ACT II. Scene I. Rochester. An inn yard.  Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.    1. Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd.     Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not     pack'd.- What, ostler!   Ost. [within] Anon, anon.   1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the     point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.                          Enter another Carrier.    2. Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the     next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned upside     down since Robin Ostler died.   1. Car. Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose. It     was the death of him.   2. Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London road     for fleas. I am stung like a tench.   1. Car. Like a tench I By the mass, there is ne'er a king christen     could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.   2. Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we leak in     your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.   1. Car. What, ostler! come away and be hang'd! come away!   2. Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be     delivered as far as Charing Cross.   1. Car. God's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved.     What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy     head? Canst not hear? An 'twere not as good deed as drink to     break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hang'd!     Hast no faith in thee?                             Enter Gadshill.    Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock?   1. Car. I think it be two o'clock.   Gads. I prithee lend me this lantern to see my gelding in the     stable.   1. Car. Nay, by God, soft! I know a trick worth two of that,     i' faith.   Gads. I pray thee lend me thine.   2. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he? Marry,     I'll see thee hang'd first!   Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?   2. Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee.     Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen. They will     along with company, for they have great charge.                                               Exeunt [Carriers].   Gads. What, ho! chamberlain!                              Enter Chamberlain.    Cham. At hand, quoth pickpurse.   Gads. That's even as fair as- 'at hand, quoth the chamberlain'; for     thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction     doth from labouring: thou layest the plot how.   Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told     you yesternight. There's a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath     brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it     to one of his company last night at supper- a kind of auditor;     one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are     up already and call for eggs and butter. They will away     presently.   Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll     give thee this neck.   Cham. No, I'll none of it. I pray thee keep that for the hangman;     for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of     falsehood may.   Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, I'll make     a fat pair of gallows; for if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me,     and thou knowest he is no starveling. Tut! there are other     Troyans that thou dream'st not of, the which for sport sake are     content to do the profession some grace; that would (if matters     should be look'd into) for their own credit sake make all whole.     I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny     strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms; but     with nobility, and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers,     such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak, and     speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray; and yet,     zounds, I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the     commonwealth, or rather, not pray to her, but prey on her, for     they ride up and down on her and make her their boots.   Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out water     in foul way?   Gads. She will, she will! Justice hath liquor'd her. We steal as in     a castle, cocksure. We have the receipt of fernseed, we walk     invisible.   Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night     than to fernseed for your walking invisible.   Gads. Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our purchase, as     I and a true man.   Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.   Gads. Go to; 'homo' is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler     bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave.                                                          Exeunt.     Scene II. The highway near Gadshill.  Enter Prince and Poins.    Poins. Come, shelter, shelter! I have remov'd Falstaff's horse, and     he frets like a gumm'd velvet.   Prince. Stand close.                        [They step aside.]                               Enter Falstaff.    Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hang'd! Poins!   Prince. I comes forward I Peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal! What a     brawling dost thou keep!   Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?   Prince. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill. I'll go seek him.                                                   [Steps aside.]   Fal. I am accurs'd to rob in that thief's company. The rascal hath     removed my horse and tied him I know not where. If I travel but     four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind.     Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I     scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company     hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitch'd     with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me     medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd. It could not be     else. I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! A plague upon you both!     Bardolph! Peto! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An     'twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man and to leave     these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a     tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles     afoot with me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well     enough. A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to     another! (They whistle.) Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my     horse, you rogues! give me my horse and be hang'd!   Prince. [comes forward] Peace, ye fat-guts! Lie down, lay thine ear     close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of     travellers.   Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood,     I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin     in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me thus?   Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.   Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's     son.   Prince. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler?   Fal. Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be     ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you     all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison.     When a jest is so forward- and afoot too- I hate it.               Enter Gadshill, [Bardolph and Peto with him].    