- short-winded accents of new broils to be commenced in strands afar remote. No more the first entrance
- of this soil shall daub her lips with her own children's blood. No more shall trenching war channel
- her fields, nor bruise her flowerets with the armoured hoofs of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes which,
- like the meteors of a troubled heaven, all of one nature, of one substance,
- did lately meet in the intestine shock and furious close of civil butchery, shall now in mutual
- well-beseeming ranks march all one way. The edge of war, like an ill sheathed knife, no more shall cut
- his master. Therefore, friend, as far as to the sepulcher of Christ, whose soldier now under whose blessed
- cross we are in precedent engaged to fight,
- forthwith a force of English shall we levy to chase those pagans from these holy fields, over these
- acres, walk those blessed feet, which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nailed for our advantage on
- the bitter cross. But this our purpose now is twelve months old, and bootless tis to say that we will
- go, and therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, what yesternight
- our counsel did
- in forwarding this dead expedience. My leads, this haste was hot in question, and many missions of the
- charge laid down by yesterday night. But all afore to there came a post from Wales, loaded with heavy
- news, whose worst was that the noble Mortimer, leading the men of Herfordshire to fight against the
- irregular and wild Glendower, was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken. A thousand of his people butchered
- upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, such shameless beastly transformation by those Welsh women
- done as may not be without but shame told or reported of. It seems then that the tidings of this broil
- break off our business for the Holy Land. This with others did, my lord, for there was more uneven and
- unwelcome news came from the north. On Holy Root Day, the gallant hotspur there, young Harry Percy and
- the brave Archibald
- ever valiant and approv'd Scott at Holmden met, and there did spend a sad and bloody hour, as by the
- discharge of their artillery and the shape of likelihood news was told, for he that brought it in the
- very heat and pride of their contention did take horse, uncertain of the issue anyway. We have it true,
- a dear industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new-lighted from his horse, stained with the variation of
- every soil betwixt that Holndon and this seat of ours, and he hath brought us smooth and welcome means.
- The Earl of Douglas is discomforted. Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, balked in their
- bloodsauce of Walter on Holndon's plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took Mordek, Earl of Fife, the eldest
- son to Beaton Douglas, and the Earl of Athol,
- Murray, Angus, and Menteith, is this not a glorious spoil? An honorable prize? Is it not, guys? In faith
- it is a conquest for a prince to boast of. There thou makes me sad and makes me sin and envy of thy
- lord Northumberland, that he should be the father to so blest a son, a son
- theme of honor's tongue, amongst a grove of very straightest plant, who is sweet fortune's minion and
- her pride, whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, see riot and dishonest stay in the brow of my
- young Harry. Oh, that it could be proved that some night tripping the fairy had exchanged in cradle
- clothes our children.
- What think you cause of this young Percy's pride? The pizners he in this adventure hath surprised to
- his own use he keeps, and sends me word I shall have none but Morde, girl of life. This is his uncle's
- teaching. This is Worcester, malevolent to you in all aspects, which makes him prune himself and bristle
- up the crest of youth against
- But we have sent for him to answer this, and for this cause, while we must neglect our holy purpose
- to Jerusalem. Cousin, on Wednesday next, our council we shall hold at Westminster, so inform the lords.
- But come yourself with speed to us again, for more is to be said and to be done than out of anger can
- be uttered.
- has thou to do with the time of the day, unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capers, and clocks
- the tongues of bards, and dials the signs of leaping houses, and the blessed sun himself, a fair hot
- wench, and flame-coloured tapir. I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time
- of the day. Indeed, you come nearer to me now, Hal. For we that take purses go by the moon and the seven
- stars, not Phibis, he that wandering knight.
- So fair. But I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art a king, as God grace, grant thy grace, or majesty,
- or grace, thou wilt have none. What? None? No, by my prose, but not so much as to serve as a prolong
- to an egg in butter. Well, how then? Come, roundly. Roundly. Well, marry then, sweet wag.
- Now our king, let not us that our squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty.
- Let us be dianas, foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon. And let men say that we are
- men of good government, governed as the sea is by our noble and chaste mistress the moon. Under whose
- countenance we steal?
- and it holds well, too, for the fortunes of us that are the moon's mendeth ebb and flow like the sea,
- being governed as the sea is by the moon. The purse of gold most resolutely snatched Monday night is
- most dissolute spent Tuesday morning. Now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and rime by in
- as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. By the law thou speakest true land. But is not my hostess
- of the tavern a most sweet wench?
- I am Pabla, my old lad of the castle, and is not a buffed jerk in a most sweet robe of Durrance.
- How now? How now, mad wag? Why, in thy quips and inquiries, what a plague have I to do with a buffed
- jerk in? What a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning
- many a time and oft. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? No. I'll give thee thy due. Thou hast
- paid all there.
- Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch. Were it not, I have used my credit. Thou hast so
- used it, that were it not here apparent, that thou were ere apparent. But I prithee, sweet wag, will
- there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? With resolution thus fubbed as it is, with
- the rusty curb of old father antech the law, do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief? No.
- Thou shalt. Shall I? Oh, rare! By the Lord, I shall be a brave judge. Thy judgment is false already.
- I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of thieves. And so become a rare hangman. Well, well, well. And
- yet this sort jumps more to my humor than waiting in the court, I can tell you. What, frotaining of suits?
- Yea, for the obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. This blood, I am as melancholy
- as a jib-cat or a lugged bear. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire
- bagpipe. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of wool-ditch? Thou hast most unsavory similes
- indeed, and art the most comparative, rascalliest
- sweet young prince, but I pray thee, Hal, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God that thou and
- I knewest where a commodity of good names might be bought. An old lord of the council rated me in the
- street the other day about you, but I remarked him not, and yet he spoke very wisely, and I regarded
- him not, and yet he talked
- very wisely, and in the street, too. That is well, for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards
- it. Thou hast the most damnable iteration, and are surely able to corrupt a saint indeed. Al, thou hast
- done me much harm. God forgive thee for it. Before I knew thee, I knew nothing.
- Amanda, tell the truth. I am little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I
- will give it over. By the Lord, I am a villain. I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.
- Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? Well, sounds where thou wilt. I'll make one, and I do not.
- Call me a villain and baffle me. See, a good amendment of life
- of purse-taking. Why, Hal, it is my vocation, Hal. There's no sin in a man laboring at his vocation.
