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.