+ + + So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, And breath short winded accents of new broiles To be commencte in stronds #a far remote: No more the thirsty entrance of this soile Shal dawbe her lips with her own childrens bloud, No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her flourets with the armed hoofes Of hostile paces: those opposed eies, Which like the meteors of a troubled heauen, Al of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meete in the intestine shocke And furious close of ciuill butcherie, Shall now in mutuall welbeseeming rankes, March all one way, and be no more oppos'd Against acquaintance, kindred and allyes. The edge of war, like an #ill sheathed knife, No more shall cut his maister: therefore friends, As far as to the sepulcher of Christ, Whose soldiour now, vnder whose blessed crosse We are impressed and ingag'd to fight, Forthwith a power of English shall we leauy, Whose armes were moulded in their mothers wombe, To chase these pagans in those holy fields, Ouer whose acres walkt those blessed feet,

+ Which 1400. yeares ago were naild, For our aduantage on the bitter crosse. But this our purpose now is twelue month old, And bootelesse tis to tell you we wil go. Therefore we meet not nowe: then let me heare Of you my gentle Cosen Westmerland, What yesternight our counsell did decree In forwarding this deere expedience. My liege, this haste was hot in question, And many limits of the charge set down But yesternight, when all athwart there came A post from Wales, loden with heauy newes, Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer, Leading the men of Herdforshire to fight Against the irregular, and wild Glendower, Was by the rude hands of that Welchman taken, A thousand of his people butchered, Vpon whose dead corpes there was such misuse, Such beastly shamelesse transformation By those Welch-#women done, as may not be Without much shame, retould, or spoken of. It seemes then that the tidings of this broile, Brake off our businesse for the holy land. This matcht with other did, my gratious [L]Lord. For more vneuen and vnwelcome newes Came from the North, and thus it did import, On holly rode day, the gallant Hotspur there, Yong Harry Percy, and braue Archibold, That euer valiant and approued Scot, At Holmedon met, where they did spend A sad and bloudy houre: As by discharge of their artillery, And shape of likelihood the newes was told: For he that brought them in the very heat And pride of their contention, did take horse Vncertaine of the issue any way. Here is deere, a true industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt new lighted from his horse,

+ Staind with the variation of each soile, Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours: And he hath brought vs smothe and welcom newes, The Earle of {Douglas} is discomfited, Ten thousand bould Scots, two and twenty knights Balkt in their own bloud. Did sir Walter see On Holmedons plaines, of prisoners Hotspur tooke Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldest sonne To beaten Douglas, and the Earle of Athol, Of Murrey, Angus, and Menteith: And is not this an honorable spoile? A gallant prize? Ha coosen, is it not? In faith it is. A conquest for a Prince to boast of. Yea, there thou makst me sad, and makst me sinne In enuy, that my Lord Northumberland Should be the father to so blest a sonne: A sonne, who is the theame of honors tongue, Amongst a groue, the very straightest plant, Who is sweet fortunes minion and her pride, Whilst I by looking on the praise of him See ryot and dishonour staine the brow Of my young Harry. O that it could be prou'd That some night tripping fairy had exchang'd, In cradle clothes our children where they lay, And cald mine Percy, his Plantagenet, Then would I haue his Harry, and he mine: But let him from my thoughts. What think you coose Of this young Percies pride? The prisoners Which he in this aduenture hath surprizd To his own vse, he keepes and sends me word I shal haue none but Mordake Earle of Fife. This is his vncles teaching. This is Worcester, Maleuolent to you in all aspects, Which makes him prune himselfe, and bristle vp The crest of youth against your dignity. But I haue sent for him to answere this: And for this cause #a while we must neglect Our holy purpose to Ierusalem.

+ Coosen on wednesday next our councel we wil hold At Windsore, so informe the Lords: But come your selfe with speed to vs againe, For more is to be said and to be done, Then out of anger can be vttered. I will my liege. + Now {Hal}, what time of day is it lad? Thou art so fat-#witted with drinking of olde sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping vpon benches after noone; that thou hast forgotten to demaunde that truelie which thou wouldest trulie knowe. What a diuell hast thou to do with the time of the daie? vnles houres were cups of sacke, and minutes capons, and clockes the tongues of Baudes, and Dialles the signes of leaping houses, and the blessed sunne himselfe a faire hot wench in flame-#couloured taffata; I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demaunde the time of the day. Indeede you come neere me nowe {Hal}, for wee that take purses go by the moone and the seuen stars, and not by {Phoebus}, he, that wandring knight so faire: and I prethe sweet wag when thou art a king, as God saue thy grace: maiestie I should say, for grace thou wilt haue none. What none? + No by my troth, not so much as will serue to bee pro%logue to an egge and butter. Wel, how then? come roundly, roundly. Marry then sweet wag, when thou art king let not vs that are squiers of the nights bodie, bee called theeues of the daies beauty: let vs be {Dianaes} forresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moone, and let men say wee be men of good gouernement, being gouerned as the sea is, by our noble and chast mistresse the moone, vnder whose countenaunce we steale. + Thou saiest well, and it holds wel #to, for the fortune of vs that are the moones men, doth ebbe and flow like the sea, being gouerned as the sea is by the moone, as for proofe. Now

+ a purse of gold most resolutely snatcht on Munday night and most dissolutely spent on tuesday morning, got with swearing, lay by, and spent with crying, bring in, now in as low an ebbe as the foot of the ladder, and by and #by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallowes. By the Lord thou saist true lad, and is not my hostesse of the tauerne a most sweet wench? As the hony of {Hibla} my old lad of the castle, and is not a buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance? How now, how nowe mad wag, what in thy quips and thy quiddities? what a plague haue I to doe with a buffe Ierkin? Why what a poxe haue I to do with my hostesse of the tauerne? Well, thou hast cald her to a reckoning many a time and oft. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part? No, ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. Yea and else where, so far as my coine would stretch, and where it would not, I haue vsed my credit. Yea, and so vs'd it that were it not here apparant that thou art heire apparant. But I prethe sweet wag, shall there be gallowes standing in England when thou art king? and reso-lution thus fubd as it is with the rusty curbe of olde father An%ticke the law, do not thou when thou art king hang a theefe. No, thou shalt. Shall I? O rare! by the Lord ile be a braue iudge. Thou iudgest false already, I meane thou shalt haue the hanging of the theeues, and so become a rare hangman. Well {Hall} well, and in some sort it iumpes with my humour, as well as waighting in the Court I can tell you. For obtaining of suites? Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the hangman hath no leane wardrob. Zbloud I am as melancholy as a gyb Cat, or a lugd beare. Or an old lyon, or a louers Lute. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. What saiest thou to a Hare, or the malancholy of

+ Mooreditch? Thou hast the most vnsauory smiles, and art indeed the most comparatiue rascalliest sweet yong Prince. But {Hal}, I prethe trouble me no more with vanitie, I woulde to God thou and I knewe where a commodity of good names were to be bought: an olde Lorde of the councell rated me the o%ther day in the street about you sir, but I markt him not, and yet he talkt very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet hee talkt wisely and in the street #to. Thou didst well, for wisedome cries out in the streets and no man regards it. O thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint: thou hast done much harme vpon me {Hal}, + God forgiue thee for it: before I knewe thee {Hal}, I knewe no%thing, and now am I, if a man should speake trulie, little better then one of the wicked: I must giue ouer this life, and I will giue it ouer: by the Lord #and I doe not, I am a villaine, ile bee damnd for neuer a kings sonne in Christendom. Where shal we take a purse to morrow Iacke? Zounds where thou wilt lad, ile make one, #an I do not call me villaine and baffell me. I see a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purse-#taking. + Why {Hall}, tis my vocation {Hall}, tis no sinne for a man to labor in his vocation. Poynes nowe shall we knowe if Gadshill haue set a match. O if men were to be saued by merit, what hole in #hell were hot enough for him? this is the most omnipotent villaine that euer cried, stand, to a true man. Good morrow {Ned}. Good morrow sweete {Hal}. What saies Monsieur remorse? what saies sir Iohn Sacke, and Sugar Iacke? howe agrees the Diuell and thee about thy soule that thou souldest him on good friday last, for a cup of Medera and a cold capons legge. Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuell shall haue his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a breaker of prouerbes: he will giue the diuell his due.

+ Then art thou damnd for keeping thy worde with the diuell. Else hee had bin damnd for coosening the diuell. But my lads, my lads, to morrow morning, by foure #a clocke early at Gadshill, there are pilgrims going to Cantur%burie with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses. I haue vizards for you al; you haue horses for your selues, Gadshill lies to night in Rochester, I haue bespoke supper to morrow night in Eastcheape: we may do it as secure as sleepe, + if you will go I will stuffe your purses full of crownes: if you will not, tarie at home and be hangd. Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, ile hang you for going. You will chops. {Hal}, wilt thou make one? Who I rob, I a thiefe? not I by my faith. Theres neither honestie, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camst not of the bloud roiall, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. Well then, once in my dayes ile be a madcap. Why thats well said. Well, come what wil, ile tarrie at home. By the lord, ile be a traitor then, when thou art king. I care not. Sir Iohn, I preethe leaue the prince and mee alone, I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture that he shall go. Well, God giue thee the spirit of perswasion, and him the eares of profiting, that what thou speakest, may moue, and what he heares, may be beleeued, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) proue a false thiefe, for the poore abuses of the time want countenance: farewel, you shal find me in Eastcheap Farewel the latter spring, farewel Alhallowne summer. Now my good sweete hony Lord, ride with vs to mor%row. I haue a ieast to execute, that I cannot mannage alone. Falstalffe, Haruey, Rossill, and Gadshil, shal rob those men that we haue already way-#laid, your selfe and I will not bee there: and when they haue the bootie, if you and I doe not rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders.