- Point! If a man be saved by merit, what hole in hell is hot enough for him? He is the most omnipotent
- thief that ever cried stand to a true man. Good morrow, Ned. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What so's Monsieur Remorse?
- What says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil with thee about thy soul, that thou soul's
- from good Friday last, for a cup of Madeira and a cold cape on one? Sir John stands to his word. The
- devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of prophets. He will give the devil his
- due. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil, else they've been damned for cozoning
- the devil. But my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning early at Gad's Hill,
- There will be pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich operands and traders riding to London in fat purses.
- I have bizzards for you all. You have horses for yourselves. We may do it as secure as sleep. Ride with
- me, and I will stuff your purses full of crowns. If you will not, I'd tarry at home and be hanged.
- Hear ye, Edward. If I tarry at home, I'll hang you for going. You will, chaps. How? Will thou make one?
- Who? I rob. I a thief.
- Not I, by my faith. Why, thou hast neither honesty, nor manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, and thou
- capes not from the blood royal, if thou wilt not stand for ten shillings. Well, once in my days I'll
- be a mancap. Ay, that was well said. But may I tarry at home. Then I will prove a traitor when thou
- art king. I cannot. Sir John, I prithee.
- Leave me and the prince alone a while. I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he will
- go. Well, God grant thee the spirit of persuading, and him that is of profiting, that what thou speakest
- may move, and what he hearest may be believed, and that the true prince may prove for recreation's sake
- a false thief. For the poor abuses of the time
- Want countenance. Farewell. I'll meet thee here and on. Farewell, the latter spring. Farewell, all Hallowen's
- summer. Now, my good, sweet, honey lord, ride with us tomorrow. I have a jest to execute, which I cannot
- manage alone. Paulstaff, Bardolph, and Peter will rob those men. Yourself and I will not be there. Then,
- once they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders. How shall we part
- and setting forth. Well, we will leave before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting wherein
- it is our pleasure to fail. They will then venture upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have
- no sooner achieved, but you and I will set upon them. Yea, but it is like they will know us by our horses,
- by our habits, by every other appointment, to be ourselves. T'as our horses they will not see. I will
- hide them in the woods. Our visage we will change after we leave them. And, Sarah, I have cases of Buckram
- for the nonce.
- which do enmask our noted outward garments. Yeah, but I doubt they'll be too hard for us. Two of them
- I know to be as truebred cowards as ever turned back. And as for the third, if he fights longer than
- he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest is in the incomprehensible lies that same
- fat rogue will tell us at supper. How thirty, at least, he fought with. What wards, what blows, what
- extremities he endured.
- And in the reproof of this lies the jest. Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary,
- and meet me here tomorrow morn. Farewell. Farewell, my lord. I know you all will awhile uphold the unyoked
- humor of your idleness. Yet herein will I imitate the sun, who doth permit the base contagious clouds
- to smother up his beauty from the world, that, when you please again to be himself,
- may be more wondered at by breaking through the foul and ugly mists of vapors that did seem to strangle
- him. If all the year were plain holidays, this boat would be as tedious as to work. When they seldom
- come, they wished for come. Nothing pleases but rare accidents. So in this loose behavior I throw off
- and pay the debt I never promised in, by how much greater than my word am I
- Why so much shall I falsify men's hopes? And like bright metal on a sullen ground, my reformation, glittering
- o'er my faults, shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes than that which hath no foil to set it
- off. I'll so offend to make offence a skill. Do you mean time, when men least think I will?
- My blood hath been too cold and temperate enough to stir at these indignities, and you have found me,
- for accordingly you tread upon my patience. But be sure from henceforth I shall rather be myself mighty,
- and to be feared than my condition, which was smooth as oil, soft as young down. And therefore lost
- that title of respect which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. Our house, my sovereign liege,
- little deserves the scourge of greatness to be used on it.
- and that same greatness, too, which with our own hands have hoped to make so portly. My lord. Willst
- thou get thee gone? For I do see danger and disobedience in thine eye. Oh, sir, your presence is too
- bold and peremptory, and majesty might never yet endure the moody frontier of a servant brow. You have
- good leave to leave us. When we need your use and counsel, we shall send for you. You were about to
- speak. Yea, my good lord.
- Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, which were by Harry Percy here at Holmdon took, were,
- as he says, not with such strength denied as is delivered to your majesty. Either envy, therefore, or
- misprision is guilty of this fault and not my son. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. That's what I
- remember when the fight was done, when I was dry with rage and extreme toil, breathless and faint, leaning
- there upon my sword. Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dressed,
- Fresh as a bridegroom in its chin, new-reap'd, Show'd like the stubble-land at harvest-home. It was
- perfum'd like a milliner, And betwixt his finger and his thumb he held a pouncet-box, Whiche'er in anon
- he gave his nose and took it away again, Wherewith angry when it next came there took it in snuff, And
- still he smiled and talked. And as the soldier's bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves,
- Unmannerly, to bring a slovenly and handsome corpse, But what's the wind in his nobility? With many
- holiday and lady terms, He question'd me, amongst the rest,
- demanded my prisoners in your majesty's behalf. I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, and
- to be so pestered by a poppin' jay, out of my grief and my impatience, answered, I know not what. He
- should or he should not, for he made me mad to see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet, and talk so
- like a waiting gentlewoman of guns and drums and wounds. God save the mark. Then telling me the sovereign's
- thing on earth was parmissetti for an inward brew, and that it was great pity so it was,
- that this villainous old Peter should be digged out of the bowels of a harmless earth, which many a
- good, tall fellow had destroyed so cowardly, and that for these vile guns he would himself have been
- a soldier. Bald, unjoined, a chat of his, my lord, I answered indirectly as I said. And I beseech you,
- let not his report come current for an accusation betwixt my love and your high majesty. Why yet you
- do deny, your prisoners, but with proviso and exception, that we at our own charge shall ransom straight
- your brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer, who on my soul hath willfully betrayed the lives of those
- he led to fight against that great magician, damned Glendower, whose daughter, as we hear, that Earl
- of March hath lately married. Shall our coffers then be emptied to redeem a traitor home? Shall we buy
- treason and indent with
- when they have lost and forfeited themselves? No, on the barren mountains let him starve, for I shall
- never hold that man, my friend, whose tongue shall ask one penny's cost to ransom home revolted Mortimer.
- Revolted Mortimer? He never did fall off, my lord, but by the chance of war. To prove that true needs
- no more but one tongue. One tongue for all those wounds. Those moused wounds which valiantly he took
- when on the gentle severance sedgy bank and single opposition.