Gads. Stand!   Fal. So I do, against my will.   Poins. [comes fortward] O, 'tis our setter. I know his voice.     Bardolph, what news?   Bar. Case ye, case ye! On with your vizards! There's money of the     King's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the King's exchequer.   Fal. You lie, ye rogue! 'Tis going to the King's tavern.   Gads. There's enough to make us all.   Fal. To be hang'd.   Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned     Poins and I will walk lower. If they scape from your encounter,     then they light on us.   Peto. How many be there of them?   Gads. Some eight or ten.   Fal. Zounds, will they not rob us?   Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?   Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet no     coward, Hal.   Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof.   Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge. When thou     need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell and stand fast.   Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.   Prince. [aside to Poins] Ned, where are our disguises?   Poins. [aside to Prince] Here, hard by. Stand close.                                       [Exeunt Prince and Poins.]   Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I. Every man to     his business.                           Enter the Travellers.    Traveller. Come, neighbour.     The boy shall lead our horses down the hill;     We'll walk afoot awhile and ease our legs.   Thieves. Stand!   Traveller. Jesus bless us!   Fal. Strike! down with them! cut the villains' throats! Ah,     whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth. Down     with them! fleece them!   Traveller. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever!   Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye fat chuffs;     I would your store were here! On, bacons on! What, ye knaves!     young men must live. You are grandjurors, are ye? We'll jure ye,     faith!                             Here they rob and bind them. Exeunt.              Enter the Prince and Poins [in buckram suits].    Prince. The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou and I     rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it would be argument     for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever.   Poins. Stand close! I hear them coming.                                              [They stand aside.]                         Enter the Thieves again.    Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day.     An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no     equity stirring. There's no more valour in that Poins than in a     wild duck.          [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon         them. THey all run away, and Falstaff, after a blow or         two, runs awasy too, leaving the booty behind them.]    Prince. Your money!   Poins. Villains!    Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse.     The thieves are scattered, and possess'd with fear     So strongly that they dare not meet each other.     Each takes his fellow for an officer.     Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death     And lards the lean earth as he walks along.     Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.   Poins. How the rogue roar'd!                           Exeunt.     Scene III. Warkworth Castle.  Enter Hotspur solus, reading a letter.    Hot. 'But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to     be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.' He could be     contented- why is he not then? In respect of the love he bears     our house! He shows in this he loves his own barn better than he     loves our house. Let me see some more. 'The purpose you undertake     is dangerous'- Why, that's certain! 'Tis dangerous to take a     cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of     this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 'The purpose     you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have named uncertain,     the time itself unsorted, and your whole plot too light for the     counterpoise of so great an opposition.' Say you so, say you so?     I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you     lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good     plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good     plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot,     very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! Why, my     Lord of York commends the plot and the general course of the     action. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him     with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and     myself; Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen     Glendower? Is there not, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all     their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month,     and are they not some of them set forward already? What a pagan     rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very     sincerity of fear and cold heart will he to the King and lay open     all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to buffets     for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action!     Hang him, let him tell the King! we are prepared. I will set     forward to-night.                           Enter his Lady.      How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two hours.   Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus alone?     For what offence have I this fortnight been     A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed,     Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee     Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?     Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,     And start so often when thou sit'st alone?     Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks     And given my treasures and my rights of thee     To thick-ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy?     In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,     And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,     Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,     Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd     Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tent,     Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,     Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,     Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,     And all the currents of a heady fight.     Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,     And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,     That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow     Like bubbles ill a late-disturbed stream,     And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,     Such as we see when men restrain their breath     On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?     Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,     And I must know it, else he loves me not.   Hot. What, ho!                      [Enter a Servant.]      Is Gilliams with the packet gone?   Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago.   Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?   Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now.   Hot. What horse? A roan, a crop-ear, is it not?   Serv. It is, my lord.   Hot. That roan shall be my throne.     Well, I will back him straight. O esperance!     Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.                                                  [Exit Servant.]   Lady. But hear you, my lord.   Hot. What say'st thou, my lady?   Lady. What is it carries you away?   Hot. Why, my horse, my love- my horse!   Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape!     A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen     As you are toss'd with. In faith,     I'll know your business, Harry; that I will!     I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir     About his title and hath sent for you     To line his enterprise; but if you go-   Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.   Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me     Directly unto this question that I ask.     I'll break thy little finger, Harry,     An if thou wilt not tell my all things true.   Hot. Away.     Away, you trifler! Love? I love thee not;     I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world     To play with mammets and to tilt with lips.     We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns,     And pass them current too. Gods me, my horse!     What say'st thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have with me?   Lady. Do you not love me? do you not indeed?     Well, do not then; for since you love me not,     I will not love myself. Do you not love me?     Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.   Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?     And when I am a-horseback, I will swear     I love thee infinitely. But hark you. Kate:     I must not have you henceforth question me     Whither I go, nor reason whereabout.     Whither I must, I must; and to conclude,     This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.     I know you wise; but yet no farther wise     Than Harry Percy's wife; constant you are,     But yet a woman; and for secrecy,     No lady closer, for I well believe     Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,     And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.   Lady. How? so far?   Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate:     Whither I go, thither shall you go too;     To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.     Will this content you, Kate,?   Lady. It must of force.                                Exeunt.     Scene IV. Eastcheap. The Boar's Head Tavern.  Enter Prince and Poins.    Prince. Ned, prithee come out of that fat-room and lend me thy hand     to laugh a little.   Poins. Where hast been, Hal?     Prince,. With three or four loggerheads amongst three or     fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded the very bass-string of     humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers and     can call them all by their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and     Francis. They take it already upon their salvation that, though     I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell     me flatly I am no proud Jack like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a     lad of mettle, a good boy (by the Lord, so they call me!), and     when I am King of England I shall command all the good lads     Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dying scarlet; and when     you breathe in your watering, they cry 'hem!' and bid you play it     off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an     hour that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during     my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour that thou     wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned- to sweeten which     name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapp'd even     now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that never spake other     English in his life than 'Eight shillings and sixpence,' and 'You     are welcome,' with this shrill addition, 'Anon, anon, sir! Score     a pint of bastard in the Half-moon,' or so- but, Ned, to drive     away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee do thou stand in some     by-room while I question my puny drawer to what end be gave me     the sugar; and do thou never leave calling 'Francis!' that his     tale to me may be nothing but 'Anon!' Step aside, and I'll show     thee a precedent.   Poins. Francis!   Prince. Thou art perfect.   Poins. Francis!                                  [Exit Poins.]                      Enter [Francis, a] Drawer.    Fran. Anon, anon, sir.- Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph.   Prince. Come hither, Francis.   Fran. My lord?   Prince. How long hast thou to serve, Francis?   Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to-   Poins. [within] Francis!   Fran. Anon, anon, sir.   Prince. Five year! by'r Lady, a long lease for the clinking of     Pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to play the     coward with thy indenture and show it a fair pair of heels and     run from it?   Fran. O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in England I     could find in my heart-   Poins. [within] Francis!   Fran. Anon, sir.   Prince. How old art thou, Francis?   Fran. Let me see. About Michaelmas next I shall be-   Poins. [within] Francis!   Fran. Anon, sir. Pray stay a little, my lord.   Prince. Nay, but hark you, Francis. For the sugar thou gavest me-     'twas a pennyworth, wast not?   Fran. O Lord! I would it had been two!   Prince. I will give thee for it a thousand pound. Ask me when thou     wilt, and, thou shalt have it.   Poins. [within] Francis!   Fran. Anon, anon.   Prince. Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis; or,     Francis, a Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But     Francis-   Fran. My lord?   Prince. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button,     not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter,     smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch-   Fran. O Lord, sir, who do you mean?   Prince. Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink; for look     you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully. In Barbary,     sir, it cannot come to so much.   Fran. What, sir?   Poins. [within] Francis!   Prince. Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them call?               Here they both call him. The Drawer stands amazed,                                     not knowing which way to go.                           Enter Vintner.    Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Look     to the guests within. [Exit Francis.] My lord, old Sir John, with     half-a-dozen more, are at the door. Shall I let them in?   Prince. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door.                                                   [Exit Vintner.]     Poins!   Poins. [within] Anon, anon, sir.                            Enter Poins.    Prince. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the     door. Shall we be merry?   Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; what cunning     match have you made with this jest of the drawer? Come, what's     the issue?   Prince. I am now of all humours that have showed themselves humours     since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this     present this twelve o'clock at midnight.                           [Enter Francis.]      What's o'clock, Francis?   Fran. Anon, anon, sir.                                 [Exit.]   Prince. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a     parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is upstairs and     downstairs, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet     of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North; he that kills me some     six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and     says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.' 