and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty: If that the king

Have any way your good deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,-

He bids you name your griefs; and, with all speed,
You shall have your desires, with interest;

And pardon absolute for yourself, and these,

Herein misled by your suggestion.

Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the king Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. My father, and my uncle, and myself, Did give him that same royalty he wears: And,-when he was not six and twenty strong, Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, — My father gave him welcome to the shore: And, when he heard him swear, and vow to God, He came but to be duke of Lancaster,

To sue his livery 6, and beg his peace;

4

of our quality,] Quality, in our author's time, was frequently used in the sense of fellowship or occupation.

5 of your griefs;] That is, grievances.

• To sue his livery,] This is a law phrase belonging to the feudal tenures; meaning to sue out the delivery or possession of his lands from those persons who, on the death of any of the tenants of the crown, seized their lands, till the heir sued out his livery.