- Hand to hand he did confound the better part of an hour in changing heartament with great Glendower.
- Three times did they pause and three times did they drink upon agreement of swift Severn's flood,
- who then, frightened with their bloody looks, ran trembling among the reeds and hit his crisp head in
- the hollow bank. Blood stained with those valiant competences. Never did bare and rotten policy color
- her working with such deadly wounds, nor never could the noble Mortimer receive so many, and all willingly.
- Then let him not be slandered with revolt.
- Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him. He never did encounter with Glendower. I tell you,
- he durst as well have met the devil alone as Owen Glendower for an enemy. Art thou not ashamed? Sirrah,
- henceforth let me not hear you speak of Mortimer. Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, or
- you will hear in such a kind from me as will displease you.
- The Lord Northumberland, we license your departure with your son. Send us your prisoners with the speediest
- means, or you shall hear of it.
- I will ease my heart, albeit I make a hazard of my head. What? Drunk with collar? Stay and pause awhile.
- Here comes your uncle. Speak of Mortimer. Sounds I will speak of him, and let my soul want mercy if
- I do not join with him. On his part, I'll empty all these veins and shed my dear blood drop by drop
- in the dust. But I will lift the downtrodden Mortimer as high in the air as this unthankful king, as
- this ingrate and cankered Bullingbrooke. Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad.
- Who struck up this heat after I was gone? He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners. And when I urged
- the ransom once again of my wife's brother, his cheek looked pale, and on my face he turned an eye of
- death, trembling even at the name of Mortimer. I cannot blame him. Was he not proclaimed by Richard
- that dead is the next of blood? He was. I heard the proclamation.
- And then it was when the unhappy king, whose wrongs in us God pardoned, did depart upon his Irish expedition,
- from whence he intercepted, did return to be deposed and shortly murdered. And for whose death we in
- the world's wide mouth live scandalized and foully spoken of? Soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then
- proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer heir to the crown? He did. Myself did hear the proclamation. Well,
- then I cannot blame his cousin King that wished him on the barren mountains.
- Shall it be that you, that placed the crown on the head of this forgetful man, and for his sake were
- the detested blot of murderous subordination? Shall it be that you a world of curses undergo? Be in
- the agents, or base second means, the cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather. Forgive me that I descend
- so low to show the line and predicament wherein you range under this subtle cave. Shall it in shame
- be spoken of in these days?
- fill up chronicles in time to come that men of your nobility and power did gauge them both in an unjust
- behalf. As both of you, God pardoned, have done, put down Richard, that sweet, lovely rose, and plant
- in his place this thorn, this canker, bullying rook? And shall it in further shame be spoken more that
- you were fooled, discarded, and shook off by him for whom these shames you underwent? And yet the time
- may come wherein you can retrieve your banished daughters.
- and restore yourselves into the good thoughts of the world again. Revenge the jeering and disdained
- contempt of that proud king, who studies day and night to answer all the debt he owes to you, even to
- the bloody payment of your deaths. Therefore, I say... Peace, cousin, say no more, and I will now unclasp
- a secret book, and to your quick conceiving discontents, I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, as
- full of peril and adventurous spirit,
- as to overwalk a current roaring loud on the unsteadfast footing of a spear. He thinks it were but an
- easy leap to pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, or dive into the deep where Fathomline could
- never hope to touch, and pluck up drowned at honour by the locks, so he the doth redeemer may wear her
- thence without co-rival and all her dignities. And out upon this huff-faced fellowship
- He apprehends a world of figures here. And not the form of what he should attend. Good cousin, give
- me audience for a while. I cry your mercy. Those same Scottish prisoners... He shall not have a one
- of them. By God, I'll keep them all. Nor if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not. I'll keep them
- all by this hand. You start away and lend no ear unto my purposes. Those prisoners you shall keep. Nay,
- I will, and that's flat.
- He forbade me to even speak of Mortimer. He would not even think of his ransom once again. I shall find
- him as he lies in bed, and in his ear I'll holler, Mortimer! Me, I shall have a starling and have it
- taught to speak nothing but Mortimer, and I'll give it him so he may keep his anger still in motion.
- Hear, you cousin, a word. All studies here I solemnly defy save how to gall and pinch this Bullingbroke
- and that same sword and buckle our Prince of Wales.
- But that his father loves him not, and would be glad he met with some mistrance. I'd poison him with
- a pot of ale. Farewell, kinsman. I'll talk to you when you're better tempered to attend. What a wasp-stung
- and impatient fool art thou to break into this woman's mood, tying thine ear to no tongue but thine
- own. Oh, look you, I am whipped and scorched with rods, nuzzled and stung with pismires when I hear
- of that vile politician, Bullingbrooke. In Richard's time, where do you call the place? It's in Gloucestershire.
- It was where the madcap duke his uncle kept, the Uncle York. It was where I first bowed my knees to
- that king of smiles, Bullingbroke. Splendid! Were you any left from Ravenspur? At Berkeley Castle. You
- say true. What a candy deal of courtesy did the fawning greyhound then prefer me? Look when his infant
- fortune comes to age, and kind, hairy person, and gentle cousin. The devil takes such cousiners. God
- forgive me.
- Good uncle, I have done. On with your tale. Nay, if you have not, to it again. We will stay your leisure.
- I have done in vain. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. Deliver them up without ransom straight.
- And make that Douglas's son your only mean for powers in Scotland. Which for diverse reasons, which
- I shall send you written, be assured will be easily granted. You, my lord.
- son in Scotland, thus employed, shall secretly into the bosom creep of that same noble prelate, well-beloved,
- the Archbishop. Of York, is it not? True, who bears hard his brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop.
- I speak not in estimation of what I think might be, but what I know is ruminated, plotted, and set down
- only stays but to behold the face of that occasion that shall bring it on. I smell it. In faith it is
- exceedingly well. The game is not yet afoot and still thou let slip. But it is such a noble plot it
- could not help but succeed. The power of Scotland and of York to join with Mortimer? Then so they shall.
- In truth it is exceedingly well aimed. And tis no little reason that bids us speed to save our heads
- by raising of a head.
- forbear ourselves as even as we can. The King will always think him in our debt, and think we think
- ourselves unsatisfied, till he hath paid us time to pay us home. And see how he already doth begin to
- make us strangers to his looks of love. He does, he does. We'll be revenged on him. Farewell, cousins,
- and no further go in this till I by letter will direct your course.
