The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

What! old acquaintance! could not all this flesh
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell!
I could have better spar'd a better man.
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee,
If I were much in love with vanity.
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day,
Though many dearer, in this bloody fray:-
Embowell'd will I see thee by and by;
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie.

[Exit. Fal. [Rising slowly.] Embowell'd! if thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder1 me, and eat me too, to-morrow. "Twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: To die, is to be a counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The better part of valour is-discretion; in the which better part, I have saved my life. I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: How, if he should counterfeit too, and rise! I am afraid, he would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll make him sure: yea, and I'll swear I killed him. Why may not he rise, as well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah, [Stabbing him.] with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me.

[Takes Hotspur on his back.

Re-enter Prince Henry and Prince John. P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely hast thou flesh'd

Thy maiden sword.

P. John. But, soft! whom have we here? Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead? P. Hen. I did; I saw him dead, breathless and Upon the ground.[bleeding

I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. [A Retreat is sounded.

The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours. Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field, To see what friends are living, who are dead.

[Exeunt Prince Henry and Prince John. Fal. I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that rewards me, heaven reward him! If I do grow great, I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave sack, and live as a nobleman should do.

[Exit, bearing off the body.

SCENE V.-ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD. Enter King Henry, The Trumpets sound. Prince Henry, Prince John, Westmoreland, and others; with Worcester and Vernon, prisoners.

K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.Ill-spirited Worcester! did we not send grace, Pardon, and terms of love to all of you? And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary? Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust? Three knights upon our party slain to-day, A noble earl, and many a creature else, Had been alive this hour, If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies true intelligence.

Wor. What I have done, my safety urg'd me to;
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.

K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and
Vernon too:

| Other offenders we will pause upon.

[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded. How goes the field?

P. Hen. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw

The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, The noble Percy slain, and all his men Art thou alive? or is it phantasy Upon the foot of fear,-fled with the rest; That plays upon our eyesight? I pr'ythee, speak; And, falling from a hill, he was so bruis'd, We will not trust our eyes, without our ears:-That the pursuers took him. At my tent Thou art not what thou seem'st. The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace, I may dispose of him. K. Hen.

F. No, that's certain; I am not a double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy: [Throwing the body down.] if your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl, or duke, I can assure you. P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.

Fal. Didst thou?-How this world is given to lying!-I grant you, I was down, and out of breath; and so was he: but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so; if not, let them, that should reward valour, bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh: if the man were alive, and would deny it, I would make him eat a piece of my sword.

P.J. This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard. P. Hen. This is the strangest fellow, brother John.

Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back: For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,

1 Salt.

With all my heart. P. H. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to This honourable bounty shall belong: [you, Go to the Douglas, and deliver him Up to his pleasure, ransomeless and free: His valour shown upon our crests to-day, Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosom of our adversaries.

K. Hen. Then this remains,-that we divide

our power. You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest speed,

To meet Northumberland, and the prelate
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms: [Scroop,
Myself,-and you, son Harry,-will towards
Wales,

To fight with Glendower, and the Earl of March.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day:
And since this business so fair is done,
Let us not leave till all our own be won.

[Exeunt.

INDUCTION.

Enemies to the King.

TRAVERS and MORTON, Domestics of Northumberland.

FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Page.
POINS and PETO, Attendants on

Henry.

Prince

SHALLOW and SILENCE, Country Justices.
DAVY, Servant to Shallow.

MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and
BULL-CALF, Recruits.

FANG and SNARE, Sheriff's-Officers.

RUMOUR.

A Porter.

A Dancer, Speaker of the Epilogue.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. LADY PERCY,

HOSTESS QUICKLY, DOLL.

Lords and other Attendants; Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, Drawers, Grooms, &c.

SCENE.- England.

