2 HENRY IV

2 HENRY IV 2 Henry IV, printed in 1600 as The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, was not reprinted until it was included in somewhat revised form in the 1623 Folio, with the same title. Shakespeare may have started to write it in 1597, directly after I Henry IV, but have laid it aside while he composed The Merry Wives of Windsor. As in I Henry IV, he drew on The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, Holinshed’s Chronicles, and Samuel Daniel’s Four Books of the Civil Wars, along with other, minor sources; but the play contains a greater proportion of non-historical material apparently invented by Shakespeare. In this play Shakespeare seems from the start to have accepted the change of Sir John’s surname to Falstaff which had been enforced upon him in I Henry IV. Like I Henry IV, Part Two draws on the techniques of comedy, but its overall tone is more sombre. At its start, the Prince seems to have regressed from his reformed state at the end of Part One; his father still has many causes for anxiety, has not made his expiatory pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and is again the victim of rebellion, led this time by the Earl of Northumberland, the Archbishop of York, and the Lords Hastings and Mowbray. Again Henry’s public responsibilities are exacerbated by anxieties about Prince Harry’s behaviour; the climax of their relationship comes after Harry, discovering his sick father asleep and thinking him dead, tries on his crown; after bitterly upbraiding him, Henry accepts his son’s assertions of good faith, and, recalling the devious means by which he himself came to the throne, warns Harry that he may need to protect himself against civil strife by pursuing ‘foreign quarrels’-the campaigning against France depicted in Henry V. The King dies in the Jerusalem Chamber of Westminster Abbey, the closest he will get to the Holy Land. In this play the Prince spends less time than in Part One with Sir John, who is shown much in the company of Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet at the Boar’s Head tavern in Eastcheap and later in Gloucestershire on his way to and from the place of battle. Shakespeare never excelled the bitter-sweet comedy of the passages involving Falstaff and his old comrade Justice Shallow. The play ends in a counterpointing of major and minor keys as the newly crowned Henry V rejects Sir John and all that he has stood for.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

The Second Part of Henry the Fourth Induction Enter Rumour ⌈in a robe⌉ painted full of tongues RUMOUR Open your ears; for which of you will stop The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? I from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth. Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. I speak of peace, while covert enmity Under the smile of safety wounds the world; And who but Rumour, who but only I, Make fearful musters and prepared defence Whiles the big year, swoll’n with some other griefs, Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, And no such matter?Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, Jealousy’s conjectures, And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wav’ring multitude, Can play upon it. But what need I thus My well-known body to anatomize Among my household? Why is Rumour here? I run before King Harry’s victory, Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, Quenching the flame of bold rebellion Even with the rebels’ blood. But what mean I To speak so true at first? My office is To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell Under the wrath of noble Hotspur’s sword, And that the King before the Douglas’ rage Stooped his anointed head as low as death. This have I rumoured through the peasant towns Between that royal field of Shrewsbury And this worm-eaten hold of raggèd stone, Where Hotspur’s father, old Northumberland, Lies crafty-sick. The posts come tiring on, And not a man of them brings other news Than they have learnt of me. From Rumour’s tongues They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. Exit

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Bardolph at one door. He crosses the stage to another door
LORD BARDOLPH	Who keeps the gate here, ho?
(didascalia)	Enter Porter above
LORD BARDOLPH	Where is the Earl?
PORTER	What shall I say you are?
LORD BARDOLPH	Tell thou the Earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
PORTER	His lordship is walked forth into the orchard. Please it your honour knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl Northumberland at the other door, as sick, with a crutch and coif
LORD BARDOLPH	Here comes the Earl.
(didascalia)	Exit Porter
NORTHUMBERLAND	What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now Should be the father of some stratagem. The times are wild; contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.
LORD BARDOLPH	Noble Earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Good, an God will.
LORD BARDOLPH	As good as heart can wish. The King is almost wounded to the death; And, in the fortune of my lord your son, Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John And Westmorland and Stafford fled the field; And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir John, Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day, So fought, so followed, and so fairly won, Came not till now to dignify the times Since Caesar’s fortunes!
NORTHUMBERLAND	How is this derived? Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
LORD BARDOLPH	I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, A gentleman well bred and of good name, That freely rendered me these news for true.
(didascalia)	Enter Travers
NORTHUMBERLAND	Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent On Tuesday last to listen after news.
LORD BARDOLPH	My lord, I overrode him on the way, And he is furnished with no certainties More than he haply may retail from me.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
TRAVERS	My lord, Lord Bardolph turned me back With joyful tidings, and being better horsed Outrode me. After him came spurring hard A gentleman almost forspent with speed, That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse. He asked the way to Chester, and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. He told me that rebellion had ill luck, And that young Harry Percy’s spur was cold. With that he gave his able horse the head, And, bending forward, struck his armed heels Against the panting sides of his poor jade Up to the rowel-head; and starting so, He seemed in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Ha? Again: Said he young Harry Percy’s spur was cold? Of Hotspur, ‘Coldspur’ ? that rebellion Had met ill luck?
LORD BARDOLPH	My lord, I’ll tell you what: If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point I’ll give my barony. Never talk of it.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers Give then such instances of loss?
LORD BARDOLPH	Who, he? He was some hilding fellow that had stol’n The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, Spoke at a venture.
(didascalia)	Enter Morton
LORD BARDOLPH	Look, here comes more news.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood Hath left a witnessed usurpation. Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
MORTON	I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord, Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party.
NORTHUMBERLAND	How doth my son and brother? Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone, Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, And I my Percy’s death ere thou report‘st it. This thou wouldst say: ‘Your son did thus and thus, Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas’, Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds; But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Ending with ‘Brother, son, and all are dead.’
MORTON	Douglas is living, and your brother yet; But for my lord your son—
NORTHUMBERLAND	Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know Hath by instinct knowledge from others’ eyes That what he feared is chanced. Yet speak, Morton. Tell thou an earl his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace, And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
MORTON	You are too great to be by me gainsaid, Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yet for all this, say not that Percy’s dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye— Thou shak‘st thy head, and hold’st it fear or sin To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so. The tongue offends not that reports his death; And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, Not he which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
(didascalia)	Sounds ever after as a sullen bell
NORTHUMBERLAND	Remembered knolling a departing friend.
LORD BARDOLPH	I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
MORTON	(to Northumberland) I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen; But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rend‘ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed, To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up. In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-tempered courage in his troops; For from his metal was his party steeled, Which once in him abated, all the rest Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead; And, as the thing that’s heavy in itself Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, So did our men, heavy in Hotspur’s loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester Too soon ta’en prisoner; and that furious Scot The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword Had three times slain th’appearance of the King, Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame Of those that turned their backs, and in his flight, Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all Is that the King hath won, and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmorland. This is the news at full.
NORTHUMBERLAND	For this I shall have time enough to mourn. In poison there is physic; and these news, Having been well, that would have made me sick, Being sick, have in some measure made me well; And, as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints, Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keeper’s arms, even so my limbs, Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief, Are thrice themselves.
(didascalia)	He casts away his crutch
NORTHUMBERLAND	Hence therefore, thou nice crutch! A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand.
(didascalia)	He snatches off his coif
NORTHUMBERLAND	And hence, thou sickly coif! Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes fleshed with conquest aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron, and approach The ragged‘st hour that time and spite dare bring To frown upon th’enraged Northumberland! Let heaven kiss earth ! Now let not nature’s hand Keep the wild flood confined! Let order die! And let this world no longer be a stage To feed contention in a ling’ring act; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead!
LORD BARDOLPH	Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
MORTON	The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health, the which, if you give o‘er To stormy passion, must perforce decay. You cast th’event of war, my noble lord, And summed the account of chance, before you said ‘Let us make head’. It was your presurmise That in the dole of blows your son might drop. You knew he walked o‘er perils on an edge, More likely to fall in than to get o’er. You were advised his flesh was capable Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged. Yet did you say, ‘Go forth’; and none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall’n? Or what doth this bold enterprise bring forth, More than that being which was like to be?
LORD BARDOLPH	We all that are engaged to this loss Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas That if we wrought out life was ten to one; And yet we ventured for the gain proposed, Choked the respect of likely peril feared; And since we are o’erset, venture again. Come, we will all put forth body and goods.
MORTON	‘Tis more than time; and, my most noble lord, I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth, The gentle Archbishop of York is up With well-appointed powers. He is a man Who with a double surety binds his followers. My lord, your son had only but the corpse, But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; For that same word ‘rebellion’ did divide The action of their bodies from their souls, And they did fight with queasiness, constrained, As men drink potions, that their weapons only Seemed on our side; but, for their spirits and souls, This word ‘rebellion’, it had froze them up, As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop Turns insurrection to religion. Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts, He’s followed both with body and with mind, And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones; Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; And more and less do flock to follow him.
NORTHUMBERLAND	I knew of this before, but, to speak truth, This present grief had wiped it from my mind. Go in with me, and counsel every man The aptest way for safety and revenge. Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed. Never so few, and never yet more need. Exeunt
(didascalia)	1.2 Enter Sir John Falstaff, followed by his Page bearing his sword and buckler
SIR JOHN	Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?
PAGE	He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water, but, for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.
SIR JOHN	Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter more than I invent, or is invented on me. I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath o‘erwhelmed all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then, I have no judgement. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now; but I will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master for a jewel—the juvenal the Prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledge. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one off his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is a face-royal. God may finish it when he will; ’tis not a hair amiss yet. He may keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it. And yet he’ll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he’s almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dumbleton about the satin for my short cloak and slops?
PAGE	He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph. He would not take his bond and yours; he liked not the security.
SIR JOHN	Let him be damned like the glutton! Pray God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel, a rascally yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman in hand and then stand upon security! The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking-up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security. I looked a should have sent me two-and-twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me ‘security’! Well, he may sleep in security, for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it; and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. Where’s Bardolph?
PAGE	He’s gone in Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.
SIR JOHN	I bought him in Paul’s, and he’ll buy me a horse in Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Chief Justice and his Servant
PAGE	Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolph.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN moving away Wait close; I will not see him.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to his Servant) What’s he that goes there ?
SERVANT	Falstaff, an’t please your lordship.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	He that was in question for the robbery?
SERVANT	He, my lord; but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What, to York? Call him back again.
SERVANT	Sir John Falstaff!
SIR JOHN	Boy, tell him I am deaf.
PAGE	(to the Servant) You must speak louder; my master is deaf.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I am sure he is to the hearing of anything good. (To the Servant) Go pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him.
SERVANT	Sir John!
SIR JOHN	What, a young knave and begging! Is there not wars? Is there not employment? Doth not the King lack subjects? Do not the rebels want soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.
SERVANT	You mistake me, sir.
SIR JOHN	Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? Setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat if I had said so.
SERVANT	I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside, and give me leave to tell you you lie in your throat if you say I am any other than an honest man. 88
SIR JOHN	I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that which grows to me? If thou gettest any leave of me, hang me. If thou takest leave, thou wert better be hanged. You hunt counter. Hence, avaunt!
SERVANT	Sir, my lord would speak with you.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
SIR JOHN	My good lord! God give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad. I heard say your lordship was sick. I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time in you; and I most humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent care of your health.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.
SIR JOHN	An’t please your lordship, I hear his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I talk not of his majesty. You would not come when I sent for you.
SIR JOHN	And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with you.
SIR JOHN	This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an’t please your lordship, a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.
SIR JOHN	It hath it original from much grief, from study, and perturbation of the brain. I have read the cause of his effects in Galen. It is a kind of deafness.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I think you are fallen into the disease, for you hear not what I say to you.
SIR JOHN	Very well, my lord, very well. Rather, an’t please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears, and I care not if I do become your physician.
SIR JOHN	I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient. Your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me.
SIR JOHN	As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.
SIR JOHN	He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live in less.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.
SIR JOHN	I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater and my waist slenderer.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	You have misled the youthful Prince.
SIR JOHN	The young Prince hath misled me. I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound. Your day’s service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night’s exploit on Gads Hill. You may thank th‘unquiet time for your quiet o’erposting that action.
SIR JOHN	My lord—
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	But since all is well, keep it so. Wake not a sleeping wolf.
SIR JOHN	To wake a wolf is as bad as smell a fox.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What! You are as a candle, the better part burnt out.
SIR JOHN	A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow—if I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	There is not a white hair in your face but should have his effect of gravity.
SIR JOHN	His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	You follow the young Prince up and down like his ill angel.
SIR JOHN	Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light, but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing. And yet in some respects, I grant, I cannot go. I cannot tell, virtue is of so little regard in these costermongers’ times that true valour is turned bearherd; pregnancy is made a tapster, and his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings; all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young. You do measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls. And we that are in the vanguard of our youth, I must confess, are wags too.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age? Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity? And will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon with a white head, and something a round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with hallowing and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old in judgement and understanding; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him! For the box of th’ear that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have checked him for it, and the young lion repents—aside marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, God send the Prince a better companion!
SIR JOHN	God send the companion a better prince! I cannot rid my hands of him.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, the King hath severed you and Prince Harry. I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.
SIR JOHN	Yea, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily. If it be a hot day and I brandish anything but my bottle, would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot last ever. But it was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, be honest, be honest, and God bless your expedition.
SIR JOHN	Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Not a penny, not a penny. You are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend me to my cousin Westmorland.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lord Chief Justice and his Servant
SIR JOHN	If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no more separate age and covetousness than a can part young limbs and lechery; but the gout galls the one and the pox pinches the other, and so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy!
PAGE	Sir.
SIR JOHN	What money is in my purse?
PAGE	Seven groats and two pence.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. (Giving letters) Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; this to the Prince; this to the Earl of Westmorland; and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair of my chin. About it. You know where to find me. Exit Pagel A pox of this gout!—or a gout of this pox!—for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great toe. ’Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good wit will make use of anything. I will turn diseases to commodity. Exit

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray the Earl Marshal, Lord Hastings, and Lord Bardolph
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Thus have you heard our cause and known our means, And, my most noble friends, I pray you all Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes. And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?
MOWBRAY	I well allow the occasion of our arms, But gladly would be better satisfied How in our means we should advance ourselves To look with forehead bold and big enough Upon the power and puissance of the King.
HASTINGS	Our present musters grow upon the file To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice, And our supplies live largely in the hope Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns With an incensed fire of injuries.
LORD BARDOLPH	The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus: Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand May hold up head without Northumberland.
HASTINGS	With him we may.
LORD BARDOLPH	Yea, marry, there’s the point; But if without him we be thought too feeble, My judgement is, we should not step too far Till we had his assistance by the hand; For in a theme so bloody-faced as this, Conjecture, expectation, and surmise Of aids uncertain should not be admitted.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	’Tis very true, Lord Bardolph, for indeed It was young Hotspur’s case at Shrewsbury.
LORD BARDOLPH	It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope, Eating the air on promise of supply, Flatt’ring himself with project of a power Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts; And so, with great imagination Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, And winking leapt into destruction.
HASTINGS	But by your leave, it never yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
LORD BARDOLPH	Yes, if this present quality of war— Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot— Lives so in hope; as in an early spring We see th‘appearing buds, which to prove fruit Hope gives not so much warrant as despair That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build We first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection, Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model In fewer offices, or, at least, desist To build at all? Much more in this great work— Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down And set another up—should we survey The plot of situation and the model, Consent upon a sure foundation, Question surveyors, know our own estate, How able such a work to undergo, To weigh against his opposite; or else We fortify in paper and in figures, Using the names of men instead of men, Like one that draws the model of an house Beyond his power to build it, who, half-through, Gives o’er, and leaves his part-created cost A naked subject to the weeping clouds, And waste for churlish winter’s tyranny.
HASTINGS	Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth, Should be stillborn, and that we now possessed The utmost man of expectation, I think we are a body strong enough, Even as we are, to equal with the King.
LORD BARDOLPH	What, is the King but five-and-twenty thousand?
HASTINGS	To us no more, nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph; For his divisions, as the times do brawl, Are in three heads: one power against the French, And one against Glyndwr, perforce a third Must take up us. So is the unfirm King In three divided, and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	That he should draw his several strengths together And come against us in full puissance Need not be dreaded.
HASTINGS	If he should do so, He leaves his back unarmed, the French and Welsh Baying him at the heels. Never fear that.
LORD BARDOLPH	Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
HASTINGS	The Duke of Lancaster and Westmorland; Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth; But who is substituted ’gainst the French I have no certain notice.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Let us on, And publish the occasion of our arms. The commonwealth is sick of their own choice; Their over-greedy love hath surfeited. An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. O thou fond many, with what loud applause Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, Before he was what thou wouldst have him be I And being now trimmed in thine own desires, Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him That thou provok‘st thyself to cast him up. So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, And howl’st to find it. What trust is in these times ? They that when Richard lived would have him die Are now become enamoured on his grave. Thou that threw‘st dust upon his goodly head, When through proud London he came sighing on After th’admired heels of Bolingbroke, Cri’st now, ‘O earth, yield us that king again, And take thou this!’ O thoughts of men accursed! Past and to come seems best; things present, worst.
(didascalia)	MOWBRAY
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?
HASTINGS	We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Mistress Quickly (the hostess of a tavern), and an officer, Fang followed at a distance by another officer, Snare
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Master Fang, have you entered the action ?
FANG	It is entered.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Where’s your yeoman? Is’t a lusty yeoman? Will a stand to’t?
FANG	Sirrah!—Where’s Snare?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O Lord, ay, good Master Snare.
(didascalia)	SNARE coming forward Here, here.
FANG	Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Yea, good Master Snare, I have entered him and all.
SNARE	It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Alas the day, take heed of him; he stabbed me in mine own house, most beastly, in good faith. A cares not what mischief he does; if his weapon be out, he will foin like any devil, he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.
FANG	If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. MISTRESS QUICKLY No, nor I neither. I’ll be at your elbow. FANG An I but fist him once, an a come but within my vice—
MISTRESS QUICKLY	I am undone by his going, I warrant you; he’s an infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, hold him sure. Good Master Snare, let him not scape. A comes continuantly to Pie Corner—saving your manhoods—to buy a saddle, and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber’s Head in Lombard Street, to Master Smooth’s the silkman. I pray you, since my exion is entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to bear; and I have borne, and borne, and borne, and have been fobbed off, and fobbed off, and fobbed off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, unless a woman should be made an ass and a beast, to bear every knave’s wrong.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Page
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nose knave Bardolph with him. Do your offices, do your offices, Master Fang and Master Snare; do me, do me, do me your offices.
SIR JOHN	How now, whose mare’s dead? What’s the matter ?
FANG	Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN drawing Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph! Cut me off the villain’s head! Throw the quean in the channel!
(didascalia)	Bardolph draws
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Throw me in the channel? I’ll throw thee in the channel! A brawl Wilt thou, wilt thou, thou bastardly rogue? Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle villain, wilt thou kill God’s officers, and the King’s? Ah, thou honeyseed rogue! Thou art a honeyseed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller.
SIR JOHN	Keep them off, Bardolph !
FANG	A rescue, a rescue!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wot, wot thou? Thou wot, wot’a? Do, do, thou rogue, do, thou hempseed!
PAGE	Away, you scullion, you rampallian, you fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Chief Justice and his men
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What is the matter? Keep the peace here, ho!
(didascalia)	Brawl ends. Fang seizes Sir John
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Good my lord, be good to me; I beseech you, stand to me.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	How now, Sir John? What, are you brawling here? Doth this become your place, your time and business? You should have been well on your way to York.
(didascalia)	To Fang Stand from him, fellow. Wherefore hang’st
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	thou upon him?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O my most worshipful lord, an’t please your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	For what sum?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	It is more than for some, my lord, it is for all, all I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home. He hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his; (to Sir John) but I will have some of it out again, or I will ride thee a-nights like the mare.
SIR JOHN	I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have any vantage of ground to get up.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	How comes this, Sir John ? Fie, what man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed, to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come by her own?
SIR JOHN	(to the Hostess) What is the gross sum that I owe thee?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself, and the money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the Prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor—thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech the butcher’s wife come in then, and call me ‘Gossip Quickly’—coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar, telling us she had a good dish of prawns, whereby thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound ? And didst thou not, when she was gone downstairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people, saying that ere long they should call me ‛madam’? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath; deny it if thou canst.
(didascalia)	She weeps
SIR JOHN	My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and down the town that her eldest son is like you. She hath been in good case, and the truth is, poverty hath distracted her. But for these foolish officers, I beseech you I may have redress against them.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words that come with such more than impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from a level consideration. You have, as it appears to me, practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your uses both in purse and in person.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Yea, in truth, my lord.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Pray thee, peace. (To Sir John) Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villainy you have done with her. The one you may do with sterling money, and the other with current repentance.
SIR JOHN	My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply. You call honourable boldness ‘impudent sauciness’; if a man will make curtsy and say nothing, he is virtuous. No, my lord, my humble duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say to you I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment in the King’s affairs.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	You speak as having power to do wrong; but answer in th’effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.
SIR JOHN	(drawing apart) Come hither, hostess. She goes to him.
(didascalia)	Enter Master Gower, a messenger
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Now, Master Gower, what news?
GOWER	The King, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales Are near at hand; the rest the paper tells.
(didascalia)	Lord Chief Justice reads the paper, and converses apart with Gower
SIR JOHN	As I am a gentleman!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Faith, you said so before.
SIR JOHN	As I am a gentleman! Come, no more words of it.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining-chambers.
SIR JOHN	Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking; and for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in waterwork, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound if thou canst. Come, an ’twere not for thy humours, there’s not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw the action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me. Dost not know me? Come, I know thou wast set on to this.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles. I’faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, la!
SIR JOHN	Let it alone; I’ll make other shift. You’ll be a fool still.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you’ll come to supper. You’ll pay me altogether?
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN Will I live? To Bardolph and the Page Go with her, with her. Hook on, hook on!
MISTRESS	QUICKLY, Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?
SIR JOHN	No more words; let’s have her.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Mistress Quickly, Bardolph, the Page, Fang and Snare
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) I have heard better news.
SIR JOHN	What’s the news, my good lord?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) Where lay the King tonight?
GOWER	At Basingstoke, my lord.
SIR JOHN	(to Lord Chief Justice) I hope, my lord, all’s well. What is the news, my lord?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) Come all his forces back?
GOWER	No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, Are marched up to my lord of Lancaster Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.
SIR JOHN	(to Lord Chief Justice) Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) You shall have letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. They are going
SIR JOHN	My lord!
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What’s the matter?
SIR JOHN	Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?
GOWER	I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir John.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go.
SIR JOHN	Will you sup with me, Master Gower?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John?
SIR JOHN	Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me. (To Lord Chief Justice) This is the right fencing grace, my lord—tap for tap, and so part fair.
(didascalia)	LORD CHIEF JUSTICE Now the Lord lighten thee; thou art a great fool. Exeunt Lord Chief Justice and Gower at one door, Sir John at another

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry and Poins
PRINCE HARRY	Before God, I am exceeding weary.
POINS	Is’t come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood.
PRINCE HARRY	Faith, it does me, though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?
POINS	Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition.
PRINCE HARRY	Belike then my appetite was not princely got; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature small beer. But indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name! Or to know thy face tomorrow! Or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast—videlicet these, and those that were thy peach-coloured ones! Or to bear the inventory of thy shirts—as one for superfluity, and another for use. But that the tennis-court keeper knows better than I, for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland.
POINS	How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good young princes would do so, their fathers lying so sick as yours is?
PRINCE HARRY	Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?
POINS	Yes, faith, and let it be an excellent good thing.
PRINCE HARRY	It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.
POINS	Go to, I stand the push of your one thing that you’ll tell.
PRINCE HARRY	Marry, I tell thee, it is not meet that I should be sad now my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend, I could be sad; and sad indeed too.
POINS	Very hardly, upon such a subject.
PRINCE HARRY	By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil’s book as thou and Falstaff, for obduracy and persistency. Let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath, in reason, taken from me all ostentation of sorrow.
POINS	The reason?
PRINCE HARRY	What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep?
POINS	I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
PRINCE HARRY	It would be every man’s thought, and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man’s thought in the world keeps the roadway better than thine. Every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so?
POINS	Why, because you have been so lewd, and so much engrafted to Falstaff.
PRINCE HARRY	And to thee.
POINS	By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it with mine own ears. The worst that they can say of me is that I am a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two things I confess I cannot help.
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph followed by the Page
POINS	By the mass, here comes Bardolph.
PRINCE HARRY	And the boy that I gave Falstaff. A had him from me Christian, and look if the fat villain have not transformed him ape.
BARDOLPH	God save your grace!
PRINCE HARRY	And yours, most noble Bardolph!
POINS	(to Bardolph) Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man at arms are you become! Is’t such a matter to get a pottle-pot’s maidenhead?
PAGE	A calls me e’en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window. At last I spied his eyes, and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife’s red petticoat, and so peeped through.
PRINCE HARRY	(to Poins) Has not the boy profited?
BARDOLPH	(to the Page) Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away!
PAGE	Away, you rascally Althea’s dream, away!