- When the time is ripe, which will be suddenly, I'll steal to Glendower and Mortimer, where you and Douglas
- and our powers at once, as I will fashion it, shall happily meet, to bear our fortunes in our own strong
- arms, which now we hold at much uncertainty. Farewell, good brother. We will thrive, I trust.
- Uncle Adjou, and let the hours be short until the fields and groans and blows applaud our sport.
- Shelter! Shelter! I've removed Falstaff's horse and he spits like a gun velvet. Staying close. Point!
- Point and be hanged! Point!
- What a brawling dost thou keep? Where is Poin now? Oh, he's walked up to the top of the hill. I'll go
- seek him. I am accursed to robbing that thief's company. The rascal hath removed my horse and tied him.
- I know not where. If I travel four foot by the squire further afoot,
- I'll break my wind. Well, I doubt not that I will die a fair death for all this, if I escape being hanged
- for killing that rogue. I have foresworn his company hourly, any time, this twenty and two years, and
- yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company.
- and he has not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged. It could not be else. I have
- drugged medicines. Point! How? A plague I need both. Bottle, pito.
- another foot further. Ah, and where a deed not as good as drink, to turn true ban and leave those roads.
- I am the various violet that ever chewed with a tube. Eight yards of uneven ground is like three, four,
- and 10 miles with me a foot, and those stony-hearted villains know it well enough.
- or a plague on it, when thieves cannot be true to one another. Poins! God hang ye! Where is my horse?
- Peace ye fat guts. Lay down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread
- of travelers. And you have levers to lift me again when I am down? It's blood. I cannot bear my own
- flesh one foot further.
- for all the coin in your father's exchequer. What a plague, mean you to cult me thus. Oh, thou liest.
- Thou art not culted, thou art unculted. Hal, my good prince, hal, hop me to my horse, good king's son.
- Out, you rogue, shall I be your hostler? Oh, go hang yourself in your heir apparent garters.
- If I am taken, I'll peach for this. If I have not ballads,
- written on all of you, and sung to filthy tunes, a cup of sack be my poison. When a jest goes this far
- forward, and a what to, I hate it. Stand. I do so, sir, but against my will. Bardolph, what news? Casey,
- Casey, on with your visits. There's money to the king's coming down the hill, and it's going to the
- king's exchequer. You lie, you rogue.
- Go into the king's tavern. And there be enough to make us all. To be hanged. Sirs, you three shall front
- them in the narrow lane. Ned Poins and I will walk lower. If they escape from here, encounter them.
- They lie on us. How many be there of them? Some eight or ten. Zones, will they not rob us? What a coward,
- Sir John Ponch. Indeed, I am no John of Gaunt, your grandfather. But no coward high, Hal. Well, we'll
- leave that
- Jack, your horse stands behind the hedge. When thou needest him, there thou shall find him. Farewell
- and stand fast. Now, canst I not strike him, if I should hang for it? Now, my masters, happy man be
- to his dole, must say I. Every man to his business.
- Come, neighbor, the boys shall lead our horses down the hill. We'll walk a foot a while and ease our
- legs. End! Jesus bless us! Strike! Down with them! Cut the villain's throats! Ah, whoreson, caterpillars!
- Bacon-fed maids! They hate us youth! Down with them! Fleece them! Oh, we are undone, both we and ours,
- forever! Hang, you gore-bellied maids! Are ye undone? No, ye fat chuffs! Why would your store were here?
- On, bacons, on!
- What, you knaves? Young men must live. Ah, you are grand jurors, are ye? We'll jure ye faith. The thieves
- abound the true men. Now, couldst thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily back to London? There'll
- be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. Stand close, I hear them coming.
- Let us share into horse.
- And the Prince and Poins are not two errand cowards. There is no equity stirring. There is no more valour
- in that Poins than in a wild duck.
- Jeez, now Maryla is to horse. The thieves are all scattered and possessed with fear so strong as if
- they dare not meet each other. Which takes this fellow for an officer. Away, good Ned.
- my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house. He could be
- well contented. Why is he not then? In this he shows he loves his own barn better than he loves our
- house. The purpose you undertake is dangerous. Why, that is certain. It is dangerous to take a cold,
- to sleep, to drink. But 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 the whole plot
- too light for the counterpoints of so great an opposition. Say you so, say you so. Well, I say you are
- a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this? By the Lord, our plot is as good a
- plot as ever was laid. Our friends, during constant. Good plot, good friends, full of expectations.
- Excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this? As not the Lord of York commended
- the plot and the general course of action,
- and I were by this rascal, now I could braid him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle,
- and myself? Lord Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? And is there not besides the Douglas?
- Have I not all of their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? And have not some of
- them set forth already? What a pagan rascal is this? An infidel! Now, in very fear of sincerity and
- cold heart, he will to the king and lay open all of our proceedings.
- Hang him. Let him go to the king. We are prepared. Now Kate, I must leave thee within these two hours.
- I fear my brother Mornmore to stir up at his title, and then send for you to line his enterprise. But
- if you go so far afoot, my love, I shall be weary. Come, come, parakeeto. Answer me directly unto this
- question that I ask. In faith, Harry, I'll break thy little finger, and if thou wilt not tell me things
- true. Away, away, you trifle. Love, I love thee not. I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world to
- play with mammoths and to tilt with lips.
- We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns, And pass them courage too. Guards me my horse. What sayest
- thou? What wouldst thou have with me? And do you not love me? Do you not, indeed, nay, tell me? Dost
- thou speak in jest or no? Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a horseback, I shall swear I love
- thee infinitely. But I must not have you henceforth question me, whither I go, nor reason whereabouts.
- Whither I must, I must, and to conclude this night must I leave you,
- You are wise, yet no father wiser than you.
- hand to laugh a little. Where's Ben-Hal? Oh, three or four lagerheads owns three or four score hogsheads.
- I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sarah, I am sworn brother to a leash of draughts, and
- can call them all by their Christian names as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their
- salvation that though I be but Prince of Wales, that I am the King of Courtesy, and tell me flatly that
- I am no prior Jack-like Falstaff, but a
- a lad of metal, a good boy, by the Lord, so they call me, and that when I am King of England, I shall
- command all the good lads in East Cheever. 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 lifetime. I tell thee, Ned, thou
- hast lost much honor that thou wert not with me in this action. My lord, old Sturgeon was several more
- at the door. Shall I let them in? Let them alone a while, and then open the door. No points. Shall we
- be merry? As merry as crickets, my lad.