'O my     sweet Harry,' says she, 'how many hast thou  kill'd to-day?'     'Give my roan horse a drench,' says he, and answers 'Some     fourteen,' an hour after, 'a trifle, a trifle.' I prithee call in     Falstaff. I'll play Percy, and that damn'd brawn shall play Dame     Mortimer his wife. 'Rivo!' says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call     in tallow.             Enter Falstaff, [Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto;                    Francis follows with wine].    Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?   Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry and     amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll     sew nether-stocks, and mend them and foot them too. A plague of     all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue     extant?                                                     He drinketh.   Prince. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter?     Pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun!     If thou didst, then behold that compound.   Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too! There is nothing but     roguery to be found in villanous man. Yet a coward is worse than     a cup of sack with lime in it- a villanous coward! Go thy ways,     old Jack, die when thou wilt; if manhood, good manhood, be not     forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring.     There lives not three good men unhang'd in England; and one of     them is fat, and grows old. God help the while! A bad world, I     say. I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or anything. A     plague of all cowards I say still!   Prince. How now, woolsack? What mutter you?   Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a     dagger of lath and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock     of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince     of Wales?   Prince. Why, you whoreson round man, what's the matter?   Fal. Are not you a coward? Answer me to that- and Poins there?   Poins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by the     Lord, I'll stab thee.   Fal. I call thee coward? I'll see thee damn'd ere I call thee     coward, but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as     thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders; you care     not who sees Your back. Call you that backing of your friends? A     plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me. Give me     a cup of sack. I am a rogue if I drunk to-day.   Prince. O villain! thy lips are scarce wip'd since thou drunk'st     last.   Fal. All is one for that. (He drinketh.) A plague of all cowards     still say I.   Prince. What's the matter?   Fal. What's the matter? There be four of us here have ta'en a     thousand pound this day morning.   Prince. Where is it, Jack? Where is it?   Fal. Where is it, Taken from us it is. A hundred upon poor four of     us!   Prince. What, a hundred, man?   Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them     two hours together. I have scap'd by miracle. I am eight times     thrust through the doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut     through and through; my sword hack'd like a handsaw- ecce signum!     I never dealt better since I was a man. All would not do. A     plague of all cowards! Let them speak, If they speak more or less     than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness.   Prince. Speak, sirs. How was it?   Gads. We four set upon some dozen-   Fal. Sixteen at least, my lord.   Gads. And bound them.   Peto. No, no, they were not bound.   Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Jew     else- an Ebrew Jew.   Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men sea upon us-   Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.   Prince. What, fought you with them all?   Fal. All? I know not what you call all, but if I fought not with     fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish! If there were not two or     three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legg'd     creature.   Prince. Pray God you have not murd'red some of them.   Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I have pepper'd two of them. Two     I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee     what, Hal- if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse.     Thou knowest my old ward. Here I lay, and thus I bore my point.     Four rogues in buckram let drive at me.   Prince. What, four? Thou saidst but two even now.   Fal. Four, Hal. I told thee four.   Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.   Fal. These four came all afront and mainly thrust at me. I made me     no more ado but took all their seven points in my target, thus.   Prince. Seven? Why, there were but four even now.   Fal. In buckram?   Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.   Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.   Prince. [aside to Poins] Prithee let him alone. We shall have more     anon.   Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?   Prince. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.   Fal. Do so, for it is worth the list'ning to. These nine in buckram     that I told thee of-   Prince. So, two more already.   Fal. Their points being broken-   Poins. Down fell their hose.   Fal. Began to give me ground; but I followed me close, came in,     foot and hand, and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid.   Prince. O monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out of two!   Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in     Kendal green came at my back and let drive at me; for it was so     dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.   Prince. These lies are like their father that begets them- gross as     a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brain'd guts, thou     knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch-   Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? Is not the truth the truth?   Prince. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green when     it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your     reason. What sayest thou to this?   Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.   Fal. What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were at the strappado or     all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion.     Give you a reason on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful as     blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.   Prince. I'll be no longer guilty, of this sin; this sanguine     coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill     of flesh-   Fal. 'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried     neat's-tongue, you bull's sizzle, you stockfish- O for breath to     utter what is like thee!- you tailor's yard, you sheath, you     bowcase, you vile standing tuck!   Prince. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again; and when thou     hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.   Poins. Mark, Jack.   