Ful. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. An the prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring: there's no more valour in that Poins than in a wild duck.

P. Hen. Your money. [Rushing out upon them. Poins. Villains.

[As they are sharing, the PRINCE and POINS set upon them; they all run away; and FALSTAFF, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.] P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily

Enter Hotspur, reading a letler.

'But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.'-He could be contented,-Why is he not then? In respect of the love he bears our house:-he shews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous;'-Why, that's certain; 't is dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink: but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named uncertain; the time

a True men. See narrative of robberies at Gadshill (Illustrations to Act I.).

b Falstaff staying behind after the rest have run away, and giving a blow or two, is clearly not represented as an absolute coward.

itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.'Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation: an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself? lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are they not, some of them, set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! Let him tell the king: We are prepared: I will set forward to-night.

Enter Lady PERCY.

How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two hours.

Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus

alone?

For what offence have I, this fortnight, been
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from
thee

Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth;
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy
cheeks;

And given my treasures, and my rights of thee,
To thick-ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars:
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
Cry, Courage!-to the field! And thou hast
talk'd

Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin; 6
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the current of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream:
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents
are these?

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet
gone?

Hot.

That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight: Esperancé !a.
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
[Erit Servant.

Lady. But hear you, my lord.
Hot. What say'st thou, my lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
Lady. Out you mad-headed ape!

A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
As you are toss'd with. In sooth

I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title; and hath sent for you,
To line his enterprise: But if you go-

e

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me Directly to this question that I shall ask. In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. Hot. Away,

Away, you trifler!-Love ?—I love thee not,

& Current. So the folio. Some editions read 'currents, for occurrents, occurrences. But surely "the current of a heady fight," the course, the rush, presents no difficulty. b Haste. So the folio and several quartos; the first quarto, hest.

c Ago. So the quartos. The folio agone, which makes an unpleasant jingle with the gone of the preceding line.

d Esperance. This is the motto of the Percy family. Hotspur pictures himself on his roan,-his throne-and leading on his inen with the family war-cry. The passage is generally printed O Esperance; but not so in the old editions. Esperancé is here a word of four syllables, as in the second scene of the fourth Act;-Shakspere knowing that in French metre the e final always forms a syllable.

e Shall ask. So the folio. Several of the quartos omit shall.

Well, do not then; for, since you love me not, I will not love myself. Do you not love me? Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no.

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a horseback, I will swear I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; I must not have you henceforth question me Whither I go, nor reason whereabout: Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude, This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. I know you wise; but yet no further wise Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are, But yet a woman: and for secresy, No lady closer; for I will believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate! Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you,
Kate:

Whither I go thither shall you go too;
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.—
Will this content you, Kate?
Lady.

It must of force. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern.7

Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS.

P. Hen. Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Poins. Where hast been, Hal?

P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by their christian names, as -Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy ; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff; but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and when I am king of England, I shall command

Mammets-puppets.

all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drink. ing deep, dying scarlet: and when you breathe in your watering, they cry-hem! and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour that thou wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned,-to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now into my hand by an under-skinker; one that never spake other English in his life, than-Eight shillings and sixpence, and You are welcome; with this shrill addition,-Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away time till Falstaff come, I prithee do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but-anon. Step aside, and I'll shew thee a precedent. Poins. Francis !

P. Hen. Thou art perfect.

Poins. Francis!

[Exit POINS.

Enter FRANCIS.

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.-Look down into the Pomegranate, Ralph.

P. Hen. Come hither, Francis.

Fran. My lord.

P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis? Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to

Poins. [Within.] Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. Five years! by 'rlady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, and shew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?

Fran. O lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in England I could find in my heartPoins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis?

Fran. Let me see,-About Michaelmas next I shall be-

Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, sir.-Pray you stay a little, my

lord.

Breathe in your watering. To take breath when you are drinking. To water was a common word for, to drink, as we still say to water a horse. Some mechanics have still their watering time in the afternoon.

Pennyworth of sugar-to sweeten the wine. (See Illustrations to Act 1.)