- Now more humours that have shown themselves humours since the old days of Goodman Adam to this pupil
- age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the hot spur 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. Oh, my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed today?
- Give my own horse a wrench, says he,
- The man answers, some fourteen, an hour after, a trifle, a trifle. I prithee, call in Falstaff. I'll
- play Percy, and that damn brawn shall play de Mortimer, his wife. Welcome, Jack, where hast thou been?
- A play of all cowards, I say, and of engines too. Give me a cup of sack, boy. Here I, to this life long,
- I shall so never stop.
- and mend them and foot them, too. A cup of sack, you rogue! A plague of all cowards! Is there no virtue
- extant? Didst thou never see a dish of butter that melted at the sweet tail of the sun? Thou didst,
- and behold that compound. You rogue! There's lime in this sack, too. Oh, you can find nothing but roguery
- in a villainous man.
- And yet, a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it. A villainous coward. Go thy way, Jack.
- Die when thou wilt. Oh, if manhood, good manhood, is not forgot from the face of the earth, then I am
- a shot and herring. There are not three good men living unhanged in England, and one of them is fat
- and grows old. God help the wild.
- A bad world, say I. I would I were a weaver, or I could sing songs or anything. A plague of all cowards,
- I say. Why, you wholesome round man, what's the matter? Ah, are you not a coward? A king's son? I would
- beat thee from thy kingdom with a dagger of laugh and drive all thy subjects before thee like a flock of wild
- You, you Prince of Wales. What is the matter? Are you not a coward? Answer me to that. And points there.
- Sound your fat punch and you call me a coward all stamped if I lord. I call thee a coward. I'll see
- thee damned ere I call thee a coward. I would that I give a thousand points
- if I could run as fast as he can. Thou art straight enough through the shoulders that thou carest not
- who seest thy back. Call this backing thy friends, a plague of such backing. I would have them that
- would face me. Give me a cup of sack, I'm a rogue if I've drunk today. Oh villain, thy lips are scarce
- white since thou drunk'st last. All is one for that. A plague of all cowards, I say to thee.
- What's the matter? The three of us have taken a thousand pounds this day morning. Oh, where is it, Jack?
- Where is it? Where is it? Taken from us. A hundred upon the poor three of us. What? A hundred, man?
- I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them. Two hours together was a miracle I did
- escape. I have eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler,
- and threw my sword, hacked like a handsaw. Eche signum. Ah, I have not dealt such since I was a man,
- but all would not do. A plague of all cowards, I say. Let them speak. If they say not the truth,
- more or less, then they are villains and sons of darkness.
- Three, three, set upon some dozen. Oh, sixteen at least, my lord. And bound them. No, no, they were
- not bound. Ah, you rogue! They were bound, every one of them. For I am a Jew else, an Abraham Jew. And
- as we were sharing, some six or seven freshmen set upon us. Yes, and unbound the rest, and then came
- in the other. What, fought you with them all? I know not what you call all. If I fought not fifty, I'm
- a bunch of radish. If there were not two,
- against poor old Jack. I am not a two-legged creature. My God, you have not murdered some of them. Oh,
- it is too late for praying that. I have peppered two of them. Two I am sure I have paid. Two rogues
- in buckram suits. And I tell thee, hell, if I lie to thee, spit in my face and call me horse. Thou knowest,
- my old ward, there I lay.
- And I bore my point thus, when the four rogues in Buckram suits let drive at me. Four? Why, there were
- but two even now. Four, Hal. I told thee four. Why, I said four. Now these four did press me affront,
- and mainly thrusted me, and with no more ado, I took all seven of their points in my target. Seven?
- Why, you said but four even now. In Buckram? I said four in Buckram suits.
- Nay, but by these, hilt seven, or I am a villain else. Oh, prithee, let him alone. We shall have more
- none. Now, doth thou listen now? Oh, I do, and mark thee too, Jack. Well, do so, for it is worth the
- listening. Now, these nine villains I have told you of in Buckram. So, two more already? Their points
- being broken. Down fell their home. Began giving me ground, and I followed close, came and hand and
- foot, well, without a thought, seven of the eleven.
- grown out of two. And as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in kindle green came at my
- back and let drive in me. For how was so dark thou couldst not see thine own hand? These lies are like
- their father that begets them. Gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts, thou
- knotty-painted fool, thou wholesome, odd-seen, greasy tallow-catch. Art thou mad? Art thou mad? Is not
- the truth the truth?
- so dark that I could not see thy hand. Come, tell us your reason. What sayest thou to this? Your reason,
- Jack, your reason. What, on compulsion? Zounds! If I were at the Strapato or all the racks of the world,
- I would tell no reason on compulsion. Speak on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries,
- I would tell no man reason on compulsion, I. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin.
- This bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh. Blood! You starling! You eel-skin!
- You dragnet's tongue! You bull's-bizzle! You stockfish! Give me breath, that I may say what thou art
- like. You tailor's yard! You sheath! You bow-case! You vile-standing tuck! Well, breathe awhile, and
- then to rest.
- hear me speak but this. Mark, Jack. We, too, saw you three set on four, and found them, and were masters
- of their wealth. Mark now how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we, too, set one, you three,
- and with a word out-faced 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 his quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still run, and roared, as ever I heard Bolcave.
- What a slave art thou, the hat I sawed as thou was done, and said was in fight. What trick, what device,
- what starting-hall canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame? Come, Jack,
- let's hear what trick thou hast now. By the Lord, I know ye as well as he that may ye.
- You, my masters, is it for me? What, to kill the heir apparent? To turn on the true prince? For thou
- knowest I am valiant as Hercules. But beware of instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct
- is a great matter. I was a coward now on instinct. And I will think better on myself and thee during my life.
- as a valiant lion, and thou as the true prince. But, by the Lord, I am glad that you have the money.
- Hostess, clap to the doors. Watch tonight, pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all
- titles of good fellowship come to thee. What, shall we be married? Shall we have a play extempore?
- and the argument shall be lie running away. Oh, no more of that, how then thou lust me. Oh, Jezu, my
- lord the prince. Oh, how now, my lady the hostess? What say'st thou to me? Married, my lord, if there
- is a nobleman of the court at door, I would speak with you. He says he comes for your father. Give him
- as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back to my mother. What manner of man is he?
