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But is a-weary of thy common sight,
P. Hen. I shall, hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord, Be more myself.
R. Hen. For all the world, As thou art to this hour, was Richard then, When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg; And even as I was then, is Percy now. Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot, He hath more worthy interest to the state, Than thou, the shadow of succession. What never-dying honour hath he got Against renowned Douglas ! Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathing clothes, This infant warrior, in his enterprises Discomfited great Douglas; ta'en him once, Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, To fill the mouth of deep defiance up, And shake the peace and safety of our throne. And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The archbishop’s grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, Capitulate against us, and are up. But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, Which art my near'st and dearest enemy? Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, Base inclination, and the start of spleen, To fight against me under Percy's pay, To dog his heels, and court’sy at his frowns, To show how much thou art degenerate.
P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so: And Heaven forgive them that so much have sway'd Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! I will redeem all this on Percy's head, And in the closing of some glorious day, Be bold to tell you, that I am your son ;
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
Enter SIR WALTER BLust.
How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.
On Wednesday next, my Harry, you shall set
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDolph,
Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate do I not dwindle?— Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-JohnWell, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of I am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse.—The inside of a church 1–Company, villanous company, hath been the spoil of me.
Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.
Fal. Why, there it is:—come, sing me a song; make me merry, I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore little; diced, not above seven times a week; went to a bordello, not above once in a quarter—of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass. - Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, Sir John. Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I’ll amend my life : thou art our admiral—thou bear'st the lantern in the poop,--but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp. Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I’ll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori; I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning—When thou ran'st up Gads Hill in the night, to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wild-fire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire light l—Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches,
walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and
tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven reward me for it! Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned. Enter HosTEss. How now, dame Partlet the hen? have you inquired yet who picked my pocket 2 Host. Why, Sir John what do you think, Sir John? Do you think Lkeep thieves in my house?— I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. Fal. You lie, Hostess: Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked : go to, you are a woman, go.
Host. Who I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before. Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. Host. No, Sir John ; you do not know me, Sir John ; I know you, Sir John : you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it; I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back, Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolsters of them. Host. Now, as I am a true woman, Holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings; and money lent you, four and twenty pounds. Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. Host. He! alas, he is poor; he hath nothing, Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; what call you rich 2 let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I’ll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark. Host. O, I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper. Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.
Enter HENRY PRINCE of WALEs, playing on his Truncheon, like a Fife, and FALst AFF meets him.
How now, lad, is the wind in that door, i'faith?-