PRINCE HARRY	Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
PAGE	Marry, my lord, Althea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand, and therefore I call him her dream.
PRINCE HARRY	(giving him money) A crown‘s-worth of good interpretation! There ’tis, boy.
POINS	O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers! (Giving the Page money) Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
BARDOLPH	An you do not make him hanged among you, the gallows shall be wronged.
PRINCE HARRY	And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
BARDOLPH	Well, my good lord. He heard of your grace’s coming to town. There’s a letter for you.
POINS	Delivered with good respect. And how doth the Martlemas your master?
BARDOLPH	In bodily health, sir. Prince Harry reads the letter
POINS	Marry, the immortal part needs a physician, but that moves not him. Though that be sick, it dies not.
PRINCE HARRY	I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog; and he holds his place, for look you how he writes.
(didascalia)	He gives Poins the letter
POINS	‘John Falstaff, knight’.—Every man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to name himself; even like those that are kin to the King, for they never prick their finger but they say ‘There’s some of the King’s blood spilt.’ ‘How comes that?’ says he that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower’s cap: ‘I am the King’s poor cousin, sir.’
PRINCE HARRY	Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. (Taking the letter) But the letter. ’Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the King nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting.’
POINS	Why, this is a certificate!
PRINCE HARRY	Peace!—‘I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity.’
POINS	(taking the letter) Sure he means brevity in breath, short winded. (Reads) ’I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins, for he misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst. And so, farewell. Thine by yea and no—which is as much as to say, as thou usest him—Jack Falstaff with my familiars, John with my brothers and sisters, and Sir John with all Europe.’ My lord, I’ll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it.
PRINCE HARRY	That’s to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister?
POINS	God send the wench no worse fortune, but I never said so.
PRINCE HARRY	Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. (To Bardolph) Is your master here in London?
BARDOLPH	Yea, my lord.
PRINCE HARRY	Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank?
BARDOLPH	At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.
PRINCE HARRY	What company?
PAGE	Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.
PRINCE HARRY	Sup any women with him?
PAGE	None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.
PRINCE HARRY	What pagan may that be?
PAGE	A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master’s.
PRINCE HARRY	Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?
POINS	I am your shadow, my lord; I’ll follow you.
PRINCE HARRY	Sirrah, you, boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. (Giving money) There’s for your silence.
BARDOLPH	I have no tongue, sir.
PAGE	And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
PRINCE HARRY	Fare you well; go.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bardolph and the Page
PRINCE HARRY	This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.
POINS	I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans and London.
PRINCE HARRY	How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?
POINS	Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table like drawers.
PRINCE HARRY	From a god to a bull—a heavy declension—it was Jove’s case. From a prince to a prentice—a low transformation—that shall be mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and Lady Percy
NORTHUMBERLAND	I pray thee, loving wife and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs. Put not you on the visage of the times And be like them to Percy troublesome.
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND	I have given over; I will speak no more. Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn, And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
LADY PERCY	O yet, for God’s sake, go not to these wars! The time was, father, that you broke your word When you were more endeared to it than now— When your own Percy, when my heart’s dear Harry, Threw many a northward look to see his father Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost, yours and your son’s. For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! For his, it stuck upon him as the sun In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. He had no legs that practised not his gait; And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, Became the accents of the valiant; For those that could speak low and tardily Would turn their own perfection to abuse To seem like him. So that in speech, in gait, In diet, in affections of delight, In military rules, humours of blood, He was the mark and glass, copy and book, That fashioned others. And him—O wondrous him! O miracle of men!—him did you leave, Second to none, unseconded by you, To look upon the hideous god of war In disadvantage, to abide a field Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur’s name Did seem defensible; so you left him. Never, O never do his ghost the wrong To hold your honour more precise and nice With others than with him. Let them alone. The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong. Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, Today might I, hanging on Hotspur’s neck, Have talked of Monmouth’s grave.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in another place, And find me worse provided.
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND	O fly to Scotland, Till that the nobles and the armed commons Have of their puissance made a little taste.
LADY PERCY	If they get ground and vantage of the King, Then join you with them like a rib of steel, To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, First let them try themselves. So did your son. He was so suffered. So came I a widow, And never shall have length of life enough To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven For recordation to my noble husband.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Come, come, go in with me. ’Tis with my mind As with the tide swelled up unto his height, That makes a still stand, running neither way. Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop, But many thousand reasons hold me back. I will resolve for Scotland. There am I Till time and vantage crave my company. Exeunt
(didascalia)	2.4 A table and chairs set forth. Enter a Drawer With wind and another Drawer With a dish of apple-johns
(didascalia)	FIRST DRAWER What the devil hast thou brought there—apple-johns? Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.
(didascalia)	SECOND DRAWER Mass, thou sayst true. The Prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him; and told him, there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, said ‘I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.’ It angered him to the heart. But he hath forgot that.
(didascalia)	FIRST DRAWER Why then, cover, and set them down; and see if thou canst find out Sneak’s noise. Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music.
(didascalia)	Exit the Second Drawer
(didascalia)	The First Drawer covers the table.
(didascalia)	Enter the Second Drawer
(didascalia)	SECOND DRAWER Sirrah, here will be the Prince and Master Poins anon, and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.
(didascalia)	FIRST DRAWER By the mass, here will be old utis! It will be an excellent stratagem.
(didascalia)	SECOND DRAWER I’ll see if I can find out Sneak. Exeunt Enter Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet, drunk
MISTRESS QUICKLY	I‘faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire, and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la; but i’faith, you have drunk too much canaries, and that’s a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere we can say ‘What’s this?’ How do you now?
DOLL TEARSHEET	Better than I was.—Hem!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Why, that’s well said! A good heart’s worth gold.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Lo, here comes Sir John.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN (sings) ‘When Arthur first in court’—Calls Empty the jordan!—(Sings) ‘And was a worthy king’—How now, Mistress Doll?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Sick of a qualm, yea, good faith.
SIR JOHN	So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick.
DOLL TEARSHEET	A pox damn you, you muddy rascal! Is that all the comfort you give me?
SIR JOHN	You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I make them? Gluttony and diseases make them; I make them not.
SIR JOHN	If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Yea, Jesu, our chains and our jewels.
SIR JOHN	’Your brooches, pearls, and ouches’—for to serve bravely is to come halting off, you know; to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon the charged chambers bravely.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	By my troth, this is the old fashion. You two never meet but you fall to some discord. You are both, i’ good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another’s confirmities. What the goodyear, one must bear, (to Doll) and that must be you. You are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead? There’s a whole merchant’s venture of Bordeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold.—Come, I’ll be friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the wars, and whether I shall ever see thee again or no there is nobody cares.
(didascalia)	Enter a Drawer
DRAWER	Sir, Ensign Pistol’s below, and would speak with you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Hang him, swaggering rascal, let him not come hither. It is the foul-mouthedest rogue in England.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith! I must live among my neighbours; I’ll no swaggerers. I am in good name and fame with the very best. Shut the door; there comes no swaggerers here. I have not lived all this while to have swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you.
SIR JOHN	Dost thou hear, hostess?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Pray ye pacify yourself, Sir John. There comes no swaggerers here.
SIR JOHN	Dost thou hear? It is mine ensign.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne‘er tell me. Your ensign-swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick the debuty t’other day, and, as he said to me—’twas no longer ago than Wed‘sday last, i’ good faith—‘Neighbour Quickly,’ says he—Master Dumb our minister was by then—‘Neighbour Quickly,’ says he, ‘receive those that are civil, for,’ said he, ‘you are in an ill name.’ Now a said so, I can tell whereupon. ‘For,’ says he, ‘you are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed what guests you receive. Receive,‘ says he, ‘no swaggering companions.’ There comes none here. You would bless you to hear what he said. No, I’ll no swaggerers.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN He’s no swaggerer, hostess—a tame cheater, i’faith. You may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He’ll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance.—Call him up, drawer. Exit Drawer
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Cheater call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater, but I do not love swaggering, by my troth, I am the worse when one says ‘swagger’. Feel, masters, how I shake, look you, I warrant you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	So you do, hostess.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Do I? Yea, in very truth do I, an ’twere an aspen leaf. I cannot abide swaggerers.
(didascalia)	Enter Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page
PISTOL	God save you, Sir John.
SIR JOHN	Welcome, Ensign Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack. Do you discharge upon mine hostess.
PISTOL	I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
SIR JOHN	She is pistol-proof, sir, you shall not hardly offend her.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Come, I’ll drink no proofs, nor no bullets. I’ll drink no more than will do me good, for no man’s pleasure, I.
PISTOL	Then to you, Mistress Dorothy! I will charge you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your master.
PISTOL	I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Away, you cutpurse rascal, you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I’ll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps an you play the saucy cuttle with me!
(didascalia)	She brandishes a knife
DOLL TEARSHEET	Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
(didascalia)	Pistol draws his sword
DOLL TEARSHEET	Since when, I pray you, sir? God’s light, with two points on your shoulder! Much!
PISTOL	God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Captain? Thou abominable damned cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called ‘captain’? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earned them. You a captain? You slavel For what? For tearing a poor whore’s ruff in a bawdy-house! He a captain? Hang him, rogue, he lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain? God’s light, these villains will make the word ’captain’ odious; therefore captains had need look to’t.
BARDOLPH	Pray thee, go down, good ensign.
SIR JOHN	Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. He takes her aside
PISTOL	Not II I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her! I’ll be revenged of her.
PAGE	Pray thee, go down.
PISTOL	I’ll see her damned first To Pluto’s damned lake, by this hand, To th’infernal deep, Where Erebus, and tortures vile also. ‘Hold hook and line!’ say I. Down, down, dogs; down, Fates. Have we not Hiren here?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Good Captain Pizzle, be quiet. ‘Tis very late, i’faith. I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
PISTOL	These be good humours indeed! Shall pack-horses And hollow pampered jades of Asia, Which cannot go but thirty mile a day, Compare with Caesars and with cannibals, And Trojan Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus, And let the welkin roar. Shall we fall foul for toys?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
BARDOLPH	Be gone, good ensign; this will grow to a brawl anon.
PISTOL	Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren here?
MISTRESS QUICKLY O’	my word, captain, there’s none such here. What the goodyear, do you think I would deny her? For God’s sake, be quiet.
PISTOL	Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis. Come, give’s some sack. Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento. Fear we broadsides? No; let the fiend give fire! Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there.
(didascalia)	He lays down his sword
PISTOL	Come we to full points here? And are etceteras nothings?
(didascalia)	He drinks
SIR JOHN	Pistol, I would be quiet.
PISTOL	Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What, we have seen the seven stars!
DOLL TEARSHEET	For God’s sake, thrust him downstairs. I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.
PISTOL	Thrust him downstairs? Know we not Galloway nags?
SIR JOHN	Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. Nay, an a do nothing but speak nothing, a shall be nothing here.
BARDOLPH	(to Pistol) Come, get you downstairs.
(didascalia)	PISTOL taking up his sword
BARDOLPH	What, shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue? Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days. Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds Untwine the Sisters Three. Come, Atropos, I say!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Here’s goodly stuff toward!
SIR JOHN	Give me my rapier, boy.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
SIR JOHN	(taking his rapier and speaking to Pistol) Get you downstairs. Sir John, Bardolph, and Pistol brawl
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Here’s a goodly tumult! I’ll forswear keeping house afore I’ll be in these tirrits and frights!
(didascalia)	Sir John thrusts at Pistol
MISTRESS QUICKLY	So!
(didascalia)	Pistol thrusts at Sir John
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Murder, I warrant now! Alas, alas, put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons!
(didascalia)	Exit Pistol, pursued by Bardolph
DOLL TEARSHEET	I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal’s gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	(to Sir John) Are you not hurt i’th’ groin? Methought a made a shrewd thrust at your belly.
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
SIR JOHN	Have you turned him out o’doors?
BARDOLPH	Yea, sir. The rascal’s drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i’th’ shoulder.
SIR JOHN	A rascal, to brave me!
DOLL TEARSHEET	Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou sweatest! Come, let me wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops. Ah rogue, i’faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain!
SIR JOHN	A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Do, an thou darest for thy heart. An thou dost, I’ll canvas thee between a pair of sheets.
(didascalia)	Enter musicians
PAGE	The music is come, sir.
SIR JOHN	Let them play.—Play, sirs!
(didascalia)	Music plays
SIR JOHN	Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quicksilver.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I‘faith, and thou followed’st him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o‘days, and foining o’nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry and Poins, disguised as drawers
SIR JOHN	Peace, good Doll, do not speak like a death’s-head, do not bid me remember mine end.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Sirrah, what humour’s the Prince of?
SIR JOHN	A good shallow young fellow. A would have made a good pantler; a would ha’ chipped bread well.
DOLL TEARSHEET	They say Poins has a good wit.
SIR JOHN	He a good wit? Hang him, baboon! His wit’s as thick as Tewkesbury mustard; there’s no more conceit in him than is in a mallet.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Why does the Prince love him so, then?
SIR JOHN	Because their legs are both of a bigness, and a plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles’ ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon joint-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boot very smooth like unto the sign of the leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories, and such other gambol faculties a has that show a weak mind and an able body; for the which the Prince admits him; for the Prince himself is such another—the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.
PRINCE HARRY	(aside to Poins) Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?
POINS	Let’s beat him before his whore.
PRINCE HARRY	Look whe’er the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.
POINS	Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?
SIR JOHN	Kiss me, Doll. They kiss
PRINCE HARRY	(aside to Poins) Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th’almanac to that?
POINS	And look whether the fiery Trigon his man be not lisping to his master’s old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper!
SIR JOHN	(to Doll) Thou dost give me flattering busses.
DOLL TEARSHEET	By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
SIR JOHN	I am old, I am old.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I love thee better than I love e’er a scurvy young boy of them all.
SIR JOHN	What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money o’Thursday; shalt have a cap tomorrow.—A merry song!
(didascalia)	The music plays again
SIR JOHN	Come, it grows late; we’ll to bed. Thou’lt forget me when I am gone.
DOLL TEARSHEET	By my troth, thou‘lt set me a-weeping an thou sayst so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return—well, hearken a’th’ end.
SIR JOHN	Some sack, Francis.
PRINCE	and POINS (coming forward) Anon, anon, sir.
SIR JOHN	Ha, a bastard son of the King’s !—And art not thou Poins his brother?
PRINCE HARRY	Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!
SIR JOHN	A better than thou: I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.
PRINCE HARRY	Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O, the Lord preserve thy grace! By my troth, welcome to London! Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?
SIR JOHN	(to Prince Harry) Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty! By this light—flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
DOLL TEARSHEET	How, you fat fool? I scorn you.
POINS	(to Prince Harry) My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.
PRINCE HARRY	(to Sir John) You whoreson candlemine you, how vilely did you speak of me now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	God’s blessing of your good heart, and so she is, by my troth!
SIR JOHN	(to Prince Harry) Didst thou hear me?
PRINCE HARRY	Yea, and you knew me as you did when you ran away by Gads Hill; you knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to try my patience.
SIR JOHN	No, no, no, not so, I did not think thou wast within hearing.
PRINCE HARRY	I shall drive you, then, to confess the wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle you.
SIR JOHN	No abuse, Hal; o’mine honour, no abuse.
PRINCE HARRY	Not? To dispraise me, and call me ‘pantler’ and ‘bread-chipper’ and I know not what?
SIR JOHN	No abuse, Hal.
POINS	No abuse?
SIR JOHN	No abuse, Ned, i’th’ world, honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him; (to Prince Harry) in which doing I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; no, faith, boys, none.
PRINCE HARRY	See now whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us. Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is thy boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?
POINS	(to Sir John) Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
SIR JOHN	The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer’s privy kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil outbids him, too.
PRINCE HARRY	For the women?
SIR JOHN	For one of them, she’s in hell already, and burns poor souls. For th’other, I owe her money, and whether she be damned for that I know not.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	No, I warrant you.
SIR JOHN	No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law, for the which I think thou wilt howl.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	All victuallers do so. What’s a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?
PRINCE HARRY	You, gentlewoman—
DOLL TEARSHEET	What says your grace?
SIR JOHN	His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. Peto knocks at door within
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Who knocks so loud at door? (Calls) Look to th’ door there, Francis.
(didascalia)	Enter Peto
PRINCE HARRY	Peto, how now, what news?
PETO	The King your father is at Westminster; And there are twenty weak and wearied posts Come from the north; and as I came along I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bareheaded, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
PRINCE HARRY	By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame So idly to profane the precious time, When tempest of commotion, like the south Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.— Give me my sword and cloak.—Falstaff, good night.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Prince Harry and Poins
SIR JOHN	Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked. 371
(didascalia)	Knocking within. Exit Bardolph
SIR JOHN	More knocking at the door!
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
SIR JOHN	How now, what’s the matter?
BARDOLPH	You must away to court, sir, presently. A dozen captains stay at door for you.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN to the Page Pay the musicians, sirrah. Farewell, hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after. The undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. Exeunt musicians
(didascalia)	DOLL TEARSHEET weeping I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst—well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
SIR JOHN	Farewell, farewell! 385
(didascalia)	Exit with Bardolph, Peto, and the Page
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine years come peascod-time, but an honester and truer-hearted man—well, fare thee well.
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
BARDOLPH	Mistress Tearsheet!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	What’s the matter? 390
BARDOLPH	Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
(didascalia)	Exit
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O run, Doll; run, run, good Doll!
(didascalia)	Exeunt Doll at one door, Mistress Quickly at another door

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry in his nightgown, with a page
KING HENRY	(giving letters) Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick. But ere they come, bid them o’er-read these letters And well consider of them. Make good speed.
(didascalia)	Exit page
KING HENRY	How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep? O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lulled with sound of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why li‘st thou with the vile 15 In loathsome beds, and leav’st the kingly couch A watch-case, or a common ’larum-bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Warwick and Surrey
WARWICK	Many good morrows to your majesty!
KING HENRY	Is it good morrow, lords?
WARWICK	’Tis one o’clock, and past.
KING HENRY	Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords. Have you read o’er the letter that I sent you?
WARWICK	We have, my liege.
KING HENRY	Then you perceive the body of our kingdom, How foul it is, what rank diseases grow, And with what danger near the heart of it.
WARWICK	It is but as a body yet distempered, Which to his former strength may be restored With good advice and little medicine. My lord Northumberland will soon be cooled.
KING HENRY	O God, that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea; and other times to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune’s hips; how chance’s mocks And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors!‘Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together; and in two year after Were they at wars. It is but eight years since This Percy was the man nearest my soul, Who like a brother toiled in my affairs, And laid his love and life under my foot, Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard Gave him defiance. But which of you was by— (To Warwick) You, cousin Neville, as I may remember— When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears, Then checked and rated by Northumberland, Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy?— ‘Northumberland, thou ladder by the which My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne’— Though then, God knows, I had no such intent, But that necessity so bowed the state That I and greatness were compelled to kiss— ‘The time shall come’—thus did he follow it— ‘The time will come that foul sin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption’; so went on, Foretelling this same time’s condition, And the division of our amity.
WARWICK	There is a history in all men’s lives Figuring the natures of the times deceased; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, who in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasurèd. 80 Such things become the hatch and brood of time; And by the necessary form of this King Richard might create a perfect guess That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness, Which should not find a ground to root upon Unless on you.
KING HENRY	Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities; And that same word even now cries out on us. They say the Bishop and Northumberland Are fifty thousand strong.
WARWICK	It cannot be, my lord. Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared. Please it your grace To go to bed? Upon my soul, my lord, The powers that you already have sent forth Shall bring this prize in very easily. To comfort you the more, I have received A certain instance that Glyndwr is dead. Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill, And these unseasoned hours perforce must add Unto your sickness.
KING HENRY	I will take your counsel. And were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter justice Shallow and Justice Silence
SHALLOW	Come on, come on, come on! Give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?
SILENCE	Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
SHALLOW	And how doth my cousin your bedfellow? And your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?
SILENCE	Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.
SHALLOW	By yea and no, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford still, is he not? 10
SILENCE	Indeed, sir, to my cost.
SHALLOW	A must then to the Inns o’ Court shortly. I was once of Clement’s Inn, where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet.
SILENCE	You were called ’lusty Shallow’ then, cousin. 15
SHALLOW	By the mass, I was called anything; and I would have done anything indeed, too, and roundly, too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squeal, a Cotswold man; you had not four such swingebucklers in all the Inns o’ Court again. And I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.
SILENCE	This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?
SHALLOW	The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break Scoggin’s head at the court gate when a was a crack, not thus high. And the very same day did I fight with one Samson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray’s Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead.
SILENCE	We shall all follow, cousin.
SHALLOW	Certain, ’tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?
SILENCE	By my troth, I was not there.
SHALLOW	Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?
SILENCE	Dead, sir.
SHALLOW	Jesu, Jesu, dead! A drew a good bow; and dead! A shot a fine shoot. John o’ Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! A would have clapped i’th’ clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man’s heart good to see. How a score of ewes now?
SILENCE	Thereafter as they be. A score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.
SHALLOW	And is old Double dead?
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph and the Page
SILENCE	Here come two of Sir John Falstaff’s men, as I think.
(didascalia)	SHALLOW Good morrow, honest gentlemen.
BARDOLPH	I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?
SHALLOW	I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county, and one of the King’s Justices of the Peace. What is your good pleasure with me?
BARDOLPH	My captain, sir, commends him to you—my captain Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.
SHALLOW	He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword man. How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth?
BARDOLPH	Sir, pardon, a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife.
SHALLOW	It is well said, in faith, sir, and it is well said indeed, too. ‘Better accommodated’—it is good; yea, indeed is it. Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. ‘Accommodated’—it comes of ‘accommodo’. Very good, a good phrase.
BARDOLPH	Pardon, sir, I have heard the word—‘phrase’ call you it?—By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven. ‘Accommodated’; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is being whereby a may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff
SHALLOW	It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. (To Sir John) Give me your hand, give me your worship’s good hand. By my troth, you like well, and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir John.
SIR JOHN	I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow. (To Silence) Master Surecard, as I think. 85
SHALLOW	No, Sir John, it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.
SIR JOHN	Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.
SILENCE	Your good worship is welcome.
SIR JOHN	Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?
SHALLOW	Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?
SIR JOHN	Let me see them, I beseech you.
(didascalia)	He sits
(didascalia)	SHALLOW Where’s the roll, where’s the roll, where’s the roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see; so, so, so, so, so. Yea, marry, sir: ‘Ralph Mouldy’. To Silence Let them appear as I call, let them do so, let them do so. Let me see, (calls) where is Mouldy?
(didascalia)	Enter Mouldy
MOULDY	Here, an’t please you. 100
SHALLOW	What think you, Sir John? A good-limbed fellow, young, strong, and of good friends.
SIR JOHN	Is thy name Mouldy?
MOULDY	Yea, an’t please you.
SIR JOHN	’Tis the more time thou wert used. 105
SHALLOW	Ha, ha, ha, most excellent, i’faith! Things that are mouldy lack use. Very singular good, in faith, well said, Sir John, very well said.
SIR JOHN	Prick him.
MOULDY	I was pricked well enough before, an you could have let me alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery. You need not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go out than 1. 114
SIR JOHN	Go to, peace, Mouldy. You shall go, Mouldy; it is time you were spent.
MOULDY	Spent?
SHALLOW	Peace, fellow, peace. Stand aside; know you where you are? 119
(didascalia)	Mouldy stands aside
SHALLOW	For th‘other, Sir John, let me see: ‘Simon Shadow’—
SIR JOHN	Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He’s like to be a cold soldier.
SHALLOW	(calls) Where’s Shadow?
(didascalia)	Enter Shadow
SHADOW	Here, sir.
SIR JOHN	Shadow, whose son art thou? 125
SHADOW	My mother’s son, sir.
SIR JOHN	Thy mother’s son! Like enough, and thy father’s shadow. So the son of the female is the shadow of the male—it is often so indeed—but not of the father’s substance.
SHALLOW	Do you like him, Sir John?
SIR JOHN	Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him, for we have a number of shadows fill up the muster book.
(didascalia)	Shadow stands aside
SHALLOW	(calls) ‘Thomas Wart.’
SIR JOHN	Where’s he?
(didascalia)	Enter Wart
WART	Here, sir.
SIR JOHN	Is thy name Wart?
WART	Yea, sir.
SIR JOHN	Thou art a very ragged wart.
SHALLOW	Shall I prick him, Sir John?
SIR JOHN	It were superfluous, for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more.
SHALLOW	Ha, ha, ha, you can do it, sir, you can do it! I commend you well. 145
(didascalia)	Wart stands aside
SHALLOW	(Calls) ‘Francis Feeble.’
(didascalia)	Enter Feeble
FEEBLE	Here, sir.
SHALLOW	What trade art thou, Feeble?
FEEBLE	A woman’s tailor, sir.
SHALLOW	Shall I prick him, sir?
SIR JOHN	You may, but if he had been a man’s tailor, he’d ha’ pricked you. (To Feeble) Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy’s battle as thou hast done in a woman’s petticoat?