- An old man. Walked off gravity, out of bed, past midnight. Shall I take your answer to him? Oh,
- pretty do, Jack. Faith.
- Send him packing. Now, sirs, by our lady. You fought well, Pito. So did you, Bardol. You are lions,
- too. You ran away upon instinct. You will not hurt the true prince now. Fie. Faith, I ran when I saw
- others run. Oh, Faith, tell me now in earnest. How came Falstaff's sword so hacked? Why, he hacked it
- with his dagger.
- He 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. I am to tickle our noses with speargrass, and these lover our garments
- with it, and pretend that it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not the seven year before.
- I blushed to hear his monstrous devices.
- Ah, here comes lean, Jack. Here comes bare-boned. How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long is
- it to go, Jack, that I saw their own knee eat? My own knee? I was about thy age, Al. Ah, 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.
- villainous news abroad. Here was Sir John Bracey from your father. You must to the court in the morning.
- That same mad fellow of the North, Percy, and he of Wales, uh, that gave ammo on the bastionado and
- made Lucifer cuckold and swore the devil his true liegeman on the cross of a Welsh hook. Um, a plague,
- what call you him? Owen Glendower. Owen, Owen, the same. And
- his son-in-law Mortimer, old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that rides a
- horseback up a hill perpendicular. He that rides at a high speed and with his pistol kills a sparrow
- flying. There you have hit it. So did he never the sparrow. But that rascal has some good metal in him.
- He will not run. How, what a rascal art thou then to praise himself for running? A horseback, you cuckoo,
- but a foot? He will not budge a foot. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.
- My grant ye on instincts. Well, here's thereto, and one more dake, and a thousand bluecaps more. Wooster
- has stolen away tonight, and your father's beard turns white at the news. And I hear that you may buy
- land as cheap as stinking mackerel. Why, the winter's like. If there come a hot June in this civil buffeting
- hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hogmares.
- by the hundreds. Ah, by the mass, lad, you speak true. Tis like we will have good trading then.
- But how? How'd that now horrible have feared? Being heir apparent, could the world have picked thee
- again? Three enemies such as that fiend, Percy, that spirit, Douglas, and that devil, Glendower. Are
- you not horribly afraid?
- Does your blood not thrill at it? Not a whit in faith. I lack some of thy instinct. Well, you will be
- horribly chid tomorrow when it comes to your father. As thou love me, let you practice an answer. Do
- you stand for my father and examine me on the particulars of my life? Shall I? Content. This bed shall
- be my state. This dagger my scepter, and that cushion my crown.
- thy scepter is taken for a leaden dagger and thy precious gold crown for a pitiful bald crown.
- the fire of grace hath not gone o'er thee. Now shalt thou be moved. Bring me a cup of sack to make my
- eyes red, that it may be thought that I have wept. I will speak in passion now. I shall do it in King
- Cambyses' veins.
- My leg. And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility. Oh, jesus, this is excellent sport instead.
- Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain. Oh, the father, how he holds his countenance. For
- God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen, for tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.
- He doth it as like one of these hierarchy players as ever I saw. Peace, good pint-pot. Peace,
- good tickle-brain. Harry, I do not only marvel at where thou spendest thy time, but also who thou keepest
- company. For though the chamomile, the more it is trodden upon, the faster it grows.
- The more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That you are my son, I have partly your mother's word, partly
- my own opinion. Yet chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip,
- that doth warrant me. If then thou be my son, here lies the point.
- If thou be my son, art thou so appointed at? Shall the blessed son of Helen prove a truant
- and eat blackberries? A question not to be asked. Should the son of England prove a thief and take purses?
- A question to be asked. Harry, thou knowest a thing.
- that I have often heard of, that many in thy kingdom know by the name of Pitch. This Pitch, as ancient
- authors report, doth defile, so doth the company that thy keep. Harry, I do not speak to thee now in
- drink, but in tears, not in pleasure, but in passion, not in words only, but in woes,
- And yet there is a man I have often seen in thy company, a virtuous man, though I remember not his name.
- What manner of man? And it's like your majesty. A goodly, portly man, if they then are a corpulent,
- of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage, and I am... And, as I think, his age
- some fifty or
- by our lady inclining to three score. And now I do remember that his name is Falstaff. If this man,
- lewdly given, then he deceiveth me. For Harry, there is much virtue in his looks. If the tree, then,
- be known by the fruit, and the fruit by the tree, there is virtue in that Falstaff.
- him keep with, the rest banish. And now tell me, thou naughty violet, how hath thou spent this month?
- Dost thou speak like a king? Do you stand for me, and I'll play my father? Depose me, if thou dost it
- half as gravely and as majestically in both the word and the
- Bring me by the heels for a rabbit sucker, or I'll pull to his hair. Well, here am I set. And here I
- stand. Judge my master. Now, Harry, whence come you? My noble lord from East Cheap. The complaints I
- hear of thee are grievous. Splod, my lord, it is false. Nay, I'll tickle you for a young prince of eight.
- 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 tend of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse
- with that trunk of humours, that bolting hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsy, that huge
- bombard of sack, that roasted, manning tree ox with the pudding in his belly,
- That grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years. Where in is he good but to taste sack
- and drink it? Where in eating cleanly but to carve a capon and eat it? Where in cunning but in craft?
- Where in crafty but in villainy? Where in villainous but in all things? Where in worthy but in nothing?
- I would your grace would take me with you. Who means your grace? That that villainous abominable misleader
- of youth. False.
- I know him, my lord. I know thou dost. But if I were to say that I know more harm in him than in myself,
- I would say more than I know. That he is old, his white hair doth witness it, the more the pity. But
- that he is, in saving your reverence, a whoremaster, I utterly deny it. If sugar and sack are a fault,
- God help the wicked. If to be old and merry is a sin, then I know many an old host that will be damned.
- If to be fat,
- be hated, then the pharaoh's lean kind are to be loved. My good lord, banish Pito, banish Bardolph,
- banish Boynes. But sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff,
- and therefore be the more valiant that he is old Jack Falstaff, banish not him
- my Harry's company. Banish not him, my Harry's company. Banish Plum Jack, and banish all the world.
- I do. I will. Oh, my lord, my lord. The sheriff, the most monstrous watcher at the door. How'd you row?
- Play out the play. I have more to say in behalf of this false staff. Oh, jesus, my lord, my lord. Hey,
- the devil writes upon a fill stick. What's the matter? The sheriff and all the watchers at the door
- there come to search the house. Shall I let them in? Thus I hear, Hal. Never call a true piece of gold
- a counterfeit, for thou art essentially made without seeming so. And thou a natural coward without instinct.