Prince. We two saw you four set on four, and bound them and were     masters of their wealth. Mark now how a plain tale shall put you     down. Then did we two set on you four and, with a word, outfac'd     you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here     in the house. And, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as     nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and still     run and roar'd, as ever I heard bullcalf. What a slave art thou     to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in     fight! What trick, what device, what starting hole canst thou now     find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?   Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack. What trick hast thou now?   Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear     you, my masters. Was it for me to kill the heir apparent? Should     I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as     Hercules; but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true     prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was now a coward on     instinct. I shall think the better of myself, and thee, during my     life- I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by     the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to     the doors. Watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys,     hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you!     What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play extempore?   Prince. Content- and the argument shall be thy running away.   Fal. Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me!                               Enter Hostess.    Host. O Jesu, my lord the Prince!   Prince. How now, my lady the hostess? What say'st thou to me?   Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door     would speak with you. He says he comes from your father.   Prince. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him     back again to my mother.   Fal. What manner of man is he?   Host. An old man.   Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him     his answer?   Prince. Prithee do, Jack.   Fal. Faith, and I'll send him packing. Exit.   Prince. Now, sirs. By'r Lady, you fought fair; so did you, Peto; so     did you, Bardolph. You are lions too, you ran away upon instinct,     you will not touch the true prince; no- fie!   Bard. Faith, I ran when I saw others run.   Prince. Tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's sword so     hack'd?   Peto. Why, he hack'd it with his dagger, and said he would swear     truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in     fight, and persuaded us to do the like.   Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass to make them     bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it and swear it     was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year     before- I blush'd to hear his monstrous devices.   Prince. O villain! thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago     and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blush'd     extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou     ran'st away. What instinct hadst thou for it?   Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these     exhalations?   Prince. I do.   Bard. What think you they portend?   Prince. Hot livers and cold purses.   Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.   Prince. No, if rightly taken, halter.                           Enter Falstaff.      Here comes lean Jack; here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet     creature of bombast? How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest     thine own knee?   Fal. My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an     eagle's talent in the waist; I could have crept into any     alderman's thumb-ring. A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a     man up like a bladder. There's villanous news abroad. Here was     Sir John Bracy from your father. You must to the court in the     morning. That same mad fellow of the North, Percy, and he of     Wales that gave Amamon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold,     and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh     hook- what a plague call you him?   Poins. O, Glendower.   Fal. Owen, Owen- the same; and his son-in-law Mortimer, and old     Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that     runs a-horseback up a hill perpendicular-   Prince. He that rides at high speed and with his pistol kills a     sparrow flying.   Fal. You have hit it.   Prince. So did he never the sparrow.   Fal. Well, that rascal hath good metal in him; he will not run.   Prince. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for     running!   Fal. A-horseback, ye cuckoo! but afoot he will not budge a foot.   Prince. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.   Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one     Mordake, and a thousand bluecaps more. Worcester is stol'n away     to-night; thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news; you     may buy land now as cheap as stinking mack'rel.   Prince. Why then, it is like, if there come a hot June, and this     civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy     hobnails, by the hundreds.   Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like we shall have     good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible     afeard? Thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out     three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit     Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid?     Doth not thy blood thrill at it?   Prince. Not a whit, i' faith. I lack some of thy instinct.   Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow when thou comest to     thy father. If thou love me, practise an answer.   Prince. Do thou stand for my father and examine me upon the     particulars of my life.   Fal. Shall I? Content. This chair shall be my state, this dagger my     sceptre, and this cushion my, crown.   Prince. Thy state is taken for a join'd-stool, thy golden sceptre     for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful     bald crown.   Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt     thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look red,     that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion,     and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein.   Prince. Well, here is my leg.   Fal. And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility.   Host. O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith!   Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.   Host. O, the Father, how he holds his countenance!   Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen!     For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.   Host. O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as     ever I see!   Fal. Peace, good pintpot. Peace, good tickle-brain.- Harry, I do     not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou     art accompanied. For though the camomile, the more it is trodden     on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the     sooner it wears. That thou art my son I have partly thy mother's     word, partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villanous trick of     thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip that doth     warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point: why,     being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of     heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries? A question not to be     ask'd. Shall the son of England prove a thief and take purses? A     question to be ask'd. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast     often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name     of pitch. This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile;     so doth the company thou keepest. For, Harry, now I do not speak     to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion;     not in words only, but in woes also: and yet there is a virtuous     man whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not  his     name.   Prince. What manner of man, an it like your Majesty?   Fal. A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful     look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think,     his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore; and     now I remember me, his name is Falstaff. If that man should be     lewdly, given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his     looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit     by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in     that Falstaff. Him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now,     thou naughty varlet, tell me where hast thou been this month?   Prince. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll     play my father.   Fal. Depose me? If thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically,     both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a     rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare.   Prince. Well, here I am set.   Fal. And here I stand. Judge, my masters.   Prince. Now, Harry, whence come you?   Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.   Prince. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.   Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false! Nay, I'll tickle ye for a     young prince, i' faith.   Prince. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? Henceforth ne'er look on me.     Thou art violently carried away from grace. There is a devil     haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man; a tun of man is     thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours,     that bolting hutch of beastliness, that swoll'n parcel of     dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuff'd cloakbag of     guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly,     that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that     vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink     it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it?     wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villany?     wherein villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in     nothing?   Fal. I would your Grace would take me with you. Whom means your     Grace?   Prince. That villanous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff,     that old white-bearded Satan.   Fal. My lord, the man I know.   Prince. I know thou dost.   Fal. But to say I know more harm in him than in myself were to say     more than I know. That he is old (the more the pity) his white     hairs do witness it; but that he is (saving your reverence) a     whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault,     God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many     an old host that I know is damn'd. If to be fat be to be hated,     then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord.     Banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins; but for sweet Jack     Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack     Falstaff, and therefore more valiant being, as he is, old Jack     Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy     Harry's company. Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world!   Prince. I do, I will.                      [A knocking heard.]                         [Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph.]                       Enter Bardolph, running.    Bard. O, my lord, my lord! the sheriff with a most monstrous watch     is at the door.   Fal. Out, ye rogue! Play out the play. I have much to say in the     behalf of that Falstaff.                         Enter the Hostess.    Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord!   Prince. Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fiddlestick!     What's the matter?   Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door. They are come     to search the house. Shall I let them in?   Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece of gold a     counterfeit. Thou art essentially mad without seeming so.   Prince. And thou a natural coward without instinct.   Fal. I deny your major. If you will deny the sheriff, so; if not,     let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a     plague on my bringing up! I hope I shall as soon be strangled     with a halter as another.   Prince. Go hide thee behind the arras. The rest walk, up above.     Now, my masters, for a true face and good conscience.   Fal. Both which I have had; but their date is out, and therefore     I'll hide me.                                          Exit.   Prince. Call in the sheriff.                             [Exeunt Manent the Prince and Peto.]                      Enter Sheriff and the Carrier.      Now, Master Sheriff, what is your will with me?   Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry     Hath followed certain men unto this house.   Prince. What men?   Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord-     A gross fat man.   Carrier. As fat as butter.   Prince. The man, I do assure you, is not here,     For I myself at this time have employ'd him.     And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee     That I will by to-morrow dinner time     Send him to answer thee, or any man,     For anything he shall be charg'd withal;     And so let me entreat you leave the house.   Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen     Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.   Prince. It may be so. If he have robb'd these men,     He shall be answerable; and so farewell.   Sher. Good night, my noble lord.   Prince. I think it is good morrow, is it not?   Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock.                                             Exit [with Carrier].   Prince. This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go call him     forth.   Peto. Falstaff! Fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a     horse.   Prince. Hark how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets.             He searcheth his pockets and findeth certain papers.     What hast thou found?   Peto. Nothing but papers, my lord.   Prince. Let's see whit they be. Read them.    Peto. [reads] 'Item. A capon. . . . . . . . . . . . .  ii s. ii d.                  Item, Sauce. . . . . . . . . . . . . .      iiii d.                  Item, Sack two gallons . . . . . . . . v s. viii d.                  Item, Anchovies and sack after supper.  ii s. vi d.                  Item, Bread. . . . . . . . . . . . . .          ob.'    Prince. O monstrous! but one halfpennyworth of bread to this     intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, keep close; we'll     read it at more advantage. There let him sleep till day. I'll to     the court in the morning . We must all to the wars. and thy place     shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of     foot; and I know, his death will be a march of twelve score. The     money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes     in the morning, and so good morrow, Peto.   Peto. Good morrow, good my lord.                                                          Exeunt.