Mort.
These Promises are fair, the Parties sure,
And our Induction full of prosperous hope.

Hotsp.
Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,
Will you sit down?
And Uncle Worcester; a plague upon it,
I have forgot the Map.

Glend.
No, here it is;
Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspur:
For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speak of you,
His Cheeks look pale, and with a rising sigh,
He wisheth you in Heaven.

Hotsp.
And you in Hell, as oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glend.
I cannot blame him: At my Nativity,
The front of Heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning Creslets: and at my Birth,
The frame and foundation of the Earth
Shak'd like a Coward.

Hotsp.
Why so it would have done at the same Season, if your Mothers
Cat had but kitten'd, though your self had never been born.

Glend.
I say the Earth did shake when I was born.

Hotsp.
And I say the Earth was not of my mind:
If you suppose, as fearing you, it shook

Glen.
The Heavens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble.

Hotsp.
Oh, then the Earth shook.
To see the Heavens on fire.
And not in fear of your Nativity.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange Eruptions: And the teeming Earth
Is with a kind of Cholick pinch'd and vext,
By the imprisoning of unruly Wind
Within her Womb: which for enlargment striving,
Shakes the old Beldam Earth, and tumbles down
Steeples, and moss-grown Towers. At your Birth,
Our Grandam Earth, having this Distemperature,
In passion shook.

Glen.
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 shapes,
The Goats ran from the Mountains, and the Heards
Were strangly clamorous to the frighted fields:

These Signs have mark'd me extraordinary,
And all the Courses of my life do shew,
I am not in the Roll of common Men.
Where is the Living, clipt in with the Sea,
That chides the Banks of England, Scotland and Wales,
Which calls me Pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but Womans Son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of Art,
And hold me pace in deep Experiments.

Hotsp.
I think there's no Man speaks better Welsh?
I'll to dinner.

Mort.
Peace, Cousin Percy, you will make him mad.

Glend.
I can call Spirits from the vastie Deep.

Hotsp.
Why so can I, or so can any Man:
But will they come, when you do call for them?

Glend.
Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the Devil.

Hotsp.
And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Devil,
By telling Truth. Tell Truth, and shame the Devil.
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence.
Oh, while you live, tell Truth, and shame the Devil.

Mort.
Come, come, no more of this unprofitable Chat.

Glend.
Three times hath Henry Bullingbrook 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.

Hot.
Home, without Boots,
And in foul Weather too,
How scapes he Agues in the Devil's name?

Glend.
Come, her's the Map:
Shall we divide our Right,
According to our threefold order ta'ne?

Mort.
The Arch-Deacon hath divided it
Into three Limits, very equally:
England, from Trent, and Severn hitherto,
By South and East is to my part assign'd:
All Westward, Wales, beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile Land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: and dear Couze, to you
The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.
And our Indentures Tripartite are drawn:
Which being sealed enterchangeably,
(A business that this Night may execute)
To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,
And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your Father, and the Scottish Power,
As is appointed us at Shrewsbury.

My Father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:
Within that space, you may have drawn together
Your Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen.

Glend.
A short time shall send me to you, Lords:
And in my Conduct shall your Ladies come,
From whom you now must steal, and take no leave,
For there will be a world of Water shed,
Upon the parting of your Wives and you.

Hotsp.
Methinks my moity, North from Burton here,
In quantity equals not one of yours:
See, how this River comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my Land,
A huge half Moon, a monstrous Cantle out.
I'll have the Current in this Place damn'd up,
And here the smug, and Silver Trent shall run,
In a new Channel, fair and evenly:
It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

Glend.
Not wind? it shall, it must, you see it doth.

Mort.
Yea, but mark how he bends his course,
And runs me up, with like advantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposing Continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you.

Worc.
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.

Hotsp.
I'll have it so, a little Charge will do it.

Glend.
I'll not have it alter'd.

Hotsp.
Will not you?

Glend.
No, nor you shall not.

Hotsp.
Who shall say me nay?