- I deny your major, if you deny the sheriff so. If not,
- Let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague am I bringing up. I hope soon
- as be strangled by a halter as another. Stay thee upstairs. The rest, walk without. Now, my masters,
- for a true face and a clean conscience. Both have I had, but the date is out, and therefore I'll hide me.
- Mr. Sheriff, what is your will with me? First pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry hath followed certain
- men unto this house. What men? One of them is well known, my gracious lord, a gross fat man,
- as fat as butter. The man I do assure you is not here, for I myself at this time have employed him.
- And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee that I shall by tomorrow dinnertime send him to answer thee
- or any man for anything you shall be charged withal. And so that me entreat you leave the house. I will, my lord.
- There are two gentlemen having this robbery lost 300 marks. It may be so. If he have robbed these men,
- he shall be answerable. And so farewell. Good night, my noble lord. I think it is good morrow,
- is it not? Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. This oily rascal is as well known as Paul's.
- Go call him forth.
- These promises are fair, the party sure, and our induction's full of hope. Lord Mortimer and Cousin
- Glendower, will you sit down? And Uncle Worcester? A plague upon it. I forgot the math. No,
- here it is. Sit, Cousin Percy. Sit, good Cousin Hotspur, for by that name, as oft as Lancaster does
- speak of you, his cheek grows pale and with a rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven. And you in hell,
- as oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of. I cannot blame him.
- At my nativity, the front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, of burning crescents. And at my birth,
- the frame and huge foundation of the earth, shaken like a coward. Why, so it would have done at the
- same season if your mother's cat had but kittened. Though yourself had never been born. I say the earth
- did shake when I was born. And I say the earth was not at my mind, if you suppose, as fearing you it
- shook. The heavens were all on fire. The earth did tremble. Well, then the earth did tremble to see
- the heavens on fire, and not in fear of your nativity.
- And at drop-times breaks forth in strange eruptions, Off the teeming earth is with a kind of collic
- pinched in vets By the imprisoning of unruly wind within her womb, For which enlargement's driving shakes
- the bell by myrth, Top of downed steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth, our grand damn earth,
- In this distemperature, in passionship. Cousin of many men, I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
- to tell you once again That at my birth the front of heaven was full of fiery shape,
- The goats ran from the mountains. The herds were strangely clamorous to the prided fields. These signs
- have marked me extraordinary. And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the role of common
- men. Where is he living clipped in with the sea that chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, which
- calls me pupil, or hath read to me? And bring him out which is but woman's son can trace me in the tedious
- ways of art, or hold me pace in deep experiments.
- I'll say there's no man speaks better Welsh. All to dinner. Peace, cousin Percy. Thou shalt make him
- mad. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Why, so can I, or so can any man. But do they come when
- you do call for them? I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil. And I can teach thee, cousin, to
- shame the devil by telling truth. Tell truth and shame the devil. If you have the power to raise him,
- bring him hither. I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence. But while you live, tell truth and
- shame the devil.
- Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat. Three times hath Harry Bolingbroke made head against
- my power. Thrice from the banks of Wye and Sandy Bottom Severn have I sent him bootless home
- and weather-beaten back. Home without foots, and in foul weather too. How scape see the aggiers in the
- devil's name. Come, here is the map. Shall we divide our ride according to our threefold order, Tein?
- The Archdeacon hath divided into three limits very equally.
- England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, by south and east, is to my part assigned. All westward, wails
- beyond the Severn shore, and all the fertile land within that bound, to Owen Glendower. And, dear Cous,
- to you, the remnant northward, lying off from Trent. Our indentures, in triplicate, are drawn, which
- being seal'd interchangeably, a business which this night may affect. Tomorrow, Cous and Percy, you and I,
- With my good Lord Worcester, we'll meet your father in the Scottish power, as is appointed to us at
- Shrewsbury. My father Glendower is not yet ready yet, nor shall we need his aid these fourteen days.
- Within that span, you may gather together your tenants, friends, and neighboring gentlemen. A shorter
- time shall send me to you, lords, for in my conduct shall your ladies come from whom you now must steal
- and take no leave.
- for there will be a world of watershed upon the parting of you and your wives. Methinks my Moitje, north
- from Burton here, in quantity equals not one of yours. See how this river comes to me cranking in to
- cut me from the best of all my land? A huge half-moon, a monstrous cancel-out, all at the current in
- this place damned up, and the smug and silver treads shall run in the new channel, fair and evenly.
- Shall not wind with such a deep indent to rob me of so rich a bottom here? Not wind, it shall, it must.
- You see it, doth.
- Yea, but see how it bears its course and runs me off with like advantage on the other side, gilding
- the opposite continent as much as on the other side it takes from you. Yea, but a little charge will
- trench him here, and on this north side win this cape of land, and then he runs straight and even. I'll
- have it so. A little charge will do it. I'll not have it altered. Will not you? No, nor you shall not.
- Who shall say me nay? Why, that will I. Let me not understand you then,
- Speak it in Welsh. I can speak English, Lord, as well as you, for I was trained up in the English court
- where, being but young, I framed to the heart many an English ditty lovely well and gave the tongue
- a helpful ornament, a virtue that was never seen in you. Mary, and I am glad of it with all my heart.
- I'd rather be a kitten and cry new than one of these same meat or ballad mongers. I'd rather hear a
- brazen canstick turn or a dry wheel grate on an axle tree
- And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, nothing so much as mincing poetry. It's like the fourth
- gait of a shuffling nag. Come, you shall have your trench turned. I'd not care. I'll give Christ so
- much land to any well-deserving friend, but mark you me on the way of a bargain I'll cavil on the ninth
- part of a hare. Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone? The moon is fair. You may away by night.
- I'll haste the rider, and withal break with your wives of your departure hence.
- I am afraid my daughter will run mad. So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Fie, cousin Percy, how you
- do cross my father? I cannot choose. Sometimes he angers me by telling me of the moldwarp, an ant, of
- the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, of a dragon and a finless fish, a clip-winged griffin and a molten
- raven, a couching lion and a ramping cat, and such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff that puts me from
- my faith. I tell you what.
- He held me last night at least nine hours in reckoning up the several devil's names that were his lackeys.