WARKWORTH. BEFORE NORTHUMBERLAND'S CASTLE,

Enter Rumour, painted full of Tongues. Rum. Open your ears; For which of you will stop

The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks;
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth:
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride;
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only I,
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence;
Whilst the big year, swol'n with some other grief,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize
Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before King Harry's victory,
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,
Hath beaten down young Hotspur,and his troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion

Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first? my office is
To noise abroad,-that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword;
And that the king before the Douglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me; From Rumour's
tongues

They bring smooth comforts false, worse than
true wrongs.
[Exit.

Enter Northumberland.

L. Bard.
Here comes the earl.
Nor. What news, lord Bardolph? every minute
Should be the father of some stratagem1; [now
The times are wild; contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.

L. Bard.
Noble earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an heaven will!

L. Bard. As good as heart can wish:-
The king is almost wounded to the death;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Kill'd bythe hand of Douglas:youngPrince John,
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn,2 the hulk Sir
Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day, [John,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not till now, to dignify the times,
Since Cæsar's fortunes!

North.

How is this deriv'd?
Saw you the field, came you from Shrewsbury?
L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came
from thence;

A gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely render'd me these news for true.
N. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom I
On Tuesday last to listen after news. [sent

L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way;
And he is furnish'd with no certainties,
More than he haply may retail from me.
Enter Travers.

North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come
with you?

Tr.My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back
With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd,
Out-rode me. After him, came, spurring hard,
A gentleman almost forspent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse:
He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me, that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold:
With that he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel head; and, starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.

North.

Ha! Again.
Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion
Had met ill luck!

L. Bard.

My lord, I'll tell you what;

If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honour, for a silken point

I'll give my barony: never talk of it.

Foretells the nature of a tragick volume:
So looks the strond,1 whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party
North. How doth my son, and brother?
Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
Andwould have told him,half hisTroywasburn'd:
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it.
This thou wouldst say,-Your son did thus, and
thus;

Your brother, thus; so fought the noble Douglas;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with-brother, son, and all are dead.
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet:
But, for my lord, your son,-
North.
Why, he is dead,
See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
He, that but fears the thing he would not know,
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes,
That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Mor-
Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies;
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid:

[ton:

Nor. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin,
I see a strange confession in thine eye:
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so:
And he doth sin, that doth belie the dead;
The tongue offends not, that reports his death:
Not he, which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,

Remember'd knolling a departing friend. [dead.
L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is
Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to believe
That which I would to heaven I had not seen:
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance,2 wearied and out-
breath'd,

To Harry Monmouth: whose swift wrath beat
The never daunted Percy to the earth, [down
In few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,)
Being bruited 4 once, took fire and heat away

North. Why should the gentleman that rode by From the best temper'd courage in his troops:

Give then such instances of loss?

[Travers,

L. Bard.
Who, he?
He was some hilding 4 fellow, that had stol'n
The horse he rode on; and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
Enter Morton.

For from his metal was his party steel'd; Which once in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself, So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, Upon enforcement, flies with greater speed; Lend to this weight such lightness withtheir fear, North. Yea, this man's brow,like to a title-leaf, That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim, 1 Important event. 2 Boar, 8 Lace-tagged. 4 Cowardly. 1 Shore. 2 Return of blows. 8 Short. 4 Reported.

Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Flyfrom the field: Thenwas that noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slain the appearance of the king,
'Gan vail his stomach,1 and did grace the shame,
Of those that turn'd their backs; and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is, that the king hath won; and hath sent out
A speedy power, to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster,
And Westmoreland: this is the news at full.
North. For this I shall have time enough to

mourn.

In poison there is physick; and these news,
Having beenwell, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well:
And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keepers' arms; even so my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with
grief,
[nice crutch;
Are thrice themselves: hence, therefore, thou
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel,
Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly
Thou art a guard toowanton for the head,[quoif,
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron; And approach
Theragged'sthourthat time and spite dare bring,
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland!
Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not nature's hand
Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die!
And let this world no longer be a stage,
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead! [lord,
Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my
L. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from
your honour.

Mor. The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health; the which if you give o'er
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast the event of war, my noble lord,
And summ'd the account of chance, before you
said,-

Let us make head. It was your presurmise,
That in the dolet of blows your son might drop:
You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er:
You were advis'd, his flesh was capable [spirits
Of wounds, and scars; and that his forward
Would lift him where most trade of danger
rang'd;

Yet did you say,-Go forth; and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action: What hath then befallen,
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?