Glend.
Why, that will I.

Hotsp.
Let me not understand you then, speak it in Welsh.

Glend.
I can speak English, Lord, as well as you:
For I was train'd up in the English Court:
Where, being but young, I framed to the Harp,
Many an English Ditty, lovely well,
And gave the Tongue a helpful Ornament;
A Vertue that was never seen in you.

Hotsp.
Marry, and I am glad of it with all my Heart,
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
Than one of these same meeter-Ballad-mongers:
I had rather hear a Brazen Candlestick tun'd,
Or a dry Wheel grate on the Axle-tree,
And that would set my teeth on Edge,
Nothing so much as mincing Poetrie;

'Tis like the forc'd gate of a shuffling Nag.

Glend.
Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.

Hotsp.
I do not care: I'll give thrice so much Land
To any well-deserving Friend;
But in the way of Bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a Hair.
Are the Indentures drawn; shall we be gone? [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

King.
Lords, give us leave:
The Prince of Wales, and I,
Must have some private Conference,
But be near at hand,
For we shall presently have need of you. [Exeunt Lords.
I know not whether Heaven will have it so,
For some displeasing Service I have done;
That in his secret Doom, out of my Blood,
He'll breed Revengement, and a Scourge for me:
But thou dost in thy passages of Life,
Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd
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 lew'd, such mean Attempts,
Such barren Pleasures, rude Society,
As thou art match'd withall, and grafted too,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy Princely heart?

Prince.
So please your Majesty, I would I could
Quit all Offences with as clear excuse,
As well as I am doubtless I can purge
My self of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
I may for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wandred, and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

King.
Heaven pardon thee:
Yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy Affections, which do hold a Wing
Quite from the flight of all thy Ancestors,
Thy place in Council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger Brother is supply'd;
And art almost an alien to the Hearts
Of all the Court and Princes of my blood.

The Hope and Expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd, and the Soul of every man
Prophetically do fore-think thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my Presence been,
So common hackney'd in the ways of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar Company;
Opinion, that did help me to the Crown,
Had still kept loyal to Possession,
And left me in reputeless Banishment,
A Fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But like a Comet, I was wondred at.
That Men would tell their Children, This is he:
Others would say, where? which is Bullingbrook?
But now there's not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,
Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more:
Which now doth, that I would not have it do,
Make blind it self with foolish tenderness.

Prince.
I shall heareafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
Be more my self.

King.
For all the World,
As thou art to this hour, was Richard then,
When I from France set forth at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now:
Now by my Scepter, and my Soul to boot,
He hath more worthy Interest to the State
Than thou the Shadow of Succession;
For of no Right, nor Colour like to Right,
He doth fill Fields with Harness in the Realm,
Turns Head against the Lyon's armed Jaws;
And being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient Lords, and reverend Bishops on
To bloody Battels, and to bruising Arms.
What never-dying Honour hath he got,
Against renowned Dowglas?
Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Cloaths,
This infant-Warriour, in his Enterprises,
Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once,
Enlarged him, and made a Friend of him,
To fill the Mouth of deep Defiance up,
And shake the Peace and Safety of our Throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The Arch-Bishops Grace of York, Dowglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against us, and are up.
But wherefore do I tell this News to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my Foes,

Which art my near'st and dearest Enemy?
Thou art like enough, through Vassal Fear,
Base Inclination, and the start of Spleen,
To fight against me under Percie's Pay,
To dog his Heels, and courtsie at his Frowns.
To shew how much thou art degenerate.