FEEBLE	I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.
SIR JOHN	Well said, good woman’s tailor; well said, courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman’s tailor. Well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow. 160
FEEBLE	I would Wart might have gone, sir.
SIR JOHN	I would thou wert a man’s tailor, that thou mightst mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.
FEEBLE	It shall suffice, sir.
SIR JOHN	I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.
(didascalia)	Feeble stands aside
SIR JOHN	Who is next?
SHALLOW	(calls) ‘Peter Bullcalf o’th’ green.’
SIR JOHN	Yea, marry, let’s see Bullcalf. 170
(didascalia)	Enter Bullcalf
BULLCALF	Here, sir.
SIR JOHN	Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick Bullcalf till he roar again.
BULLCALF	O Lord, good my lord captain!
SIR JOHN	What, dost thou roar before thou’rt pricked?
BULLCALF	O Lord, sir, I am a diseased man.
SIR JOHN	What disease hast thou?
BULLCALF	A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir, which I caught with ringing in the King’s affairs upon his coronation day, sir. 180
SIR JOHN	Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have away thy cold, and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee.
(didascalia)	Bullcalf stands aside
SIR JOHN	Is here all? 184
SHALLOW	There is two more called than your number. You must have but four here, sir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner.
SIR JOHN	Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. 190
SHALLOW	O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the Windmill in Saint George’s Field?
SIR JOHN	No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that.
SHALLOW	Ha, ’twas a merry night! And is Jane Nightwork alive? 196
SIR JOHN	She lives, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	She never could away with me.
SIR JOHN	Never, never. She would always say she could not abide Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	By the mass, I could anger her to th’ heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?
SIR JOHN	Old, old, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain she’s old; and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I came to Clement’s Inn. 206
SILENCE	That’s fifty-five year ago.
SHALLOW	Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well? 210
SIR JOHN	We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	That we have, that we have; in faith, Sir John, we have. Our watchword was ‘Hem boys!’ Come, let’s to dinner; come, let’s to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come. 216
(didascalia)	Exeunt Shallow, Silence, and Sir John
(didascalia)	BULLCALF coming forward Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and here’s four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go. And yet for mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends. Else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.
(didascalia)	BARDOLPH taking the money Go to; stand aside. 225
(didascalia)	Bullcalf stands aside
(didascalia)	MOULDY coming forward And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame’s sake stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when I am gone, and she is old and cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir. 230
BARDOLPH	Go to; stand aside.
(didascalia)	Mouldy stands aside
FEEBLE	By my troth, I care not. A man can die but once. We owe God a death. I’ll ne’er bear a base mind. An’t be my destiny, so; an’t be not, so. No man’s too good to serve’s prince. And let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.
BARDOLPH	Well said; thou’rt a good fellow.
FEEBLE	Faith, I’ll bear no base mind.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence
SIR JOHN	Come, sir, which men shall I have?
SHALLOW	Four of which you please.
BARDOLPH	(to Sir John) Sir, a word with you. (Aside to him) I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf.
SIR JOHN	Go to, well.
SHALLOW	Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
SIR JOHN	Do you choose for me.
SHALLOW	Marry, then: Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.
SIR JOHN	Mouldy and Bullcalf. For you, Mouldy, stay at home till you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it. I will none of you.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bullcalf and Mouldy
SHALLOW	Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.
SIR JOHN	Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man? Give me the spirit, Master Shallow. Here’s Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is? A shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer’s hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer’s bucket. And this same half-faced fellow Shadow; give me this man. He presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat, how swiftly will this Feeble the woman’s tailor run off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones.—Put me a caliver into Wart’s hand, Bardolph.
BARDOLPH	(giving Wart a caliver) Hold, Wart. Traverse—thas, thas, thas! 269
(didascalia)	Wart marches
SIR JOHN	(to Wart) Come, manage me your caliver. So; very well. Go to, very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot! Well said, i‘faith, Wart; thou’rt a good scab. Hold; (giving a coin) there’s a tester for thee.
SHALLOW	He is not his craft’s master; he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile-End Green, when I lay at Clement’s Inn—I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur’s show—there was a little quiver fellow, and a would manage you his piece thus, and a would about and about, and come you in and come you in. ‘Ra-ta-ta!’ would a say; ‘Bounce!’ would a say; and away again would a go; and again would a come. I shall ne’er see such a fellow.
SIR JOHN	These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God keep you, Master Silence; I will not use many words with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both; I thank you. I must a dozen mile tonight.—Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.
SHALLOW	Sir John, the Lord bless you; God prosper your affairs! God send us peace! As you return, visit my house; let our old acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye to the court.
SIR JOHN	Fore God, would you would!
SHALLOW	Go to, I have spoke at a word. God keep you!
SIR JOHN	Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. 295
(didascalia)	Exeunt Shallow and Silence
SIR JOHN	On, Bardolph, lead the men away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bardolph, Wart, Shadow, and Feeble
SIR JOHN	As I return, I will fetch off these justices. I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath done about Turnbull Street; and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk’s tribute. I do remember him at Clement’s Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese paring. When a was naked, he was for all the world like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. A was so forlorn that his dimensions, to any thick sight, were invisible. A was the very genius of famine. And now is this Vice’s dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John o’ Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him, and I’ll be sworn a ne’er saw him but once, in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal’s men. I saw it, and told John o’ Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have trussed him and all his apparel into an eel-skin. The case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court. And now has he land and beeves. Well, I’ll be acquainted with him if I return; and’t shall go hard but I’ll make him a philosopher’s two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter in arms the Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray, Lord Hastings, and Coleville, within the Forest of Gaultres
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	What is this forest called?
HASTINGS	’Tis Gaultres Forest, an’t shall please your grace.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth To know the numbers of our enemies.
HASTINGS	We have sent forth already.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	’Tis well done. My friends and brethren in these great affairs, I must acquaint you that I have received New-dated letters from Northumberland, Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus: Here doth he wish his person, with such powers As might hold sortance with his quality, The which he could not levy; whereupon He is retired to ripe his growing fortunes To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers That your attempts may overlive the hazard 15 And fearful meeting of their opposite.
MOWBRAY	Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground And dash themselves to pieces.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
HASTINGS	Now, what news?
MESSENGER	West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, In goodly form comes on the enemy; And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand.
MOWBRAY	The just proportion that we gave them out. Let us sway on, and face them in the field.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	What well-appointed leader fronts us here?
MOWBRAY	I think it is my lord of Westmorland.
WESTMORLAND	Health and fair greeting from our general, The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Say on, my lord of Westmorland, in peace, What doth concern your coming.
WESTMORLAND	Then, my lord, Unto your grace do I in chief address The substance of my speech. If that rebellion Came like itself, in base and abject routs, Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags, And countenanced by boys and beggary; I say, if damned commotion so appeared In his true native and most proper shape, You, reverend father, and these noble lords Had not been here to dress the ugly form Of base and bloody insurrection With your fair honours. You, Lord Archbishop, Whose see is by a civil peace maintained, Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched, Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored, Whose white investments figure innocence, The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace Into the harsh and boist’rous tongue of war, Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine To a loud trumpet and a point of war?
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Wherefore do I this? So the question stands. Briefly, to this end: we are all diseased, And with our surfeiting and wanton hours Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, And we must bleed for it—of which disease Our late King Richard, being infected, died. But, my most noble lord of Westmorland, I take not on me here as a physician, Nor do I as an enemy to peace Troop in the throngs of military men; But rather show a while like fearful war To diet rank minds, sick of happiness, And purge th’obstructions which begin to stop Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. I have in equal balance justly weighed What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, And find our griefs heavier than our offences. We see which way the stream of time doth run, And are enforced from our most quiet shore By the rough torrent of occasion; And have the summary of all our griefs, When time shall serve, to show in articles, Which long ere this we offered to the King, And might by no suit gain our audience. When we are wronged, and would unfold our griefs, We are denied access unto his person Even by those men that most have done us wrong. The dangers of the days but newly gone, 80 Whose memory is written on the earth With yet appearing blood, and the examples Of every minute’s instance, present now, Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms, Not to break peace, or any branch of it, But to establish here a peace indeed, Concurring both in name and quality.
WESTMORLAND	Whenever yet was your appeal denied? Wherein have you been gallèd by the King? What peer hath been suborned to grate on you, That you should seal this lawless bloody book Of forged rebellion with a seal divine?
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	My brother general, the commonwealth I make my quarrel in particular.
WESTMORLAND	There is no need of any such redress; Or if there were, it not belongs to you.
MOWBRAY	Why not to him in part, and to us all That feel the bruises of the days before, And suffer the condition of these times To lay a heavy and unequal hand Upon our honours?
WESTMORLAND	O my good Lord Mowbray, Construe the times to their necessities, And you shall say indeed it is the time, And not the King, that doth you injuries. Yet for your part, it not appears to me, 105 Either from the King or in the present time, That you should have an inch of any ground To build a grief on. Were you not restored To all the Duke of Norfolk’s signories, Your noble and right well-remembered father’s? 110
MOWBRAY	What thing in honour had my father lost That need to be revived and breathed in me? The King that loved him, as the state stood then, Was force perforce compelled to banish him; And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he, 115 Being mounted and both roused in their seats, Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel, And the loud trumpet blowing them together, Then, then, when there was nothing could have stayed My father from the breast of Bolingbroke— O, when the King did throw his warder down, His own life hung upon the staff he threw; Then threw he down himself and all their lives 125 That by indictment and by dint of sword Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.
WESTMORLAND	You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what. The Earl of Hereford was reputed then In England the most valiant gentleman. Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled? But if your father had been victor there, He ne’er had borne it out of Coventry; For all the country in a general voice Cried hate upon him, and all their prayers and love Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on And blessed and graced, indeed, more than the King. But this is mere digression from my purpose. Here come I from our princely general To know your griefs, to tell you from his grace That he will give you audience; and wherein It shall appear that your demands are just, You shall enjoy them, everything set off That might so much as think you enemies.
MOWBRAY	But he hath forced us to compel this offer, And it proceeds from policy, not love.
WESTMORLAND	Mowbray, you overween to take it so. This offer comes from mercy, not from fear; For lo, within a ken our army lies, Upon mine honour, all too confident To give admittance to a thought of fear. Our battle is more full of names than yours, Our men more perfect in the use of arms, Our armour all as strong, our cause the best. Then reason will our hearts should be as good. Say you not then our offer is compelled.
MOWBRAY	Well, by my will we shall admit no parley.
WESTMORLAND	That argues but the shame of your offence. A rotten case abides no handling.
HASTINGS	Hath the Prince John a full commission, In very ample virtue of his father, To hear and absolutely to determine Of what conditions we shall stand upon?
WESTMORLAND	That is intended in the general’s name. I muse you make so slight a question.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Then take, my lord of Westmorland, this schedule; For this contains our general grievances. Each several article herein redressed, All members of our cause, both here and hence, That are ensinewed to this action Acquitted by a true substantial form, And present execution of our wills To us and to our purposes consigned, We come within our awe-full banks again, And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
WESTMORLAND	(taking the schedule) This will I show the general. Please you, lords, In sight of both our battles we may meet, And either end in peace—which God so frame— Or to the place of diff’rence call the swords Which must decide it.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	My lord, we will do so. 180
(didascalia)	Exit Westmorland
MOWBRAY	There is a thing within my bosom tells me That no conditions of our peace can stand.
HASTINGS	Fear you not that. If we can make our peace Upon such large terms and so absolute As our conditions shall consist upon, Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
MOWBRAY	Yea, but our valuation shall be such That every slight and false-derivèd cause, Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, Shall to the King taste of this action, That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, We shall be winnowed with so rough a wind That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, And good from bad find no partition.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	No, no, my lord; note this. The King is weary Of dainty and such picking grievances, For he hath found to end one doubt by death Revives two greater in the heirs of life; And therefore will he wipe his tables clean, And keep no tell-tale to his memory That may repeat and history his loss To new remembrance; for full well he knows He cannot so precisely weed this land As his misdoubts present occasion. His foes are so enrooted with his friends That, plucking to unfix an enemy, He doth unfasten so and shake a friend; So that this land, like an offensive wife That hath enraged him on to offer strokes, As he is striking, holds his infant up, 210 And hangs resolved correction in the arm That was upreared to execution.
HASTINGS	Besides, the King hath wasted all his rods On late offenders, that he now doth lack The very instruments of chastisement; So that his power, like to a fangless lion, May offer, but not hold.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	’Tis very true. And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal, If we do now make our atonement well, Our peace will, like a broken limb united, Grow stronger for the breaking.
MOWBRAY	Be it so.
(didascalia)	Enter Westmorland
MOWBRAY	Here is returned my lord of Westmorland.
WESTMORLAND	The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your lordship To meet his grace just distance ’tween our armies?
MOWBRAY	Your grace of York, in God’s name then set forward.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Before, and greet his grace!—My lord, we come.
(didascalia)	They march over the stage.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John with one or more soldiers
(didascalia)	carrying wind
PRINCE JOHN	You are well encountered here, my cousin Mowbray. Good day to you, gentle lord Archbishop; And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all. My lord of York, it better showed with you When that your flock, assembled by the bell, Encircled you to hear with reverence Your exposition on the holy text, Than now to see you here an iron man, Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, Turning the word to sword, and life to death. That man that sits within a monarch’s heart And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, Would he abuse the countenance of the King, Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach In shadow of such greatness! With you, Lord Bishop, It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken How deep you were within the books of God— To us, the speaker in his parliament, To us, th‘imagined voice of God himself,é The very opener and intelligencer Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven And our dull workings? O, who shall believe But you misuse the reverence of your place, Employ the countenance and grace of heav’n As a false favourite doth his prince’s name In deeds dishonourable? You have ta’en up, Under the counterfeited zeal of God, The subjects of his substitute, my father; And, both against the peace of heaven and him, Have here upswarmèd them.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Good my lord of Lancaster, I am not here against your father’s peace; But, as I told my lord of Westmorland, The time misordered doth, in common sense, Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form, 260 To hold our safety up. I sent your grace The parcels and particulars of our grief, The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court, Whereon this Hydra son of war is born; Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed asleep With grant of our most just and right desires, And true obedience, of this madness cured, Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
MOWBRAY	If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man.
HASTINGS	And though we here fall down, We have supplies to second our attempt. If they miscarry, theirs shall second them; And so success of mischief shall be born, And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up, Whiles England shall have generation.
PRINCE JOHN	You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow, To sound the bottom of the after-times.
WESTMORLAND	Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly How far forth you do like their articles?
PRINCE JOHN	I like them all, and do allow them well, 280 And swear here, by the honour of my blood, My father’s purposes have been mistook, And some about him have too lavishly Wrested his meaning and authority. (To the Archbishop) My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redressed; Upon my soul they shall. If this may please you, Discharge your powers unto their several counties, As we will ours; and here between the armies Let’s drink together friendly and embrace, That all their eyes may bear those tokens home Of our restored love and amity.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	I take your princely word for these redresses.
(didascalia)	PRINCE JOHN
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	I give it you, and will maintain my word; And thereupon I drink unto your grace. He drinks
(didascalia)	HASTINGS to Coleville
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Go, captain, and deliver to the army This news of peace. Let them have pay, and part. I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain.
(didascalia)	Exit Coleville
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	To you, my noble lord of Westmorland! He drinks
WESTMORLAND	(drinking) I pledge your grace. An if you knew what pains I have bestowed to breed this present peace, You would drink freely; but my love to ye Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	I do not doubt you.
WESTMORLAND	I am glad of it. (Drinking) Health to my lord and gentle cousin Mowbray!
MOWBRAY	You wish me health in very happy season, For I am on the sudden something ill.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Against ill chances men are ever merry; But heaviness foreruns the good event.
WESTMORLAND	Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow Serves to say thus: some good thing comes tomorrow.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. 311
MOWBRAY	So much the worse, if your own rule be true.
(didascalia)	Shout within
PRINCE JOHN	The word of peace is rendered. Hark how they shout.
MOWBRAY	This had been cheerful after victory.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	A peace is of the nature of a conquest, For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser.
PRINCE JOHN	(to Westmorland) Go, my lord, And let our army be discharged too.
(didascalia)	Exit Westmorland
PRINCE JOHN	(To the Archbishop) And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains March by us, that we may peruse the men We should have coped withal.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Go, good Lord Hastings, And ere they be dismissed, let them march by.
(didascalia)	Exit Hastings
PRINCE JOHN	I trust, lords, we shall lie tonight together.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland, with captains
PRINCE JOHN	Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?
WESTMORLAND	The leaders, having charge from you to stand, Will not go off until they hear you speak.
PRINCE JOHN	They know their duties.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Hastings
(didascalia)	HASTINGS to the Archbishop Our army is dispersed.
PRINCE JOHN	Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses, East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries toward his home and sporting place.
WESTMORLAND	Good tidings, my lord Hastings, for the which I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason; And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray, Of capital treason I attach you both.
(didascalia)	The captains guard Hastings, the Archbishop, and Mowbray
MOWBRAY	Is this proceeding just and honourable?
WESTMORLAND	Is your assembly so?
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Will you thus break your faith?
PRINCE JOHN	I pawned thee none. I promised you redress of these same grievances Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, I will perform with a most Christian care. But for you rebels, look to taste the due Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these arms commence, Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.—345 Strike up our drums, pursue the scattered stray. God, and not we, hath safely fought today. Some guard these traitors to the block of death, Treason’s true bed and yielder up of breath. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter Sir John Falstaff and Coleville
SIR JOHN	What’s your name, sir, of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray?
COLEVILLE	I am a knight, sir, and my name is Coleville of the Dale.
SIR JOHN	Well then, Coleville is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the Dale. Coleville shall be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place—a place deep enough, so shall you be still Coleville of the Dale.
COLEVILLE	Are not you Sir John Falstaff? 10
SIR JOHN	As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I am. Do ye yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy. 15
COLEVILLE	(kneeling) I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.
SIR JOHN	(aside) I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John, the Earl of Westmorland, Sir John Blunt, and other lords and soldiers
SIR JOHN	Here comes our general.
PRINCE JOHN	The heat is past; follow no further now. A retreat is sounded Call in the powers, good cousin Westmorland.
(didascalia)	Exit Westmorland
PRINCE JOHN	Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When everything is ended, then you come. These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows’ back.
SIR JOHN	I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus. I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I in my poor and old motion the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine-score and odd posts; and here, travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valour taken Sir John Coleville of the Dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of that? He saw me, and yielded, that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, ‘I came, saw, and overcame.’
PRINCE JOHN	It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.
SIR JOHN	I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day’s deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top on‘t, Coleville kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the clear sky of fame o’ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins’ heads to her, believe not the word of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.
PRINCE JOHN	Thine’s too heavy to mount.
SIR JOHN	Let it shine then.
PRINCE JOHN	Thine’s too thick to shine.
SIR JOHN	Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will.
PRINCE JOHN	Is thy name Coleville?
COLEVILLE	It is, my lord. 60
PRINCE JOHN	A famous rebel art thou, Coleville.
SIR JOHN	And a famous true subject took him.
COLEVILLE	I am, my lord, but as my betters are That led me hither. Had they been ruled by me, You should have won them dearer than you have.
SIR JOHN	I know not how—they sold themselves, but thou Like a kind fellow gav’st thyself away, And I thank thee for thee.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland
PRINCE JOHN	Have you left pursuit?
(didascalia)	Retreat is made, and execution stayed.
PRINCE JOHN	Send Coleville with his confederates 70 To York, to present execution. Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
(didascalia)	Exit Blunt, with Coleville
PRINCE JOHN	And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords. I hear the King my father is sore sick. (To Westmorland) Our news shall go before us to his majesty, Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him; And we with sober speed will follow you.
SIR JOHN	My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go Through Gloucestershire, and when you come to court Stand, my good lord, pray, in your good report.
PRINCE JOHN	Fare you well, Falstaff. I in my condition Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Sir John
SIR JOHN	I would you had but the wit; ‘twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me, nor a man cannot make him laugh. But that’s no marvel; he drinks no wine. There’s never none of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth so overcool their blood, and making many fish meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally fools and cowards—which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherry-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, delivered o’er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherry is the warming of the blood, which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice. But the sherry warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts’ extremes; it illuminateth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great and puffed up with his retinue, doth any deed of courage. And this valour comes of sherry. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fertile sherry, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations, and to addict themselves to sack. 121
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
SIR JOHN	How now, Bardolph?
BARDOLPH	The army is discharged all and gone.
SIR JOHN	Let them go. I’ll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come, away!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry in his bed, attended by the Earl of Warwick, Thomas Duke of Clarence, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, and others
KING HENRY	Now, lords, if God doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields, And draw no swords but what are sanctified. Our navy is addressed, our power collected, Our substitutes in absence well invested, And everything lies level to our wish; Only we want a little personal strength, And pause us till these rebels now afoot Come underneath the yoke of government. 10
WARWICK	Both which we doubt not but your majesty Shall soon enjoy.
KING HENRY	Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, Where is the Prince your brother?
GLOUCESTER	I think he’s gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.
KING HENRY	And how accompanied?
GLOUCESTER	I do not know, my lord. 15
KING HENRY	Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?
GLOUCESTER	No, my good lord, he is in presence here.
CLARENCE	What would my lord and father?
KING HENRY	Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother? He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas. Thou hast a better place in his affection Than all thy brothers. Cherish it, my boy, And noble offices thou mayst effect Of mediation, after I am dead, 25 Between his greatness and thy other brethren. Therefore omit him not, blunt not his love, Nor lose the good advantage of his grace By seeming cold or careless of his will; For he is gracious, if he be observed; 30 He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity. Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he is flint, As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day. His temper therefore must be well observed. Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth; But being moody, give him line and scope Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, That the united vessel of their blood, Mingled with venom of suggestion— As force perforce the age will pour it in- Shall never leak, though it do work as strong As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
CLARENCE	I shall observe him with all care and love.
KING HENRY	Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas? 50
CLARENCE	He is not there today; he dines in London.
KING HENRY	And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?
CLARENCE	With Poins and other his continual followers.
KING HENRY	Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds, And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them; therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death. The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape In forms imaginary th’unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon 60 When I am sleeping with my ancestors; For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, When means and lavish manners meet together, O, with what wings shall his affections fly Towards fronting peril and opposed decay?
WARWICK	My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite. The Prince but studies his companions, Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, ’Tis needful that the most immodest word Be looked upon and learnt, which once attained, Your highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated; so, like gross terms, The Prince will in the perfectness of time Cast off his followers, and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live By which his grace must mete the lives of other, Turning past evils to advantages.
KING HENRY	’Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb In the dead carrion.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland
KING HENRY	Who’s here? Westmorland? 80
WESTMORLAND	Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver I Prince John your son doth kiss your grace’s hand. Mowbray, the Bishop Scrope, Hastings, and all Are brought to the correction of your law. There is not now a rebel’s sword unsheathed, But peace puts forth her olive everywhere. The manner how this action hath been borne Here at more leisure may your highness read, With every course in his particular. He gives the King papers
KING HENRY	O Westmorland, thou art a summer bird Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day.
(didascalia)	Enter Harcourt
KING HENRY	Look, here’s more news.
HARCOURT	From enemies heaven keep your majesty; And when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of! The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, With a great power of English and of Scots, Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown. The manner and true order of the fight This packet, please it you, contains at large. He gives the King papers
KING HENRY	And wherefore should these good news make me sick? Will fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest letters? She either gives a stomach and no food— Such are the poor in health—or else a feast, And takes away the stomach—such are the rich, That have abundance and enjoy it not. I should rejoice now at this happy news, And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy. 110 O me! Come near me now; I am much ill. He swoons
GLOUCESTER	Comfort, your majesty!
CLARENCE	O my royal father!
WESTMORLAND	My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
WARWICK	Be patient, princes; you do know these fits Are with his highness very ordinary. 115 Stand from him, give him air; he’ll straight be well.
CLARENCE	No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs. Th’incessant care and labour of his mind Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in So thin that life looks through and will break out. 120
GLOUCESTER	The people fear me, for they do observe Unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature. The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep and leaped them over.
CLARENCE	The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between, 125 And the old folk, time’s doting chronicles, Say it did so a little time before That our great grandsire Edward sicked and died.
WARWICK	Speak lower, princes, for the King recovers.
GLOUCESTER	This apoplexy will certain be his end.
KING HENRY	I pray you take me up and bear me hence Into some other chamber; softly, pray.
(didascalia)	The King is carried over the stage in his bed
KING HENRY	Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends, Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
WARWICK	Call for the music in the other room.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more. Still music within
KING HENRY	Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
(didascalia)	Clarence takes the crown from the King’s head, and sets it on his pillow
CLARENCE	His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
(didascalia)	A noise within
WARWICK	Less noise, less noise!
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry
PRINCE HARRY	Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
CLARENCE	I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
PRINCE HARRY	How now, rain within doors, and none abroad? How doth the King?
GLOUCESTER	Exceeding ill.
PRINCE HARRY	Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.