+ How shall we part with them in setting forth? Why, we wil set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to faile; and then wil they aduenture vpon$ the exploit themselues, which they shal haue no sooner atchieued but weele set vpon them. + Yea, but tis like that they wil know vs by our horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to be our selues. + Tut, our horses they shal not see, ile tie them in the wood, our vizards wee wil change after wee leaue them: and sirrha, I haue cases of Buckrom for the nonce, to immaske our noted outward garments. Yea, but I doubt they wil be too hard for vs. Wel, for two of them, I know them to bee as true bred cowards as euer turnd backe: and for the third, if he fight longer then he sees reason, ile forsweare armes. The vertue of this ieast wil be the incomprehensible lies, that this same fat rogue wil tel vs when we meet at supper, how thirtie at least he fought with, what wardes, what blowes, what extremities he indured, and in the reproofe of this liues the iest. + Well, ile goe with thee, prouide vs all thinges neces%sarie, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape, there ile sup: farewell. Farewel my Lord. I know you all, and wil #a while vphold The vnyokt humour of your idlenes, Yet herein wil I imitate the sunne, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother vp his beautie from the world, That when he please againe to be himselfe, Being wanted he may be more wondred at By breaking through the foule and ougly mists Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him. If all the yeere were playing holly-#dayes, To sport would be as tedious as to worke; But when they seldome come, they wisht for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents: So when this loose behauiour I throw off, And pay the debt I neuer promised,

+ By how much better then my word I am, By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes, And like bright mettal on a sullein ground, My reformation glittring ore my fault, Shal shew more goodly, and attract more eyes Then that which hath no foile to set it off. Ile so offend, to make offence a skill, Redeeming time when men thinke least I wil. + My blood hath bin too colde and temperate, Vnapt to stir at these indignities, And you haue found me, for accordingly You tread vpon my patience, but be sure I will from henceforth rather be my selfe Mightie, and to be fearde, then my condition Which hath bin smooth as oile, soft as yong downe, And therefore lost that title of respect, Which the proud soule neare payes but to the proud. Our house (my soueraigne liege) little deserues The scourge of greatnes to be vsd on it, And that same greatnesse #to, which our owne hands Haue holpe to make so portly.My Lord. Worcester get thee gone, for I do see Danger, and disobedience in thine eie: O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptorie, And Maiestie might neuer yet endure The moodie frontier of a seruant browe, You haue good leaue to leaue vs, when we need + Your vse and counsel we shall send for you. You were about to speake. Yea my good Lord. Those prisoners in your highnes name demanded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon tooke, Were as he saies, not with such strength denied As is deliuered to your maiestie. Either enuie therefore, or misprision, Is guiltie of this fault, and not my sonne.

+ My liege, I did denie no prisoners, But I remember when the fight was done, When I was drie with rage, and extreame toile, Breathles and faint, leaning vpon my sword, Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly drest, Fresh as a bridegroome, and his chin new rept, Shewd like a stubble land at haruest home, He was perfumed like a Milliner, And twixt his finger and his thumbe he helde A pouncet boxe, which euer and anon He gaue his nose, and tookt away againe, Who therewith angry, when it next came there Tooke it in snuffe, and still hee smild and talkt: And as the souldiours bore dead bodies by, He cald them vntaught knaues, vnmanerlie, To bring a slouenly vnhandsome coarse Betwixt the winde and his nobilitie: With many holly-#day and ladie termes He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded My prisoners in your Maiesties behalfe. I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, To be so pestred with a Popingay, Out of my griefe and my impacience Answerd neglectingly, I know not what He should, or he should not, for he made me mad To see him shine so briske, and smell so sweet, And talke so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, God saue the mark: And telling me the soueraignest thing on earth Was Parmacitie, for an inward bruise, And that it was great pitty, so it was, This villanous saltpeeter, should be digd Out of the bowels of the harmeles earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed So cowardly, and but for these vile guns He would himselfe haue beene a souldior. This bald vnioynted chat of his (my Lord) I answered indirectly (as I said)

+ And I beseech you, let not his report Come currant for an accusation Betwixt my loue and your high maiestie. The circumstance considered, good my lord, What ere Lord {Harry Percie} then had said To such a person, and in such a place, At such a time, with all the rest retold, May reasonably die, and neuer rise To do him wrong, or any way impeach What then he said, so he vnsay it now. Why yet he doth denie his prisoners, But with prouiso and exception, That we at our owne charge shall ransome straight His brother in law, the foolish Mortimer, Who on my soule, hath wilfully betraid The liues of those, that he did lead to fight Against that great Magitian, damnd Glendower, Whose daughter as we heare, that Earle of March Hath lately married: shall our coffers then Be emptied, to redeeme a traitor home? Shall we buy treason? and indent with feares When they haue lost and forfeited themselues? No, on the barren mountaines let him starue: For I shall neuer hold that man my friend, Whose tongue shall aske me for one penny cost To ransome home reuolted Mortimer, Reuolted Mortimer: He neuer did fall off, my soueraigne liege But by the chance of war, to proue that true Needs no more but one tongue: for all those wounds, Those mouthed wounds which valiantly he tooke, When on the gentle Seuerns siedgie banke, In single opposition hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an houre, In changing hardiment with great Glendower, Three times they breathd, & three times did they drinke Vpon agreement of swift Seuerns floud, Who then affrighted with their bloudie lookes,

+ Ran fearefully among the trembling reedes, And hid his crispe- #head in the hollow banke, Bloud-#stained with these valiant combatants, Neuer did bare and rotten pollicy Colour her working with such deadly wounds, Nor neuer could the noble Mortimer Receiue so many, and all willingly, Then let not him be slandered with reuolt. Thou dost bely him Percy, thou dost bely him, He neuer did encounter with Glendower: I tel thee, he durst as well haue met the diuell alone, As Owen Glendower for an enemy. Art thou not asham'd? but sirrha, henceforth Let me not heare you speake of Mortimer: Send me your prisoners with the speediest meanes, Or you shal heare in such a kind from me As will displease you. My Lord Northumberland: We licence your departure with your sonne, Send vs your prisoners, or you wil heare of it. #And if the diuel come and rore for them I wil not send them: I will after straight And tel him so, for I will ease my hart, Albeit I make a hazard of my head. What? dronk with choler, stay, & pause #a while, Here comes your vncle. Speake of Mortimer? Zounds I will speake of him, and let my soule Want mercy if I do not ioine with him: Yea on his part, ile empty all these vaines, And shed my deere bloud, drop by drop in the dust, But I will lift the down-#trod Mortimer As high in the aire as this vnthankefull king, As this ingrate and cankred Bullingbrooke. Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad. Who strooke this heat vp after I was gone? He wil forsooth haue all my prisoners, And when I vrg'd the ransome once againe Of my wiues brother, then his cheeke lookt pale,

+ And on my face he turn'd an eie of death, Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer. I cannot blame him, was not he proclaim'd By Richard that dead is, the next of bloud? He was, I heard the proclamation: And then it was, when the vnhappy king, (Whose wrongs in vs God pardon) did set forth Vpon his Irish expedition; From whence he intercepted, did returne To be depos'd, and shortly murdered. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide mouth Liue scandaliz'd and fouly spoken of. But soft, I pray you did king Richard then Proclaime my brother Edmund Mortimer Heire to the crowne? He did, my selfe did heare it. Nay then I cannot blame his coosen king, That wisht him on the barren mountaines starue, But shal it be that you that set the crowne Vpon the head of this forgetful man, And for his sake weare the detested blot Of murtherous subornation? shal it be That you a world of curses vndergo, Being the agents, or base second meanes, The cordes, the ladder, or the hangman rather, O pardon me, that I descend so low, To shew the line and the predicament, Wherein you range vnder this subtil king, Shall it for shame be spoken in these daies, Or fil vp Chronicles in time to come, That men of your nobility and power Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe, (As both of you God pardon it, haue done) To put down Richard, that sweet louely Rose, And plant this thorne, this canker Bullingbrooke? And shal it in more shame be further spoken, That you are foold, discarded, and shooke off By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent?

+ No, yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme Your banisht honors, and restore your selues Into the good thoughts of the world againe: Reuenge the ieering and disdaind contempt Of this proud king, who studies day and night To answere all the debt he owes to you, Euen with the bloudie paiment of your deaths: Therefore I say. Peace coosen, say no more. And now I will vnclaspe a secret booke, And to your quicke conceiuing discontents Ile reade you matter deepe and daungerous, As full of perill and aduenterous spirit, As to ore walke a Current roring lowd, On the vnstedfast footing of a speare. If he fall in, god-#night, or sinke, or swim, Send danger from the East vnto the West. So honor crosse it, from the North to South, And let them grapple: O the bloud more stirs To rouse a lyon than to start a hare. Imagination of some great exploit Driues him beyond the bounds of patience. By heauen me thinkes it were an easie leape, To plucke bright honour from the palefac'd moone, Or diue into the bottome of the deepe, Where fadome line could neuer touch the ground, And plucke vp drowned honour by the locks, So he that doth redeeme her thence might weare Without corriuall all her dignities, But out vpon this halfe fac't fellowship. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the forme of what he should attend, Good coosen giue me audience for #a while. I crie you mercie. Those same noble Scots that are your prisoners Ile keepe them all; By God he shall not haue a Scot of them, No, if a Scot would saue his soule he shall not.