L. Bard. We all that are engaged to this loss, Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas, That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one: And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd;

I hear for certain and do speak the truth,-
The gentle archbishop of York is up,
With well appointed powers; he is a man,
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corps,
But shadows, and the shows of men to fight:
For that same word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls:
And they did fight with queasiness,1 constrain❜d,
As men drink potions; that their weapons only
Seem'd on our side, but for their spirits and souls,
This word, rebellion, it hath froze them up,
As fish are in a pond; But now the bishop
Turns insurrection to religion:
Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He's follow'd both with body and with mind;
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret

stones.

Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause; Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; And more,2 and less, do flock to follow him.

N. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth, This present grief had wip'd it from my mind. Go in with me; and counsel every man The aptest way for safety, and revenge: [speed; Get posts, and letters, and make friends with Never so few, and never yet more need. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-LONDON. A STREET. Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his Page bearing his Sword and Buckler.

Fal. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me; I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned3 with an agate till now: but I will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for a jewel; the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is a faceroyal: nature may finish it when she will, it is not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he will be crowing as if he hadwrit man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him.-What said master Dumbleton about the satin for my short cloak, and slops?

Page. He said, sir, you should procure him 1 Against their stomachs.

8 Put in possession of

2 Greater.

better assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his bond and yours; he liked not the security.

hope, your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time; and I most humbly beseech your lordship, to have a reverend care of your

Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.

Fal. A rascally Achitophel, yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security-The smooth-pates do now wear no-health. thing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is thorough with them in honest taking up, then they must stand upon-security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth, as offer to stop it with security. I looked he should have sent me twoand-twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security, for he hath the horn of abundance. -Where's Bardolph?

Page. He's gone into Smithfield, to buy your worship a horse.

Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife, I were mann'd, horsed, and wived.

Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales.

Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty:-You would not come when I sent for you.

Fal. And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen into this same apoplexy.

Ch. Just. Well, heaven mend him! I pray, let me speak with you.

Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the blood, a tingling.

Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as it is.

Fal. It hath its original from much grief; from study, and perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of his effects in Galen; it is a kind of deafness.

Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and an Attendant. Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for striking him about BarFal. Wait close, I will not see him. [dolph. Ch. Just. What's he that goes there? Atten. Falstaff, an't please your lordship. Ch. Just. He that was in question for the rob-an't please you, it is the disease of not listening, bery? the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.

Atten. He, my lord: but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the lord John of Lancaster.

Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back again. Atten. Sir John Falstaff!

Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deaf. [deaf. Page. You must speak louder, my master is Ch. Just. I am sure, he is, to the hearing of any thing good.-Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him.

Atten. Sir John,

Fal. What! a young knave, and beg! Is there not wars? is there not employment? Doth not the king lack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.

Atten. You mistake me, sir.

Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat if I had said so.

Atten. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your throat, if you say I am any other than an honest man.

Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that which grows to me! If thou get'st any leave of me, hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be hang'd: You hunt-counter,2 hence! avaunt!

Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with you. Ch. Just. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. Fal. My good lord! give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heard say, your lordship was sick: 1 In debt.

2 A bailiff.

Ch. Just. I think, you are fallen into the disease; for you hear not what I say to you. Fal. Very well, my lord, very well: rather,

Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels, would amend the attention of your ears; and I care not, if I do become your physician.

Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord; but not so patient; your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me, in respect of poverty; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or, indeed, a scruple itself.

Ch. J. I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me. Fal. As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come. Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.

Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live in less.

Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.

Fal. I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater, and my waist slenderer.

Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince. Fal. The young prince hath misled me: I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.

Ch. Just. Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gadshill: you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'erposting that action.

Fal. My lord?

Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping wolf.

Fal. To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox. Ch. Just. What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.

Fal. A wassel candle,1 my lord: all tallow: if I 1 A large candle for a feast.

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