My lord, I him eat it.

Thine, by yea and no, (which is as much as to say, as thou usest him,) Jack Falstaff, with my familiars; John, with my brothers and sisters; and Sir John with all Europe.

will steep this letter in sack, and make

P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? must I marry your sister.

Poins. May the girl have no worse fortune! but I never said so.

P. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with the time; and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. — Is your master here in London? Bard. Yes, my lord.

P. Hen. Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank? 8

Bard. At the old place, my lord; in Eastcheap. P. Hen. Shall we steal upon him, Ned, at supper? Poins. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow

you.

-no

P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy, - and Bardolph; word to your master that I am yet come to town: There's for your silence.

Bard. I have no tongue, sir.

Page. And for mine, sir; — I will govern it. P. Hen. Fare ye well; go. [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page.] How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?

Poins. Put on two leather jerkins, and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers.

P. Hen. From a god to a bull? a heavy descension! it was Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall be mine: for, in every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly.

Enter PETO.

Peto, how now? what news?

Peto. The king, your father, is at Westminster; And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, Come from the north: and, as I came along, I met, and overtook, a dozen captains, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking every one for sir John Falstaff.

P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame, So idly to profane the precious time: When tempest of commotion, like the south, Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt, And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. Give me my sword and cloak:

and, Poins, good [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Warkworth. Before the Castle.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY.

North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,

Give even way unto my rough affairs:
Put not you on the visage of the times,
And be, like them, to Percy troublesome."

Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more:
Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.
North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn;
And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
Lady P. O, yet, for heaven's sake, go not to
these wars!

The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now;
When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look to see his father
Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain.
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours lost; yours, and your

son's.

For yours, - may heavenly glory brighten it!
For his it stuck upon him, as the sun
In the grey vault of heaven: and by his light,
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts; he was, indeed, the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait :
And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant:
For those that could speak low, and tardily,
Would turn their own perfection to abuse,
To seem like him: So that, in speech, in gait,
In diet, in affections of delight,
In military rules, humours of blood,
He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
That fashioned others. And him, - O wondrous

him!

O miracle of men! -him did you leave,
(Second to none, unseconded by you,)
To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage; to abide a field,
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
Did seem defensible, so you left him:
Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong,
To hold your honour more precise and nice
With others, than with him; let them alone;
The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong:
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.

North.

Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter! you do draw my spirits from me, With new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must go, and meet with danger there; Or it will seek me in another place, And find me worse provided.

Lady N.
O, fly to Scotland,
Till that the nobles, and the armed commons,
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the
king,

Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
To make strength stronger; but for all our loves,
First let them try themselves: So did your son;
He was so suffer'd; So came I a widow;
And never shall have length of life enough,
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,

That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
For recordation to my noble husband.

North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my mind,

As with the tide swell'd up unto its height,

That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back :
I will resolve for Scotland; there am I

Till time and vantage crave my company. [Exeunt.

SCENE I. — A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING HENRY in his Night-gown, with a Page. K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of Warwick;

But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,
And well consider of them: Make good speed.
[Exit Page.
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! - Sleep, gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge;
And in the visitation of the winds
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly 9, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Enter WARWICK and SURREY.

War. Many good morrows to your majesty!
K. Hen. Is it good morrow, lords?
War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.

K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my

lords.

Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? War. We have, my liege.

(Weary of solid firmness) melt itself
Into the sea! and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean

Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
The happiest youth, -viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue, —
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
'Tis not ten years gone,

Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together, and, in two years after,
Were they at wars: It is but eight years, since
This Percy was the man nearest my soul;
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot:
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard,
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by,
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,)

[TO WARWICK.
When Richard, - with his eye brimfull of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends throne;
my
Though then, heaven knows, I had no such in-

tent:

But that necessity so bow'd the state,

That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss: -
The time shall come, thus did he follow it,

The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption: - so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition,
And the division of our amity.

War. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd:
The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life; which in their seeds,
And weak beginnings, lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And, by the necessary form of this,

King Richard might create a perfect guess, That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness;

kingdom,

Unless on you.

K. Hen. Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities:

And that same word even now cries out on us;
They say, the bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.

War.
It cannot be, my lord;
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd: -
Please it your grace,
go to bed; upon my life, my lord,
The powers that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.

Το

Sil. Indeed, sir; to my cost. Shal. He must then to the inns of court, shortly: I was once of Clement's Inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were called - lusty Shallow, then, cousin. Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotswold man,-you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again and I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were. Then was Jack Falstaff, now sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mowbray,

duke of Norfolk. Sil. This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon,

about soldiers?

Sil. Thereafter as they be; a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.

Shal. And is old Double dead!

Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him.

Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstaff''s men, as I think.

Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which is justice Shallow?

Shal. I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this county, and one of the king's justices of the peace: What is your good pleasure with me?

Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you: my captain, sir John Falstaff: a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.

backsword man: How doth the good knight? may Shal. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good I ask, how my lady his wife doth?

Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated, than with a wife.

said indeed too. Better accommodated!-- it is good; Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well yea, indeed, it is: good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated! - it comes from accommodo: very good; a good phrase.

Bard. Pardon me, sir: I have heard the word.

Phrase, call you it? By this good day, I know not the phrase: but I will maintain the word with my sword, to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exwhen a man is, as they say, accommodated: or ceeding good command. Accommodated; that is, when a man is, — being, whereby, - he may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

Enter FALStaff.