+ Ile keepe them by this hand. You, start away, And lend no eare vnto my purposes: Those prisoners you shall keepe. Nay I will: thats flat: He said he would not ransome Mortimer, Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer, But I will find him when he lies asleepe, And in his eare ile hollow Mortimer: Nay, ile haue a starling shalbe taught to speake Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him To keepe his anger still in motion. Heare you cosen a word. All studies here I solemnly defie, Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullenbrooke, And that same sword and buckler Prince of Wales, But that I thinke his father loues him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance: I would haue him poisoned with a pot of ale. Farewel kinsman, ile talke to you When you are better temperd to attend. Why what a waspe-#stung and impatient foole Art thou? to breake into this womans moode, Tying thine eare to no toung but thine owne? Why looke you, I am whipt and scourg'd with rods, Netled, and stung with pismires, when I heare Of this vile polititian Bullingbrooke, In Richards time, what do you call the place? A plague vpon it, it is in Glocestershire; Twas where the mad-#cap duke his vncle kept His vncle Yorke, where I first bowed my knee Vnto this king of smiles, this Bullenbrooke: Zbloud, when you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh. At Barkly castle.You say true. Why what a candy deale of curtesie, This fawning greyhound then did profer me, Looke when his infant fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kind coosen:

+ O the diuill take such coosoners, god forgiue me, Good vncle tell your tale, I haue done. Nay, if you haue not, to it againe, We wil stay your leisure. I haue done Ifaith. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners, Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight, And make the Douglas sonne your only meane For Powers in Scotland, which for diuers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assur'd Wil easely be granted you my Lord. Your sonne in Scotland being thus emploied, Shal secretly into the bosome creepe Of that same noble prelat welbelou'd, The Archbishop. Of Yorke, is it not? True, who beares hard His brothers death at Bristow the lord Scroop, I speake not this in estimation, As what I thinke might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set downe, And onely staies but to behold the face Of that occasion that shal bring it on. I smell it. Vpon my life it will do well. Before the game is afoote thou still letst slip. Why, it cannot chuse but be a noble plot, And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke, To ioine with Mortimer, ha. And so they shall. In faith it is exceedingly well aimd. And tis no little reason bids vs speed, To saue our heads by raising of a head, For beare our selues as euen as we can, The king will alwaies thinke him in our debt, And thinke we thinke our selues vnsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay vs home. And see already how he doth begin To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue.

+ He does, he does, weele be reueng'd on him. Coosen farewell. No further go in this, Then I by letters shall direct your course When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, Ile steale to Glendower, and [Lo:]Lord Mortimer, Where you and Douglas, and our powres at once, As I will fashion it shall happily meete, To beare our fortunes in our own strong armes, Which now we hold at much vncertainty. Farewell good brother, we shall thriue I trust. Vncle adieu: O let the houres be short, Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our sport. + Heigh ho. #An it be not foure by the day ile be hangd, Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What Ostler. Anon, anon. I preethe Tom beat Cuts saddle, put a few flockes in the point, poore iade is wroong in the withers, out of all cesse. Pease and beanes are as danke here as a dog, and that is the next way to giue poore iades the bots: this house is turned vpside downe since Robin Ostler died. Poore fellow neuer ioied since the prise of Oates rose, it was the death of him. I thinke this be the most villainous house in al London road for fleas, I am stung like a Tench. + Like a Tench, by the Masse there is nere a King chri%sten could be better bit then I haue bin since the first cocke. Why they will allowe vs nere a Iordane, and then we leake in your chimney, and your chamber-#lie breedes fleas like a loach. What Ostler, come away and be hangd, come away. I haue a gammon of bacon, and two razes of Gin%ger, to be deliuered as far as Charing crosse. + Gods bodie, the Turkies in my Panier are quite star%ued: what Ostler? a plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eie in thy head? canst not heare, #and twere not as good deede as drinke to

+ break the pate on thee, I am a very villaine, come and be hangd, hast no faith in thee? Good morrow Cariers, whats #a clocke? I thinke it be two #a clocke. I prethe lend me thy lanterne, to see my gelding in the stable. Nay by God soft, I knowe a tricke worth two of that #I faith. I pray thee lend me thine. + #I when canst tell? lend me thy lanterne (quoth he) mar%ry ile see thee hangd first. Sirrha Carrier, what time doe you meane to come to London? Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee, come neighbour Mugs, weele call vp the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they haue great charge. What ho: Chamberlaine. At hand quoth pickepurse. Thats euen as faire as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine: + for thou variest no more from picking of purses, then giuing di%rection doth from labouring: thou laiest the plot how. Good morrow maister Gadshill, it holdes currant that I tolde you yesternight, ther's a Frankelin in the wilde of Kent hath brought three hundred Markes with him in golde, I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper, a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too, God knowes what, they are vp already, and cal for Egges and butter, they wil away presently. Sirrha, if they meete not with Saint Nicholas clearkes, ile giue thee this necke. + No, ile none of it, I pray thee keepe that for the hang%man, for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas, as trulie as a man of falshood may. + What talkest thou to me of the han$gman? if I hang, ile make a fat paire of Gallowes: for if I hang, olde sir Iohn hangs with me, and thou knowest hee is no starueling: tut, there are other

+ Troians that thou dreamst not of, the which for sport sake are content to do the profession, some grace, that would (if matters should be lookt into) for their owne credit sake make all whole. I am ioyned with no footlande rakers, no long-#staffe sixpennie strikers, none of these mad mustachio purplehewd maltworms, but with nobilitie, and tranquilitie, Burgomasters and great Oneyres, such as can hold in such as wil strike sooner then speak, and speake sooner then drinke, and drinke sooner then pray, and yet (zoundes) I lie, for they pray continuallie to their Saint the Common-#wealth, or rather not pray to her, but pray on her, for they ride vp and downe on her, and make her their bootes. What, the Common-#wealth their bootes? will shee hold out water in foule way? + She will, she will, Iustice hath liquord her: we steale as in a Castell cocksure: wee haue the receyte of Ferneseede, wee walke inuisible. Nay by my fayth, I thinke you are more beholding to the night then to Ferneseed, for your walking inuisible. + Giue mee thy hand, thou shalt haue a share in our pur%chase, as I am a true man. Nay rather let me haue it, as you are a false theefe. Go to, {homo} is a common name to al men: bid the Ostler bring my gelding out of the stable, farewel you muddy knaue. + Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoude Falstalffes horse, and he frets like a gumd Veluet. Stand close. Poynes, Poynes, and be hangd Poynes. Peace ye fat-#kidneyd rascal, what a brawling dost thou keepe? Wheres Poynes Hall? He is walkt vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seeke him. + I am accurst to rob in that theeues companie, the rascal hath remooued my horse, and tied him I knowe not where, if I + trauell but foure foote by the squire further #a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but to die a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing that rogue. I haue forsworne + his companie hourly any time this xxii. yeares, and yet I am be%witcht

+ with the rogues companie. If the rascall haue not gi%uen me medicines to make mee loue him, ile be hangd. It could not be else, I haue drunke medicines, Poynes, Hall, a plague vpon you both. Bardoll, Peto, ile starue ere ile rob #a foote + further, #and twere not as good a deede as drinke to turne true-% man, and to leaue these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that euer chewed with a tooth: eight yeardes of vneuen ground is three%score and ten myles #a foote with mee, and the stonie hearted villaines knowe it well inough, a plague vpon it when theeues can not be true one to another: Whew, a plague vpon you all, giue mee my horse you rogues, giue me my horse and be hangd: + Peace ye fat guts, lie downe, laie thine eare close to the ground, and list if thou canst heare the treade of trauellers. Haue you any leauers to lift me vp againe being down, zbloud ile not beare mine owne flesh so farre afoote againe for all the coine in thy fathers Exchequer: What #a plague meane ye to colt me thus? Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted. I preethe good prince, Hal, helpe me to my horse, good kings sonne. Out ye rogue, shall I be your Ostler? Hang thy selfe in thine owne heire apparant garters, if I be tane, ile peach for this: #and I haue not Ballads made on you all, and sung to filthie tunes, let a cuppe of sacke bee my poyson, when a ieast is so forward, and afoote too I hate it. Stand.So I do against my #will. O tis our setter, I know his voice, Bardoll, what newes. Case yee, case yee on with your vizards, theres money of the kings comming downe the hill, tis going to the Kings Exchequer. You lie ye rougue, tis going to the kings Tauerne. Theres inough to make vs all: To be hangd. Sirs you foure shall front them in the narrowe lane: Ned Poines, and I wil walke lower, if they scape from your encoun%ter,

+ then they light on vs. How many be there of them? Some eight or ten. Zounds will they not rob vs? What, a coward sir Iohn paunch. In deed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your grandfather, but yet no coward, Hall. Well, we leaue that to the proofe. Sirrha Iacke, thy horse standes behinde the hedge, when thou needst him, there thou shalt find him: farewel & stand fast. Now can not I strike him if I should be hangd. Ned, where are our disguises? Here, hard by, stand close. Now my maisters, happie man bee his dole, say I, euerie man to his businesse. Come neighbour, the boy shal lead our horses down the hill, weele walke #a foote #a while and ease our legs. Stand.Iesus blesse vs. Strike, downe with them, cut the villaines throates, #a horeson Caterpillars, bacon-#fed knaues, they hate vs youth, downe with them, fleece them. O we are vndone, both we and ours for euer. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are ye vndone, no yee fatte chuffes, I would your store were here: on bacons on, what yee knaues yong men must liue, you are grand iurers, are ye, weele iure ye faith. The theeues haue bound the true men, nowe coulde thou and I rob the theeues, and go merilie to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good iest for euer. Stand close, I heare them comming. Come my maisters, let vs share and then to horse before day, #and the Prince and Poines bee not two arrant cowardes theres no equitie stirring, theres no more valour in that Poynes, then in a wilde ducke.

