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I will to dinner.

Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad.

Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Hot. Why, so can I; or so can any man : But will they come, when you do call for them? Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command The devil.

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil.If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence. O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. Mort. Come, coine,

No more of this unprofitable chat.
Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke

made head

Against my power: thrice from the banks of Wye, And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him, Bootless home, and weather-beaten back.

Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too!

How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? Glend. Come, here's the map; Shall we divide our right,

According to our three-fold order ta'en?

Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally:
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east, is to my part assign'd:
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower :-and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn:
Which being sealed interchangeably,
(A business that this night may execute,)
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,

And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father, and the Scottish power,'
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:
Within that space, [To Glend.] you may have
drawn together

Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.
Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords,
And in my conduct shall your ladies come:
From whom you now must steal, and take no leave;
For there will be a world of water shed,
Upon the parting of your wives and you.

4

Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton here,

In quantity equals not one of yours:
See, how this river comes me cranking in,
And cuts me, from the best of all my land,
A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle' out.
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run,
In a new channel, fair and evenly:

It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

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Let me not understand you then,

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you; For I was train'd up in the English court: Where, being but young, I framed to the harp Many an English ditty, lovely well,

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And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;
A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hol. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart,
had rather be a kitten, and cry-mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers:
I had rather hear a brazen canstick' turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry;
'Tis like the forc'd gate of a shuffling nag.

Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.
Hot. I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land
To any well-deserving friend;

But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by night:

I'll haste the writer, and, withal,

Break with your wives of your departure hence:
I am afraid, my daughter will run med,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my
father!

[Erit.

Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes 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 finless fish, A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven, A couching lion, and a ramping cat, And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,He held me, but last night, at least nine hours In reckoning up the several devils' names, That were his lackeys: I cried, humph,-and well,-go to,

But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;

Worse than a smoky house:-I had rather live
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates," and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments; 12 valiant as a lion,
And wond'rous affable; and as bountiful

Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you see, it As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?

doth.

Mort. Yea,

He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,

But mark, how he bears his course, and runs When you do cross his humour; faith, he does:

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And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,
(And that's the dearest grace it renders you,)
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain:
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be
your speed!

Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.
Re-enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me,-
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.

Glend. My daughter weeps; she will not part with you,

She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.

Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands
Welsh ;

And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous.
By'r lady, he's a good musician.

Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish.

Lady P. Would'st thou have thy head broken?
Hot. No.

Lady P. Then be still.

Hol. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.
Lady P. Now God help thee!

Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.
Lady P. What's that?
Hot. Peace! she sings.

A Welsh SONG sung by Lady M.

Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
Lady. P. Not mine, in good sooth.

Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear

Mort. Good father, tell her,-that she, and my like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good sooth;

aunt Percy,

Shall follow in your conduct' speedily.

[Glendower speaks to his daughter in Welsh,

and she answers him in the same.

Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish will'd harlotry,

One no persuasion can do good upon.

and, As true as I live; and, As God shall mend And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, me; and, As sure as day: self-As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art,

A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth, [Lady M. speaks to Mortimer in Welsh. And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh To velvet-guards, and Sunday-citizens. Which thou pourest down from these swelling Come, sing.

heavens,

I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,
In such a parley would I answer thee.

[Lady M. speaks.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division to her lute.

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
Lady M. speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
Glend. She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her
sing:

By that time will our book,' I think, be drawn.
Glend. Do so;

And those musicians that shall play to you,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
Yet straight they shall be here; sit, and attend.
Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down:
Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy
lap.

Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.

с

Lady P. I will not sing.

Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red-
breast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll
away within these two hours; and so come in when
ye will.
[Exit.
Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as
slow,

As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.
By this our book's drawn: we'll but scal, and then
To horse immediately.
With all my heart. [Exe.

Mort.

SCENE II.-London. A room in the palace. En-
ter King Henry, Prince of Wales, and Lords.

K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the prince of
Wales and I

Must have some conference: But be near at hand,
For we shall presently have need of you.-

[Exeunt Lords.

I know not whether God will have it so,
For some displeasing service I have done,
That in his secret doom out of my blood
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me;
But thou dost in thy passages of life,
Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate, and low desires,
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at.
tempts,"

Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?

P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would I could

Glendower speaks some Welsh words, and then the Quit all offences with as clear excuse,

music plays.

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As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge

(4) Hound. (5) In Moorfields.
(6) Laced velvet, the finery of cockneys,
(7) Unworthy undertakings,

Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of inany tales devis'd,

Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,
For all the world,

Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,Be more myself.
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers,

I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,

Find pardon on my true submission.