GLOUCESTER	He altered much upon the hearing it.
PRINCE HARRY	If he be sick with joy, he’ll recover without physic. WARWICK Not so much noise, my lords! Sweet prince, speak low. The King your father is disposed to sleep.
CLARENCE	Let us withdraw into the other room.
WARWICK	Will’t please your grace to go along with us?
PRINCE HARRY	No, I will sit and watch here by the King.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but the King and Prince Harry
PRINCE HARRY	Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? O polished perturbation, golden care, That keep‘st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night!—Sleep with it now; Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, As he whose brow with homely biggen bound Snores out the watch of night. O majesty, When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, That scald’st with safety.—By his gates of breath There lies a downy feather which stirs not. Did he suspire, that light and weightless down Perforce must move.—My gracious lord, my father!— This sleep is sound indeed. This is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorced So many English kings.—Thy due from me Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood, Which nature, love, and filial tenderness Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously. My due from thee is this imperial crown, Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, Derives itself to me. He puts the crown on his head Lo where it sits, Which God shall guard; and put the world’s whole strength Into one giant arm, it shall not force This lineal honour from me. This from thee Will I to mine leave, as ’tis left to me. Exit
(didascalia)	Music ceases. The King awakes
KING HENRY	Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence!
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick, and the Dukes of
KING HENRY	Gloucester and Clarence
CLARENCE	Doth the King call?
WARWICK	What would your majesty? How fares your grace?
KING HENRY	Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
CLARENCE	We left the Prince my brother here, my liege, Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
KING HENRY	The Prince of Wales? Where is he? Let me see him.
WARWICK	This door is open; he is gone this way.
GLOUCESTER	He came not through the chamber where we stayed.
KING HENRY	Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?
WARWICK	When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
KING HENRY	The Prince hath ta’en it hence. Go seek him out. Is he so hasty that he doth suppose My sleep my death? Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.
(didascalia)	Exit Warwick
KING HENRY	This part of his conjoins with my disease, And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are, How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry; for this they have Engrossed and piled up the cankered heaps Of strange-achieved gold; for this they have Been thoughtful to invest their sons with arts And martial exercises; when, like the bee Culling from every flower the virtuous sweets, Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with honey, We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees, 206 Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste Yields his engrossments to the ending father.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick
KING HENRY	Now where is he that will not stay so long Till his friend sickness have determined me?
WARWICK	My lord, I found the Prince in the next room, Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks With such a deep demeanour, in great sorrow, That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood, Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife 215 With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
KING HENRY	But wherefore did he take away the crown?
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry with the crown
KING HENRY	Lo where he comes.—Come hither to me, Harry. (To the others) Depart the chamber; leave us here alone. Exeunt all but the King and Prince Harry
PRINCE HARRY	I never thought to hear you speak again.
KING HENRY	Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth, Thou seek‘st the greatness that will overwhelm thee! Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity Is held from falling with so weak a wind That it will quickly drop. My day is dim. Thou hast stol’n that which after some few hours Were thine without offence, and at my death Thou hast sealed up my expectation. Thy life did manifest thou loved’st me not, And thou wilt have me die assured of it. Thou hid’st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, Whom thou hast whetted on thy stony heart To stab at half an hour of my life. What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour? Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself, And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head. Only compound me with forgotten dust. Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; For now a time is come to mock at form— Harry the Fifth is crowned. Up, vanity! Down, royal state! All you sage counsellors, hence! And to the English court assemble now From every region, apes of idleness! Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum I Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? Be happy; he will trouble you no more. England shall double gild his treble guilt, England shall give him office, honour, might; For the fifth Harry from curbed licence plucks The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 260 Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! When that my care could not withhold thy riots, What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.
PRINCE HARRY	O pardon me, my liege! But for my tears, The moist impediments unto my speech, I had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard The course of it so far. There is your crown;
(didascalia)	He returns the crown and kneels
PRINCE HARRY	And He that wears the crown immortally Long guard it yours! If I affect it more Than as your honour and as your renown, Let me no more from this obedience rise, Which my most true and inward duteous spirit Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending. God witness with me, when I here came in And found no course of breath within your majesty, How cold it struck my heart. If I do feign, O, let me in my present wildness die, And never live to show th‘incredulous world The noble change that I have purposed. Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, I spake unto this crown as having sense, And thus upbraided it: ‘The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father; Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold. Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, Preserving life in medicine potable; But thou, most fine, most honoured, most renowned, Hast eat thy bearer up.’ Thus, my royal liege, Accusing it, I put it on my head, To try with it, as with an enemy That had before my face murdered my father, The quarrel of a true inheritor. But if it did infect my blood with joy Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride, If any rebel or vain spirit of mine Did with the least affection of a welcome Give entertainment to the might of it, Let God for ever keep it from my head, And make me as the poorest vassal is, That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.
KING HENRY	O my son, God put it in thy mind to take it hence, That thou mightst win the more thy father’s love, Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed, And hear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe.
(didascalia)	Prince Harry rises from kneeling and sits by the bed
KING HENRY	God knows, my son, By what bypaths and indirect crook’d ways I met this crown; and I myself know well How troublesome it sat upon my head. To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation; For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth. It seemed in me But as an honour snatched with boist‘rous hand; And I had many living to upbraid My gain of it by their assistances, Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears Thou seest with peril I have answerèd; For all my reign hath been but as a scene Acting that argument. And now my death Changes the mood, for what in me was purchased Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort, So thou the garland wear’st successively. Yet though thou stand‘st more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green, And all thy friends—which thou must make thy friends— Have but their stings and teeth newly ta’en out, By whose fell working I was first advanced, And by whose power I well might lodge a fear To be again displaced; which to avoid I cut them off, and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land, Lest rest and lying still might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels, that action hence borne out May waste the memory of the former days. More would I, but my lungs are wasted so That strength of speech is utterly denied me. How I came by the crown, O God forgive, And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
PRINCE HARRY	My gracious liege, You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; Then plain and right must my possession be, Which I with more than with a common pain ’Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John of Lancaster followed by the Earl of Warwick and others
KING HENRY	Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
PRINCE JOHN	Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father!
KING HENRY	Thou bring’st me happiness and peace, son John; But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown From this bare withered trunk. Upon thy sight My worldly business makes a period. Where is my lord of Warwick?
PRINCE HARRY	My lord of Warwick!
(didascalia)	Warwick comes forward to the King
KING HENRY	Doth any name particular belong Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
WARWICK	’Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord.
KING HENRY	Laud be to God! Even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years I should not die but in Jerusalem, Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land; But bear me to that chamber; there I’ll lie; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, bearing the King in his bed

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Shallow, Silence, Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Page
SHALLOW	(to Sir John ) By cock and pie, you shall not away tonight.—What, Davy, I say!
SIR JOHN	You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.
SHALLOW	I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused.—Why, Davy!
(didascalia)	Enter Davy
DAVY	Here, sir.
SHALLOW	Davy, Davy, Davy; let me see, Davy; let me see. William Cook—bid him come hither.—Sir John, you shall not be excused.
DAVY	Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served. And again, sir: shall we sow the headland with wheat?
SHALLOW	With red wheat, Davy. But for William Cook; are there no young pigeons?
DAVY	Yes, sir. Here is now the smith’s note for shoeing and plough-irons.
SHALLOW	Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused.
DAVY	Sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had; and, sir, do you mean to stop any of William’s wages, about the sack he lost at Hinkley Fair?
SHALLOW	A shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook.
DAVY	Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?
SHALLOW	Yea, Davy. I will use him well; a friend i’th’ court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite.
DAVY	No worse than they are back-bitten, sir, for they have marvellous foul linen.
SHALLOW	Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy.
DAVY	I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Wo’ncot against Clement Perks o’th’ Hill.
SHALLOW	There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor. That Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.
DAVY	I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but yet God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend’s request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years. An I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have little credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore I beseech you let him be countenanced.
(didascalia)	SHALLOW Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy. Exit Davy Where are you, Sir John? Come, off with your boots.—Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.
BARDOLPH	I am glad to see your worship. 49
(didascalia)	SHALLOW I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph. To the Page And welcome, my tall fellow.—Come, Sir John.
SIR JOHN	I’ll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.
(didascalia)	Exit Shallow With Silence
SIR JOHN	Bardolph, look to our horses. 54
(didascalia)	Exit Bardolph With the Page
SIR JOHN	If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded hermits’ staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men’s spirits and his. They, by observing him, do bear themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like servingman. Their spirits are so married in conjunction, with the participation of society, that they flock together in consent like so many wild geese. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master; if to his men, I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught as men take diseases, one of another; therefore let men take heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions—which is four terms, or two actions—and a shall laugh without intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight oath, and a jest with a sad brow, will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up!
SHALLOW	(within) Sir John!
SIR JOHN	I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick at one door, and the Lord Chief Justice at another door
WARWICK	How now, my Lord Chief Justice, whither away ?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	How doth the King ?
WARWICK	Exceeding well: his cares are now all ended.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I hope not dead.
WARWICK	He’s walked the way of nature, And to our purposes he lives no more.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I would his majesty had called me with him. The service that I truly did his life Hath left me open to all injuries.
WARWICK	Indeed I think the young King loves you not.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I know he doth not, and do arm myself To welcome the condition of the time, Which cannot look more hideously upon me Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John of Lancaster, and the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester
WARWICK	Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry. O, that the living Harry had the temper Of he the worst of these three gentlemen ! How many nobles then should hold their places, That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort !
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	O God, I fear all will be overturned.
PRINCE JOHN	Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.
GLOUCESTER	and CLARENCE Good morrow, cousin.
PRINCE JOHN	We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
WARWICK	We do remember, but our argument Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
PRINCE JOHN	Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy!
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Peace be with us, lest we be heavier I
GLOUCESTER	O good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed; And I dare swear you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow—it is sure your own.
PRINCE JOHN	(to Lord Chief Justice) Though no man be assured what grace to find, You stand in coldest expectation. I am the sorrier; would ’twere otherwise.
CLARENCE	(to Lord Chief Justice) Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair, Which swims against your stream of quality.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sweet princes, what I did I did in honour, Led by th’impartial conduct of my soul; And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestalled remission. If truth and upright innocency fail me, I’ll to the King my master, that is dead, And tell him who hath sent me after him.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry, as King
WARWICK	Here comes the Prince.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Good morrow, and God save your majesty I
PRINCE HARRY	This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, Sits not so easy on me as you think. Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear. This is the English not the Turkish court; Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, For, by my faith, it very well becomes you. Sorrow so royally in you appears That I will deeply put the fashion on, And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad; But entertain no more of it, good brothers, Than a joint burden laid upon us all. For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured I’ll be your father and your brother too. Let me but bear your love, I’ll bear your cares. Yet weep that Harry’s dead, and so will I; But Harry lives that shall convert those tears By number into hours of happiness.
PRINCE	JOHN, GLOUCESTER, and CLARENCE We hope no other from your majesty.
PRINCE HARRY	You all look strangely on me, (to Lord Chief Justice) and you most. You are, I think, assured I love you not.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I am assured, if I be measured rightly, Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
PRINCE HARRY	No? How might a prince of my great hopes forget So great indignities you laid upon me? What—rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison Th’immediate heir of England? Was this easy? May this be washed in Lethe and forgotten ?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I then did use the person of your father. The image of his power lay then in me; And in th’administration of his law, Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, Your highness pleased to forget my place, The majesty and power of law and justice, The image of the King whom I presented, And struck me in my very seat of judgement; Whereon, as an offender to your father, I gave bold way to my authority And did commit you. If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now the garland, To have a son set your decrees at naught— To pluck down justice from your awe-full bench, To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword That guards the peace and safety of your person, Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image, And mock your workings in a second body? Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours, Be now the father, and propose a son; Hear your own dignity so much profaned, See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, Behold yourself so by a son disdained; And then imagine me taking your part, And in your power soft silencing your son. After this cold considerance, sentence me; And, as you are a king, speak in your state What I have done that misbecame my place, My person, or my liege’s sovereignty.
PRINCE HARRY	You are right Justice, and you weigh this well. Therefore still bear the balance and the sword; And I do wish your honours may increase Till you do live to see a son of mine Offend you and obey you as I did. So shall I live to speak my father’s words: ‘Happy am I that have a man so bold That dares do justice on my proper son, And not less happy having such a son That would deliver up his greatness so Into the hands of justice.’ You did commit me, For which I do commit into your hand Th‘unstainèd sword that you have used to bear, With this remembrance: that you use the same With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit As you have done ’gainst me. There is my hand. You shall be as a father to my youth; My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear, And I will stoop and humble my intents To your well-practised wise directions.— And princes all, believe me, I beseech you, My father is gone wild into his grave, For in his tomb lie my affections; And with his spirits sadly I survive To mock the expectation of the world, To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down After my seeming. The tide of blood in me Hath proudly flowed in vanity till now. Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of floods, And flow henceforth in formal majesty. Now call we our high court of Parliament, And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel That the great body of our state may go In equal rank with the best-governed nation; That war, or peace, or both at once, may be As things acquainted and familiar to us; (To Lord Chief Justice) In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. (To all) Our coronation done, we will accite, As I before remembered, all our state; And, God consigning to my good intents, No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, ‘God shorten Harry’s happy life one day.’ Exeunt
(didascalia)	5.3 A table and chairs set forth. Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy With vessels for the table, Bardolph, and the Page
SHALLOW	(to Sir John) Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year’s pippin of mine own grafting, with a dish of caraways, and so forth—come, cousin Silence—and then to bed.
SIR JOHN	Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
SHALLOW	Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John. Marry, good air.—Spread, Davy; spread, Davy.
(didascalia)	Davy begins to spread the table
SHALLOW	Well said, Davy.
SIR JOHN	This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man and your husband.
SHALLOW	A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John.—By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper.—A good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down. (To Silence) Come, cousin.
SILENCE	Ah, sirrah, quoth-a, we shall (sings) Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, And praise God for the merry year, When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there So merrily, And ever among so merrily.
SIR JOHN	There’s a merry heart, good Master Silence! I’ll give you a health for that anon.
SHALLOW	Good Master Bardotph!—Some wine, Davy.
(didascalia)	DAVY to Sir john Sweet sir, sit. To Bardolph I’ll be with you anon. To Sir John Most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit.
(didascalia)	All but Davy sit. Davy pours wine
SHALLOW	Proface! What you want in meat, we’ll have in drink; but you must bear; the heart’s all.
SHALLOW	Be merry, Master Bardolph and my little soldier there, be merry.
SILENCE	(sings) Be merry, be merry, my wife has all, For women are shrews, both short and tall, ’Tis merry in hall when beards wags all, And welcome merry shrovetide. Be merry, be merry.
JOHN	I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle.
SILENCE	Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now.
(didascalia)	Enter Davy With a dish of apples
DAVY	There’s a dish of leather-coats for you.
SHALLOW	Davy!
(didascalia)	DAVY Your worship! I’ll be with you straight. To Sir John A cup of wine, sir?
(didascalia)	SILENCE sings
SHALLOW	A cup of wine That’s brisk and fine, And drink unto thee, leman mine, And a merry heart lives long-a.
SIR JOHN	Well said, Master Silence.
SILENCE	And we shall be merry; now comes in the sweet o’th’ night.
SIR JOHN	Health and long life to you, Master Silence! He drinks
SILENCE	Fill the cup and let it come. I’ll pledge you a mile to th’ bottom.
SHALLOW	Honest Bardolph, welcome! If thou want’st anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart! (To the Page) Welcome, my little tiny thief, and welcome indeed, too!-I’ll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cavalieros about London. He drinks
DAVY	I hope to see London once ere I die.
BARDOLPH	An I might see you there, Davy!
SHALLOW	By the mass, you’ll crack a quart together, ha, will you not, Master Bardolph?
BARDOLPH	Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.
SHALLOW	By God’s liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that; a will not out; ’tis true-bred.
BARDOLPH	And I’ll stick by him, sir.
SHALLOW	Why, there spoke a king! Lack nothing, be merry! One knocks at the door within Look who’s at door there, ho! Who knocks?
(didascalia)	Exit Davy
(didascalia)	Silence drinks
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN to Silence Why, now you have done me right!
(didascalia)	SILENCE sings Do me right,
SHALLOW	And dub me knight— Samingo. Is’t not so?
SIR JOHN	’Tis so.
SILENCE	Is’t so?—Why then, say an old man can do somewhat.
(didascalia)	Enter Davy
DAVY	An’t please your worship, there’s one Pistol come from the court with news.
SIR JOHN	From the court? Let him come in.
(didascalia)	Enter Pistol
SIR JOHN	How now, Pistol?
PISTOL	Sir John, God save you.
SIR JOHN	What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
PISTOL	Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.
SILENCE	By‘r Lady, I think a be—but goodman Puff of Bar’son.
PISTOL	Puff? Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!— Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, And golden times, and happy news of price.
SIR JOHN	I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world.
PISTOL	A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys.
SIR JOHN	O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
(didascalia)	SILENCE singing
SIR JOHN	‘And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.’
PISTOL	Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? And shall good news be baffled? Then Pistol lay thy head in Furies’ lap.
SHALLOW	Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.
PISTOL	Why then, lament therefor.
SHALLOW	Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there’s but two ways: either to utter them, or conceal them. I am, sir, under the King in some authority.
PISTOL	Under which king, besonian? Speak, or die.
SHALLOW	Under King Harry.
PISTOL	Harry the Fourth, or Fifth?
SHALLOW	Harry the Fourth.
PISTOL	A foutre for thine office! Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king. Harry the Fifth’s the man. I speak the truth. When Pistol lies, do this, (making the fig) and fig me, Like the bragging Spaniard.
SIR JOHN	What, is the old King dead?
PISTOL	As nail in door. The things I speak are just.
SIR JOHN	Away, Bardolph, saddle my horse! Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land; ’tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities.
BARDOLPH	O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.
PISTOL	What, I do bring good news?
SIR JOHN	(to Davy) Carry Master Silence to bed.
(didascalia)	Exit Davy with Silence
SIR JOHN	Master Shallow—my lord Shallow—be what thou wilt, I am fortune’s steward—get on thy boots; we’ll ride all night.—O sweet Pistol!—Away, Bardolph!
(didascalia)	Exit Bardolph
SIR JOHN	Come, Pistol, utter more to me, and withal devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow! I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man’s horses—the laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my friends, and woe to my Lord Chief Justice.
PISTOL	Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! ‘Where is the life that late I led?’ say they. Why, here it is. Welcome these pleasant days. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Beadles, dragging in Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet
MISTRESS QUICKLY	No, thou arrant knave! I would to God that I might die, that I might have thee hanged. Thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.
FIRST BEADLE	The constables have delivered her over to me; and she shall have whipping-cheer, I warrant her. There hath been a man or two killed about her.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, I’ll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O the Lord, that Sir John were come! He would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry!
FIRST BEADLE	If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me, for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I’ll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this, you bluebottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner! If you be not swinged, I’ll forswear half-kirtles.
FIRST BEADLE	Come, come, you she knight-errant, come!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O God, that right should thus o’ercome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Ay, come, you starved bloodhound.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Goodman death, goodman bones!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Thou atomy, thou!
DOLL TEARSHEET	Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal.
FIRST BEADLE	Very well. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes
FIRST GROOM	More rushes, more rushes!
SECOND GROOM	The trumpets have sounded twice.
(didascalia)	FIRST GROOM ‘Twill be two o’clock ere they come from the coronation. Exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page
SIR JOHN	Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow. I will make the King do you grace. I will leer upon him as a comes by, and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.
PISTOL	God bless thy lungs, good knight.
SIR JOHN	Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. (To Shallow) O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you! But ’tis no matter; this poor show doth better; this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.
(didascalia)	SHALLOW It doth so.
SIR JOHN	It shows my earnestness of affection—
PISTOL	It doth so.
SIR JOHN	My devotion—
PISTOL	It doth, it doth, it doth.
SIR JOHN	As it were, to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me—
SHALLOW	It is most certain.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN But to stand stained with travel and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him.
PISTOL	’Tis semper idem, for absque hoc nihil est: ’tis all in every part.
SHALLOW	’Tis so indeed.
PISTOL	My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, And make thee rage. Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, Is in base durance and contagious prison, Haled thither By most mechanical and dirty hand. Rouse up Revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto’s snake, For Doll is in. Pistol speaks naught but truth.
SIR JOHN	I will deliver her.
(didascalia)	Shouts within. Trumpets sound
PISTOL	There roared the sea, and trumpet-clangour sounds!
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry the Fifth, Prince John of Lancaster, the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, the Lord Chief Justice, and others
SIR JOHN	God save thy grace, King Hal, my royal Hal!
PISTOL	The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame!
SIR JOHN	God save thee, my sweet boy!
KING HARRY	My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Sir John) Have you your wits? Know you what ’tis you speak?
SIR JOHN	My king, my Jove, I speak to thee, my heart!
KING HARRY	I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers. How ill white hairs becomes a fool and jester! I have long dreamt of such a kind of man, So surfeit-swelled, so old, and so profane; But being awake, I do despise my dream. Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace. Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape For thee thrice wider than for other men. Reply not to me with a fool-born jest. Presume not that I am the thing I was, For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, That I have turned away my former self; So will I those that kept me company. When thou dost hear I am as I have been, Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, The tutor and the feeder of my riots. Till then I banish thee, on pain of death, As I have done the rest of my misleaders, Not to come near our person by ten mile. For competence of life I will allow you, That lack of means enforce you not to evils; And as we hear you do reform yourselves, We will, according to your strengths and qualities, Give you advancement. (To Lord Chief Justice) Be it your charge, my lord, To see performed the tenor of our word. (To his train) Set on! Exeunt King Harry and his train
SIR JOHN	Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
SHALLOW	Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me have home with me.
SIR JOHN	That can hardly be,, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve at this. I shall be sent for in private to him. Look you, he must seem thus to the world. Fear not your advancements. I will be the man yet that shall make you great.
SHALLOW	I cannot perceive how, unless you give me your doublet and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of my thousand.
SIR JOHN	Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard was but a colour.
SHALLOW	A colour I fear that you will die in, Sir John.
SIR JOHN	Fear no colours. Go with me to dinner. Come, Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph. I shall be sent for soon at night.
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Chief Justice and Prince John, with officers
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to officers) Go carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet. Take all his company along with him.
SIR JOHN	My lord, my lord!
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon.— Take them away.
PISTOL	Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Prince John and Lord Chief Justice
PRINCE JOHN	I like this fair proceeding of the King’s. He hath intent his wonted followers Shall all be very well provided for, But all are banished till their conversations Appear more wise and modest to the world.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	And so they are.
PRINCE JOHN	The King hath called his parliament, my lord.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	He hath.
PRINCE JOHN	I will lay odds that, ere this year expire, We bear our civil swords and native fire As far as France. I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the King. Come, will you hence? Exeunt Epilogue
(didascalia)	Enter Epilogue
EPILOGUE	First my fear, then my curtsy, last my speech. My fear is your displeasure; my curtsy, my duty; and my speech to beg your pardons. If you look for a good speech now, you undo me; for what I have to say is of mine own making, and what indeed I should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your patience for it, and to promise you a better. I did mean indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised you I would be, and here I commit my body to your mercies. Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to use my legs? And yet that were but light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly. One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Catherine of France; where, for anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat—unless already a be killed with your hard opinions. For Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night, and so kneel down before you—but, indeed, to pray for the Queen.
(didascalia)	He dances, then kneels for applause. Exit
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	Along with some substantial additions, Shakespeare probably made a number of short excisions when preparing the finished version of the play. The following, present in the Quarto but entirely or substantially omitted in the later Folio text, are the most significant:
A. AFTER	2.2.22 And God knows whether those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom—but the midwives say the children are not in the fault, whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened.