- I cried hum and, well, go to, but marked him not a word. Oh, he is as tedious as a tired horse, a railing
- wife, worse than a smoky house. I had rather live with cheese and garlic in a windmill far than feed
- on Cates and have him talk to me in any summer house in Christendom. By faith, he is a worthy gentleman,
- exceedingly well-read and practiced in dark concealments.
- as valiant as any lion, and wondrous affable, and as bountiful as the mines of India. So I tell you,
- cousin, he holds your temper in a high respect, and curves himself even of his natural scope when you
- do cross him. Faith he does! I warrant you, there's not a man alive could have tempted him as you have
- done, and not tasted danger or reproof. Do not use it off. I entreat thee. In faith, my lord.
- You are, too, willful blame. And since coming hither have done enough to put him quite beside his patience,
- you must needs learn, Lord, to amend this fault. Though sometime it show greatness, courage, blood,
- and that's the dearest grace it renders you. Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, defective manners,
- want of government, pride,
- haughtiness, opinion, and disdain, the least of which haunting a nobleman loses men's hearts and leaves
- behind a stain upon the beauty of which all parts besides beguiling them of commendation. Well,
- I am schooled. Good manners be your speed. Let's to our wives and take our leave. I know not whether
- God will have it so, for some displeasing service I have done.
- That in his secret doom out of my blood he'll weed revengement and a scourge for me. But in thy passages
- of life thou dost make me think thou art only marked for the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven to
- punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, could such inordinate and low desires, such poor, such bare,
- such lewd, such mean attempts,
- such barren pleasures, rude societies, thou art matched with all, and grafted to accompany the greatness
- of thy blood, and hold there level with thy princely heart. So please, your majesty, I would I could
- quit all offences with this clear excuse, as well as I am doubtless I can purge myself of many I am
- charged with all. That such extenuation let me beg, as in reproof of many tales devised, which oft the
- error of greatness needs must hear by smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers, I may for some things
- true wherein my youth hath faulty wandered into regular fun pardon,
- on my true submission. God pardon me! Let me wonder, Harriet, thy affections, which do hold a wing quite
- from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in counsel thou hast rudely lost, which by thy younger
- brother is supplied, and art almost an alien to the hearts of all court and princes of my blood. The
- hope and expectation of thy time is ruined, and the soul of every man do prophetically forfeit thy fall.
- Had I so lavish
- so stale and cheap to vulgar company. Opinion that did help me to the crown had still kept Boyle to
- possess in, and left me in refuteless banishment, a fellow of no mark nor likelihood. By being seldom
- seen, I could not stir but like a comet I was wondered at. That men would tell their children,
- this is he. Others would say, where? Which is Bolingbroke? Then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
- that I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, lounge outs and salutations from their mouths even in
- the presence of a crowned king. But thus did I keep my person fresh and new, my presence like a rope
- on typical Nersene that wondered at. And so my state, seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast and
- won by rave.
- Skipping King, he ambled up and down with shallow jesters and rash babing with soon-kindled and soon-buried.
- Carved at his feet, mingled his royalty with capering fools, had his great
- self to popularity, that being daily swallowed by men's eyes, they surfeited with honey, and began to
- loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little more than a little is by much too much. So when he had
- occasion to be seen, he was but as was Kyoku years in June. Heard, not regarded, seen, but with such
- eyes as sick and blunted with community afford no
- on sunlight majesty when it shined seldom in admiring eyes, but rather drowsed and hung where I with
- doubt slept in his face and rendered such aspect as cloudy men do to their adversaries, being with his
- presence rotted, gorged, and full. And in that very line, Harry, standest thou, for thou hast lost thy
- princely privilege through vile participation, not an
- What is weary of thy common sight save mine, Which hath desired to see thee more? Which now does that,
- I would not have it do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. I will hereafter, my thrice-gracious
- lord, be more myself. For all the world art thou to this hour as Richard, Then when I from France set
- foot at Ravensburg, And even as I was then is Percy now, Now by my sector and my soul to boot he hath
- more Worthy interest to stay.
- now the shadow of success in, for by no right nor color light to write. He fills the field with harness
- and a bell, turns head against the lion's armored jaws, and be no more in debt to years than now, leads
- ancient lords and reverend bishops on to bloody battles and to bruising arms. Thrice hath this hot spur,
- this maus in swaddling clothes, this infant warrior in his enterprises,
- and made a friend of him to fill the mouth of deep defiance up and shape the peace and safety of our
- throne. And what think you of this? Percy, Northumberland, the archbishop's duke of York, Mortimer,
- Douglas capitulate against us and all up. But wherefore do I tell this snooze to thee? Why, hey, do
- I tell thee of my foes who are my nearest and my dearest?
- their base inclination and the start of spleen, to fight against me under Percy's pain, to dark his
- heels and curtsy at his frowns, to prove how much thou art degenerate. Do not think so. You shall not
- find it so. God forgive them that so much has swayed your majesty's good thoughts away from me. I will
- redeem all this on Percy's head, and in the closing of some glorious day be bold to tell you that I am
- seeing my favours in a bloody mask, which, washed away, shall scour my shame with it. And that shall
- be the day when Ereth lights, this same child of honour and renown, this gallant Hotspur, this all-praised
- knight, and your unthought of Harry a chance to meet. For every honour sitting on his helm, but there
- were multitudes, and on my head my shames were doubled. For the time will come that I shall make this
- northern youth exchange his glorious deeds for my indignation.
- to engross up glorious deeds on my behalf, and I shall call him to so strictly count that he will render
- every glory up, yea, even the slightest worship of his time, and I will tear the reckoning from his
- heart. In the name of God, I promise you, that which, if he be pleased, I shall perform, and do beseech
- your majesty may solve the long-grown wounds of my intemperance. If not, the end of life cancels all
- bans, and I will die a hundred thousand deaths, and break the smallest parcel
- Hundred thousand rebels die in this. Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. I'll now,
- good one, thy looks are full of speed. And so hath the business that I come to speak of.
- Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word that Douglas and the English rebels met the 11th of this month
- in Shrewsbury. How mighty and fearsome head they are! If promises be kept, on every hand, has ever offered
- foul play in the state. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth the day within my son Lord John of Lancaster,
- for this investment is five days old. On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward. On Thursday,
- we ourselves will march. Our meeting is bridge north, and Harry, you shall march
- for which by accounts are business valued, and twelve days hence our general forces at Bridge North
- shall meet. Our hands are full of business, let's away, and back it sheets in fact, for I'm in delay.