K. Hen. God pardon thee !-yet let me wonder,
Harry,

men,

At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of ail thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood:
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does forc-think thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of
So stale and cheap to vulgar company;
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;2
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:
That men would tell their children, This is he:
Others would say,-Where? which is Bolingbroke?
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility,

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin' wits,
Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with capering fools;

Had his great name profaned with their scorns;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative:
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:

That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey; and began

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as a cuckoo is in June,

Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspéct
As cloudy men use to their adversaries;
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;

(1) Officious parasites.

(2) True to him that had then possession of the crown,

K. Hen.

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 ;
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm;
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas; whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions, and great name in arins,
Holds from all soldiers chief majority,
And military title capital,

Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ?
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomfitted 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, Mor
timer,

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 degenerate thou art.

P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so;
And God forgive them, that have so much 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;
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favours in a bloody mask,

Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet:
For every honour sitting on his helm,

Would they were multitudes; and on my head
Mv shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of life cancels all bands ;'

(3) Brushwood. (4) Rival. (5) Possessed.
(6) Armour, (7) Combine. (8) Most fatal,
(9) Bonds,

And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel' of this vow.
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this :-
Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein.
Enter Blunt.

ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! 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 to 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!

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.
Blunt. So hath the business that I come
speak of.

Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,-
That Douglas, and the English rebels, met,
The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,

As ever offer'd foul play in a state.

K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth
to-day:

With him my son, lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement is five days old :-
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set
Forward; on Thursday, we ourselves will march:
Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you
Shall march through Glostershire; by which ac-
count,

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 pick'd my pocket?

Host. Why, sir John! what do you think, sir John? Do you think I keep 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.

Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business: let's away;
Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. [Exe.
SCENE III-Eastcheap. A room in the Boar's
Host. No, sir John; you do not know me, sir
Head Tavern. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.
John: I know you, sir John: you owe me money,
Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me
this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.
Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them
loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters
Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in of them.

some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of
then I shall have no strength to repent. An Thave eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides,
not forgotten what the inside of a church is made sir John, for your diet, and by drinkings, and
of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse: the inside money lent you, four and twenty pound.
of a church! Company, villanous company, hath
been the spoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

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? let them coin his nose, let them coin his Fal. Why, there is it :-come, sing me a bawdy checks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have little; diced, not above seven times a week; went lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter-mark. of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell him, four times; lived well, and in good compass: and I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. now I live out of all order, out of all compass. Fal. How! the prince is a Jack,' a sneak-cup; Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that you and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a must needs be out of all compass; out of all rea- dog, if he would say so. sonable compass, sir John.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral,' thou bearest 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. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an

(1) Part. (2) Intelligence. (3) Feeds himseif, (4) Have some flesh." (5) Admiral's ship.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins, marching. Falstaff meets the Prince, playing on his truncheon like a fife.

Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i'faith? must we al! march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly " How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.

Host. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house,

(6) In the story-book of Reynard the Fox, (7) A term of contempt frequently used by Shakspeare,

SE

402

FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.

is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets.
P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack?
Fal. Wilt thou believe inc, Hal? three or four
bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my
grandfather's.

P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.
Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I
heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks
most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he
s; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Hen. What! he did not?

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womannood in me else.

P. Hen. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian' may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go."

Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?
Fal. What beast? why, an otter.

P. Hen. An otter, sir John? why an otter?
Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man
knows not where to have her.

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!

P. Hen. Thou savest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.

Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound.

P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hai? a miltion: thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?

Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so.

Fal. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper.

P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as

good as thy word now?

poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.-You confess then, you picked my pocket?

P. Hen. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.-Still?

Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad,— How is that answered?

P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:-The money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; laud them, I praise them.

P. Hen. Bardolph-
Bard. My lord.

I

P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of
Lancaster,

My brother John; this to my lord of Westmore-
land.-

Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I,
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time.-
Jack,

Meet me to morrow i'the Temple hall,
At two o'clock i'the afternoon:

There shalt thou know thy charge; and there
receive

Money, and order for their furniture.
The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. Fal. Rare words! brave world!--Hostess, my breakfast, come:—

Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but 0, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Eril.

man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God, my girdle break!

ACT IV.

SCENE 1.-The rebel camp, near Shrewsbury. Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth, faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine: it is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an In this fine age, were not thought flattery, honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou Such attribution should the Douglas' have, whoreso impudent, embossed rascal, if there As not a soldier of this season's stamp were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, Should go so general current through the world. memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy penny-worth of sugar-candy, to make thee long- The tongues of soothers; but a braver place winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself: other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord. you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed?

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should

(1) A man dressed like a woman, who attends morris-dancers.

(2) Swoln, puffy,

Doug. Thou art the king of honour:
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard' him.
Hot.

Do so, and 'tis well :

(3) This expression is applied by way of preeminence to the head of the Douglas family. (4) Disdain. (5) Meet him face to face.

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