B. AFTER	‘LIQUORS!’, 3.1-52 O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book and sit him down and die.
C. AFTER	‘FAMINE.’, 3.2.309 yet lecherous as a monkey; and the whores called him ‘mandrake’. A came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutched hussies that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING	Much Ado About Nothing is not mentioned in the list of plays by Shakespeare given by Francis Meres in his Palladis Tamia, published in the autumn of 1598. Certain speech-prefixes of the first edition, published in 1600, suggest that as Shakespeare wrote he had in mind for the role of Dogberry the comic actor Will Kemp, who is believed to have left the Lord Chamberlain’s Men during 1599. Probably Shakespeare wrote the play between summer 1598 and spring 1599. The action is set in Sicily, where Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon, has recently defeated his half-brother, the bastard Don John, in a military engagement. Apparently reconciled, they return to the capital, Messina, as guests of the Governor, Leonato. There Count Claudio, a young nobleman serving in Don Pedro’s army, falls in love with Hero, Leonato’s daughter, whom Don Pedro woos on his behalf. The play’s central plot, written mainly in verse, shows how Don John maliciously deceives Claudio into believing that Hero has taken a lover on the eve of her marriage, causing Claudio to repudiate her publicly, at the altar. This is a variation on an old tale that existed in many versions; it had been told in Italian verse by Ariosto, in his Orlando Furioso (1516, translated into English verse by Sir John Harington, 1591), in Italian prose by Matteo Bandello in his Novelle (1554, adapted into French by P. de Belleforest, 1569), in English prose by George Whetstone (The Rock of Regard, 1576), in English verse by Edmund Spenser (The Faerie Queene, Book 2, canto 4, 1590), and in a number of plays including Luigi Pasqualigo’s II Fedele (1579), adapted into English—perhaps by Anthony Munday—as Fedele and Fortunio (published in 1583). Shakespeare, whose plot is an independent reworking of the traditional story, seems to owe most to Ariosto and Bandello, perhaps indirectly. Don John’s deception, with its tragicomical resolution, is offset by a parallel plot written mainly in prose, portraying another, more light-hearted deception, by which Hero’s cousin, Beatrice, and Benedick—friend of Don Pedro and Claudio—are tricked into acknowledging, first to themselves and then to each other, that they are in love. This part of the play seems to be of Shakespeare’s invention: the juxtaposition of this clever, sophisticated, apparently unillusioned pair with the more naive Claudio and Hero recalls Shakespeare’s earlier contrast of romantic and antiromantic attitudes to love and marriage in The Taming of the Shrew. The play’s third main strand is provided by Constable Dogberry, his partner Verges, and the Watchmen, clearly English rather than Sicilian in origin. Although Benedick and Beatrice are, technically, subordinate characters, they have dominated the imagination of both readers and playgoers.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Bardolph at one door. He crosses the stage to another door
LORD BARDOLPH	Who keeps the gate here, ho?
(didascalia)	Enter Porter above
LORD BARDOLPH	Where is the Earl?
PORTER	What shall I say you are?
LORD BARDOLPH	Tell thou the Earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
PORTER	His lordship is walked forth into the orchard. Please it your honour knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl Northumberland at the other door, as sick, with a crutch and coif
LORD BARDOLPH	Here comes the Earl.
(didascalia)	Exit Porter
NORTHUMBERLAND	What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now Should be the father of some stratagem. The times are wild; contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.
LORD BARDOLPH	Noble Earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Good, an God will.
LORD BARDOLPH	As good as heart can wish. The King is almost wounded to the death; And, in the fortune of my lord your son, Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John And Westmorland and Stafford fled the field; And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir John, Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day, So fought, so followed, and so fairly won, Came not till now to dignify the times Since Caesar’s fortunes!
NORTHUMBERLAND	How is this derived? Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
LORD BARDOLPH	I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, A gentleman well bred and of good name, That freely rendered me these news for true.
(didascalia)	Enter Travers
NORTHUMBERLAND	Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent On Tuesday last to listen after news.
LORD BARDOLPH	My lord, I overrode him on the way, And he is furnished with no certainties More than he haply may retail from me.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
TRAVERS	My lord, Lord Bardolph turned me back With joyful tidings, and being better horsed Outrode me. After him came spurring hard A gentleman almost forspent with speed, That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse. He asked the way to Chester, and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. He told me that rebellion had ill luck, And that young Harry Percy’s spur was cold. With that he gave his able horse the head, And, bending forward, struck his armed heels Against the panting sides of his poor jade Up to the rowel-head; and starting so, He seemed in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Ha? Again: Said he young Harry Percy’s spur was cold? Of Hotspur, ‘Coldspur’ ? that rebellion Had met ill luck?
LORD BARDOLPH	My lord, I’ll tell you what: If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point I’ll give my barony. Never talk of it.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers Give then such instances of loss?
LORD BARDOLPH	Who, he? He was some hilding fellow that had stol’n The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, Spoke at a venture.
(didascalia)	Enter Morton
LORD BARDOLPH	Look, here comes more news.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood Hath left a witnessed usurpation. Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
MORTON	I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord, Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party.
NORTHUMBERLAND	How doth my son and brother? Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone, Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, And I my Percy’s death ere thou report‘st it. This thou wouldst say: ‘Your son did thus and thus, Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas’, Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds; But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Ending with ‘Brother, son, and all are dead.’
MORTON	Douglas is living, and your brother yet; But for my lord your son—
NORTHUMBERLAND	Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know Hath by instinct knowledge from others’ eyes That what he feared is chanced. Yet speak, Morton. Tell thou an earl his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace, And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
MORTON	You are too great to be by me gainsaid, Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yet for all this, say not that Percy’s dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye— Thou shak‘st thy head, and hold’st it fear or sin To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so. The tongue offends not that reports his death; And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, Not he which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
(didascalia)	Sounds ever after as a sullen bell
NORTHUMBERLAND	Remembered knolling a departing friend.
LORD BARDOLPH	I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
MORTON	(to Northumberland) I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen; But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rend‘ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed, To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up. In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-tempered courage in his troops; For from his metal was his party steeled, Which once in him abated, all the rest Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead; And, as the thing that’s heavy in itself Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, So did our men, heavy in Hotspur’s loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester Too soon ta’en prisoner; and that furious Scot The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword Had three times slain th’appearance of the King, Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame Of those that turned their backs, and in his flight, Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all Is that the King hath won, and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmorland. This is the news at full.
NORTHUMBERLAND	For this I shall have time enough to mourn. In poison there is physic; and these news, Having been well, that would have made me sick, Being sick, have in some measure made me well; And, as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints, Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keeper’s arms, even so my limbs, Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief, Are thrice themselves.
(didascalia)	He casts away his crutch
NORTHUMBERLAND	Hence therefore, thou nice crutch! A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand.
(didascalia)	He snatches off his coif
NORTHUMBERLAND	And hence, thou sickly coif! Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes fleshed with conquest aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron, and approach The ragged‘st hour that time and spite dare bring To frown upon th’enraged Northumberland! Let heaven kiss earth ! Now let not nature’s hand Keep the wild flood confined! Let order die! And let this world no longer be a stage To feed contention in a ling’ring act; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead!
LORD BARDOLPH	Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
MORTON	The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health, the which, if you give o‘er To stormy passion, must perforce decay. You cast th’event of war, my noble lord, And summed the account of chance, before you said ‘Let us make head’. It was your presurmise That in the dole of blows your son might drop. You knew he walked o‘er perils on an edge, More likely to fall in than to get o’er. You were advised his flesh was capable Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged. Yet did you say, ‘Go forth’; and none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall’n? Or what doth this bold enterprise bring forth, More than that being which was like to be?
LORD BARDOLPH	We all that are engaged to this loss Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas That if we wrought out life was ten to one; And yet we ventured for the gain proposed, Choked the respect of likely peril feared; And since we are o’erset, venture again. Come, we will all put forth body and goods.
MORTON	‘Tis more than time; and, my most noble lord, I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth, The gentle Archbishop of York is up With well-appointed powers. He is a man Who with a double surety binds his followers. My lord, your son had only but the corpse, But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; For that same word ‘rebellion’ did divide The action of their bodies from their souls, And they did fight with queasiness, constrained, As men drink potions, that their weapons only Seemed on our side; but, for their spirits and souls, This word ‘rebellion’, it had froze them up, As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop Turns insurrection to religion. Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts, He’s followed both with body and with mind, And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones; Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; And more and less do flock to follow him.
NORTHUMBERLAND	I knew of this before, but, to speak truth, This present grief had wiped it from my mind. Go in with me, and counsel every man The aptest way for safety and revenge. Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed. Never so few, and never yet more need. Exeunt
(didascalia)	1.2 Enter Sir John Falstaff, followed by his Page bearing his sword and buckler
SIR JOHN	Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?
PAGE	He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water, but, for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.
SIR JOHN	Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter more than I invent, or is invented on me. I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath o‘erwhelmed all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then, I have no judgement. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now; but I will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master for a jewel—the juvenal the Prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledge. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one off his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is a face-royal. God may finish it when he will; ’tis not a hair amiss yet. He may keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it. And yet he’ll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he’s almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dumbleton about the satin for my short cloak and slops?
PAGE	He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph. He would not take his bond and yours; he liked not the security.
SIR JOHN	Let him be damned like the glutton! Pray God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel, a rascally yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman in hand and then stand upon security! The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking-up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security. I looked a should have sent me two-and-twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me ‘security’! Well, he may sleep in security, for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it; and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. Where’s Bardolph?
PAGE	He’s gone in Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.
SIR JOHN	I bought him in Paul’s, and he’ll buy me a horse in Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Chief Justice and his Servant
PAGE	Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolph.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN moving away Wait close; I will not see him.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to his Servant) What’s he that goes there ?
SERVANT	Falstaff, an’t please your lordship.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	He that was in question for the robbery?
SERVANT	He, my lord; but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What, to York? Call him back again.
SERVANT	Sir John Falstaff!
SIR JOHN	Boy, tell him I am deaf.
PAGE	(to the Servant) You must speak louder; my master is deaf.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I am sure he is to the hearing of anything good. (To the Servant) Go pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him.
SERVANT	Sir John!
SIR JOHN	What, a young knave and begging! Is there not wars? Is there not employment? Doth not the King lack subjects? Do not the rebels want soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.
SERVANT	You mistake me, sir.
SIR JOHN	Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? Setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat if I had said so.
SERVANT	I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside, and give me leave to tell you you lie in your throat if you say I am any other than an honest man. 88
SIR JOHN	I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that which grows to me? If thou gettest any leave of me, hang me. If thou takest leave, thou wert better be hanged. You hunt counter. Hence, avaunt!
SERVANT	Sir, my lord would speak with you.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
SIR JOHN	My good lord! God give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad. I heard say your lordship was sick. I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time in you; and I most humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent care of your health.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.
SIR JOHN	An’t please your lordship, I hear his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I talk not of his majesty. You would not come when I sent for you.
SIR JOHN	And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with you.
SIR JOHN	This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an’t please your lordship, a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.
SIR JOHN	It hath it original from much grief, from study, and perturbation of the brain. I have read the cause of his effects in Galen. It is a kind of deafness.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I think you are fallen into the disease, for you hear not what I say to you.
SIR JOHN	Very well, my lord, very well. Rather, an’t please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears, and I care not if I do become your physician.
SIR JOHN	I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient. Your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me.
SIR JOHN	As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.
SIR JOHN	He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live in less.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.
SIR JOHN	I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater and my waist slenderer.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	You have misled the youthful Prince.
SIR JOHN	The young Prince hath misled me. I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound. Your day’s service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night’s exploit on Gads Hill. You may thank th‘unquiet time for your quiet o’erposting that action.
SIR JOHN	My lord—
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	But since all is well, keep it so. Wake not a sleeping wolf.
SIR JOHN	To wake a wolf is as bad as smell a fox.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What! You are as a candle, the better part burnt out.
SIR JOHN	A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow—if I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	There is not a white hair in your face but should have his effect of gravity.
SIR JOHN	His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	You follow the young Prince up and down like his ill angel.
SIR JOHN	Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light, but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing. And yet in some respects, I grant, I cannot go. I cannot tell, virtue is of so little regard in these costermongers’ times that true valour is turned bearherd; pregnancy is made a tapster, and his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings; all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young. You do measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls. And we that are in the vanguard of our youth, I must confess, are wags too.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age? Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity? And will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon with a white head, and something a round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with hallowing and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old in judgement and understanding; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him! For the box of th’ear that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have checked him for it, and the young lion repents—aside marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, God send the Prince a better companion!
SIR JOHN	God send the companion a better prince! I cannot rid my hands of him.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, the King hath severed you and Prince Harry. I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.
SIR JOHN	Yea, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily. If it be a hot day and I brandish anything but my bottle, would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot last ever. But it was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Well, be honest, be honest, and God bless your expedition.
SIR JOHN	Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Not a penny, not a penny. You are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend me to my cousin Westmorland.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lord Chief Justice and his Servant
SIR JOHN	If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no more separate age and covetousness than a can part young limbs and lechery; but the gout galls the one and the pox pinches the other, and so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy!
PAGE	Sir.
SIR JOHN	What money is in my purse?
PAGE	Seven groats and two pence.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. (Giving letters) Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; this to the Prince; this to the Earl of Westmorland; and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair of my chin. About it. You know where to find me. Exit Pagel A pox of this gout!—or a gout of this pox!—for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great toe. ’Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good wit will make use of anything. I will turn diseases to commodity. Exit

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray the Earl Marshal, Lord Hastings, and Lord Bardolph
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Thus have you heard our cause and known our means, And, my most noble friends, I pray you all Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes. And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?
MOWBRAY	I well allow the occasion of our arms, But gladly would be better satisfied How in our means we should advance ourselves To look with forehead bold and big enough Upon the power and puissance of the King.
HASTINGS	Our present musters grow upon the file To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice, And our supplies live largely in the hope Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns With an incensed fire of injuries.
LORD BARDOLPH	The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus: Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand May hold up head without Northumberland.
HASTINGS	With him we may.
LORD BARDOLPH	Yea, marry, there’s the point; But if without him we be thought too feeble, My judgement is, we should not step too far Till we had his assistance by the hand; For in a theme so bloody-faced as this, Conjecture, expectation, and surmise Of aids uncertain should not be admitted.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	’Tis very true, Lord Bardolph, for indeed It was young Hotspur’s case at Shrewsbury.
LORD BARDOLPH	It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope, Eating the air on promise of supply, Flatt’ring himself with project of a power Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts; And so, with great imagination Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, And winking leapt into destruction.
HASTINGS	But by your leave, it never yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
LORD BARDOLPH	Yes, if this present quality of war— Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot— Lives so in hope; as in an early spring We see th‘appearing buds, which to prove fruit Hope gives not so much warrant as despair That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build We first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection, Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model In fewer offices, or, at least, desist To build at all? Much more in this great work— Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down And set another up—should we survey The plot of situation and the model, Consent upon a sure foundation, Question surveyors, know our own estate, How able such a work to undergo, To weigh against his opposite; or else We fortify in paper and in figures, Using the names of men instead of men, Like one that draws the model of an house Beyond his power to build it, who, half-through, Gives o’er, and leaves his part-created cost A naked subject to the weeping clouds, And waste for churlish winter’s tyranny.
HASTINGS	Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth, Should be stillborn, and that we now possessed The utmost man of expectation, I think we are a body strong enough, Even as we are, to equal with the King.
LORD BARDOLPH	What, is the King but five-and-twenty thousand?
HASTINGS	To us no more, nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph; For his divisions, as the times do brawl, Are in three heads: one power against the French, And one against Glyndwr, perforce a third Must take up us. So is the unfirm King In three divided, and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	That he should draw his several strengths together And come against us in full puissance Need not be dreaded.
HASTINGS	If he should do so, He leaves his back unarmed, the French and Welsh Baying him at the heels. Never fear that.
LORD BARDOLPH	Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
HASTINGS	The Duke of Lancaster and Westmorland; Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth; But who is substituted ’gainst the French I have no certain notice.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Let us on, And publish the occasion of our arms. The commonwealth is sick of their own choice; Their over-greedy love hath surfeited. An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. O thou fond many, with what loud applause Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, Before he was what thou wouldst have him be I And being now trimmed in thine own desires, Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him That thou provok‘st thyself to cast him up. So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, And howl’st to find it. What trust is in these times ? They that when Richard lived would have him die Are now become enamoured on his grave. Thou that threw‘st dust upon his goodly head, When through proud London he came sighing on After th’admired heels of Bolingbroke, Cri’st now, ‘O earth, yield us that king again, And take thou this!’ O thoughts of men accursed! Past and to come seems best; things present, worst.
(didascalia)	MOWBRAY
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?
HASTINGS	We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Mistress Quickly (the hostess of a tavern), and an officer, Fang followed at a distance by another officer, Snare
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Master Fang, have you entered the action ?
FANG	It is entered.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Where’s your yeoman? Is’t a lusty yeoman? Will a stand to’t?
FANG	Sirrah!—Where’s Snare?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O Lord, ay, good Master Snare.
(didascalia)	SNARE coming forward Here, here.
FANG	Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Yea, good Master Snare, I have entered him and all.
SNARE	It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Alas the day, take heed of him; he stabbed me in mine own house, most beastly, in good faith. A cares not what mischief he does; if his weapon be out, he will foin like any devil, he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.
FANG	If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. MISTRESS QUICKLY No, nor I neither. I’ll be at your elbow. FANG An I but fist him once, an a come but within my vice—
MISTRESS QUICKLY	I am undone by his going, I warrant you; he’s an infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, hold him sure. Good Master Snare, let him not scape. A comes continuantly to Pie Corner—saving your manhoods—to buy a saddle, and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber’s Head in Lombard Street, to Master Smooth’s the silkman. I pray you, since my exion is entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to bear; and I have borne, and borne, and borne, and have been fobbed off, and fobbed off, and fobbed off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, unless a woman should be made an ass and a beast, to bear every knave’s wrong.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Page
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nose knave Bardolph with him. Do your offices, do your offices, Master Fang and Master Snare; do me, do me, do me your offices.
SIR JOHN	How now, whose mare’s dead? What’s the matter ?
FANG	Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN drawing Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph! Cut me off the villain’s head! Throw the quean in the channel!
(didascalia)	Bardolph draws
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Throw me in the channel? I’ll throw thee in the channel! A brawl Wilt thou, wilt thou, thou bastardly rogue? Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle villain, wilt thou kill God’s officers, and the King’s? Ah, thou honeyseed rogue! Thou art a honeyseed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller.
SIR JOHN	Keep them off, Bardolph !
FANG	A rescue, a rescue!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wot, wot thou? Thou wot, wot’a? Do, do, thou rogue, do, thou hempseed!
PAGE	Away, you scullion, you rampallian, you fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Chief Justice and his men
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What is the matter? Keep the peace here, ho!
(didascalia)	Brawl ends. Fang seizes Sir John
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Good my lord, be good to me; I beseech you, stand to me.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	How now, Sir John? What, are you brawling here? Doth this become your place, your time and business? You should have been well on your way to York.
(didascalia)	To Fang Stand from him, fellow. Wherefore hang’st
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	thou upon him?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O my most worshipful lord, an’t please your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	For what sum?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	It is more than for some, my lord, it is for all, all I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home. He hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his; (to Sir John) but I will have some of it out again, or I will ride thee a-nights like the mare.
SIR JOHN	I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have any vantage of ground to get up.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	How comes this, Sir John ? Fie, what man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed, to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come by her own?
SIR JOHN	(to the Hostess) What is the gross sum that I owe thee?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself, and the money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the Prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor—thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech the butcher’s wife come in then, and call me ‘Gossip Quickly’—coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar, telling us she had a good dish of prawns, whereby thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound ? And didst thou not, when she was gone downstairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people, saying that ere long they should call me ‛madam’? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath; deny it if thou canst.
(didascalia)	She weeps
SIR JOHN	My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and down the town that her eldest son is like you. She hath been in good case, and the truth is, poverty hath distracted her. But for these foolish officers, I beseech you I may have redress against them.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words that come with such more than impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from a level consideration. You have, as it appears to me, practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your uses both in purse and in person.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Yea, in truth, my lord.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Pray thee, peace. (To Sir John) Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villainy you have done with her. The one you may do with sterling money, and the other with current repentance.
SIR JOHN	My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply. You call honourable boldness ‘impudent sauciness’; if a man will make curtsy and say nothing, he is virtuous. No, my lord, my humble duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say to you I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment in the King’s affairs.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	You speak as having power to do wrong; but answer in th’effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.
SIR JOHN	(drawing apart) Come hither, hostess. She goes to him.
(didascalia)	Enter Master Gower, a messenger
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Now, Master Gower, what news?
GOWER	The King, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales Are near at hand; the rest the paper tells.
(didascalia)	Lord Chief Justice reads the paper, and converses apart with Gower
SIR JOHN	As I am a gentleman!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Faith, you said so before.
SIR JOHN	As I am a gentleman! Come, no more words of it.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining-chambers.
SIR JOHN	Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking; and for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in waterwork, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound if thou canst. Come, an ’twere not for thy humours, there’s not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw the action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me. Dost not know me? Come, I know thou wast set on to this.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles. I’faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, la!
SIR JOHN	Let it alone; I’ll make other shift. You’ll be a fool still.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you’ll come to supper. You’ll pay me altogether?
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN Will I live? To Bardolph and the Page Go with her, with her. Hook on, hook on!
MISTRESS	QUICKLY, Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?
SIR JOHN	No more words; let’s have her.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Mistress Quickly, Bardolph, the Page, Fang and Snare
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) I have heard better news.
SIR JOHN	What’s the news, my good lord?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) Where lay the King tonight?
GOWER	At Basingstoke, my lord.
SIR JOHN	(to Lord Chief Justice) I hope, my lord, all’s well. What is the news, my lord?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) Come all his forces back?
GOWER	No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, Are marched up to my lord of Lancaster Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.
SIR JOHN	(to Lord Chief Justice) Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Gower) You shall have letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. They are going
SIR JOHN	My lord!
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What’s the matter?
SIR JOHN	Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?
GOWER	I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir John.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go.
SIR JOHN	Will you sup with me, Master Gower?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John?
SIR JOHN	Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me. (To Lord Chief Justice) This is the right fencing grace, my lord—tap for tap, and so part fair.
(didascalia)	LORD CHIEF JUSTICE Now the Lord lighten thee; thou art a great fool. Exeunt Lord Chief Justice and Gower at one door, Sir John at another

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry and Poins
PRINCE HARRY	Before God, I am exceeding weary.
POINS	Is’t come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood.
PRINCE HARRY	Faith, it does me, though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?
POINS	Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition.
PRINCE HARRY	Belike then my appetite was not princely got; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature small beer. But indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name! Or to know thy face tomorrow! Or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast—videlicet these, and those that were thy peach-coloured ones! Or to bear the inventory of thy shirts—as one for superfluity, and another for use. But that the tennis-court keeper knows better than I, for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland.
POINS	How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good young princes would do so, their fathers lying so sick as yours is?
PRINCE HARRY	Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?
POINS	Yes, faith, and let it be an excellent good thing.
PRINCE HARRY	It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.
POINS	Go to, I stand the push of your one thing that you’ll tell.
PRINCE HARRY	Marry, I tell thee, it is not meet that I should be sad now my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend, I could be sad; and sad indeed too.
POINS	Very hardly, upon such a subject.
PRINCE HARRY	By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil’s book as thou and Falstaff, for obduracy and persistency. Let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath, in reason, taken from me all ostentation of sorrow.
POINS	The reason?
PRINCE HARRY	What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep?
POINS	I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
PRINCE HARRY	It would be every man’s thought, and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man’s thought in the world keeps the roadway better than thine. Every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so?
POINS	Why, because you have been so lewd, and so much engrafted to Falstaff.
PRINCE HARRY	And to thee.
POINS	By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it with mine own ears. The worst that they can say of me is that I am a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two things I confess I cannot help.
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph followed by the Page
POINS	By the mass, here comes Bardolph.
PRINCE HARRY	And the boy that I gave Falstaff. A had him from me Christian, and look if the fat villain have not transformed him ape.
BARDOLPH	God save your grace!
PRINCE HARRY	And yours, most noble Bardolph!
POINS	(to Bardolph) Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man at arms are you become! Is’t such a matter to get a pottle-pot’s maidenhead?
PAGE	A calls me e’en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window. At last I spied his eyes, and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife’s red petticoat, and so peeped through.
PRINCE HARRY	(to Poins) Has not the boy profited?
BARDOLPH	(to the Page) Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away!
PAGE	Away, you rascally Althea’s dream, away!
PRINCE HARRY	Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
PAGE	Marry, my lord, Althea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand, and therefore I call him her dream.
PRINCE HARRY	(giving him money) A crown‘s-worth of good interpretation! There ’tis, boy.
POINS	O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers! (Giving the Page money) Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
BARDOLPH	An you do not make him hanged among you, the gallows shall be wronged.
PRINCE HARRY	And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
BARDOLPH	Well, my good lord. He heard of your grace’s coming to town. There’s a letter for you.
POINS	Delivered with good respect. And how doth the Martlemas your master?
BARDOLPH	In bodily health, sir. Prince Harry reads the letter
POINS	Marry, the immortal part needs a physician, but that moves not him. Though that be sick, it dies not.
PRINCE HARRY	I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog; and he holds his place, for look you how he writes.
(didascalia)	He gives Poins the letter
POINS	‘John Falstaff, knight’.—Every man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to name himself; even like those that are kin to the King, for they never prick their finger but they say ‘There’s some of the King’s blood spilt.’ ‘How comes that?’ says he that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower’s cap: ‘I am the King’s poor cousin, sir.’
PRINCE HARRY	Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. (Taking the letter) But the letter. ’Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the King nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting.’
POINS	Why, this is a certificate!
PRINCE HARRY	Peace!—‘I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity.’
POINS	(taking the letter) Sure he means brevity in breath, short winded. (Reads) ’I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins, for he misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst. And so, farewell. Thine by yea and no—which is as much as to say, as thou usest him—Jack Falstaff with my familiars, John with my brothers and sisters, and Sir John with all Europe.’ My lord, I’ll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it.
PRINCE HARRY	That’s to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister?
POINS	God send the wench no worse fortune, but I never said so.