P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is-up-stairs, and down-stairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife,-'Fye upon this quiet life! I want work.' 'O my sweet Harry,' says she, 'how many hast thou killed to-day?' 'Give my roan horse a drench,' says he; and answers, 'Some fourteen'-an hour after; a trifle, a trifle.' I prithee, call in Falstaff: I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer his wife. Rico says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.

Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO.

Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?

Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and amen!-Give me a cup of sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether-stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!—Give me a cup of sack, rogue.-Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks.

P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter (pitiful-hearted Titan) that melted at the sweet tale of the sun? If thou didst, then behold that compound.b

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too. There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man : Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it: a villainous coward. -Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old:

a Pupil age-the yeang time of this present midnight, contrasted with the old days of goodman Adam. Bacon, on the contrary, makes the present time the old days, and the days of Adam the pupil age, of the world.

b Didst thou never see Titan, &c. We have three mortal pages of commentary on this passage in the variorum editions. We adopt Warburton's reading, which appears to present no difficulty: "Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter that melted at the sweet tale of the sun.' "Pitiful hearted Titan" is parenthetical. The first quarto reads "at the sweet tale of the son's "--the folio "of the sun." Falstaff is the compound," that looks like a dish of butter in the sun.

God help the while! a bad world, I say! 1 would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing: A plague of all cowards, I say still. P. Hen. How now, woolsack? what mutter you?

Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath," and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You prince of Wales!

P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that; and Poins there?

Poins. 'Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me. Give me a cup of sack:-I am a rogue if I drunk to-day.

P. Hen. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last.

Ful. All's one for that. A plague on all cowards, still say I. [He drinks.

P. Hen. What's the matter? Ful. What's the matter? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it? Fal. Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four us.

P. Hen. What, a hundred, man?

Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards!-Let them speak: if they speak more or less than truth they are villains, and the sons of darkness.

P. Hen. Speak, sirs; how was it?
Gads. We four set upon some dozen,—

a This is the reading of the early quartos. The corrections in the folio make a large concession to a more decorous system of morals, which some deemed puritanical. For example, in this passage we have "all manner of songs."

Dagger of lath. The Vice in the old Moralities was thus armed, as described in Twelfth Night. The modern Harlequin, who is the lineal descendant of the Vice, retains the lath.

Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord.

Gads. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us,

Ful. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.

P. Hen. What, fought he with them all?

Fal. All? I know not what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged

creature.

P. Hen. Pray Heaven you have not murdered some of them."

Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: I have peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid: two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal,-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward; - here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me,

P. Hen. What, four? thou said'st but two,

even now.

Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four.

Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

P. Hen. Seven? why there were but four,

even now.

Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. P. Hen. Prithee, let him alone; we shall have

more anon.

Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. Ha. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
Ful. Do so, for it is worth the listening to.
These nine in buckram, that I told thee of,--
P. Hen. So, two more already.

Fal. Their points being broken,-
Poins. Down fell their hose.

Fal. Began to give me ground: But I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid.

P. Hen. O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at

b

my back, and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Ilal, that thou could'st not see thy hand.

P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-pated fool: thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-ketch,"

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

P. Hen. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand? come tell us your reason; what sayest thou to this?

Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, L.

P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh;

Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish, -O, for breath to utter what is like thee!—you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck;

P. Hen. Well, breathe a while, and then to it again and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.

Poins. Mark, Jack.

P. Ien. We two saw you four set on four, and bound them, and were masters of their wealth.-Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four: and, with a word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house--and, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou to hack thy sword as thou hast done; and then say, it was in fight! What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?

Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; What trick hast thou now?

a Ketch. All the old copies read catch. A ketch is a tub -a cask; a tallow-cask is no unapt comparison for Falstaff. Some editions read keech, and Dr. Percy says that a keech of tallow is the fat of an ox rolled up in a luinp. Catch and ketch appear to have been formerly spelt the same. Our musical catch is ketch in Beaumont and Fletcher. Ketch and cask are each derived from the French caisse.

191