Shal. It is very just: — - Look, here comes good sir John. Give me your good hand, give me your worship's good hand: By my troth, you look well, and bear your years very well. welcome, good sir John. Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master Robert Shallow: Master Sure-card, as I think. Shal. No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.

Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

Sil. Your good worship is welcome.
Fal. Fye! this is hot weather.

Gentlemen, have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? Shal. Marry, have we sir. Will you sit? Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you.

Let me

Fal. Prick him.

5 Brave.

Fal. Go to; peace, Mouldy, you shall go, Mouldy. Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; Know you where you are? - For the other, sir John: :let me see; - Simon Shadow!

Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good troth, master Shallow.

Shal. O, sir John, do you remember since we lay

Fal. Trust me, a likely fellow! - Come, prick me Bull-calf till he roar again.

Bull. O lord! good my lord captain,

Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?
Bull. O lord, sir! I am a diseased man.
Fal. What disease hast thou?

Bull. A cold, sir; a cough, sir; which I caught with ringing in the king's affairs, upon his coronation-day, sir.

Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown, we will have away thy cold; and I will take such order, that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is here all?

Fal. No more of that, good master Shallow, no more of that.

Shal. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane Night alive?

Fal. She lives, master Shallow.

Shal. She never could away with me. Fal. Never, never: she would always say, she could not abide master Shallow.

Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?

Fal. Old, old, master Shallow.

Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain she's old; and had Robin before I came to Clement's Inn.

Sil. That's fifty-five year ago.

Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen! - Ha, sir John, said I well?

Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, master Shallow.

Shal. That we have, that we have, that we have: in faith, sir John, we have; our watch-word was, Hem, boys!- Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to dinner : O, the days that we have seen! - Come, come. [Exeunt FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, and SILENCE.

Bull. Good master corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and here is four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own part, sir, I do not care; but, rather, because I am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends; else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.

Bard. Go to; stand aside.

Moul. And good master corporal captain, for my old dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do any thing about her, when I am gone: and she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall have forty, sir.

Bard. Go to; stand aside.

Fee. By my troth I care not; -a man can die but once; we owe God a death; I'll ne'er bear a base mind; -an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: No man's too good to serve his prince; and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this year, is quit for the next.

Bard. Well said; thou'rt a good fellow.
Fee. Nay, I'll bear no base mind.

Re-enter FALSTAFF, and Justices.

Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have? Shal. Four, of which you please. Bard. Sir, a word with you: - I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bull-calf. Fal. Go to; well.

Shal. Come, sir John, which four will you have? Fal. Do you choose for me.

Shal. Marry then, - Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, and Shadow.

Fal. Mouldy, and Bull-calf: - For you, Mouldy, stay at home, still; you are past service: - and, for your part, Bull-calf, - grow till you come unto it; I will none of you.

Shal. Sir John, sir John, do not yourself wrong;

they are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.

Fal. Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit, master Shallow. Here's Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is: he shall charge you, and discharge you, with the motion of a pewterer's hammer; come off, and on, swifter than he that gibbets-on the brewer's bucket. And this same half-faced fellow, Shadow, give me this man; he presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife: And, for a retreat, how swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off? O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. — Put me a caliver 6 into Wart's hand, Bardolph. Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse 7; thus, thus, thus. Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So: very well go to:- very good:-exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot. Well said, Wart; hold, there's a tester for thee.

-

Shal. He is not his craft's master, he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile-end green, (when I lay at Clement's Inn, I was then sir Dagonet in Arthur's show 8,) there was a little quiver fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus: and 'a would about and about, and come you in, and come you in: rah, tah, tah, would 'a say; bounce, would 'a say; and away again would 'a go, and again would 'a come: I shall never see such a fellow.

my house; let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradventure, I will with you to the court. Fal. I would you would, master Shallow Shal. Go to; I have spoke at a word. Fare you well. [Exeunt SHALLOW and SILENce. Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On, Bardolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt BARDOLPH, Recruits, &c.] As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom of justice Shallow. How subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about Turnbull-street; and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: he was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight were invisible: he was the very Genius of famine; he came ever in the rearward of the fashion; and sung those tunes to the huswives that he heard the carmen whistle, and Sware- - they were his fancies, or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire; and talks as familiarly of John of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn brother to him: and I'll be sworn he never saw him but once in the Tilt-yard; and then he burst his head, for crowding among the marshal's men. I saw it; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name: for you might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin; the case of a treble haut-boy was a mansion for him, a court; and now has he land and beeves. Well; I will be acquainted with him, if I return and it shall go hard, but I will make him a philosopher's stone to me: If the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason, in the law of nature, but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.

[Exit.

To know the numbers of our enemies.

Hast. We have sent forth already.
Arch.

'Tis well done.
My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd
New-dated letters from Northumberland;
Their cold intent, tenour and substance, thus: -
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers
As might hold sortance 9 with his quality,
The which he could not levy; whereupon
He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes,
To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers,
That your attempts may overlive the hazard,
And fearful meeting of their opposite.

Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch

ground,

And dash themselves to pieces.

Hast.

Enter a Messenger

Now, what news? Mess. West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, In goodly form comes on the enemy: And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number Upon, or near, the rate of thirty thousand.

Mowb. The just proportion that we gave them out. Let us sway on, and face them in the field.