PRINCE HARRY	Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. (To Bardolph) Is your master here in London?
BARDOLPH	Yea, my lord.
PRINCE HARRY	Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank?
BARDOLPH	At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.
PRINCE HARRY	What company?
PAGE	Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.
PRINCE HARRY	Sup any women with him?
PAGE	None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.
PRINCE HARRY	What pagan may that be?
PAGE	A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master’s.
PRINCE HARRY	Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?
POINS	I am your shadow, my lord; I’ll follow you.
PRINCE HARRY	Sirrah, you, boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. (Giving money) There’s for your silence.
BARDOLPH	I have no tongue, sir.
PAGE	And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
PRINCE HARRY	Fare you well; go.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bardolph and the Page
PRINCE HARRY	This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.
POINS	I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans and London.
PRINCE HARRY	How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?
POINS	Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table like drawers.
PRINCE HARRY	From a god to a bull—a heavy declension—it was Jove’s case. From a prince to a prentice—a low transformation—that shall be mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and Lady Percy
NORTHUMBERLAND	I pray thee, loving wife and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs. Put not you on the visage of the times And be like them to Percy troublesome.
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND	I have given over; I will speak no more. Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn, And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
LADY PERCY	O yet, for God’s sake, go not to these wars! The time was, father, that you broke your word When you were more endeared to it than now— When your own Percy, when my heart’s dear Harry, Threw many a northward look to see his father Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost, yours and your son’s. For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! For his, it stuck upon him as the sun In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. He had no legs that practised not his gait; And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, Became the accents of the valiant; For those that could speak low and tardily Would turn their own perfection to abuse To seem like him. So that in speech, in gait, In diet, in affections of delight, In military rules, humours of blood, He was the mark and glass, copy and book, That fashioned others. And him—O wondrous him! O miracle of men!—him did you leave, Second to none, unseconded by you, To look upon the hideous god of war In disadvantage, to abide a field Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur’s name Did seem defensible; so you left him. Never, O never do his ghost the wrong To hold your honour more precise and nice With others than with him. Let them alone. The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong. Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, Today might I, hanging on Hotspur’s neck, Have talked of Monmouth’s grave.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in another place, And find me worse provided.
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND	O fly to Scotland, Till that the nobles and the armed commons Have of their puissance made a little taste.
LADY PERCY	If they get ground and vantage of the King, Then join you with them like a rib of steel, To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, First let them try themselves. So did your son. He was so suffered. So came I a widow, And never shall have length of life enough To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven For recordation to my noble husband.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Come, come, go in with me. ’Tis with my mind As with the tide swelled up unto his height, That makes a still stand, running neither way. Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop, But many thousand reasons hold me back. I will resolve for Scotland. There am I Till time and vantage crave my company. Exeunt
(didascalia)	2.4 A table and chairs set forth. Enter a Drawer With wind and another Drawer With a dish of apple-johns
(didascalia)	FIRST DRAWER What the devil hast thou brought there—apple-johns? Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.
(didascalia)	SECOND DRAWER Mass, thou sayst true. The Prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him; and told him, there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, said ‘I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.’ It angered him to the heart. But he hath forgot that.
(didascalia)	FIRST DRAWER Why then, cover, and set them down; and see if thou canst find out Sneak’s noise. Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music.
(didascalia)	Exit the Second Drawer
(didascalia)	The First Drawer covers the table.
(didascalia)	Enter the Second Drawer
(didascalia)	SECOND DRAWER Sirrah, here will be the Prince and Master Poins anon, and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.
(didascalia)	FIRST DRAWER By the mass, here will be old utis! It will be an excellent stratagem.
(didascalia)	SECOND DRAWER I’ll see if I can find out Sneak. Exeunt Enter Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet, drunk
MISTRESS QUICKLY	I‘faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire, and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la; but i’faith, you have drunk too much canaries, and that’s a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere we can say ‘What’s this?’ How do you now?
DOLL TEARSHEET	Better than I was.—Hem!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Why, that’s well said! A good heart’s worth gold.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Lo, here comes Sir John.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN (sings) ‘When Arthur first in court’—Calls Empty the jordan!—(Sings) ‘And was a worthy king’—How now, Mistress Doll?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Sick of a qualm, yea, good faith.
SIR JOHN	So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick.
DOLL TEARSHEET	A pox damn you, you muddy rascal! Is that all the comfort you give me?
SIR JOHN	You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I make them? Gluttony and diseases make them; I make them not.
SIR JOHN	If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Yea, Jesu, our chains and our jewels.
SIR JOHN	’Your brooches, pearls, and ouches’—for to serve bravely is to come halting off, you know; to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon the charged chambers bravely.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	By my troth, this is the old fashion. You two never meet but you fall to some discord. You are both, i’ good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another’s confirmities. What the goodyear, one must bear, (to Doll) and that must be you. You are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead? There’s a whole merchant’s venture of Bordeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold.—Come, I’ll be friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the wars, and whether I shall ever see thee again or no there is nobody cares.
(didascalia)	Enter a Drawer
DRAWER	Sir, Ensign Pistol’s below, and would speak with you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Hang him, swaggering rascal, let him not come hither. It is the foul-mouthedest rogue in England.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith! I must live among my neighbours; I’ll no swaggerers. I am in good name and fame with the very best. Shut the door; there comes no swaggerers here. I have not lived all this while to have swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you.
SIR JOHN	Dost thou hear, hostess?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Pray ye pacify yourself, Sir John. There comes no swaggerers here.
SIR JOHN	Dost thou hear? It is mine ensign.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne‘er tell me. Your ensign-swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick the debuty t’other day, and, as he said to me—’twas no longer ago than Wed‘sday last, i’ good faith—‘Neighbour Quickly,’ says he—Master Dumb our minister was by then—‘Neighbour Quickly,’ says he, ‘receive those that are civil, for,’ said he, ‘you are in an ill name.’ Now a said so, I can tell whereupon. ‘For,’ says he, ‘you are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed what guests you receive. Receive,‘ says he, ‘no swaggering companions.’ There comes none here. You would bless you to hear what he said. No, I’ll no swaggerers.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN He’s no swaggerer, hostess—a tame cheater, i’faith. You may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He’ll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance.—Call him up, drawer. Exit Drawer
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Cheater call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater, but I do not love swaggering, by my troth, I am the worse when one says ‘swagger’. Feel, masters, how I shake, look you, I warrant you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	So you do, hostess.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Do I? Yea, in very truth do I, an ’twere an aspen leaf. I cannot abide swaggerers.
(didascalia)	Enter Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page
PISTOL	God save you, Sir John.
SIR JOHN	Welcome, Ensign Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack. Do you discharge upon mine hostess.
PISTOL	I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
SIR JOHN	She is pistol-proof, sir, you shall not hardly offend her.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Come, I’ll drink no proofs, nor no bullets. I’ll drink no more than will do me good, for no man’s pleasure, I.
PISTOL	Then to you, Mistress Dorothy! I will charge you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your master.
PISTOL	I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Away, you cutpurse rascal, you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I’ll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps an you play the saucy cuttle with me!
(didascalia)	She brandishes a knife
DOLL TEARSHEET	Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
(didascalia)	Pistol draws his sword
DOLL TEARSHEET	Since when, I pray you, sir? God’s light, with two points on your shoulder! Much!
PISTOL	God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Captain? Thou abominable damned cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called ‘captain’? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earned them. You a captain? You slavel For what? For tearing a poor whore’s ruff in a bawdy-house! He a captain? Hang him, rogue, he lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain? God’s light, these villains will make the word ’captain’ odious; therefore captains had need look to’t.
BARDOLPH	Pray thee, go down, good ensign.
SIR JOHN	Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. He takes her aside
PISTOL	Not II I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her! I’ll be revenged of her.
PAGE	Pray thee, go down.
PISTOL	I’ll see her damned first To Pluto’s damned lake, by this hand, To th’infernal deep, Where Erebus, and tortures vile also. ‘Hold hook and line!’ say I. Down, down, dogs; down, Fates. Have we not Hiren here?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Good Captain Pizzle, be quiet. ‘Tis very late, i’faith. I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
PISTOL	These be good humours indeed! Shall pack-horses And hollow pampered jades of Asia, Which cannot go but thirty mile a day, Compare with Caesars and with cannibals, And Trojan Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus, And let the welkin roar. Shall we fall foul for toys?
MISTRESS QUICKLY	By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
BARDOLPH	Be gone, good ensign; this will grow to a brawl anon.
PISTOL	Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren here?
MISTRESS QUICKLY O’	my word, captain, there’s none such here. What the goodyear, do you think I would deny her? For God’s sake, be quiet.
PISTOL	Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis. Come, give’s some sack. Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento. Fear we broadsides? No; let the fiend give fire! Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there.
(didascalia)	He lays down his sword
PISTOL	Come we to full points here? And are etceteras nothings?
(didascalia)	He drinks
SIR JOHN	Pistol, I would be quiet.
PISTOL	Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What, we have seen the seven stars!
DOLL TEARSHEET	For God’s sake, thrust him downstairs. I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.
PISTOL	Thrust him downstairs? Know we not Galloway nags?
SIR JOHN	Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. Nay, an a do nothing but speak nothing, a shall be nothing here.
BARDOLPH	(to Pistol) Come, get you downstairs.
(didascalia)	PISTOL taking up his sword
BARDOLPH	What, shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue? Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days. Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds Untwine the Sisters Three. Come, Atropos, I say!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Here’s goodly stuff toward!
SIR JOHN	Give me my rapier, boy.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
SIR JOHN	(taking his rapier and speaking to Pistol) Get you downstairs. Sir John, Bardolph, and Pistol brawl
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Here’s a goodly tumult! I’ll forswear keeping house afore I’ll be in these tirrits and frights!
(didascalia)	Sir John thrusts at Pistol
MISTRESS QUICKLY	So!
(didascalia)	Pistol thrusts at Sir John
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Murder, I warrant now! Alas, alas, put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons!
(didascalia)	Exit Pistol, pursued by Bardolph
DOLL TEARSHEET	I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal’s gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	(to Sir John) Are you not hurt i’th’ groin? Methought a made a shrewd thrust at your belly.
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
SIR JOHN	Have you turned him out o’doors?
BARDOLPH	Yea, sir. The rascal’s drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i’th’ shoulder.
SIR JOHN	A rascal, to brave me!
DOLL TEARSHEET	Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou sweatest! Come, let me wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops. Ah rogue, i’faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain!
SIR JOHN	A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Do, an thou darest for thy heart. An thou dost, I’ll canvas thee between a pair of sheets.
(didascalia)	Enter musicians
PAGE	The music is come, sir.
SIR JOHN	Let them play.—Play, sirs!
(didascalia)	Music plays
SIR JOHN	Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quicksilver.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I‘faith, and thou followed’st him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o‘days, and foining o’nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry and Poins, disguised as drawers
SIR JOHN	Peace, good Doll, do not speak like a death’s-head, do not bid me remember mine end.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Sirrah, what humour’s the Prince of?
SIR JOHN	A good shallow young fellow. A would have made a good pantler; a would ha’ chipped bread well.
DOLL TEARSHEET	They say Poins has a good wit.
SIR JOHN	He a good wit? Hang him, baboon! His wit’s as thick as Tewkesbury mustard; there’s no more conceit in him than is in a mallet.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Why does the Prince love him so, then?
SIR JOHN	Because their legs are both of a bigness, and a plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles’ ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon joint-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boot very smooth like unto the sign of the leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories, and such other gambol faculties a has that show a weak mind and an able body; for the which the Prince admits him; for the Prince himself is such another—the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.
PRINCE HARRY	(aside to Poins) Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?
POINS	Let’s beat him before his whore.
PRINCE HARRY	Look whe’er the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.
POINS	Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?
SIR JOHN	Kiss me, Doll. They kiss
PRINCE HARRY	(aside to Poins) Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th’almanac to that?
POINS	And look whether the fiery Trigon his man be not lisping to his master’s old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper!
SIR JOHN	(to Doll) Thou dost give me flattering busses.
DOLL TEARSHEET	By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
SIR JOHN	I am old, I am old.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I love thee better than I love e’er a scurvy young boy of them all.
SIR JOHN	What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money o’Thursday; shalt have a cap tomorrow.—A merry song!
(didascalia)	The music plays again
SIR JOHN	Come, it grows late; we’ll to bed. Thou’lt forget me when I am gone.
DOLL TEARSHEET	By my troth, thou‘lt set me a-weeping an thou sayst so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return—well, hearken a’th’ end.
SIR JOHN	Some sack, Francis.
PRINCE	and POINS (coming forward) Anon, anon, sir.
SIR JOHN	Ha, a bastard son of the King’s !—And art not thou Poins his brother?
PRINCE HARRY	Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!
SIR JOHN	A better than thou: I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.
PRINCE HARRY	Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O, the Lord preserve thy grace! By my troth, welcome to London! Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?
SIR JOHN	(to Prince Harry) Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty! By this light—flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
DOLL TEARSHEET	How, you fat fool? I scorn you.
POINS	(to Prince Harry) My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.
PRINCE HARRY	(to Sir John) You whoreson candlemine you, how vilely did you speak of me now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	God’s blessing of your good heart, and so she is, by my troth!
SIR JOHN	(to Prince Harry) Didst thou hear me?
PRINCE HARRY	Yea, and you knew me as you did when you ran away by Gads Hill; you knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to try my patience.
SIR JOHN	No, no, no, not so, I did not think thou wast within hearing.
PRINCE HARRY	I shall drive you, then, to confess the wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle you.
SIR JOHN	No abuse, Hal; o’mine honour, no abuse.
PRINCE HARRY	Not? To dispraise me, and call me ‘pantler’ and ‘bread-chipper’ and I know not what?
SIR JOHN	No abuse, Hal.
POINS	No abuse?
SIR JOHN	No abuse, Ned, i’th’ world, honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him; (to Prince Harry) in which doing I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; no, faith, boys, none.
PRINCE HARRY	See now whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us. Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is thy boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?
POINS	(to Sir John) Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
SIR JOHN	The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer’s privy kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil outbids him, too.
PRINCE HARRY	For the women?
SIR JOHN	For one of them, she’s in hell already, and burns poor souls. For th’other, I owe her money, and whether she be damned for that I know not.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	No, I warrant you.
SIR JOHN	No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law, for the which I think thou wilt howl.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	All victuallers do so. What’s a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?
PRINCE HARRY	You, gentlewoman—
DOLL TEARSHEET	What says your grace?
SIR JOHN	His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. Peto knocks at door within
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Who knocks so loud at door? (Calls) Look to th’ door there, Francis.
(didascalia)	Enter Peto
PRINCE HARRY	Peto, how now, what news?
PETO	The King your father is at Westminster; And there are twenty weak and wearied posts Come from the north; and as I came along I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bareheaded, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
PRINCE HARRY	By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame So idly to profane the precious time, When tempest of commotion, like the south Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.— Give me my sword and cloak.—Falstaff, good night.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Prince Harry and Poins
SIR JOHN	Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked. 371
(didascalia)	Knocking within. Exit Bardolph
SIR JOHN	More knocking at the door!
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
SIR JOHN	How now, what’s the matter?
BARDOLPH	You must away to court, sir, presently. A dozen captains stay at door for you.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN to the Page Pay the musicians, sirrah. Farewell, hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after. The undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. Exeunt musicians
(didascalia)	DOLL TEARSHEET weeping I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst—well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
SIR JOHN	Farewell, farewell! 385
(didascalia)	Exit with Bardolph, Peto, and the Page
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine years come peascod-time, but an honester and truer-hearted man—well, fare thee well.
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
BARDOLPH	Mistress Tearsheet!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	What’s the matter? 390
BARDOLPH	Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
(didascalia)	Exit
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O run, Doll; run, run, good Doll!
(didascalia)	Exeunt Doll at one door, Mistress Quickly at another door

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry in his nightgown, with a page
KING HENRY	(giving letters) Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick. But ere they come, bid them o’er-read these letters And well consider of them. Make good speed.
(didascalia)	Exit page
KING HENRY	How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep? O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lulled with sound of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why li‘st thou with the vile 15 In loathsome beds, and leav’st the kingly couch A watch-case, or a common ’larum-bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Warwick and Surrey
WARWICK	Many good morrows to your majesty!
KING HENRY	Is it good morrow, lords?
WARWICK	’Tis one o’clock, and past.
KING HENRY	Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords. Have you read o’er the letter that I sent you?
WARWICK	We have, my liege.
KING HENRY	Then you perceive the body of our kingdom, How foul it is, what rank diseases grow, And with what danger near the heart of it.
WARWICK	It is but as a body yet distempered, Which to his former strength may be restored With good advice and little medicine. My lord Northumberland will soon be cooled.
KING HENRY	O God, that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea; and other times to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune’s hips; how chance’s mocks And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors!‘Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together; and in two year after Were they at wars. It is but eight years since This Percy was the man nearest my soul, Who like a brother toiled in my affairs, And laid his love and life under my foot, Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard Gave him defiance. But which of you was by— (To Warwick) You, cousin Neville, as I may remember— When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears, Then checked and rated by Northumberland, Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy?— ‘Northumberland, thou ladder by the which My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne’— Though then, God knows, I had no such intent, But that necessity so bowed the state That I and greatness were compelled to kiss— ‘The time shall come’—thus did he follow it— ‘The time will come that foul sin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption’; so went on, Foretelling this same time’s condition, And the division of our amity.
WARWICK	There is a history in all men’s lives Figuring the natures of the times deceased; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, who in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasurèd. 80 Such things become the hatch and brood of time; And by the necessary form of this King Richard might create a perfect guess That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness, Which should not find a ground to root upon Unless on you.
KING HENRY	Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities; And that same word even now cries out on us. They say the Bishop and Northumberland Are fifty thousand strong.
WARWICK	It cannot be, my lord. Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared. Please it your grace To go to bed? Upon my soul, my lord, The powers that you already have sent forth Shall bring this prize in very easily. To comfort you the more, I have received A certain instance that Glyndwr is dead. Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill, And these unseasoned hours perforce must add Unto your sickness.
KING HENRY	I will take your counsel. And were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter justice Shallow and Justice Silence
SHALLOW	Come on, come on, come on! Give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?
SILENCE	Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
SHALLOW	And how doth my cousin your bedfellow? And your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?
SILENCE	Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.
SHALLOW	By yea and no, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford still, is he not? 10
SILENCE	Indeed, sir, to my cost.
SHALLOW	A must then to the Inns o’ Court shortly. I was once of Clement’s Inn, where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet.
SILENCE	You were called ’lusty Shallow’ then, cousin. 15
SHALLOW	By the mass, I was called anything; and I would have done anything indeed, too, and roundly, too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squeal, a Cotswold man; you had not four such swingebucklers in all the Inns o’ Court again. And I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.
SILENCE	This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?
SHALLOW	The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break Scoggin’s head at the court gate when a was a crack, not thus high. And the very same day did I fight with one Samson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray’s Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead.
SILENCE	We shall all follow, cousin.
SHALLOW	Certain, ’tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?
SILENCE	By my troth, I was not there.
SHALLOW	Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?
SILENCE	Dead, sir.
SHALLOW	Jesu, Jesu, dead! A drew a good bow; and dead! A shot a fine shoot. John o’ Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! A would have clapped i’th’ clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man’s heart good to see. How a score of ewes now?
SILENCE	Thereafter as they be. A score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.
SHALLOW	And is old Double dead?
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph and the Page
SILENCE	Here come two of Sir John Falstaff’s men, as I think.
(didascalia)	SHALLOW Good morrow, honest gentlemen.
BARDOLPH	I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?
SHALLOW	I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county, and one of the King’s Justices of the Peace. What is your good pleasure with me?
BARDOLPH	My captain, sir, commends him to you—my captain Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.
SHALLOW	He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword man. How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth?
BARDOLPH	Sir, pardon, a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife.
SHALLOW	It is well said, in faith, sir, and it is well said indeed, too. ‘Better accommodated’—it is good; yea, indeed is it. Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. ‘Accommodated’—it comes of ‘accommodo’. Very good, a good phrase.
BARDOLPH	Pardon, sir, I have heard the word—‘phrase’ call you it?—By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven. ‘Accommodated’; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is being whereby a may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff
SHALLOW	It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. (To Sir John) Give me your hand, give me your worship’s good hand. By my troth, you like well, and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir John.
SIR JOHN	I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow. (To Silence) Master Surecard, as I think. 85
SHALLOW	No, Sir John, it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.
SIR JOHN	Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.
SILENCE	Your good worship is welcome.
SIR JOHN	Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?
SHALLOW	Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?
SIR JOHN	Let me see them, I beseech you.
(didascalia)	He sits
(didascalia)	SHALLOW Where’s the roll, where’s the roll, where’s the roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see; so, so, so, so, so. Yea, marry, sir: ‘Ralph Mouldy’. To Silence Let them appear as I call, let them do so, let them do so. Let me see, (calls) where is Mouldy?
(didascalia)	Enter Mouldy
MOULDY	Here, an’t please you. 100
SHALLOW	What think you, Sir John? A good-limbed fellow, young, strong, and of good friends.
SIR JOHN	Is thy name Mouldy?
MOULDY	Yea, an’t please you.
SIR JOHN	’Tis the more time thou wert used. 105
SHALLOW	Ha, ha, ha, most excellent, i’faith! Things that are mouldy lack use. Very singular good, in faith, well said, Sir John, very well said.
SIR JOHN	Prick him.
MOULDY	I was pricked well enough before, an you could have let me alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery. You need not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go out than 1. 114
SIR JOHN	Go to, peace, Mouldy. You shall go, Mouldy; it is time you were spent.
MOULDY	Spent?
SHALLOW	Peace, fellow, peace. Stand aside; know you where you are? 119
(didascalia)	Mouldy stands aside
SHALLOW	For th‘other, Sir John, let me see: ‘Simon Shadow’—
SIR JOHN	Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He’s like to be a cold soldier.
SHALLOW	(calls) Where’s Shadow?
(didascalia)	Enter Shadow
SHADOW	Here, sir.
SIR JOHN	Shadow, whose son art thou? 125
SHADOW	My mother’s son, sir.
SIR JOHN	Thy mother’s son! Like enough, and thy father’s shadow. So the son of the female is the shadow of the male—it is often so indeed—but not of the father’s substance.
SHALLOW	Do you like him, Sir John?
SIR JOHN	Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him, for we have a number of shadows fill up the muster book.
(didascalia)	Shadow stands aside
SHALLOW	(calls) ‘Thomas Wart.’
SIR JOHN	Where’s he?
(didascalia)	Enter Wart
WART	Here, sir.
SIR JOHN	Is thy name Wart?
WART	Yea, sir.
SIR JOHN	Thou art a very ragged wart.
SHALLOW	Shall I prick him, Sir John?
SIR JOHN	It were superfluous, for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more.
SHALLOW	Ha, ha, ha, you can do it, sir, you can do it! I commend you well. 145
(didascalia)	Wart stands aside
SHALLOW	(Calls) ‘Francis Feeble.’
(didascalia)	Enter Feeble
FEEBLE	Here, sir.
SHALLOW	What trade art thou, Feeble?
FEEBLE	A woman’s tailor, sir.
SHALLOW	Shall I prick him, sir?
SIR JOHN	You may, but if he had been a man’s tailor, he’d ha’ pricked you. (To Feeble) Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy’s battle as thou hast done in a woman’s petticoat?
FEEBLE	I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.
SIR JOHN	Well said, good woman’s tailor; well said, courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman’s tailor. Well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow. 160
FEEBLE	I would Wart might have gone, sir.
SIR JOHN	I would thou wert a man’s tailor, that thou mightst mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.
FEEBLE	It shall suffice, sir.
SIR JOHN	I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.
(didascalia)	Feeble stands aside
SIR JOHN	Who is next?
SHALLOW	(calls) ‘Peter Bullcalf o’th’ green.’
SIR JOHN	Yea, marry, let’s see Bullcalf. 170
(didascalia)	Enter Bullcalf
BULLCALF	Here, sir.
SIR JOHN	Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick Bullcalf till he roar again.
BULLCALF	O Lord, good my lord captain!
SIR JOHN	What, dost thou roar before thou’rt pricked?
BULLCALF	O Lord, sir, I am a diseased man.
SIR JOHN	What disease hast thou?
BULLCALF	A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir, which I caught with ringing in the King’s affairs upon his coronation day, sir. 180
SIR JOHN	Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have away thy cold, and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee.
(didascalia)	Bullcalf stands aside
SIR JOHN	Is here all? 184
SHALLOW	There is two more called than your number. You must have but four here, sir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner.
SIR JOHN	Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. 190
SHALLOW	O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the Windmill in Saint George’s Field?
SIR JOHN	No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that.
SHALLOW	Ha, ’twas a merry night! And is Jane Nightwork alive? 196
SIR JOHN	She lives, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	She never could away with me.
SIR JOHN	Never, never. She would always say she could not abide Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	By the mass, I could anger her to th’ heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?
