ACT I.

Scene I. The same.

Enter Lord Bardolph.[3267]

L. Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho?[3268]

The Porter opens the gate.

Where is the earl?
Port. What shall I say you are?
L. Bard. Tell thou the earl
 That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard:
 Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,5
 And he himself will answer.

Enter Northumberland.

L. Bard. Here comes the earl.

[Exit Porter.[3269]

North. What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now
 Should be the father of some stratagem:
 The times are wild; contention, like a horse
 Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose10
 And bears down all before him.
L. Bard. Noble earl,
 I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an God will![3270]
L. Bard. As good as heart can wish:
 The king is almost wounded to the death;
 And, in the fortune of my lord your son,15
 Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
 Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
 And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
 And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
 Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day,20
 So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won.
 Came not till now to dignify the times,
 Since Cæsar's fortunes!
North. How is this derived?
 Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?
L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,[3271]25
 A gentleman well bred and of good name,
 That freely render'd me these news for true.
North. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent[3272]
 On Tuesday last to listen after news.

Enter Travers.[3273]

L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way;30
 And he is furnish'd with no certainties
 More than he haply may retail from me.[3274]
North. Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?[3275]
Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back[3276]
 With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed,35
 Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard[3277]
 A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
 That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
 He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
 I did demand what news from Shrewsbury:40
 He told me that rebellion had bad luck[3278]
 And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
 With that, he gave his able horse the head,
 And bending forward struck his armed heels[3279]
 Against the panting sides of his poor jade45
 Up to the rowel-head, and starting so
 He seem'd in running to devour the way,
 Staying no longer question.
North. Ha! Again:
 Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
 Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion[3280]50
 Had met ill luck?[3280]
L. Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what;[3281]
 If my young lord your son have not the day,
 Upon mine honour, for a silken point
 I'll give my barony: never talk of it.[3282]
North. Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers[3283]55
 Give then such instances of loss?
L. Bard. Who, he?
 He was some hilding fellow that had stolen[3284]
 The horse he rode on, and, upon my life,
 Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.[3285]

Enter Morton.

North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,[3286]60
 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:
 So looks the strond whereon the imperious flood[3287]
 Hath left a witness'd usurpation.
 Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;65
 Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
 To fright our party.
North. How doth my son and brother?
 Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek
 Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
 Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,70
 So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,[3288]
 Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
 And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
 But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,[3289]
 And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.75
 This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus;
 Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:'
 Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
 But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,[3290]
 Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,80
 Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.'
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;[3291]
 But, for my lord your son,—
North. Why, he is dead.[3292]
 See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
 He that but fears the thing he would not know85
 Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes[3293]
 That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;[3294]
 Tell thou an earl his divination lies,[3295]
 And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,
 And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.90
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid:
 Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.[3296]
 I see a strange confession in thine eye:[3296]
 Thou shakest thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin[3296]95
 To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so;[3296][3297]
 The tongue offends not that reports his death:[3296]
 And he doth sin that doth belie the dead;[3296]
 Not he which says the dead is not alive.[3296]
 Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news[3296]100
 Hath but a losing office, and his tongue[3296]
 Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,[3296]
 Remember'd tolling a departing friend.[3296][3298]
L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
Mor. I am sorry I should force you to believe[3299]105
 That which I would to God I had not seen;[3300]
 But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
 Rendering faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
 To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down[3301]
 The never-daunted Percy to the earth,110
 From whence with life he never more sprung up.
 In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
 Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
 Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
 From the best-temper'd courage in his troops;115
 For from his metal was his party steel'd;[3302]
 Which once in him abated, all the rest[3303]
 Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead:
 And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
 Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,120
 So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
 Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
 That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim[3304]
 Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
 Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester[3305]125
 Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,[3306]
 The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
 Had three times slain the appearance of the king,
 'Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
 Of those that turn'd their backs, and in his flight,130
 Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
 Is that the king hath won, and hath sent out
 A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
 Under the conduct of young Lancaster
 And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.135
North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
 In poison there is physic; and these news,[3307]
 Having been well, that would have made me sick,[3308]
 Being sick, have in some measure made me well:[3309]
 And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints,140
 Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,[3310]
 Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
 Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,
 Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief,[3311]
 Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch![3312]145
 A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
 Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif!
 Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
 Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.[3313]
 Now bind my brows with iron; and approach150
 The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring[3314]
 To frown upon the enraged Northumberland!
 Let heaven kiss earth! now let not Nature's hand
 Keep the wild flood confined! let order die!
 And let this world no longer be a stage[3315]155
 To feed contention in a lingering act;
 But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
 Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
 On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
 And darkness be the burier of the dead!160
Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.[3316]
L. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
Mor. The lives of all your loving complices
 Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er[3317]
 To stormy passion, must perforce decay.165
 You cast the event of war, my noble lord,[3318]
 And summ'd the account of chance, before you said[3318]
 'Let us make head.' It was your presurmise,[3318]
 That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop:[3318]
 You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge,[3318]170
 More likely to fall in than to get o'er;[3318]
 You were advised his flesh was capable[3318]
 Of wounds and scars and that his forward spirit[3318]
 Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged:[3318]
 Yet did you say 'Go forth;' and none of this,[3318]175
 Though strongly apprehended, could restrain[3318]
 The stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen,[3318]
 Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,[3318][3319]
 More than that being which was like to be?[3318]
L. Bard. We all that are engaged to this loss180
 Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
 That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one;[3320]
 And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed[3321]
 Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd;
 And since we are o'erset, venture again.185
 Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.[3322]
Mor. 'Tis more than time: and, my most noble lord,
 I hear for certain, and do speak the truth,[3323]
 The gentle Archbishop of York is up[3324]
 With well-appointed powers: he is a man[3324]190
 Who with a double surety binds his followers.[3324]
 My lord your son had only but the corpse,[3324][3325]
 But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;[3324]
 For that same word, rebellion, did divide[3324]
 The action of their bodies from their souls;[3324]195
 And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd,[3324]
 As men drink potions, that their weapons only[3324]
 Seem'd on our side; but, for their spirits and souls,[3324]
 This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,[3324]
 As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop[3324][3326]200
 Turns insurrection to religion:[3324]
 Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,[3324]
 He's followed both with body and with mind;[3324]
 And doth enlarge his rising with the blood[3324][3327]
 Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones;[3324]205
 Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;[3324]
 Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,[3324]
 Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;[3324]
 And more and less do flock to follow him.[3324]
North. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth,210
 This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
 Go in with me; and counsel every man
 The aptest way for safety and revenge:
 Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed:
 Never so few, and never yet more need.[3328] [Exeunt.215

Scene II. London. A street.

Enter Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.[3329]

Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my
 water?
Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy[3330]
 water; but, for the party that owed it, he might have more[3331]
 diseases than he knew for.[3332]5
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the
 brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to[3333]
 invent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent[3334]
 or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myself, but
 the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before10
 thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one.[3335]
 If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason
 than to set me off, why then I have no judgement. Thou
 whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap
 than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an[3336]15
 agate till now: but I will inset you neither in gold nor silver,[3337]
 but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master,[3338]
 for a jewel,—the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin[3338]
 is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in the[3339]
 palm of my hand than he shall get one on his cheek; and[3340]20
 yet he will not stick to say his face is a face-royal: God[3341]
 may finish it when he will, 'tis not a hair amiss yet: he may[3342]
 keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn[3343]
 sixpence out of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had[3344]
 writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may25
 keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine, I can[3345]
 assure him. What said Master Dombledon about the satin[3346]
 for my short cloak and my slops?[3347]
Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better
 assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his band[3348]30
 and yours; he liked not the security.
Fal. Let him be damned, like the glutton! pray God[3349]
 his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally[3350]
 yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, and then
 stand upon security! The whoreson smooth-pates do now[3351]35
 wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their
 girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking[3352]
 up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they[3353]
 would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with
 security. I looked a' should have sent me two and twenty[3354]40
 yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me[3355]
 security. Well, he may sleep in security; for he hath the
 horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines
 through it: and yet cannot he see, though he have his own
 lanthorn to light him. Where's Bardolph?[3356]45
Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship[3357]
 a horse.
Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse
 in Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife in the stews, I[3358]
 were manned, horsed, and wived.50

Enter the Lord Chief Justice and Servant.[3359]

Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed[3360]
 the prince for striking him about Bardolph.
Fal. Wait close; I will not see him.[3361]
Ch. Just. What's he that goes there?
Serv. Falstaff, an't please your lordship.[3362]55
Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery?
Serv. He, my lord: but he hath since done good service
 at Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with some
 charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.
Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back again.60
Serv. Sir John Falstaff!
Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf.
Page. You must speak louder; my master is deaf.
Ch. Just. I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing
 good. Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him.65
Serv. Sir John!
Fal. What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not[3363]
 wars? is there not employment? doth not the king lack[3364]
 subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? Though it be a[3365]
 shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg70
 than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name
 of rebellion can tell how to make it.
Serv. You mistake me, sir.
Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man?[3366]
 setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in75
 my throat, if I had said so.[3367]
Serv. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and
 your soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, you
 lie in your throat, if you say I am any other than an[3368]
 honest man.80
Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that
 which grows to me! If thou gettest any leave of me, hang
 me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be hanged. You
 hunt counter: hence! avaunt![3369]
Serv. Sir, my lord would speak with you.85
Ch. Just. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
Fal. My good lord! God give your lordship good time[3370]
 of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heard say[3371]
 your lordship was sick: I hope your lordship goes abroad
 by advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your90
 youth, hath yet some smack of age in you, some relish of[3372]
 the saltness of time; and I most humbly beseech your[3373]
 lordship to have a reverend care of your health.
Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition[3374]
 to Shrewsbury.95
Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is[3375]
 returned with some discomfort from Wales.[3376]
Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty: you would not
 come when I sent for you.
Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into100
 this same whoreson apoplexy.
Ch. Just. Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me[3377]
 speak with you.
Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy,
 an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the blood,[3378]105
 a whoreson tingling.
Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as it is.
Fal. It hath its original from much grief, from study[3379]
 and perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of his[3380]
 effects in Galen: it is a kind of deafness.[3380]110
Ch. Just. I think you are fallen into the disease; for
 you hear not what I say to you.
Fal. Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an't please[3381]
 you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not
 marking, that I am troubled withal.115
Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels would amend the
 attention of your ears; and I care not if I do become your[3382]
 physician.
Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient:
 your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to120
 me in respect of poverty; but how I should be your patient
 to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram
 of a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself.
Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were matters
 against you for your life, to come speak with me.[3383]125
Fal. As I was then advised by my learned counsel in[3384]
 the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great
 infamy.
Fal. He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less.[3385]130
Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and your waste[3386]
 is great.[3387]
Fal. I would it were otherwise; I would my means
 were greater, and my waist slenderer.[3388]
Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince.135
Fal. The young prince hath misled me: I am the fellow[3389]
 with the great belly, and he my dog.
Ch. Just. Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound:
 your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over
 your night's exploit on Gads-hill: you may thank the unquiet140
 time for your quiet o'er-posting that action.
Fal. My lord?[3390]
Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a
 sleeping wolf.
Fal. To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox.[3391]145
Ch. Just. What! you are as a candle, the better part
 burnt out.
Fal. A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: if I did say[3392]
 of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your face but150
 should have his effect of gravity.
Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up and down,
 like his ill angel.[3393]
Fal. Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I[3394]155
 hope he that looks upon me will take me without[3395]
 weighing: and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go: I[3396]
 cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these[3396][3397]
 costermonger times that true valour is turned bear-herd: pregnancy[3397][3398]
 is made a tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted in giving[3399]160
 reckonings: all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the
 malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry.[3400]
 You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are
 young; you do measure the heat of our livers with the[3401]
 bitterness of your galls: and we that are in the vaward of our165
 youth, I must confess, are wags too.
Ch. Just. Do you set down your name in the scroll of
 youth, that are written down old with all the characters of
 age? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow
 cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an increasing170
 belly? is not your voice broken? your wind short? your[3402]
 chin double? your wit single? and every part about you[3402]
 blasted with antiquity? and will you yet call yourself[3403]
 young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!
Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the[3404]175
 afternoon, with a white head and something a round belly.[3404]
 For my voice, I have lost it with halloing and singing of[3405]
 anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not: the[3406]
 truth is, I am only old in judgement and understanding;
 and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let180
 him lend me the money, and have at him. For the box of[3407]
 the ear that the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude[3407][3408]
 prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have checked
 him for it; and the young lion repents; marry, not in
 ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack.185
Ch. Just. Well, God send the prince a better[3409]
 companion!
Fal. God send the companion a better prince! I cannot[3409]
 rid my hands of him.
Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed you and Prince[3410]190
 Harry: I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster[3410]
 against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.
Fal. Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But[3411]
 look you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home,
 that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord, I[3412]195
 take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat[3413]
 extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, and I brandish any[3414]
 thing but a bottle, I would I might never spit white again.[3415]
 There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but
 I am thrust upon it: well, I cannot last ever: but it was[3416][3417]200
 alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a[3417][3418]
 good thing, to make it too common. If ye will needs say[3417][3419]
 I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to[3417]
 God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is:[3417]
 I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be[3417][3420]205
 scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.[3417]
Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless[3421]
 your expedition!
Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to
 furnish me forth?210
Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient
 to bear crosses. Fare you well: commend me to
 my cousin Westmoreland.

[Exeunt Chief-Justice and Servant.[3422]