+ Your money. Villaines. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse: the theeues + are all scattered, and possest with feare so strongly, that they dare not meete each other, each takes his fellow for an officer, awaie good Ned, Falstalffe sweates to death, and lards the leane earth as he walkes along, #wert not for laughing I should pittie him. How the rogue roard. + {But for mine own part my Lord I could be well contented to bee} {there, in respect of the loue I beare your house}. He could be contented, why is hee not then? in the respect of the loue he beares our house: he shewes in this, he loues his own barne better then he loues our house. Let me see some more. {The purpose you vndertake is dangerous}, Why thats certaine, tis daungerous to take a cold, to sleepe, to drinke, but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this nettle danger, we plucke this flower safetie. + {The purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the friends you haue na%med} {vncertaine, the time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole plot too} {light, for the counterpoyse of so great an opposition}. Say you so, say you so, I say vnto you againe, you are a shal%low cowardly hind, and you lie: what a lacke braine is this? by the Lord our plot is a good plot, as euer was laid, our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and ful of expectation: an excellent plot, verie good friends; what a frosty spirited rogue is this? why my Lord of York commends the plot, and the gene%rall course of the Action. Zoundes #and I were nowe by this ras%call I could braine him with his Ladies fanne. Is there not my father, my vncle, and my selfe; Lord Edmond Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendower: is there not besides the Dowglas, haue I not all their letters to meete me in armes by the ninth of the next month, and are they not some of them set for%ward alreadie? What a pagan rascall is this, an infidell? Ha, you + shall see now in very sinceritie of feare and cold heart, will hee to the King, and lay open all our proceedings? O I could deuide

+ my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish of skim milke with so honorable an action. Hang him, let him tell the king, we are prepared: I will set forward to night. How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two houres. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence haue I this fortnight bin A banisht woman from my Harries bed? Tel me sweet Lord, what ist that takes from thee Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy goulden sleepe? Why dost thou bend thine eies vpon the earth? And start so often when thou sitst alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh bloud in thy cheekes? And giuen my treasures and my rights of thee To thicke eyde musing, and curst melancholy? In thy faint slumbers I by thee haue watcht, And heard #the murmur, tales of yron wars, Speake tearmes of mannage to thy bounding steed, Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talkt Of sallies, and retyres of trenches tents, Of pallizadoes, frontiers, parapets, Of basilisks, of canon, culuerin, Of prisoners ransome, and of soldiors slaine, And all the currents of a heddy sight. Thy spirit within thee hath bin so at war, And thus hath so bestird thee in thy sleepe, That beads of sweat haue stood vpon thy brow Like bubbles in a late disturbed streame And in thy face strange motions haue appeard, Such as we see when men restraine their breath, On some great suddain hest. O what portents are these? Some heauy businesse hath my Lord in hand, And I must know it else he loues me not. What ho, is Gilliams with the packet gone? He is my Lord, an houre ago. Hath Butler brought those horses from the Sheriffe? One horse my Lord he brought euen now. What horse, Roane? a cropeare is it not? It is my Lord.

+ That roane shall be my throne. Wel, I will backe him straight: O Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth into the parke. But heare you my Lord. What saist thou my Lady? What is it carries you away? Why, my horse (my loue) my horse. Out you madhedded ape, a weazel hath not such a deale of spleene as you are tost with. In faith ile knowe your businesse Harry that I will, I feare my brother Mortimer doth stir about + his title, and hath sent for you to line his enterprise, but if you go. So far #a foot I shal be weary loue. Come, come you Paraquito, answere me directly vnto + this question that I aske, in faith ile breake thy little finger Har%ry #and if thou wilt not tel me all things true. Away, away you trifler, loue, I loue thee not, I care not for thee Kate, this is no world To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips, We must haue bloudy noses, and crackt crownes, And passe them currant too: gods me my horse: What saist thou Kate? what wouldst thou haue with me? Do you not loue me? do you not indeed? Wel, do not then, for since you loue me not I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me? Nay tel me if you speake in iest or no? Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am #a horsebacke I will sweare I loue thee infinitely. But harke you Kate, I must not haue you henceforth question me Whither I go, nor reason where about, Whither I must, I must, and to conclude This euening must I leaue you gentle Kate, I know you wise, but yet no farther wise Then Harry Percies wife, constant you are, But yet a woman, and for secrecy No Lady closer, for I well beleeue Thou wilt not vtter what thou dost not know, And so far wil I trust thee gentle Kate. How, so far.

+ Not an inch further, but harke you Kate, Whither I go, thither shal you go too: To day will I set forth, to morrow you, Will this content you Kate? It must of force. + Ned, preethe come out of that fat roome, and lende me thy hand to laugh a little. Where hast bin Hal? With three or foure loggerheades, amongest three or fourescore hogsheades. I haue sounded the verie base string of humilitie. Sirrha, I am sworne brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their christen names, as Tom, Dicke, and Francis, they take it already vpon their saluation, that though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of Curtesie, and tel me flatly I am no proud Iacke like Falstalffe, but a Corinthian, a lad of metall, a good boy (by the Lord so they call me) and when I am king of England I shall command all the good lads in East%cheape. They call drinking deepe, dying scarlet, and when you breath in your watering they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficien$t in one quarter of an houre that I can drinke with any Tinker in his owne language, during my life. I tell thee Ned thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action; but sweete Ned, to sweeten which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of sugar, clapt e%uen now into my hand by an vnderskinker, one that neuer spake other English in his life then eight shillings and sixe pence, and you are welcome, with this shrill addition, anon, anon sir; skore a pint of bastard in the halfe moone, or so. But Ned, to driue a%waie the time till Falstalffe come: I preethe doe thou stande in some by-#roome, while I question my puny drawer to what end he gaue me the sugar, and do thou neuer leaue calling Frances, that his tale to me may bee nothing but anon, step aside and ile shew thee a present. Frances.Thou art perfect. Frances. Anon, anon sir. Looke downe into the Pomgarnet, Ralphe.

+ Come hether Frances.My Lord. How long hast thou to serue Frances? Forsooth fiue yeeres, and as much as to. Frances. Anon, anon sir. + Fiue yeare, berlady a long lease for the clinking of pew%ter; but Frances, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the cowarde with thy Indenture, and shewe it a faire paire of heeles, and run from it? + O Lord sir, ile be sworne vpon all the bookes in Eng%land, I could find in my hart. Frances.Anon sir. How old art thou Frances? Let me see, about Michelmas next I shalbe. Frances. Anon sir, pray stay a little my Lord. Nay but harke you Frances, for the sugar thou gauest me, twas a peniworth, #wast not? O Lord, I would it had bin two. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound, aske me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it, Frances.Anon, anon. Anon Frances, no Frances, but to morrow Frances: or Frances #a Thursday; or indeede Fraunces when thou wilt. But Fraunces. My Lord. + Wilt thou rob this leathern Ierkin, cristall button, not-%pated, agat ring, puke stocking, Caddice garter, smothe tongue, spanish pouch? O Lord sir, who do you meane? Why then your brown bastard is your only drinke? for looke you Fraunces, your white canuas doublet will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much. What sir?Frances. Away you rogue, dost thou not heare them cal. What standst thou stil and hearst such a calling? looke

+ to the guests within. My Lord, old sir Iohn with halfe a douzen more are at the doore, shal I let them in? Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore: {Poines}. Anon, anon sir. + Sirrha, Falstalffe and the rest of the theeues are at the doore, shall we be merrie? As merry as Crickets my lad, but harke ye, what cunning match haue you made with this iest of the Drawer: come whats the issue? I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues humors since the oulde dayes of good man Adam, to the pupill age of this present twelue #a clocke at midnight. Whats #a clocke Frances? Anon, anon sir. That euer this fellowe should haue fewer wordes then a Parrat, and yet the sonne of a woman. His industrie is vp staires and down staires, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percyes minde, the Hotspur of the North, he that kils mee some sixe or seuen douzen of Scots at a breakefast: washes his handes, and saies to his wife, fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my sweet Harry saies she, how manie hast thou kild to day? Giue my roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and aun%sweres some foureteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I preethe call in Falstalffe, ile play Percy, and that damnde brawne shall play dame Mortimer his wife. {Riuo} saies the drunkarde: call in Ribs, cal in Tallow. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou bin? + A plague of al cowards I say, and a vengeance too, mar%ry and Amen: giue me a cup of sacke boy. Eare I lead this life long, ile sow neatherstocks and mend them, and foote them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a cup of sacke rogue, is there no vertue extant? + Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of butter, pittifull harted Titan that melted at the sweet tale of the sonnes, if thou didst, then behold that compound.