SIR JOHN	Old, old, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain she’s old; and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I came to Clement’s Inn. 206
SILENCE	That’s fifty-five year ago.
SHALLOW	Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well? 210
SIR JOHN	We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW	That we have, that we have; in faith, Sir John, we have. Our watchword was ‘Hem boys!’ Come, let’s to dinner; come, let’s to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come. 216
(didascalia)	Exeunt Shallow, Silence, and Sir John
(didascalia)	BULLCALF coming forward Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and here’s four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go. And yet for mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends. Else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.
(didascalia)	BARDOLPH taking the money Go to; stand aside. 225
(didascalia)	Bullcalf stands aside
(didascalia)	MOULDY coming forward And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame’s sake stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when I am gone, and she is old and cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir. 230
BARDOLPH	Go to; stand aside.
(didascalia)	Mouldy stands aside
FEEBLE	By my troth, I care not. A man can die but once. We owe God a death. I’ll ne’er bear a base mind. An’t be my destiny, so; an’t be not, so. No man’s too good to serve’s prince. And let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.
BARDOLPH	Well said; thou’rt a good fellow.
FEEBLE	Faith, I’ll bear no base mind.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence
SIR JOHN	Come, sir, which men shall I have?
SHALLOW	Four of which you please.
BARDOLPH	(to Sir John) Sir, a word with you. (Aside to him) I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf.
SIR JOHN	Go to, well.
SHALLOW	Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
SIR JOHN	Do you choose for me.
SHALLOW	Marry, then: Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.
SIR JOHN	Mouldy and Bullcalf. For you, Mouldy, stay at home till you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it. I will none of you.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bullcalf and Mouldy
SHALLOW	Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.
SIR JOHN	Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man? Give me the spirit, Master Shallow. Here’s Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is? A shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer’s hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer’s bucket. And this same half-faced fellow Shadow; give me this man. He presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat, how swiftly will this Feeble the woman’s tailor run off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones.—Put me a caliver into Wart’s hand, Bardolph.
BARDOLPH	(giving Wart a caliver) Hold, Wart. Traverse—thas, thas, thas! 269
(didascalia)	Wart marches
SIR JOHN	(to Wart) Come, manage me your caliver. So; very well. Go to, very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot! Well said, i‘faith, Wart; thou’rt a good scab. Hold; (giving a coin) there’s a tester for thee.
SHALLOW	He is not his craft’s master; he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile-End Green, when I lay at Clement’s Inn—I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur’s show—there was a little quiver fellow, and a would manage you his piece thus, and a would about and about, and come you in and come you in. ‘Ra-ta-ta!’ would a say; ‘Bounce!’ would a say; and away again would a go; and again would a come. I shall ne’er see such a fellow.
SIR JOHN	These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God keep you, Master Silence; I will not use many words with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both; I thank you. I must a dozen mile tonight.—Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.
SHALLOW	Sir John, the Lord bless you; God prosper your affairs! God send us peace! As you return, visit my house; let our old acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye to the court.
SIR JOHN	Fore God, would you would!
SHALLOW	Go to, I have spoke at a word. God keep you!
SIR JOHN	Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. 295
(didascalia)	Exeunt Shallow and Silence
SIR JOHN	On, Bardolph, lead the men away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bardolph, Wart, Shadow, and Feeble
SIR JOHN	As I return, I will fetch off these justices. I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath done about Turnbull Street; and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk’s tribute. I do remember him at Clement’s Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese paring. When a was naked, he was for all the world like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. A was so forlorn that his dimensions, to any thick sight, were invisible. A was the very genius of famine. And now is this Vice’s dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John o’ Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him, and I’ll be sworn a ne’er saw him but once, in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal’s men. I saw it, and told John o’ Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have trussed him and all his apparel into an eel-skin. The case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court. And now has he land and beeves. Well, I’ll be acquainted with him if I return; and’t shall go hard but I’ll make him a philosopher’s two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. Exit

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter in arms the Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray, Lord Hastings, and Coleville, within the Forest of Gaultres
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	What is this forest called?
HASTINGS	’Tis Gaultres Forest, an’t shall please your grace.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth To know the numbers of our enemies.
HASTINGS	We have sent forth already.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	’Tis well done. My friends and brethren in these great affairs, I must acquaint you that I have received New-dated letters from Northumberland, Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus: Here doth he wish his person, with such powers As might hold sortance with his quality, The which he could not levy; whereupon He is retired to ripe his growing fortunes To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers That your attempts may overlive the hazard 15 And fearful meeting of their opposite.
MOWBRAY	Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground And dash themselves to pieces.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
HASTINGS	Now, what news?
MESSENGER	West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, In goodly form comes on the enemy; And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand.
MOWBRAY	The just proportion that we gave them out. Let us sway on, and face them in the field.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	What well-appointed leader fronts us here?
MOWBRAY	I think it is my lord of Westmorland.
WESTMORLAND	Health and fair greeting from our general, The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Say on, my lord of Westmorland, in peace, What doth concern your coming.
WESTMORLAND	Then, my lord, Unto your grace do I in chief address The substance of my speech. If that rebellion Came like itself, in base and abject routs, Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags, And countenanced by boys and beggary; I say, if damned commotion so appeared In his true native and most proper shape, You, reverend father, and these noble lords Had not been here to dress the ugly form Of base and bloody insurrection With your fair honours. You, Lord Archbishop, Whose see is by a civil peace maintained, Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched, Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored, Whose white investments figure innocence, The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace Into the harsh and boist’rous tongue of war, Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine To a loud trumpet and a point of war?
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Wherefore do I this? So the question stands. Briefly, to this end: we are all diseased, And with our surfeiting and wanton hours Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, And we must bleed for it—of which disease Our late King Richard, being infected, died. But, my most noble lord of Westmorland, I take not on me here as a physician, Nor do I as an enemy to peace Troop in the throngs of military men; But rather show a while like fearful war To diet rank minds, sick of happiness, And purge th’obstructions which begin to stop Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. I have in equal balance justly weighed What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, And find our griefs heavier than our offences. We see which way the stream of time doth run, And are enforced from our most quiet shore By the rough torrent of occasion; And have the summary of all our griefs, When time shall serve, to show in articles, Which long ere this we offered to the King, And might by no suit gain our audience. When we are wronged, and would unfold our griefs, We are denied access unto his person Even by those men that most have done us wrong. The dangers of the days but newly gone, 80 Whose memory is written on the earth With yet appearing blood, and the examples Of every minute’s instance, present now, Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms, Not to break peace, or any branch of it, But to establish here a peace indeed, Concurring both in name and quality.
WESTMORLAND	Whenever yet was your appeal denied? Wherein have you been gallèd by the King? What peer hath been suborned to grate on you, That you should seal this lawless bloody book Of forged rebellion with a seal divine?
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	My brother general, the commonwealth I make my quarrel in particular.
WESTMORLAND	There is no need of any such redress; Or if there were, it not belongs to you.
MOWBRAY	Why not to him in part, and to us all That feel the bruises of the days before, And suffer the condition of these times To lay a heavy and unequal hand Upon our honours?
WESTMORLAND	O my good Lord Mowbray, Construe the times to their necessities, And you shall say indeed it is the time, And not the King, that doth you injuries. Yet for your part, it not appears to me, 105 Either from the King or in the present time, That you should have an inch of any ground To build a grief on. Were you not restored To all the Duke of Norfolk’s signories, Your noble and right well-remembered father’s? 110
MOWBRAY	What thing in honour had my father lost That need to be revived and breathed in me? The King that loved him, as the state stood then, Was force perforce compelled to banish him; And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he, 115 Being mounted and both roused in their seats, Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel, And the loud trumpet blowing them together, Then, then, when there was nothing could have stayed My father from the breast of Bolingbroke— O, when the King did throw his warder down, His own life hung upon the staff he threw; Then threw he down himself and all their lives 125 That by indictment and by dint of sword Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.
WESTMORLAND	You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what. The Earl of Hereford was reputed then In England the most valiant gentleman. Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled? But if your father had been victor there, He ne’er had borne it out of Coventry; For all the country in a general voice Cried hate upon him, and all their prayers and love Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on And blessed and graced, indeed, more than the King. But this is mere digression from my purpose. Here come I from our princely general To know your griefs, to tell you from his grace That he will give you audience; and wherein It shall appear that your demands are just, You shall enjoy them, everything set off That might so much as think you enemies.
MOWBRAY	But he hath forced us to compel this offer, And it proceeds from policy, not love.
WESTMORLAND	Mowbray, you overween to take it so. This offer comes from mercy, not from fear; For lo, within a ken our army lies, Upon mine honour, all too confident To give admittance to a thought of fear. Our battle is more full of names than yours, Our men more perfect in the use of arms, Our armour all as strong, our cause the best. Then reason will our hearts should be as good. Say you not then our offer is compelled.
MOWBRAY	Well, by my will we shall admit no parley.
WESTMORLAND	That argues but the shame of your offence. A rotten case abides no handling.
HASTINGS	Hath the Prince John a full commission, In very ample virtue of his father, To hear and absolutely to determine Of what conditions we shall stand upon?
WESTMORLAND	That is intended in the general’s name. I muse you make so slight a question.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Then take, my lord of Westmorland, this schedule; For this contains our general grievances. Each several article herein redressed, All members of our cause, both here and hence, That are ensinewed to this action Acquitted by a true substantial form, And present execution of our wills To us and to our purposes consigned, We come within our awe-full banks again, And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
WESTMORLAND	(taking the schedule) This will I show the general. Please you, lords, In sight of both our battles we may meet, And either end in peace—which God so frame— Or to the place of diff’rence call the swords Which must decide it.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	My lord, we will do so. 180
(didascalia)	Exit Westmorland
MOWBRAY	There is a thing within my bosom tells me That no conditions of our peace can stand.
HASTINGS	Fear you not that. If we can make our peace Upon such large terms and so absolute As our conditions shall consist upon, Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
MOWBRAY	Yea, but our valuation shall be such That every slight and false-derivèd cause, Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, Shall to the King taste of this action, That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, We shall be winnowed with so rough a wind That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, And good from bad find no partition.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	No, no, my lord; note this. The King is weary Of dainty and such picking grievances, For he hath found to end one doubt by death Revives two greater in the heirs of life; And therefore will he wipe his tables clean, And keep no tell-tale to his memory That may repeat and history his loss To new remembrance; for full well he knows He cannot so precisely weed this land As his misdoubts present occasion. His foes are so enrooted with his friends That, plucking to unfix an enemy, He doth unfasten so and shake a friend; So that this land, like an offensive wife That hath enraged him on to offer strokes, As he is striking, holds his infant up, 210 And hangs resolved correction in the arm That was upreared to execution.
HASTINGS	Besides, the King hath wasted all his rods On late offenders, that he now doth lack The very instruments of chastisement; So that his power, like to a fangless lion, May offer, but not hold.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	’Tis very true. And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal, If we do now make our atonement well, Our peace will, like a broken limb united, Grow stronger for the breaking.
MOWBRAY	Be it so.
(didascalia)	Enter Westmorland
MOWBRAY	Here is returned my lord of Westmorland.
WESTMORLAND	The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your lordship To meet his grace just distance ’tween our armies?
MOWBRAY	Your grace of York, in God’s name then set forward.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Before, and greet his grace!—My lord, we come.
(didascalia)	They march over the stage.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John with one or more soldiers
(didascalia)	carrying wind
PRINCE JOHN	You are well encountered here, my cousin Mowbray. Good day to you, gentle lord Archbishop; And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all. My lord of York, it better showed with you When that your flock, assembled by the bell, Encircled you to hear with reverence Your exposition on the holy text, Than now to see you here an iron man, Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, Turning the word to sword, and life to death. That man that sits within a monarch’s heart And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, Would he abuse the countenance of the King, Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach In shadow of such greatness! With you, Lord Bishop, It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken How deep you were within the books of God— To us, the speaker in his parliament, To us, th‘imagined voice of God himself,é The very opener and intelligencer Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven And our dull workings? O, who shall believe But you misuse the reverence of your place, Employ the countenance and grace of heav’n As a false favourite doth his prince’s name In deeds dishonourable? You have ta’en up, Under the counterfeited zeal of God, The subjects of his substitute, my father; And, both against the peace of heaven and him, Have here upswarmèd them.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Good my lord of Lancaster, I am not here against your father’s peace; But, as I told my lord of Westmorland, The time misordered doth, in common sense, Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form, 260 To hold our safety up. I sent your grace The parcels and particulars of our grief, The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court, Whereon this Hydra son of war is born; Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed asleep With grant of our most just and right desires, And true obedience, of this madness cured, Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
MOWBRAY	If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man.
HASTINGS	And though we here fall down, We have supplies to second our attempt. If they miscarry, theirs shall second them; And so success of mischief shall be born, And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up, Whiles England shall have generation.
PRINCE JOHN	You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow, To sound the bottom of the after-times.
WESTMORLAND	Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly How far forth you do like their articles?
PRINCE JOHN	I like them all, and do allow them well, 280 And swear here, by the honour of my blood, My father’s purposes have been mistook, And some about him have too lavishly Wrested his meaning and authority. (To the Archbishop) My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redressed; Upon my soul they shall. If this may please you, Discharge your powers unto their several counties, As we will ours; and here between the armies Let’s drink together friendly and embrace, That all their eyes may bear those tokens home Of our restored love and amity.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	I take your princely word for these redresses.
(didascalia)	PRINCE JOHN
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	I give it you, and will maintain my word; And thereupon I drink unto your grace. He drinks
(didascalia)	HASTINGS to Coleville
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Go, captain, and deliver to the army This news of peace. Let them have pay, and part. I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain.
(didascalia)	Exit Coleville
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	To you, my noble lord of Westmorland! He drinks
WESTMORLAND	(drinking) I pledge your grace. An if you knew what pains I have bestowed to breed this present peace, You would drink freely; but my love to ye Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	I do not doubt you.
WESTMORLAND	I am glad of it. (Drinking) Health to my lord and gentle cousin Mowbray!
MOWBRAY	You wish me health in very happy season, For I am on the sudden something ill.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Against ill chances men are ever merry; But heaviness foreruns the good event.
WESTMORLAND	Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow Serves to say thus: some good thing comes tomorrow.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. 311
MOWBRAY	So much the worse, if your own rule be true.
(didascalia)	Shout within
PRINCE JOHN	The word of peace is rendered. Hark how they shout.
MOWBRAY	This had been cheerful after victory.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	A peace is of the nature of a conquest, For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser.
PRINCE JOHN	(to Westmorland) Go, my lord, And let our army be discharged too.
(didascalia)	Exit Westmorland
PRINCE JOHN	(To the Archbishop) And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains March by us, that we may peruse the men We should have coped withal.
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Go, good Lord Hastings, And ere they be dismissed, let them march by.
(didascalia)	Exit Hastings
PRINCE JOHN	I trust, lords, we shall lie tonight together.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland, with captains
PRINCE JOHN	Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?
WESTMORLAND	The leaders, having charge from you to stand, Will not go off until they hear you speak.
PRINCE JOHN	They know their duties.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Hastings
(didascalia)	HASTINGS to the Archbishop Our army is dispersed.
PRINCE JOHN	Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses, East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries toward his home and sporting place.
WESTMORLAND	Good tidings, my lord Hastings, for the which I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason; And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray, Of capital treason I attach you both.
(didascalia)	The captains guard Hastings, the Archbishop, and Mowbray
MOWBRAY	Is this proceeding just and honourable?
WESTMORLAND	Is your assembly so?
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Will you thus break your faith?
PRINCE JOHN	I pawned thee none. I promised you redress of these same grievances Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, I will perform with a most Christian care. But for you rebels, look to taste the due Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these arms commence, Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.—345 Strike up our drums, pursue the scattered stray. God, and not we, hath safely fought today. Some guard these traitors to the block of death, Treason’s true bed and yielder up of breath. Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter Sir John Falstaff and Coleville
SIR JOHN	What’s your name, sir, of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray?
COLEVILLE	I am a knight, sir, and my name is Coleville of the Dale.
SIR JOHN	Well then, Coleville is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the Dale. Coleville shall be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place—a place deep enough, so shall you be still Coleville of the Dale.
COLEVILLE	Are not you Sir John Falstaff? 10
SIR JOHN	As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I am. Do ye yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy. 15
COLEVILLE	(kneeling) I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.
SIR JOHN	(aside) I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John, the Earl of Westmorland, Sir John Blunt, and other lords and soldiers
SIR JOHN	Here comes our general.
PRINCE JOHN	The heat is past; follow no further now. A retreat is sounded Call in the powers, good cousin Westmorland.
(didascalia)	Exit Westmorland
PRINCE JOHN	Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When everything is ended, then you come. These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows’ back.
SIR JOHN	I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus. I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I in my poor and old motion the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine-score and odd posts; and here, travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valour taken Sir John Coleville of the Dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of that? He saw me, and yielded, that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, ‘I came, saw, and overcame.’
PRINCE JOHN	It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.
SIR JOHN	I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day’s deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top on‘t, Coleville kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the clear sky of fame o’ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins’ heads to her, believe not the word of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.
PRINCE JOHN	Thine’s too heavy to mount.
SIR JOHN	Let it shine then.
PRINCE JOHN	Thine’s too thick to shine.
SIR JOHN	Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will.
PRINCE JOHN	Is thy name Coleville?
COLEVILLE	It is, my lord. 60
PRINCE JOHN	A famous rebel art thou, Coleville.
SIR JOHN	And a famous true subject took him.
COLEVILLE	I am, my lord, but as my betters are That led me hither. Had they been ruled by me, You should have won them dearer than you have.
SIR JOHN	I know not how—they sold themselves, but thou Like a kind fellow gav’st thyself away, And I thank thee for thee.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland
PRINCE JOHN	Have you left pursuit?
(didascalia)	Retreat is made, and execution stayed.
PRINCE JOHN	Send Coleville with his confederates 70 To York, to present execution. Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
(didascalia)	Exit Blunt, with Coleville
PRINCE JOHN	And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords. I hear the King my father is sore sick. (To Westmorland) Our news shall go before us to his majesty, Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him; And we with sober speed will follow you.
SIR JOHN	My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go Through Gloucestershire, and when you come to court Stand, my good lord, pray, in your good report.
PRINCE JOHN	Fare you well, Falstaff. I in my condition Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Sir John
SIR JOHN	I would you had but the wit; ‘twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me, nor a man cannot make him laugh. But that’s no marvel; he drinks no wine. There’s never none of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth so overcool their blood, and making many fish meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally fools and cowards—which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherry-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, delivered o’er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherry is the warming of the blood, which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice. But the sherry warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts’ extremes; it illuminateth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great and puffed up with his retinue, doth any deed of courage. And this valour comes of sherry. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fertile sherry, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations, and to addict themselves to sack. 121
(didascalia)	Enter Bardolph
SIR JOHN	How now, Bardolph?
BARDOLPH	The army is discharged all and gone.
SIR JOHN	Let them go. I’ll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come, away!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry in his bed, attended by the Earl of Warwick, Thomas Duke of Clarence, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, and others
KING HENRY	Now, lords, if God doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields, And draw no swords but what are sanctified. Our navy is addressed, our power collected, Our substitutes in absence well invested, And everything lies level to our wish; Only we want a little personal strength, And pause us till these rebels now afoot Come underneath the yoke of government. 10
WARWICK	Both which we doubt not but your majesty Shall soon enjoy.
KING HENRY	Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, Where is the Prince your brother?
GLOUCESTER	I think he’s gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.
KING HENRY	And how accompanied?
GLOUCESTER	I do not know, my lord. 15
KING HENRY	Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?
GLOUCESTER	No, my good lord, he is in presence here.
CLARENCE	What would my lord and father?
KING HENRY	Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother? He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas. Thou hast a better place in his affection Than all thy brothers. Cherish it, my boy, And noble offices thou mayst effect Of mediation, after I am dead, 25 Between his greatness and thy other brethren. Therefore omit him not, blunt not his love, Nor lose the good advantage of his grace By seeming cold or careless of his will; For he is gracious, if he be observed; 30 He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity. Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he is flint, As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day. His temper therefore must be well observed. Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth; But being moody, give him line and scope Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, That the united vessel of their blood, Mingled with venom of suggestion— As force perforce the age will pour it in- Shall never leak, though it do work as strong As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
CLARENCE	I shall observe him with all care and love.
KING HENRY	Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas? 50
CLARENCE	He is not there today; he dines in London.
KING HENRY	And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?
CLARENCE	With Poins and other his continual followers.
KING HENRY	Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds, And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them; therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death. The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape In forms imaginary th’unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon 60 When I am sleeping with my ancestors; For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, When means and lavish manners meet together, O, with what wings shall his affections fly Towards fronting peril and opposed decay?
WARWICK	My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite. The Prince but studies his companions, Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, ’Tis needful that the most immodest word Be looked upon and learnt, which once attained, Your highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated; so, like gross terms, The Prince will in the perfectness of time Cast off his followers, and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live By which his grace must mete the lives of other, Turning past evils to advantages.
KING HENRY	’Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb In the dead carrion.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Westmorland
KING HENRY	Who’s here? Westmorland? 80
WESTMORLAND	Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver I Prince John your son doth kiss your grace’s hand. Mowbray, the Bishop Scrope, Hastings, and all Are brought to the correction of your law. There is not now a rebel’s sword unsheathed, But peace puts forth her olive everywhere. The manner how this action hath been borne Here at more leisure may your highness read, With every course in his particular. He gives the King papers
KING HENRY	O Westmorland, thou art a summer bird Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day.
(didascalia)	Enter Harcourt
KING HENRY	Look, here’s more news.
HARCOURT	From enemies heaven keep your majesty; And when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of! The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, With a great power of English and of Scots, Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown. The manner and true order of the fight This packet, please it you, contains at large. He gives the King papers
KING HENRY	And wherefore should these good news make me sick? Will fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest letters? She either gives a stomach and no food— Such are the poor in health—or else a feast, And takes away the stomach—such are the rich, That have abundance and enjoy it not. I should rejoice now at this happy news, And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy. 110 O me! Come near me now; I am much ill. He swoons
GLOUCESTER	Comfort, your majesty!
CLARENCE	O my royal father!
WESTMORLAND	My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
WARWICK	Be patient, princes; you do know these fits Are with his highness very ordinary. 115 Stand from him, give him air; he’ll straight be well.
CLARENCE	No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs. Th’incessant care and labour of his mind Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in So thin that life looks through and will break out. 120
GLOUCESTER	The people fear me, for they do observe Unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature. The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep and leaped them over.
CLARENCE	The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between, 125 And the old folk, time’s doting chronicles, Say it did so a little time before That our great grandsire Edward sicked and died.
WARWICK	Speak lower, princes, for the King recovers.
GLOUCESTER	This apoplexy will certain be his end.
KING HENRY	I pray you take me up and bear me hence Into some other chamber; softly, pray.
(didascalia)	The King is carried over the stage in his bed
KING HENRY	Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends, Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
WARWICK	Call for the music in the other room.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more. Still music within
KING HENRY	Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
(didascalia)	Clarence takes the crown from the King’s head, and sets it on his pillow
CLARENCE	His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
(didascalia)	A noise within
WARWICK	Less noise, less noise!
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry
PRINCE HARRY	Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
CLARENCE	I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
PRINCE HARRY	How now, rain within doors, and none abroad? How doth the King?
GLOUCESTER	Exceeding ill.
PRINCE HARRY	Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.
GLOUCESTER	He altered much upon the hearing it.
PRINCE HARRY	If he be sick with joy, he’ll recover without physic. WARWICK Not so much noise, my lords! Sweet prince, speak low. The King your father is disposed to sleep.
CLARENCE	Let us withdraw into the other room.
WARWICK	Will’t please your grace to go along with us?
PRINCE HARRY	No, I will sit and watch here by the King.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but the King and Prince Harry
PRINCE HARRY	Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? O polished perturbation, golden care, That keep‘st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night!—Sleep with it now; Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, As he whose brow with homely biggen bound Snores out the watch of night. O majesty, When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, That scald’st with safety.—By his gates of breath There lies a downy feather which stirs not. Did he suspire, that light and weightless down Perforce must move.—My gracious lord, my father!— This sleep is sound indeed. This is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorced So many English kings.—Thy due from me Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood, Which nature, love, and filial tenderness Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously. My due from thee is this imperial crown, Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, Derives itself to me. He puts the crown on his head Lo where it sits, Which God shall guard; and put the world’s whole strength Into one giant arm, it shall not force This lineal honour from me. This from thee Will I to mine leave, as ’tis left to me. Exit
(didascalia)	Music ceases. The King awakes
KING HENRY	Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence!
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick, and the Dukes of
KING HENRY	Gloucester and Clarence
CLARENCE	Doth the King call?
WARWICK	What would your majesty? How fares your grace?
KING HENRY	Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
CLARENCE	We left the Prince my brother here, my liege, Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
KING HENRY	The Prince of Wales? Where is he? Let me see him.
WARWICK	This door is open; he is gone this way.