Prince.
Do not think so, you shall not find it so:
And Heaven forgive them, that so much have sway'd
Your Majesties good Thoughts away from me:
I will redeem all this on Percie's Head,
And in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your Son,
When I will wear a Garment all of Blood,
And stain my Favours in a bloody Mask:
Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, when e're it lights,
That this same Child of Honour and Renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised Knight,
And your unthought of Harry, chance to meet:
For every Honour sitting on his Helm,
Would they were multitudes, and on my Head
My Shames redoubled. For the time will come,
That I shall make this Northern Youth exchange
His Glorious Deeds for my Indignities:
Percy is but my Factor.
Or I will tear the Reckoning from his Heart.
This, in the the Name of Heaven, I promise here:
The which, if I promise, and do survive,
I do beseech your Majesty, may salve
The long-grown Wounds of my intemperature:
If not, the end of Life cancels all Bands,
And I will dye a hundred thousand deaths,
E'er break the smallest parcel of this Vow.

King.
A hundred thousand Rebles die in this:
Thou shalt have Charge, and Soveraign Trust herein. Enter Blunt.
How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.

Blunt.
So hath the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Dowglas and the English Rebels met
The eleventh of this Month, at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful Head they are,
(If promises be kept on every hand)
As ever offered foul play in a State.

King.
The Earl of Westmerland set forth to day:
With him my Son, Lord John of Lancaster;
For his Advertisement is five days old.

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou shalt set forward:
On Thursday, we our selves will march.
Our meeting is Bridgenorth: And Harry, you shall march
Through Glocester-shire: By which account,
Our business valued, some twelve days hence,
Our general Forces at Bridgenorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business: Let's away,
Advantage feeds them fat, while Men delay. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Falstaff, and Bardolph.

Falst.

Bardolph, am I not faln away vilely, since this last action? Do I not hate? do I not dwindle? Why my skin hangs about me like an old Ladies loose Gown: I am withered like an old Apple John. Well I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking: I shall be out of Heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. And I have not forgotten what the in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper Corn, a Brewers Horse: The in-side of a Church. Company, villanous Company hath been the spoil of me.

Bard.

Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Falst.

Why there it is: Come, sing me a bawdy Song, make me merry: I was as virtuously given, as a Gentleman need to be; virtuous enough, swore little, Dic'd not above seven times a week, went to a Bawdy-house not above once in a quarter of an hour, paid money that I borrowed three or four times: lived well, and in good compass: And now I live out of all order, out of compass.

Bard.

Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

Falst.

Do thou amend thy Face, and I'll amend my Life. Thou art our Admiral, thou bearest the Lantern in the Poop, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the Knight of the burning Lamp.

Bard.

Why, Sir John, my Face does you no harm.

Falst.

No, I'll be sworn: I make as good use of it, as many a Man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I never see thy Face, but I think upon Hell Fire, when thou rann'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my Horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetual Triumph, an everlasting Bone-fire-light, thou hast saved me a thousand Marks in Links and Torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt Tavern and Tavern: But the Sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me light as good cheap, at the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years, Heaven reward me for it.

Bard.

I would my Face were in your belly.

Falst.

So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.

Enter Hostess. How now, Dame Parlet the Hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my Pocket?

Hostess.

Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think I keep Thieves in my House? I have search'd, I have enquir'd, so has my Husband. Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Servant by Servant: The tight of a Hair was never lost in my House before.

Falst.

Ye lye, Hostess: Bardolph was shav'd, and lost many a Hair; and I'll be sworn my Pocket was pick'd; go to, you are a Woman, go.

Hostess.

Who I? I defie thee. I was never so call'd so in mine own House before.

Falst.

Go to, I know you well enough.

Hostess.

No, Sir John: You do not know me, Sir John; I know you, Sir John: You owe me Money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your back.

Falst.

Dowlas, filthy Dowlas: I have given them away to Bakers Wives, and they have made Boulters of them.

Hostess.

Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir John, for your Diet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Falst.

He had his part of it, let him pay.

Hostess.

He? alas! he is poor, he hath nothing.

Falst.

How? poor? look upon his face: What call you rich? Let him coyn his Nose, let him coyn his Cheeks, I'll not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Yonker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inn, but I shall have my Pocket pick'd? I have lost a Seal-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth forty Mark.

Hostess.

I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that Ring was Copper.

Falst.

How? the Prince is a Jack, a Sneak-Cup: and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a Dog, if he would say so.

Falst.

How now, Lad? is the wind in that Door? Must we all march?

Bard.

Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.

Host.

My Lord, I pray you hear me.

Prince.

What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How does thy Husband? I love him well, he is an honest Man.

Hostess.

Good, my Lord, hear me.

Falst.

Prethee let her alone, and list to me.

Prince.

What say'st thou, Jack?

Falst.

The other night I fell asleep here behind the Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: This House is turn'd Bawdy-house, they pick Pockets.

Prince.

What didst thou lose, Jack?

Falst.

Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four Bonds of forty pound a piece, and a Seal-Ring of my Grand-fathers.

Prince.

A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

Host.

So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your Grace say so: And (my Lord) he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd Man as he is, and said he would cudgel you.

Prince.

What, he did not?

Host.

There's neither Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me else.

Fal.

There's no more faith in thee than in a stude Prune; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn Fox: and for Woman-hood, Maid-Marian may be the Deputies Wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing, go.

Host.

Say, what thing? what thing?

Falst.

What thing? why a thing to thank Heaven on.

Host.

I am nothing to thank Heaven on, I would thou shouldst know it: I am an honest Man's Wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou art a Knave to call me so.

Falst.

Setting thy Womanhood aside, thou art a Beast to say otherwise.

Host.

Say, what Beast, thou Knave thou?

Fal.

What Beast? Why an Otter.

Prin.

An Otter, Sir John, why an Otter?

Fal.

Why? she's neither fish nor flesh, a Man knows not where to have her.

Host.

Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou, or any Man knows where to have me, thou Knave thou.

Prin.

Thou say'st true, Hostess, and he slanders thee most grosly.

Host.

So he doth you, my Lord, and said this other day, you ow'd him a thousand pound.

Prince.

Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

Fal.

A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million: thou ow'st me thy love.

Host.

Nay, my Lord, he call'd you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

Fal.

Did I, Bardolph?

Bar.

Indeed, Sir John, you said so.

Fal.

Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper.

Prin.

I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou be as good as thy word now?

Fal.

Why, Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I dare; but as thou art a Prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the Lyons Whelp.

Prin.

And why not as the Lyon?

Fal.

The King himself is to be feared as the Lyon: Do'st thou think I'll fear thee, as I fear thy Father? nay if I do, let my Girdle break.

Prin.

O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees. Why thou horson impudent, imbost Rascal, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but Tavern Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdy-Houses, and one poor penny-worth of Sugar-candy to make thee long-winded: And yet you will stand to it, you will not Pocket up Wrongs. Art thou not asham'd?

Fal.

Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou know'st in the state of Innocency, Adam fell; and what would poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of Villany? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore, frailty. You confess then you pickt my Pocket?

Prin.

It appears so by the Story.

Fal.
Hostess, I forgive thee:
Go make ready Breakfast, love thy Husband,
Look to thy Servants, and cherish thy Guests:
Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest Reason:
Thou seest, I am pacified still.
Nay, I preethee be gone. [Exit Hostess.
Now, Hal, to the news at Court for the Robbery, Lad?
How is that answered?

Prin.
O my sweet Beef:
I must still be good Angel to thee.
The Money is paid back again.

Fal.

O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double Labour.

Prin.

I am good Friends with my Father, and may do any thing.

Fal.

Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with un-wash'd hands too.

Bard.

Do, my Lord.

Prin.

I have procured thee, Jack, a Charge of Foot.

Fal.

I would it had been of Horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O, for a fine Thief, of two and twenty, or thereabout: I am hainously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but the Virtuous. I laud them, I praise them.

Prin.

Bardolph.

Bar.

My Lord.

Prin.

Go bear this Letter to Lord John of Lancaster, to my Brother John. This to my Lord of Westmerland:

Fal.
Rare words: brave World,
Hostess, my Breakfast, come:
Oh, I could wish this Tavern were my Drum. [Exeunt omnes.

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