+ You rogue, heeres lime in this sacke too: there is no%thing but rogery to be found in villanous man, yet a cowarde is worse then a cup of sacke with lime in it. A villanous cowarde. Go thy waies old Iacke, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring: there liues not three good men vnhangde in England, and one of them is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I say, I would I were a weauer. I could sing psalmes, or any thing. A plague of all cowards I say still. How now Wolsacke, what mutter you? + A kings sonne, if I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and driue all thy subiects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, ile neuer weare haire on my face more, you prince of Wales. Why you horeson round- #man, whats the matter? Are not you a cowarde? aunswere mee to that, and Poines there. Zoundes ye fat paunch, #and ye call me cowarde by the Lord ile stab thee. + I call thee cowarde, ile see thee damnde ere I call thee coward, but I woulde giue a thousand pound I coulde runne as fast as thou canst. You are streight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: call you that backing of your friends, a plague vpon such backing, giue me them that will face me, giue me a cup of sacke. I am a rogue if I drunke to day. + O villain, thy lips are scarse wipt since thou drunkst last. All is one for that. A plague of all cowards still say I. Whats the matter? + Whats the matter, there be foure of vs here haue tane a thousand pound this day morning Where is it Iacke, where is it? Where is it? taken from vs it is: a hundred vppon poore foure of vs. What, a hundred, man? + I am a rogue if I were not at halfe sword with a douzen of them two houres together. I haue scapt by myracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, foure through the hose,

+ my buckler cut through and through, my sworde hackt like a handsaw, {ecce signum}. I neuer dealt better since I was a man, al would not do. A plague of all cowards, let them speake, if they speake more or lesse then truth, they are villains, and the sonnes of darknesse. Speake sirs, how was it? We foure set vpon some douzen. Sixteene at least my Lord. And bound them. No, no, they were not bound. You rogue they were bounde euerie man of them, or I am a Iew else: an Ebrew Iew. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men set vpon vs. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the other. What, fought you with them all? + Al, I know not what you cal al, but if I fought not with fiftie of them I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde Iacke, then am I no two legd Creature. Pray God you haue not murdred some of them. + Nay, thats past praying for, I haue pepperd two of them. Two I am sure I haue paied, two rogues in buckrom sutes: I tel + thee what Hall, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face; call me horse, thou knowest my olde warde: here I lay, and thus I bore my poynt, foure rogues in Buckrom let driue at me. What foure? thou saidst but two euen now. Foure Hal, I told thee foure. #I, #I, he said foure. These foure came all #a front, and mainely thrust at me, I made me no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen points in my target, thus. Seuen, why there were but foure euen now. In Buckrom. #I foure in Buckrom suites. Seuen by these hilts, or I am a villaine else. Preethe let him alone, we shall haue more anon. Doest thou heare me Hal?

+ #I, and marke thee #to iacke. + Do so, for it is worth the listning to, these nine in Buck%rom that I told thee of. So, two more alreadie. Their points being broken. Downe fell their hose. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me close, came in, foot, and hand, and with a thought, seuen of the eleuen I paid. O monstrous, eleuen Buckrom men growne out of two. + But as the diuell would haue it, three misbegotten knaues in Kendall greene came at my backe, and let driue at mee, for it was so darke Hal, that thou couldest not see thy hand. + These lies are like their father that begets them, grosse as a mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou clay-#braind guts, thou knotty-#pated foole, thou horeson obscene greasie tallow-#catch. What art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth? Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal greene when it was so darke thou couldst not see thy hand, come tell vs your reason. What sayest thou to this? Come your reason, Iacke, your reason. What, vppon compulsion: Zoundes, #and I were at the strappado, or all the rackes in the worlde, I would not tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion? if reasons were as plentifull as blackberries, I would giue no man a reason vppon compulsion, I. + Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine co%ward, this bed-#presser, this horse-#backe-#breaker, this huge hill of flesh. + Zbloud you starueling, you elfskin, you dried neatstong, you bulspizzle, you stockfish: O for breath to vtter what is like thee, you tailers yard, you sheath, you bowcase, you vile standing tuck. + Wel, breath #a while, and then to it againe, and when thou hast tired thy selfe in base comparisons heare mee speake but this. Marke iacke. We two saw you foure set on foure, and bound them and were maisters of their wealth: marke now how a plaine tale shall put you downe, then did wee two set on you foure, and with a

+ worde, outfac't you from your prize, & haue it, yea & can shew + it you here in the house: and Falstalffe you carried your guts a%way as nimbly, with as quicke dexteritie, & roard for mercy, and + stil run and roard, as euer I heard bul-#calf. What a slaue art thou to hacke thy sworde as thou hast done? and then say it was in fight. What tricke? what deuice? what starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparant shame? Come, lets heare iacke, what tricke hast thou now? By the Lord, I knew ye as wel as he that made ye. Why heare you my maisters, was it for me to kill the heire apparant? should I turne vpon the true prince? why thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct, the lion will not touch the true prince, instinct is a great matter. I was now a cowarde on instinct, I shall thinke the better of my selfe, and thee during my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince: but by the Lord, lads, I am glad you haue the money, Hostesse clap to the doores, watch to night, pray to morrowe, gallants, lads, boyes, hearts of golde, all the titles of good fellowship come + to you. What shall wee bee merrie, shall wee haue a play ex%tempore? _ Content, and the argument shall bee thy running away. + #A, no more of that Hal #and thou louest me. O Iesu, my Lord the prince, How now my lady the hostesse, what saist thou to me? + Marry my [Lo]Lord. there is a noble man of the court at doore would speake with you: he saies he commes from your father. Giue him as much as will make him a royall man, and send him backe againe to my mother. What maner of man is he? An olde man. What doth grauitie out of his bed at midnight? Shall I giue him his answere? Preethe do iacke.Faith and ile send him packing. Now sirs, birlady you fought faire, so did you Peto, so did you Bardol, you are lions, #to you ran away vpon instinct, you will not touch the true prince, no fie. Faith I ran when I saw others runne.

+ Faith tell me now in earnest, how came Falstalffs sword so hackt? Why, he hackt it with his dagger, and said hee woulde sweare truth out of England, but hee would make you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to do the like. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spearegrasse, to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and + sweare it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this se%uen yeare before, I blusht to heare his monstrous deuices. + O villaine, thou stolest a cup of Sacke eighteene yeares ago, and wert taken with the maner, and euer since thou hast blusht extempore, thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away, what instinct hadst thou for it? My Lord do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations?I do. What thinke you they portend? Hot liuers, and cold purses. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken. + No if rightly taken halter. Here commes leane iacke, here commes bare bone: how now my sweete creature of bumbast, how long ist ago iacke since thou sawest thine owne knee? My owne knee, when I was about thy yeares (Hall) I was not an Eagles talent in the waste, I could haue crept into anie Aldermans thumbe ring: a plague of sighing and grief, it blowes a man vp like a bladder. Thers villainous newes abroade, heere was sir Iohn Bracy, from your father: you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the North Percie, and he of Wales that gaue Amamon the bastinado, and made Luci%fer cuckold, and swore the diuel his true liegeman vpon$ the crosse of a Welsh hooke: what #a plague call you him? #O Glendower. Owen, Owen, the same, and his sonne in lawe Morti%mer, and olde Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of + Scottes, Dowglas, that runnes #a horsebacke vp a hill perpendi%cular. _ + He that rides at high speede, and with his pistoll killes a sparrow flying.

+ You haue hit it. So did he neuer the sparrow. + Well, that rascall hath good mettall in him, hee will not runne. Why, what a rascall art thou then, to praise him so for running? + #A horsebacke (ye cuckoe) but #a foote hee will not budge a foote. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct. + I grant ye vpon instinct: well hee is there #to, and one Mordacke, and a thousand blew caps more. Worcester is stolne away to night, thy fathers beard is turnd white with the newes, you may buy land now as cheape as stinking Mackrel. + Why then, it is like if there come a hote Iune, and this ciuill buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob nailes, by the hundreds. + By the masse lad thou saiest true, it is like wee shall haue good trading that way: but tell mee Hall, art not thou horrible afearde? thou being heire apparant, could the world picke thee out three such enemies againe? as that fiend Dowglas, that spi%rit Percy, and that diuel Glendower, art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy bloud thril at it? Not a whit ifaith, I lacke some of thy instinct. Well thou wilt bee horriblie chidde to morrowe when thou commest to thy father, if thou loue mee practise an aun%swere. _ Do thou stand for my father and examine me vpon the particulars of my life. + Shall I? content. This chaire shall be my state, this dag%ger my scepter, and this cushion my crowne. + Thy state is taken for a ioynd stoole, thy golden scepter for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crowne for a pittifull bald crowne. Well, #and the fire of grace bee not quite out of thee nowe shalt thou be mooued. Giue me a cup of Sacke to make my eyes looke redde, that it maie bee thought I haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it in king Cambises vaine.

+ Well, here is my leg. And here is my speech; stand aside Nobilitie. O Iesu, this is excellent sport ifaith. Weepe not sweet Queene, for trickling teares are vain. O the father, how he holds his countenance? For Gods sake Lords, conuay my trustfull Queene, For teares do stop the floudgates of her eyes. + O Iesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotrie plaiers as euer I see. Peace good pint-#pot, peace good tickle-#braine. Harrie, I doe not onelie maruaile where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied. For though the cam%momill, the more it is troden on, the faster it growes: so youth the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares: that thou art my son I haue partly thy mothers worde, partlie my owne opinion, but chieflie a villainous tricke of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy neather lippe, that dooth warrant me. If then thou bee sonne to mee, heere lies the poynt, why beeing sonne to me, art + thou so pointed at? shal the blessed sunne of heauen proue a mi%cher, and eat black-#berries? a question not to be askt. Shall the sonne of England proue a theefe, and take purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to many in our land by the name of pitch. This + pitch (as ancient writers do report) doth defile, so doth the com%panie thou keepest: for Harrie now, I do not speake to thee in drinke, but in teares; not in pleasure but in passion: not in words onely, but in woes also: and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy companie, but I know not his name. What maner of man #and it like your Maiestie? + A goodly portly man ifayth, and a corpulent of a cheerful looke, a pleasing eie, and a most noble cariage, and as I thinke his age some fiftie, or birladie inclining to threescore, and nowe I remember me, his name is {Falstalffe}, if that man shoulde bee lewdly giuen, hee deceiueth me. For Harry, I see vertue in his lookes: if then the tree may bee knowne by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is vertue in that {Falstalffe}, him keepe with, the rest banish, and tell me now thou naughtie varlet, tell me where hast thou beene this month?

+ Dost thou speake like a king, do thou stand for me, and ile play my father. + Depose me, if thou dost it halfe so grauely, so maiestical%ly, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the heeles for a rab%bet sucker, or a poulters Hare Well, here I am set. And here I stand, iudge my maisters. Now Harry, whence come you? My noble Lord from Eastcheape. The complaints I heare of thee are greeuous. + Zbloud my Lord they are false: nay ile tickle ye for a yong prince #I faith. Swearest thou vngratious boy, hence forth nere looke + on me, thou art violently carried awaie from grace, there is a di%uell haunts thee in the likenesse of an olde fat man, a tun of man is thy companion: why doest thou conuerse with that trunke of humours, that boultinghutch of beastlinesse, that swolne parcell of dropsies that huge bombard of sacke, that stuft cloakebag of guts, that rosted Manningtre Oxe with the pudding in his belly, + that reuerent vice, that gray iniquity, that father ruffian, that va%nity in yeares, wherein is he good, but to tast sacke and drinke it? wherein neat and clenly, but to carue a capon and eat it? wherein + cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villa%nous, but in al things? where in worthy, but in nothing? I would your grace would take me with you, whome meanes your grace? + That villanous abhominable misleader of youth, Fal%stalffe, that olde white bearded Sathan. My Lord, the man I know. I know thou doest. But to say I knowe more harme in him then in my selfe, were to say more then I know: that he is olde the more the pit%tie, + his white haires doe witnesse it, but that he is sauing your re%uerence, a whoremaster, that I vtterlie denie: if sacke and sugar be a fault, God helpe the wicked; if to be olde and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is damnd: if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaos lane kine are to be loued. No my good lord banish Peto, banish Bardoll, banish Poines, but for sweet Iacke

+ Falstalffe, kinde Iacke Falstalffe, true Iacke Falstalffe, valiant Iacke Falstalffe, & therfore more valiant being as he is old Iacke Falstalffe, banish not him thy Harries companie, banish not him thy Harries companie, banish plumpe Iacke, and banish all the world. I do, I will. O my Lord, my Lord, the Sheriffe with a most monstrous watch is at the doore. Out ye rogue, play out the play, I haue much to say in the behalfe of that Falstalffe. O Iesu, my Lord, my Lord, + Heigh, heigh, the Deuil rides vpon a fiddle sticke, whats the matter? + The Sheriffe and al the watch are at the doore, they are come to search the house, shall I let them in? + Doest thou heare Hal? neuer call a true piece of golde a counterfet, thou art essentially made without seeming so. And thou a naturall coward without instinct. + I deny your Maior, if you wil deny the Sheriffe so, if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp, I hope I shall as soone bee strangled with a halter as another. Go hide thee behind the Arras, the rest walke vp aboue, now my masters for a true face, and good conscience. + Both which I haue had, but their date is out, and there%fore ile hide me. Call in the Sheriffe. Now master Sheriffe, what is your #wil with me? First pardon me my Lord. A hue and crie hath followed certaine men vnto this house. What men? One of them is well known my gratious Lorde, a grosse fat man. As fat as butter. The man I do assure you is not here, For I my selfe at this time haue emploid him:

+ And Sheriffe, I will ingage my word to thee, That I will by to morrow dinner time Send him to answere thee or any man, For any thing he shall be charg'd withal, And so let me intreat you leaue the house. I will my Lord: there are two gentlemen Haue in this robbery lost 300. markes. It may be so: if he haue robd these men He shal be answerable, and so farewell. God night my noble Lord. I thinke it is god morrow is it not? Indeed my Lord I thinke it be two #a clocke. + This oylie rascall is knowne as well as Poules: goe call him forth. + Falstalffe: fast #a sleepe behind the Arras, and snorting like a horse. Harke how hard he fetches breath, search his pockets. What hast thou found? Nothing but papers my Lord. Lets see what they be, read them. Item a capon. 2.s,ii,d. Item sawce. iiij,d. Item sacke two gallons. v.s,viij,d. Item anchaues and sacke after supper. 2,s,vj,d. Item bread. ob. O monstrous, but one halfepeniworth of bread to this intolle%rable deale of sack? what there is else keepe close, weel read it at more aduantage; there let him sleepe till day, ile to the court in + the morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place shal be ho%norable. Ile procure this fat rogue a charge of foot, and I know his death will bee a march of twelue skore, the money shall bee paid backe againe with aduantage; bee with me betimes in the morning, and so good morrow Peto. Good morrow good my Lord. + These promises are faire, the parties sure,

+ And our induction ful of prosperous hope. Lord Mortimer, and coosen Glendower wil you sit down? and Vncle Worcester; a plague vpon it I haue forgot the map. No here it is; sit Coosen Percy, sit good Coosen Hotspur, for by that name as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you, his cheeke lookes pale, and with a rising sigh hee wisheth you in heauen. And you in #hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower spoke of. I cannot blame him; at my natiuity The front of heauen was full of fiery shapes Of burning cressets, and at my birth The frame and huge foundation of the earth Shaked like a coward. Why so it woulde haue done at the same season if your mothers cat had but kittend, though your selfe had neuer beene borne. I say the earth did shake when I was borne. And I say the earth was not of my mind, If you suppose as fearing you it shooke. The heauens were all on fire, the earth did tremble, Oh then the earth shooke to see the heauens on fire, And not in feare of your natiuity, Diseased nature oftentimes breakes forth, In strange eruptions, oft the teeming earth Is with a kind of collicke pincht and vext, By the imprisoning of vnruly wind Within her wombe, which for enlargement striuing Shakes the old Beldame earth, and topples down Steeples and mossegrown towers. At your birth Our Grandam earth, hauing this distemprature In passion shooke. Coosen of many men I do not beare these crossings, giue me leaue To tell you once againe that at my birth The front of heauen was full of fiery shapes, The goates ran from the mountaines, and the heards Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.

+ These signes haue markt me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do shew I am not in the roule of commen men: Where is he liuing clipt in with the sea, That chides the bancks of England, Scotland, Wales, Which cals me pupil or hath read to me? And bring him out that is but womans sonne? Can trace me in the tedious waies of #Arte, And hold me pace in deepe experiments. I thinke theres no man speakes better Welsh: Ile to dinner. Peace coosen Percy, you wil make him mad. I can cal spirits from the vasty deepe. Why so can I, or so can any man, But wil they come when you do cal for them Why I can teach you coosen to command the Deuil. And I can teach thee coose to shame the deuil, By telling truth. Tel truth and shame the deuil: If thou haue power to raise him bring him hither, And ile be sworne I haue power to shame him hence: Oh while you liue tel truth and shame the deuil. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable chat. Three times hath Henry Bullenbrooke made head Against my power, thrice from the bankes of Wye, And sandy bottomd Seuerne haue I sent him Booteles home, and weather beaten backe. Home without bootes, and in foule weather too, How scapes he agues in the deuils name? Come here is the map, shal we diuide our right? According to our three fold order tane. The Archdeacon hath diuided it Into three limits very equally: England from Trent, and Seuerne hitherto, By South and East is to my part assignd: Al westward, Wales beyond the Seuerne shore, And al the fertile land within that bound To Owen Glendower: and deare coose to you The remnant Northward lying off from Trent,

+ And our indentures tripartite are drawn, Which being sealed enterchangeably, (A businesse that this night may execute:) To morrow coosen Percy you and I And my good Lord of Worcester wil set forth To meet your father and the Scottish power, As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury. My father Glendower is not ready yet, Nor shal we need his helpe these fourteen daies, Within that space you may haue drawne together Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen. A shorter time shall send me to you Lords, And in my conduct shall your Ladies come, From whom you now must steale and take no leaue, For there wil be a world of water shed, Vpon the parting of your wiues and you. Me thinks my moity North from Burton here, In quantity equals not one of yours, See how this riuer comes me cranking in, And cuts me from the best of all my land, A huge halfe moone, a monstrous scantle out, Ile haue the currant in this place damnd vp, And here the smug and siluer Trent shall run In a new channell faire and euenly, It shall not wind with such a deepe indent, To rob me of so rich a bottome here. Not wind it shal, it must, you see it doth. Yea, but marke howe he beares his course, and runs mee vp with like aduauntage on the other side, gelding the opposed continent as much as on the other side it takes from you. Yea but a little charge wil trench him here, And on this Northside win this cape of land, And then he runs straight and euen. Ile haue it so, a little charge will do it. Ile not haue it altred. Will not you? No, nor you shall not. Who shall say me nay?

+ Why that will I. Let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in Welsh. I can speake English Lord as well as you, For I was traind vp in the English court, Where being but yong I framed to the harpe Many an English ditty louely well, And gaue the tongue a helpeful ornament, A vertue that was neuer seene in you. Marry and I am glad of it with all my hart, I had rather be a kitten and cry mew, Then one of these same miter ballet mongers, I had rather heare a brazen cansticke turnd, Or a drie wheele grate on the exle tree, And that would set my teeth nothing #an edge, Nothing so much as minsing poetry, Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling nag. Come, you shal haue Trent turnd. I do not care, ile giue thrice so much land To any well deseruing friend: But in the way of bargaine marke ye me, Ile cauill on the ninth part of a haire, Are the Indentures drawn, shal we be gone? The moon shines faire, you may away by night Ile haste the writer, and withal Breake with your wiues of your departure hence, I am afraid my daughter will run mad, So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Fie coosen Percy, how you crosse my father. I cannot chuse, sometime he angers me With telling me of the Moldwarp and the Ant, Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, And of a Dragon and a finles fish, A clipwingd Griffin and a molten rauen, A couching Leon and a ramping Cat, And such a deale of skimble scamble stuffe, As puts me from my faith. I tel you what, He held me last night at least nine houres In reckoning vp the seueral Diuels names

+ That were his lackies, I cried hum, and wel go to, But markt him not a word. O he is as tedious As a tyred horse, a railing wife, Worse then a smoky house. I had rather liue With cheese and garlike in a Windmil far, Then feed on cates and haue him talke to me, In any summer house in Christendome. In faith he is a worthy gentleman, Exceedingly well read and profited In strange concealements, valiant as a lion, And wondrous affable; and as bountifull As mines of India; shal I tell you coosen, He holds your temper in a high respect And curbs himselfe euen of his natural scope, When you come crosse his humor, faith he does, I warrant you that man is not aliue Might so haue tempted him as you haue done, Without the tast of danger and reproofe, But do not vse it oft, let me intreat you. In faith my Lord you are too wilfull blame, And since your comming hither haue done enough To put him quite besides his patience, You must needes learne Lord to amend this fault, Though sometimes it shew greatnes, courage, bloud, And thats the dearest grace it renders you, Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of maners, want of gouernment, Pride, hautinesse, opinion, and disdaine, The least of which hanting a noble man, Looseth mens harts and leaues behind a staine Vpon the beauty of all parts besides, Beguiling them of commendation. Wel I am schoold good maners be your speed, Here come our wiues, and let vs take our leaue. This is the deadly spight that angers me, My wife can speake no English, I no Welsh. My daughter weepes, sheele not part with you,

+ Sheele be a souldior #to, sheele to the wars. Good father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy Shal follow in your conduct speedily. She is desperate here, A peeuish selfe wild harlotrie, one that no perswasion can doe good vpon. I vnderstand thy lookes, that prettie Welsh, Which thou powrest downe from these swelling heauens, I am too perfect in, and but for shame In such a parley should I answere thee. I vnderstand thy kisses, and thou mine, And thats a feeling disputation, But I will neuer be a truant loue, Till I haue learnt thy language, for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly pend, Sung by a faire Queene in a summers bowre, With rauishing diuision to her Lute. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. O I am ignorance it selfe in this. She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you downe, And rest your gentle head vpon her lap, And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, And on your eyelids crowne the God of sleepe, Charming your bloud with pleasing heauinesse, Making such difference twixt wake and sleepe, As is the difference betwixt day and night, The houre before the heauenly harnest teeme Begins his golden progresse in the east. With all my heart ile sit and heare her sing, By that time will our booke I thinke be drawne. Do so, & those musitions that shal play to you, Hang in the aire a thousand leagues from hence, And straight they shalbe here, sit and attend.

+ Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe, Come quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. Go ye giddy goose. Now I perceiue the diuell vnderstands Welsh, And tis no maruaile he is so humorous, Birlady he is a good musition. Then should you be nothing but musicall, For you are altogither gouernd by humors, Lie still ye thiefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh. I had rather heare lady my brache howle in Irish. Wouldst thou haue thy head broken? No. Then be still. Neither, tis a womans fault. Nowe God helpe thee. To the Welsh Ladies bed. Whats that? Peace, she sings. Come Kate, ile haue your song too. Not mine in good sooth. + Not yours in good sooth. Hart, you sweare like a comfit%makers wife, not you in good sooth, and as true as I liue, and as God shall mend me, and as sure as day: And giuest such sarcenet surety for thy oathes, As if thou neuer walkst further then Finsbury. Sweare me Kate like a ladie as thou art, A good mouthfilling oath, and leaue in sooth, And such protest of pepper ginger bread To veluet gards, and Sunday Citizens. Come sing. I will not sing. + Tis the next way to turne tayler, or be redbrest teacher, #and the indentures be drawn ile away within these two houres, and so come in when ye will. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow, As Hot. Lord Percy is on fire to go:

+ By this our booke is drawne, weele but seale, And then to horse immediatlie. With all my hart. + Lords giue vs leaue, the Prince of Wales and I, Must haue some priuate conference, but be neare at hand, For we shall presently haue neede of you. I know not whether God will haue it so For some displeasing seruice I haue done, That in his secret doome out of my blood, Heele breed reuengement and a scourge for me: But thou dost in thy passages of life, Make me beleeue that thou art onely markt For the hot vengeance, and the rod of heauen, To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else Could such inordinate and low desires, Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude societie As thou art matcht withall, and grafted to, Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood, And hold their leuell with thy princely heart? So please your Maiestie, I would I could Quit all offences with as cleare excuse, As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge My selfe of many I am chargd withall, Yet such extenuation let me beg, As in reproofe of many tales deuisde, Which oft the eare of greatnes needs must heare By smiling pickthanks, and base newes mongers, I may for some things true, wherein my youth Hath faulty wandred, and irregular, Find pardon on my true submission. God pardon thee, yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing Quite from the flight of all thy auncestors, Thy place in counsell thou hast rudely lost Which by thy yonger brother is supplide, And art almost an allien to the harts

+ Of all the Court and princes of my blood, The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruind, and the soule of euery man Prophetically do forethinke thy fall: Had I so lauish of my presence beene, So common hackneid in the eyes of men, So stale and cheape to vulgar companie, Opinion that did helpe me to the crowne, Had still kept loyall to possession, And left me in reputelesse banishment, A fellow of no marke nor likelihoode. By being seldome seene, I could not stirre But like a Comet I was wondred at, That men would tell their children this is he: Others would say, where, which is Bullingbrooke? And then I stole all curtesie from heauen, And drest my selfe in such humilitie That I did plucke allegiance from mens hearts, Loud shouts, and salutations from their mouths, Euen in the presence of the crowned king. Thus did I keepe my person fresh and new, My presence like a roabe pontificall, Nere seene but wondred at, and so my state Seldome, but sumptuous shewd like a feast, And wan by rarenesse such solemnitie. The skipping king, he ambled vp and downe, With shallow iesters, and rash bauin wits, Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his state, Mingled his royaltie with capring fooles, Had his great name prophaned with their scornes, And gaue his countenance against his name To laugh at gibing boyes, and stand the push Of euery beardlesse vaine comparatiue, Grew a companion to the common streetes, Enfeoft himselfe to popularitie, That being dayly swallowed by mens eyes, They surfetted with honie, and began to loath The taste of sweetnesse, whereof a little

+ More then a little, is by much too much. So when he had occasion to be seene, He was but as the Cuckoe is in Iune, Heard, not regarded: Seene, but with such eies As sicke and blunted with communitie, Affoord no extraordinary gaze. Such as is bent on sun-#like maiestie, When it shines seldome in admiring eies, But rather drowzd, and hung their eie-#lids down, Slept in his face, and rendred such aspect As cloudy men vse to their aduersaries, Being with his presence glutted, gordge, and full. And in that very line Harry standest thou, For thou hast lost thy princely priuiledge With vile participation. Not an eye But is #a weary of thy common sight, Saue mine, which hath desired to see thee more, Which now doth that I would not haue it do, Make blind it selfe with foolish tendernesse. I shall hereafter my thrice gratious Lord, Be more my selfe.For all the world, As thou art to this houre was Richard then, When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh, And euen as I was than, is Percy now, Now by my scepter, and my soule to boote, He hath more worthie interest to the state Then thou the shadow of succession. For of no right, nor colour like to right, He doth fill fields with harnesse in the realme, Turnes head against the lions armed iawes, And being no more in debt to yeares, then thou Leads ancient Lords, and reuerend Bishops on To bloudie battailes, and to bruising armes. What neuer dying honour hath he got Against renowmed Dowglas? Whose high deeds, Whose hot incursions, and great name in armes, Holds from al souldiors chiefe maioritie And militarie title capitall.

+ Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ. Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathling cloaths, This infant warrier in his enterprises, Discomfited great Dowglas, tane him once, Enlargd him, and made a friend of him, To fill the mouth of deepe defiance vp, And shake the peace and safety of our throne, And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The Archbishops grace of York, Dowglas, Mortimer, Capitulate against vs, and are vp. But wherefore do I tel these newes to thee? Why Harry do I tell thee of my foes, Which art my nearest and dearest enemy? Thou that art like enough through vassall feare, Base inclination, and the start of spleene, To fight against me vnder Percies pay, To dog his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes, To shew how much thou art degenerate. Do not thinke so, you shal not find it so, And God forgiue them that so much haue swaide Your maiesties good thoughts away from me. I will redeeme all this on Percies head, And in the closing of some glorious day Be bold to tell you that I am your sonne, When I will weare a garment all of bloud, And staine my fauors in a bloudy maske, Which washt away shall scoure my shame with it, And that shal be the day when ere it lights, That this same child of honour and renowne, This gallant Hotspur, this all praised knight, And your vnthought of Harry chance to meet, For euery honor sitting on his helme Would they were multitudes, and on my head My shames redoubled. For the time will com That I shal make this Northren youth exchange His glorious deedes for my indignities. Percy is but my factor, good my Lord, To engrosse vp glorious deeds on my behalfe.

+ And I will call him to so strickt account, That he shall render euery glory vp, Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time, Or I will teare the reckoning from his heart. This in the name of God I promise heere, The which if he be pleasd I shall performe: I do beseech your maiesty may salue The long grown wounds of my intemperance, If not, the end of life cancels all bands, And I will die a hundred thousand deaths Ere breake the smallest parcell of this vow. A hundred thousand rebels die in this, Thou shalt haue charge and soueraine trust herein. How now good blunt thy lookes are full of speed. So hath the businesse that I come to speake of. Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, That Dowglas and the English Rebels met The eleuenth of this month at Shrewsbury, A mighty and a fearefull head they are, If promises be kept on euery hand, As euer offred foule play in a state. The Earle of Westmerland set forth to day, With him my sonne Lord Iohn of Lancaster, For this aduertisement is fiue daies old. On Wednesday next, Harry you shall set forward, On thursday we our selues will march. Our meeting Is Bridgenorth, and Harry, you shall march Through Glocestershire, by which account Our businesse valued some twelue daies hence, Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet: Our hands are full of businesse, lets away, Aduantage feedes him fat while men delay. + + Bardoll, am I not falne away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skinne hangs about me like an old Ladies loose gowne. I am withered like an oulde apple Iohn. Well, ile repent and that suddainly, while I am in

+ some liking, I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no strength to repent. #And I haue not forgotten what the inside of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper corne, a brewers Horse, the inside of a Church. Company, villainous company, hath been the spoile of me. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull you cannot liue long. Why, there is it; come sing me a bawdie song, make me + merry. I was as vertuously giuen as a gentleman need to be, ver%tuous enough, swore little, dic't not aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a baudy house not aboue once in a quarter of an houre, paid money that I borrowed three or foure times, liued wel, and in good compasse, and nowe I liue out of all order, out of all compasse. + Why, you are so fat, sir Iohn, that you must needes be out of all compasse: out of all reasonable compasse, sir Iohn. Do thou amend thy face, and ile amend my life: thou art our Admiral, thou bearest the lanterne in the poope, but tis in the nose of thee: thou art the knight of the burning lampe. Why, sir Iohn, my face does you no harme. No ile be sworn, I make as good vse of it as many a man doth of a deaths head, or a {memento mori}. I neuer see thy face, but I thinke vpon #hell fire, and Diues that liued in Purple: for there he is in his robes burning, burning. If thou wert any waie giuen to vertue, I would sweare by thy face: my oath should be by this fire that Gods Angell. But thou art altogether giuen o%uer: and wert indeede but for the light in thy face, the sonne of vtter darkenesse. When thou ranst vp Gadshill in the night to + catch my horse, if I did not thinke thou hadst beene an {ignis fa%tuus}, or a ball of wildfire, theres no purchase in money. O thou art a perpetuall triumph, an euerlasting bonefire light, thou hast saued me a thousand Markes in Linkes, and Torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tauerne and tauerne: but the sacke that thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me lights as good cheape, at the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue maintained that Sallamander of yours with fire any time this two and thirty yeares, God reward me for it. Zbloud, I would my face were in your belly. Godamercy, so should I be sure to be hartburnt.

+ How now dame Partlet the hen, haue you enquird yet who pickt my pocket? Why sir Iohn, what do you thinke sir Iohn, doe you + thinke I keepe theeues in my house, I haue searcht, I haue en%quired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, seruant by seruant, the tight of a haire, was neuer lost in my house before. Yee lie Hostesse, Bardoll was shau'd, and lost manie a haire, and ile be sworne my pocket was pickt: go to, you are a woman, go. + Who I. No, I defie thee: Gods light I was neuer cald so in mine owne house before. Go to. I know you well inough. No, sir Iohn, you do not know me, sir Iohn, I knowe you sir Iohn, you owe me mony sir Iohn, and now you picke a quar%rell to beguile me of it, I bought you a douzen of shirts to your backe. + Doulas, filthie Doulas. I haue giuen them away to Ba%kers wiues, they haue made boulters of them. + Now as I am a true woman, holland of viii s. an ell, you owe mony here, besides sir Iohn, for your diet, and by drinkings, and money lent you xxiiii. pound. He had his part of it, let him pay. He, alas he is poore, he hath nothing. How? poore? looke vpon his face. What call you rich? let them coyne his nose, let them coyne his cheekes, ile not pay a denyer: what will you make a yonker of mee? shall I not take mine ease in mine #Inne, but I shall haue my pocket pickt? I haue lost a seale ring of my grandfathers worth fortie marke. O Iesu, I haue heard the Prince tell him I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. + How? the prince is a iacke, a sneakeup, Zbloud #and hee were here, I would cudgell him like a dog if he would say so. + How now lad, is the winde in that doore ifaith, must we all march? Yea, two, and two, Newgate fashion. My Lord, I pray you heare me.

+ What saist thou mistris quickly, how doth thy husband? I loue him well, he is an honest man. Good my Lord heare me? Preethe let her alone, and list to me. What saist thou iacke. + The other night I fel #a sleepe here, behind the Arras, and had my pocket pickt, this house is turn'd baudy house, they pick pockets. What didst thou loose iacke? Wilt thou beleeue me Hall, three or foure bonds of forty pound #a peece, and a seale ring of my grandfathers. A trifle, some eight penie matter. + So I told him my Lord, and I said I heard your grace say so: & my lord he speakes most vilely of you, like a foule mouthd man as he is, and said he would cudgel you. What he did not? Theres neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. Theres no more faith in thee then in a stued prune, nor no more truth in thee then in a drawn fox, and for womanhood maid marion may be the deputies wife of the ward to thee. Go you thing, go. Say what thing, what thing? What thing? why a thing to thanke God on. I am nothing to thanke God on, I would thou shouldst know it, I am an honest mans wife, and setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so. + Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say o%therwise. _ Say, what beast, thou knaue thou? What beast? why an Otter. An Otter sir Iohn, why an Otter? Why? shees neither fish nor flesh, a man knowes not where to haue her. Thou art an vniust man in saying so, thou or anie man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou. Thou saist true hostesse, and hee slaunders thee most grossely. So hee doth you my Lord, and saide this other day you

+ ought him a thousand pound. Sirrha, do I owe you a thousand pound? A thousand pound Hall? a million, thy loue is worth a million, thou owest me thy loue. Nay my Lord, he cald you iacke, and saide hee woulde cudgel you. Did I Bardol? Indeed sir Iohn you said so. Yea, if he said my ring was copper. + I say tis copper, darest thou be as good as thy word now? Why Hall? Thou knowest as thou art but man I dare, but as thou art prince, I feare thee as I feare the roaring of the Lyons whelpe. And why not as the Lyon? + The king himselfe is to be feared as the Lion, doest thou thinke ile feare thee as I feare thy father? nay #and I doo, I pray God my girdle breake. O, if it should, howe woulde thy guts fall about thy + knees? but sirrha, theres no roome for faith, trueth, nor hone%stie, + in this bosome of thine. It is all fild vp with guttes, and mid%riffe. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket, why thou horeson impudent imbost rascall, if there were anie thing in thy pocket but tauerne reckonings, memorandums of baudie houses, and one poore peniworth of sugar-#candie to make thee long winded, if thy pocket were inricht with any other iniuries + but these; I am a villain, and yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket vp wrong, art thou not ashamed? + Doest thou heare Hall, thou knowest in the state of inno%cencie Adam fell, & what should poore iacke Falstalfe do in the daies of villanie? thou seest I haue more flesh then another man, & therfore more frailty. You confesse then you pickt my pocket. It appeares so by the storie. + Hostesse, I forgiue thee, go make ready breakfast, loue thy husband, looke to thy seruaunts, cherish thy ghesse, thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason, thou seest I am pacified still, nay preethe be gone. Now Hal, to the newes at court for the robbery lad, how is that answered?

+ O my sweet beoffe, I must still bee good angel to thee, the mony is paid backe againe. O I do not like that paying backe, tis a double labor. I am good friends with my father and may do any thing Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and doe it with vnwasht hands too. Do my Lord. I haue procured thee Iacke a charge of foot. + I would it had been of horse. Where shall I finde one that + can steale well. O for a fine thiefe of the age of xxii. or therea%bouts: I am hainously vnprouided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offende none but the vertuous; I laude them, I praise them. Bardoll.My Lord. Go beare this letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster, To my brother Iohn, this to my lord of Westmerland. Go Peto to horse, to horse, for thou and I Haue thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time, Iacke, meete me to morrow in the temple haule At two of clocke in the afternoone, There shalt thou know thy charge, and there receiue Money and order for their furniture, The land is burning, Percy stands on high, And either we or they must lower lie. Rare words, braue world hostesse, my breakfast come, Oh I could wish this tauerne were my drum. + Wel said my noble Scot, if speaking truth In this fine age were not thought flattery, Such attribution should the Douglas haue, As not a souldior of this seasons stampe, Should go so generall currant through the world By God, I cannot flatter, I do defie The tongues of soothers, but a brauer place In my harts loue hath no man then your selfe, Nay taske me to my word, approue me Lord. Thou art the King of honor, No man so potent breaths vpon the ground, But I will beard him.

+ Do so, and tis wel. What letters hast thou there? I can but thanke you. These letters come from your father. Letters from him, why comes he not himselfe? He cannot come my lord, he is grieuous sicke. Zounds, how has he the leisure to be sicke In such a iustling time, who leads his power? Vnder whose gouernment come they along? His letters beares his mind, not I my mind. I preethe tel me, doth he keepe his bed? He did my Lord, foure daies ere I set forth, And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fearde by his Phisitions. I would the state of time had first been whole, Eare he by sicknesse had bin visited, His health was neuer better worth then now. Sicke now, droupe now, this sicknes doth infect The very life bloud of our enterprise, Tis catching hither euen to our campe, He writes me here that inward sicknesse, And that his friends by deputation Could not so soone be drawn, nor did he thinke it meet To lay so dangerous and deare a trust On any soule remoou'd but on his own, Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement, That with our small coniunction we should on, To see how fortune is disposd to vs, For as he writes there is no quailing now, Because the king is certainly possest Of al our purposes, what say you to it? Your fathers sicknesse is a maime to vs. A perillous gash, a very limbe lopt off, And yet in faith it is not, his present want Seemes more then we shal find it: were it good To set the exact wealth of al our states Al at one cast? to set so rich a maine On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre? It were not good for therein should we read