GLOUCESTER	He came not through the chamber where we stayed.
KING HENRY	Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?
WARWICK	When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
KING HENRY	The Prince hath ta’en it hence. Go seek him out. Is he so hasty that he doth suppose My sleep my death? Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.
(didascalia)	Exit Warwick
KING HENRY	This part of his conjoins with my disease, And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are, How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry; for this they have Engrossed and piled up the cankered heaps Of strange-achieved gold; for this they have Been thoughtful to invest their sons with arts And martial exercises; when, like the bee Culling from every flower the virtuous sweets, Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with honey, We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees, 206 Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste Yields his engrossments to the ending father.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick
KING HENRY	Now where is he that will not stay so long Till his friend sickness have determined me?
WARWICK	My lord, I found the Prince in the next room, Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks With such a deep demeanour, in great sorrow, That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood, Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife 215 With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
KING HENRY	But wherefore did he take away the crown?
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry with the crown
KING HENRY	Lo where he comes.—Come hither to me, Harry. (To the others) Depart the chamber; leave us here alone. Exeunt all but the King and Prince Harry
PRINCE HARRY	I never thought to hear you speak again.
KING HENRY	Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth, Thou seek‘st the greatness that will overwhelm thee! Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity Is held from falling with so weak a wind That it will quickly drop. My day is dim. Thou hast stol’n that which after some few hours Were thine without offence, and at my death Thou hast sealed up my expectation. Thy life did manifest thou loved’st me not, And thou wilt have me die assured of it. Thou hid’st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, Whom thou hast whetted on thy stony heart To stab at half an hour of my life. What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour? Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself, And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head. Only compound me with forgotten dust. Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; For now a time is come to mock at form— Harry the Fifth is crowned. Up, vanity! Down, royal state! All you sage counsellors, hence! And to the English court assemble now From every region, apes of idleness! Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum I Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? Be happy; he will trouble you no more. England shall double gild his treble guilt, England shall give him office, honour, might; For the fifth Harry from curbed licence plucks The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 260 Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! When that my care could not withhold thy riots, What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.
PRINCE HARRY	O pardon me, my liege! But for my tears, The moist impediments unto my speech, I had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard The course of it so far. There is your crown;
(didascalia)	He returns the crown and kneels
PRINCE HARRY	And He that wears the crown immortally Long guard it yours! If I affect it more Than as your honour and as your renown, Let me no more from this obedience rise, Which my most true and inward duteous spirit Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending. God witness with me, when I here came in And found no course of breath within your majesty, How cold it struck my heart. If I do feign, O, let me in my present wildness die, And never live to show th‘incredulous world The noble change that I have purposed. Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, I spake unto this crown as having sense, And thus upbraided it: ‘The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father; Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold. Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, Preserving life in medicine potable; But thou, most fine, most honoured, most renowned, Hast eat thy bearer up.’ Thus, my royal liege, Accusing it, I put it on my head, To try with it, as with an enemy That had before my face murdered my father, The quarrel of a true inheritor. But if it did infect my blood with joy Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride, If any rebel or vain spirit of mine Did with the least affection of a welcome Give entertainment to the might of it, Let God for ever keep it from my head, And make me as the poorest vassal is, That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.
KING HENRY	O my son, God put it in thy mind to take it hence, That thou mightst win the more thy father’s love, Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed, And hear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe.
(didascalia)	Prince Harry rises from kneeling and sits by the bed
KING HENRY	God knows, my son, By what bypaths and indirect crook’d ways I met this crown; and I myself know well How troublesome it sat upon my head. To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation; For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth. It seemed in me But as an honour snatched with boist‘rous hand; And I had many living to upbraid My gain of it by their assistances, Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears Thou seest with peril I have answerèd; For all my reign hath been but as a scene Acting that argument. And now my death Changes the mood, for what in me was purchased Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort, So thou the garland wear’st successively. Yet though thou stand‘st more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green, And all thy friends—which thou must make thy friends— Have but their stings and teeth newly ta’en out, By whose fell working I was first advanced, And by whose power I well might lodge a fear To be again displaced; which to avoid I cut them off, and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land, Lest rest and lying still might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels, that action hence borne out May waste the memory of the former days. More would I, but my lungs are wasted so That strength of speech is utterly denied me. How I came by the crown, O God forgive, And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
PRINCE HARRY	My gracious liege, You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; Then plain and right must my possession be, Which I with more than with a common pain ’Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John of Lancaster followed by the Earl of Warwick and others
KING HENRY	Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
PRINCE JOHN	Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father!
KING HENRY	Thou bring’st me happiness and peace, son John; But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown From this bare withered trunk. Upon thy sight My worldly business makes a period. Where is my lord of Warwick?
PRINCE HARRY	My lord of Warwick!
(didascalia)	Warwick comes forward to the King
KING HENRY	Doth any name particular belong Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
WARWICK	’Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord.
KING HENRY	Laud be to God! Even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years I should not die but in Jerusalem, Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land; But bear me to that chamber; there I’ll lie; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, bearing the King in his bed

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Shallow, Silence, Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Page
SHALLOW	(to Sir John ) By cock and pie, you shall not away tonight.—What, Davy, I say!
SIR JOHN	You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.
SHALLOW	I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused.—Why, Davy!
(didascalia)	Enter Davy
DAVY	Here, sir.
SHALLOW	Davy, Davy, Davy; let me see, Davy; let me see. William Cook—bid him come hither.—Sir John, you shall not be excused.
DAVY	Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served. And again, sir: shall we sow the headland with wheat?
SHALLOW	With red wheat, Davy. But for William Cook; are there no young pigeons?
DAVY	Yes, sir. Here is now the smith’s note for shoeing and plough-irons.
SHALLOW	Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused.
DAVY	Sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had; and, sir, do you mean to stop any of William’s wages, about the sack he lost at Hinkley Fair?
SHALLOW	A shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook.
DAVY	Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?
SHALLOW	Yea, Davy. I will use him well; a friend i’th’ court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite.
DAVY	No worse than they are back-bitten, sir, for they have marvellous foul linen.
SHALLOW	Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy.
DAVY	I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Wo’ncot against Clement Perks o’th’ Hill.
SHALLOW	There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor. That Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.
DAVY	I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but yet God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend’s request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years. An I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have little credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore I beseech you let him be countenanced.
(didascalia)	SHALLOW Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy. Exit Davy Where are you, Sir John? Come, off with your boots.—Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.
BARDOLPH	I am glad to see your worship. 49
(didascalia)	SHALLOW I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph. To the Page And welcome, my tall fellow.—Come, Sir John.
SIR JOHN	I’ll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.
(didascalia)	Exit Shallow With Silence
SIR JOHN	Bardolph, look to our horses. 54
(didascalia)	Exit Bardolph With the Page
SIR JOHN	If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded hermits’ staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men’s spirits and his. They, by observing him, do bear themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like servingman. Their spirits are so married in conjunction, with the participation of society, that they flock together in consent like so many wild geese. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master; if to his men, I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught as men take diseases, one of another; therefore let men take heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions—which is four terms, or two actions—and a shall laugh without intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight oath, and a jest with a sad brow, will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up!
SHALLOW	(within) Sir John!
SIR JOHN	I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow.
(didascalia)	Exit

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick at one door, and the Lord Chief Justice at another door
WARWICK	How now, my Lord Chief Justice, whither away ?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	How doth the King ?
WARWICK	Exceeding well: his cares are now all ended.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I hope not dead.
WARWICK	He’s walked the way of nature, And to our purposes he lives no more.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I would his majesty had called me with him. The service that I truly did his life Hath left me open to all injuries.
WARWICK	Indeed I think the young King loves you not.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I know he doth not, and do arm myself To welcome the condition of the time, Which cannot look more hideously upon me Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince John of Lancaster, and the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester
WARWICK	Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry. O, that the living Harry had the temper Of he the worst of these three gentlemen ! How many nobles then should hold their places, That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort !
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	O God, I fear all will be overturned.
PRINCE JOHN	Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.
GLOUCESTER	and CLARENCE Good morrow, cousin.
PRINCE JOHN	We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
WARWICK	We do remember, but our argument Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
PRINCE JOHN	Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy!
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Peace be with us, lest we be heavier I
GLOUCESTER	O good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed; And I dare swear you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow—it is sure your own.
PRINCE JOHN	(to Lord Chief Justice) Though no man be assured what grace to find, You stand in coldest expectation. I am the sorrier; would ’twere otherwise.
CLARENCE	(to Lord Chief Justice) Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair, Which swims against your stream of quality.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Sweet princes, what I did I did in honour, Led by th’impartial conduct of my soul; And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestalled remission. If truth and upright innocency fail me, I’ll to the King my master, that is dead, And tell him who hath sent me after him.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Harry, as King
WARWICK	Here comes the Prince.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	Good morrow, and God save your majesty I
PRINCE HARRY	This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, Sits not so easy on me as you think. Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear. This is the English not the Turkish court; Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, For, by my faith, it very well becomes you. Sorrow so royally in you appears That I will deeply put the fashion on, And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad; But entertain no more of it, good brothers, Than a joint burden laid upon us all. For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured I’ll be your father and your brother too. Let me but bear your love, I’ll bear your cares. Yet weep that Harry’s dead, and so will I; But Harry lives that shall convert those tears By number into hours of happiness.
PRINCE	JOHN, GLOUCESTER, and CLARENCE We hope no other from your majesty.
PRINCE HARRY	You all look strangely on me, (to Lord Chief Justice) and you most. You are, I think, assured I love you not.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I am assured, if I be measured rightly, Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
PRINCE HARRY	No? How might a prince of my great hopes forget So great indignities you laid upon me? What—rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison Th’immediate heir of England? Was this easy? May this be washed in Lethe and forgotten ?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I then did use the person of your father. The image of his power lay then in me; And in th’administration of his law, Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, Your highness pleased to forget my place, The majesty and power of law and justice, The image of the King whom I presented, And struck me in my very seat of judgement; Whereon, as an offender to your father, I gave bold way to my authority And did commit you. If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now the garland, To have a son set your decrees at naught— To pluck down justice from your awe-full bench, To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword That guards the peace and safety of your person, Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image, And mock your workings in a second body? Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours, Be now the father, and propose a son; Hear your own dignity so much profaned, See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, Behold yourself so by a son disdained; And then imagine me taking your part, And in your power soft silencing your son. After this cold considerance, sentence me; And, as you are a king, speak in your state What I have done that misbecame my place, My person, or my liege’s sovereignty.
PRINCE HARRY	You are right Justice, and you weigh this well. Therefore still bear the balance and the sword; And I do wish your honours may increase Till you do live to see a son of mine Offend you and obey you as I did. So shall I live to speak my father’s words: ‘Happy am I that have a man so bold That dares do justice on my proper son, And not less happy having such a son That would deliver up his greatness so Into the hands of justice.’ You did commit me, For which I do commit into your hand Th‘unstainèd sword that you have used to bear, With this remembrance: that you use the same With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit As you have done ’gainst me. There is my hand. You shall be as a father to my youth; My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear, And I will stoop and humble my intents To your well-practised wise directions.— And princes all, believe me, I beseech you, My father is gone wild into his grave, For in his tomb lie my affections; And with his spirits sadly I survive To mock the expectation of the world, To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down After my seeming. The tide of blood in me Hath proudly flowed in vanity till now. Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of floods, And flow henceforth in formal majesty. Now call we our high court of Parliament, And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel That the great body of our state may go In equal rank with the best-governed nation; That war, or peace, or both at once, may be As things acquainted and familiar to us; (To Lord Chief Justice) In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. (To all) Our coronation done, we will accite, As I before remembered, all our state; And, God consigning to my good intents, No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, ‘God shorten Harry’s happy life one day.’ Exeunt
(didascalia)	5.3 A table and chairs set forth. Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy With vessels for the table, Bardolph, and the Page
SHALLOW	(to Sir John) Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year’s pippin of mine own grafting, with a dish of caraways, and so forth—come, cousin Silence—and then to bed.
SIR JOHN	Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
SHALLOW	Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John. Marry, good air.—Spread, Davy; spread, Davy.
(didascalia)	Davy begins to spread the table
SHALLOW	Well said, Davy.
SIR JOHN	This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man and your husband.
SHALLOW	A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John.—By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper.—A good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down. (To Silence) Come, cousin.
SILENCE	Ah, sirrah, quoth-a, we shall (sings) Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, And praise God for the merry year, When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there So merrily, And ever among so merrily.
SIR JOHN	There’s a merry heart, good Master Silence! I’ll give you a health for that anon.
SHALLOW	Good Master Bardotph!—Some wine, Davy.
(didascalia)	DAVY to Sir john Sweet sir, sit. To Bardolph I’ll be with you anon. To Sir John Most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit.
(didascalia)	All but Davy sit. Davy pours wine
SHALLOW	Proface! What you want in meat, we’ll have in drink; but you must bear; the heart’s all.
SHALLOW	Be merry, Master Bardolph and my little soldier there, be merry.
SILENCE	(sings) Be merry, be merry, my wife has all, For women are shrews, both short and tall, ’Tis merry in hall when beards wags all, And welcome merry shrovetide. Be merry, be merry.
JOHN	I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle.
SILENCE	Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now.
(didascalia)	Enter Davy With a dish of apples
DAVY	There’s a dish of leather-coats for you.
SHALLOW	Davy!
(didascalia)	DAVY Your worship! I’ll be with you straight. To Sir John A cup of wine, sir?
(didascalia)	SILENCE sings
SHALLOW	A cup of wine That’s brisk and fine, And drink unto thee, leman mine, And a merry heart lives long-a.
SIR JOHN	Well said, Master Silence.
SILENCE	And we shall be merry; now comes in the sweet o’th’ night.
SIR JOHN	Health and long life to you, Master Silence! He drinks
SILENCE	Fill the cup and let it come. I’ll pledge you a mile to th’ bottom.
SHALLOW	Honest Bardolph, welcome! If thou want’st anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart! (To the Page) Welcome, my little tiny thief, and welcome indeed, too!-I’ll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cavalieros about London. He drinks
DAVY	I hope to see London once ere I die.
BARDOLPH	An I might see you there, Davy!
SHALLOW	By the mass, you’ll crack a quart together, ha, will you not, Master Bardolph?
BARDOLPH	Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.
SHALLOW	By God’s liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that; a will not out; ’tis true-bred.
BARDOLPH	And I’ll stick by him, sir.
SHALLOW	Why, there spoke a king! Lack nothing, be merry! One knocks at the door within Look who’s at door there, ho! Who knocks?
(didascalia)	Exit Davy
(didascalia)	Silence drinks
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN to Silence Why, now you have done me right!
(didascalia)	SILENCE sings Do me right,
SHALLOW	And dub me knight— Samingo. Is’t not so?
SIR JOHN	’Tis so.
SILENCE	Is’t so?—Why then, say an old man can do somewhat.
(didascalia)	Enter Davy
DAVY	An’t please your worship, there’s one Pistol come from the court with news.
SIR JOHN	From the court? Let him come in.
(didascalia)	Enter Pistol
SIR JOHN	How now, Pistol?
PISTOL	Sir John, God save you.
SIR JOHN	What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
PISTOL	Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.
SILENCE	By‘r Lady, I think a be—but goodman Puff of Bar’son.
PISTOL	Puff? Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!— Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, And golden times, and happy news of price.
SIR JOHN	I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world.
PISTOL	A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys.
SIR JOHN	O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
(didascalia)	SILENCE singing
SIR JOHN	‘And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.’
PISTOL	Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? And shall good news be baffled? Then Pistol lay thy head in Furies’ lap.
SHALLOW	Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.
PISTOL	Why then, lament therefor.
SHALLOW	Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there’s but two ways: either to utter them, or conceal them. I am, sir, under the King in some authority.
PISTOL	Under which king, besonian? Speak, or die.
SHALLOW	Under King Harry.
PISTOL	Harry the Fourth, or Fifth?
SHALLOW	Harry the Fourth.
PISTOL	A foutre for thine office! Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king. Harry the Fifth’s the man. I speak the truth. When Pistol lies, do this, (making the fig) and fig me, Like the bragging Spaniard.
SIR JOHN	What, is the old King dead?
PISTOL	As nail in door. The things I speak are just.
SIR JOHN	Away, Bardolph, saddle my horse! Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land; ’tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities.
BARDOLPH	O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.
PISTOL	What, I do bring good news?
SIR JOHN	(to Davy) Carry Master Silence to bed.
(didascalia)	Exit Davy with Silence
SIR JOHN	Master Shallow—my lord Shallow—be what thou wilt, I am fortune’s steward—get on thy boots; we’ll ride all night.—O sweet Pistol!—Away, Bardolph!
(didascalia)	Exit Bardolph
SIR JOHN	Come, Pistol, utter more to me, and withal devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow! I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man’s horses—the laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my friends, and woe to my Lord Chief Justice.
PISTOL	Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! ‘Where is the life that late I led?’ say they. Why, here it is. Welcome these pleasant days. Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Beadles, dragging in Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet
MISTRESS QUICKLY	No, thou arrant knave! I would to God that I might die, that I might have thee hanged. Thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.
FIRST BEADLE	The constables have delivered her over to me; and she shall have whipping-cheer, I warrant her. There hath been a man or two killed about her.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, I’ll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O the Lord, that Sir John were come! He would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry!
FIRST BEADLE	If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me, for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you.
DOLL TEARSHEET	I’ll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this, you bluebottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner! If you be not swinged, I’ll forswear half-kirtles.
FIRST BEADLE	Come, come, you she knight-errant, come!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	O God, that right should thus o’ercome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Ay, come, you starved bloodhound.
DOLL TEARSHEET	Goodman death, goodman bones!
MISTRESS QUICKLY	Thou atomy, thou!
DOLL TEARSHEET	Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal.
FIRST BEADLE	Very well. Exeunt

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes
FIRST GROOM	More rushes, more rushes!
SECOND GROOM	The trumpets have sounded twice.
(didascalia)	FIRST GROOM ‘Twill be two o’clock ere they come from the coronation. Exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page
SIR JOHN	Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow. I will make the King do you grace. I will leer upon him as a comes by, and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.
PISTOL	God bless thy lungs, good knight.
SIR JOHN	Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. (To Shallow) O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you! But ’tis no matter; this poor show doth better; this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.
(didascalia)	SHALLOW It doth so.
SIR JOHN	It shows my earnestness of affection—
PISTOL	It doth so.
SIR JOHN	My devotion—
PISTOL	It doth, it doth, it doth.
SIR JOHN	As it were, to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me—
SHALLOW	It is most certain.
(didascalia)	SIR JOHN But to stand stained with travel and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him.
PISTOL	’Tis semper idem, for absque hoc nihil est: ’tis all in every part.
SHALLOW	’Tis so indeed.
PISTOL	My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, And make thee rage. Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, Is in base durance and contagious prison, Haled thither By most mechanical and dirty hand. Rouse up Revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto’s snake, For Doll is in. Pistol speaks naught but truth.
SIR JOHN	I will deliver her.
(didascalia)	Shouts within. Trumpets sound
PISTOL	There roared the sea, and trumpet-clangour sounds!
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry the Fifth, Prince John of Lancaster, the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, the Lord Chief Justice, and others
SIR JOHN	God save thy grace, King Hal, my royal Hal!
PISTOL	The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame!
SIR JOHN	God save thee, my sweet boy!
KING HARRY	My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to Sir John) Have you your wits? Know you what ’tis you speak?
SIR JOHN	My king, my Jove, I speak to thee, my heart!
KING HARRY	I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers. How ill white hairs becomes a fool and jester! I have long dreamt of such a kind of man, So surfeit-swelled, so old, and so profane; But being awake, I do despise my dream. Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace. Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape For thee thrice wider than for other men. Reply not to me with a fool-born jest. Presume not that I am the thing I was, For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, That I have turned away my former self; So will I those that kept me company. When thou dost hear I am as I have been, Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, The tutor and the feeder of my riots. Till then I banish thee, on pain of death, As I have done the rest of my misleaders, Not to come near our person by ten mile. For competence of life I will allow you, That lack of means enforce you not to evils; And as we hear you do reform yourselves, We will, according to your strengths and qualities, Give you advancement. (To Lord Chief Justice) Be it your charge, my lord, To see performed the tenor of our word. (To his train) Set on! Exeunt King Harry and his train
SIR JOHN	Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
SHALLOW	Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me have home with me.
SIR JOHN	That can hardly be,, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve at this. I shall be sent for in private to him. Look you, he must seem thus to the world. Fear not your advancements. I will be the man yet that shall make you great.
SHALLOW	I cannot perceive how, unless you give me your doublet and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of my thousand.
SIR JOHN	Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard was but a colour.
SHALLOW	A colour I fear that you will die in, Sir John.
SIR JOHN	Fear no colours. Go with me to dinner. Come, Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph. I shall be sent for soon at night.
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Chief Justice and Prince John, with officers
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	(to officers) Go carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet. Take all his company along with him.
SIR JOHN	My lord, my lord!
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon.— Take them away.
PISTOL	Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Prince John and Lord Chief Justice
PRINCE JOHN	I like this fair proceeding of the King’s. He hath intent his wonted followers Shall all be very well provided for, But all are banished till their conversations Appear more wise and modest to the world.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	And so they are.
PRINCE JOHN	The King hath called his parliament, my lord.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE	He hath.
PRINCE JOHN	I will lay odds that, ere this year expire, We bear our civil swords and native fire As far as France. I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the King. Come, will you hence? Exeunt Epilogue
(didascalia)	Enter Epilogue
EPILOGUE	First my fear, then my curtsy, last my speech. My fear is your displeasure; my curtsy, my duty; and my speech to beg your pardons. If you look for a good speech now, you undo me; for what I have to say is of mine own making, and what indeed I should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your patience for it, and to promise you a better. I did mean indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised you I would be, and here I commit my body to your mercies. Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to use my legs? And yet that were but light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly. One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Catherine of France; where, for anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat—unless already a be killed with your hard opinions. For Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night, and so kneel down before you—but, indeed, to pray for the Queen.
(didascalia)	He dances, then kneels for applause. Exit
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	Along with some substantial additions, Shakespeare probably made a number of short excisions when preparing the finished version of the play. The following, present in the Quarto but entirely or substantially omitted in the later Folio text, are the most significant:
A. AFTER	2.2.22 And God knows whether those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom—but the midwives say the children are not in the fault, whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened.
B. AFTER	‘LIQUORS!’, 3.1-52 O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book and sit him down and die.
C. AFTER	‘FAMINE.’, 3.2.309 yet lecherous as a monkey; and the whores called him ‘mandrake’. A came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutched hussies that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING	Much Ado About Nothing is not mentioned in the list of plays by Shakespeare given by Francis Meres in his Palladis Tamia, published in the autumn of 1598. Certain speech-prefixes of the first edition, published in 1600, suggest that as Shakespeare wrote he had in mind for the role of Dogberry the comic actor Will Kemp, who is believed to have left the Lord Chamberlain’s Men during 1599. Probably Shakespeare wrote the play between summer 1598 and spring 1599. The action is set in Sicily, where Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon, has recently defeated his half-brother, the bastard Don John, in a military engagement. Apparently reconciled, they return to the capital, Messina, as guests of the Governor, Leonato. There Count Claudio, a young nobleman serving in Don Pedro’s army, falls in love with Hero, Leonato’s daughter, whom Don Pedro woos on his behalf. The play’s central plot, written mainly in verse, shows how Don John maliciously deceives Claudio into believing that Hero has taken a lover on the eve of her marriage, causing Claudio to repudiate her publicly, at the altar. This is a variation on an old tale that existed in many versions; it had been told in Italian verse by Ariosto, in his Orlando Furioso (1516, translated into English verse by Sir John Harington, 1591), in Italian prose by Matteo Bandello in his Novelle (1554, adapted into French by P. de Belleforest, 1569), in English prose by George Whetstone (The Rock of Regard, 1576), in English verse by Edmund Spenser (The Faerie Queene, Book 2, canto 4, 1590), and in a number of plays including Luigi Pasqualigo’s II Fedele (1579), adapted into English—perhaps by Anthony Munday—as Fedele and Fortunio (published in 1583). Shakespeare, whose plot is an independent reworking of the traditional story, seems to owe most to Ariosto and Bandello, perhaps indirectly. Don John’s deception, with its tragicomical resolution, is offset by a parallel plot written mainly in prose, portraying another, more light-hearted deception, by which Hero’s cousin, Beatrice, and Benedick—friend of Don Pedro and Claudio—are tricked into acknowledging, first to themselves and then to each other, that they are in love. This part of the play seems to be of Shakespeare’s invention: the juxtaposition of this clever, sophisticated, apparently unillusioned pair with the more naive Claudio and Hero recalls Shakespeare’s earlier contrast of romantic and antiromantic attitudes to love and marriage in The Taming of the Shrew. The play’s third main strand is provided by Constable Dogberry, his partner Verges, and the Watchmen, clearly English rather than Sicilian in origin. Although Benedick and Beatrice are, technically, subordinate characters, they have dominated the imagination of both readers and playgoers.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY