Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fafhion. P. Henry. What fay'ft thou, Miftrefs Quickly? how does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honeft man. Hoft. Good my lord, hear me. Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and lift to me. P. Henry. What fay't thou, Jack? Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket pickt: this houfe is turn'd bawdy-house, they pick pockets. P. Henry. What didft thou lofe, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bands of forty pounds a-piece, and a feal-ring of my grandfather's. P. Henry. A trifle, fome eight-penny matter. Hoft. So I told him, my lord, and I said, I heard your grace fay fo; and, my lord, he speaks moft vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and faid, he I would cudgel you. P. Henry. What! he did not? Hoft. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman-hood in me else. Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a ftew'd prune; no more truth in thee than in a drawn Fox; and for woman-hood, Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Hoft. Say, what thing? what thing? Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Hoft. I am nothing to thank God on, I would thou fhould't know it: I am an honeft man's wife; and, fetting thy knighthood afide, thou art a knave to call me fo. Fal. Setting thy womanhood afide, thou art a beast to fay otherwife. 5 a drawn Fox ;] A Fox that hath been often hunted. Hoft. Say, what beaft, thou knave, thou? P. Henry, An Otter, Sir John, why an Otter?! Fal. Why? fhe's neither fish nor flesh ; a man knows not where to have her... Hoft. Thou art an unjust man in saying fo: thou, or any man knows where to have me thou knave, thou! P. Henry. Thou fay'st true, hoftefs, and he flanders thee moft grofsly. Hoft. So he doth you, my lord, and faid this other day, you ow'd him a thoufand pound. P. Henry. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? 1. Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million; thy love is worth a million: thou ow'ft me thy love. Hoft. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and faid, he would cudgel you. Fal. Did I, Bardolph? Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you faid fo. Fal. Yea, if he faid, my ring was copper. P. Henry. I fay, 'tis copper. Dar'ft thou be as good as thy word now? Fal. Why, Hal, thou know'ft, as thou art but a man, I dare; but as thou art a Prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the Lion's whelp. P. Henry. And why not as the Lion? Fal. The King himself is to be fear'd as the Lion; doft thou think, I'll fear thee, as I fear thy father? nay, if I do, let my Girdle break! P. Henry. O, if it fhould, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honefty, in this bofom of thine; it is all fill'd up with guts and midriff. Charge an honeft woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whorfon, impudent, imbofs'd rafçal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, Memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of fugar candy candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but thefe, I am a villain, and yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket up wrongs. Art thou not asham'd?!!? Fal. Doft thou hear, Hal? thou know'ft in the state of innocency, Adam fell: and what fhould poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? thou feeft, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty. You confess then, you pickt my pocket? P. Henry. It appears fo by the ftory. Fal. Hoftefs, I forgive thee: go make ready Breakfaft; love thy husband, look to thy fervants, and cherith thy guests: thou fhalt find me tractable to any honeft reafon: thou feeft, I am pacify'd ftill. Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hoftefs. Now, Hal, to the news at Court: for the robbery, lad, how is That answer'd? P. Henry. O my fweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee. The mony is paid back again. Fal. O,I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double labour. P. Henry. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing. Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with unwath'd hands too. Bard. Do, my lord.. P. Henry. I have procur'd thee, Jack, a Charge of foot. Fal. I would, it had been of horfe. Where fhall I find one, that can steal well? O, for a fine thief, of two and twenty, or thereabout, I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thank'd for thefe rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them. P Henry. Bardolph, P. Henry. P. Henry. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lan. cafter, to my brother John. This to my lord of Weftmorland; go, Peto, to horfe; for thou and I have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. Jack, meet me tomorrow in the Temple-Hall at two o'clock in the afternoon, there fhalt thou know thy charge, and there receive mony and order for their furniture. The Land is burning, Percy ftands on high; Fal. Rare words! brave world! hoftefs, my break fast, come: Oh, I could wish, this tavern were my drum! [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, and Dowglas. HOT-SPUR. WELL faid, my noble Scot, if speaking truth, In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Such attribution fhould the Dowglas have, The tongues of foothers. But a braver place f 2 Enter Enter a Meffenger. Hot. Do, and 'tis well What letters haft thou there? 1 can but thank you. Mell. Thefe come from your father. Hot. Letters from him? why comes he not himself? 1 [mind! • Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I. Hot. His War. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Meff. He did, my lord, four days ere I fet forth: And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his phyficians. Wor. I would, the ftate of time had firft been whole, Ere he by fickness had been vifited; His health was never better worth than now. Hot. Sick now? droop now? this fickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprize; 'Tis catching hither, even to our Camp. Could not fo foon be drawn: nor thought he meet 1 Meff. His letters bear bis mind, not I his mind.] The line fhould be read and divided thus, Meff. His letters bear his mind, not I. Hot. His mind! |