Original text Act I, Scene I Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.
L.Bar.
Who keepes the Gate heere hoa?
Where is the Earle?
Por.
What shall I say you are?
Bar.
Tell thou the Earle
That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him heere.
Por.
His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard,
Please it your Honor, knocke but at the Gate,
And he himselfe will answer.
Enter Northumberland.
L.Bar.
Heere comes the Earle.
Nor.
What newes Lord Bardolfe? Eu'ry minute now
Should be the Father of some Stratagem;
The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse
Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose,
And beares downe all before him.
L.Bar.
Noble Earle,
I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury.
Nor.
Good, and heauen will.
L.Bar.
As good as heart can wish:
The King is almost wounded to the death:
And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,
Prince Harrie slaine out-right: and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Yong Prince Iohn,
And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.
And Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir Iohn)
Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day,
(So fought, so follow'd, and so fairely wonne)
Came not, till now, to dignifie the Times
Since Caesars Fortunes.
Nor.
How is this deriu'd?
Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
L.Bar.
I spake with one (my L.) that came frõ thence,
A Gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely render'd me these newes for true.
Enter Trauers.
Nor.
Heere comes my Seruant Trauers, whom I sent
On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes.
L.Bar.
My Lord, I ouer-rod him on the way,
And he is furnish'd with no certainties,
More then he (haply) may retaile from me.
Nor.
Now Trauers, what good tidings comes frõ you?
Tra.
My Lord, Sir Iohn Vmfreuill turn'd me backe
With ioyfull tydings; and (being better hors'd)
Out-rod me. After him, came spurring head
A Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed)
That stopp'd by me, to breath his bloodied horse.
He ask'd the way to Chester: And of him
I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury:
He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke,
And that yong Harry Percies Spurre was cold.
With that he gaue his able Horse the head,
And bending forwards strooke his able heeles
Against the panting sides of his poore Iade
Vp to the Rowell head, and starting so,
He seem'd in running, to deuoure the way,
Staying no longer question.
North.
Ha? Againe:
Said he yong Harrie Percyes Spurre was cold?
(Of Hot-Spurre, cold-Spurre?) that Rebellion,
Had met ill lucke?
L.Bar.
My Lord: Ile tell you what,
If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day,
Vpon mine Honor, for a silken point
Ile giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it.
Nor.
Why should the Gentleman that rode by Trauers
Giue then such instances of Losse?
L.Bar.
Who, he?
He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolne
The Horse he rode-on: and vpon my life
Speake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes.
Enter Morton.
Nor.
Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title-leafe,
Fore-tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume:
So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood
Hath left a witnest Vsurpation.
Say Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor.
I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)
Where hatefull death put on his vgliest Maske
To fright our party.
North.
How doth my Sonne, and Brother?
Thou trembl'st; and the whitenesse in thy Cheeke
Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.
Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse,
So dull, so dead in looke, so woe-be-gone,
Drew Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night,
And would haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd.
But Priam found the Fire, ere he his Tongue:
And I, my Percies death, ere thou report'st it.
This, thou would'st say: Your Sonne did thus, and thus:
Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble Dowglas,
Stopping my greedy eare, with their bold deeds.
But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed)
Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise,
Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead.
Mor.
Dowglas is liuing, and your Brother, yet:
But for my Lord, your Sonne.
North.
Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue Suspition hath:
He that but feares the thing, he would not know,
Hath by Instinct, knowledge from others Eyes,
That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake (Morton)
Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies,
And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace,
And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong.
Mor.
You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid:
Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine.
North.
Yet for all this, say not that Percies dead.
I see a strange Confession in thine Eye:
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne,
To speake a truth. If he be slaine, say so:
The Tongue offends not, that reports his death:
And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead:
Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue:
Yet the first bringer of vnwelcome Newes
Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue,
Sounds euer after as a sullen Bell
Remembred, knolling a departing Friend.
L.Bar.
I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead.
Mor.
I am sorry, I should force you to beleeue
That, which I would to heauen, I had not seene.
But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd)
To Henrie Monmouth, whose swift wrath beate downe
The neuer-daunted Percie to the earth,
From whence (with life) he neuer more sprung vp.
In few; his death (whose spirit lent a fire,
Euen to the dullest Peazant in his Campe)
Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate away
From the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes.
For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd;
Which once, in him abated, all the rest
Turn'd on themselues, like dull and heauy Lead:
And as the Thing, that's heauy in it selfe,
Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speede,
So did our Men, heauy in Hotspurres losse,
Lend to this weight, such lightnesse with their Feare,
That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their ayme,
Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety)
Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Worcester
Too soone ta'ne prisoner: and that furious Scot,
(The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slaine th' appearance of the King,
Gan vaile his stomacke, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backes: and in his flight,
Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The summe of all,
Is, that the King hath wonne: and hath sent out
A speedy power, to encounter you my Lord,
Vnder the Conduct of yong Lancaster
And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full.
North.
For this, I shall haue time enough to mourne.
In Poyson, there is Physicke: and this newes
(Hauing beene well) that would haue made me sicke,
Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well.
And as the Wretch, whose Feauer-weakned ioynts,
Like strengthlesse Hindges, buckle vnder life,
Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fire
Out of his keepers armes: Euen so, my Limbes
(Weak'ned with greefe) being now inrag'd with greefe,
Are thrice themselues. Hence therefore thou nice crutch,
A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of Steele
Must gloue this hand. And hence thou sickly Quoife,
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest, ayme to hit.
Now binde my Browes with Iron and approach
The ragged'st houre, that Time and Spight dare bring
To frowne vpon th' enrag'd Northumberland.
Let Heauen kisse Earth: now let not Natures hand
Keepe the wilde Flood confin'd: Let Order dye,
And let the world no longer be a stage
To feede Contention in a ling'ring Act:
But let one spirit of the First-borne Caine
Reigne in all bosomes, that each heart being set
On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end,
And darknesse be the burier of the dead.
L.Bar.
Mor.
Sweet Earle, diuorce not wisedom from your Honor.
The liues of all your louing Complices
Leane-on your health, the which if you giue-o're
To stormy Passion, must perforce decay.
You cast th' euent of Warre (my Noble Lord)
And summ'd the accompt of Chance, before you said
Let vs make head: It was your presurmize,
That in the dole of blowes, your Son might drop.
You knew he walk'd o're perils, on an edge
More likely to fall in, then to get o're:
You were aduis'd his flesh was capeable
Of Wounds, and Scarres; and that his forward Spirit
Would lift him, where most trade of danger rang'd,
Yet did you say go forth: and none of this
(Though strongly apprehended) could restraine
The stiffe-borne Action: What hath then befalne?
Or what hath this bold enterprize bring forth,
More then that Being, which was like to be?
L.Bar.
We all that are engaged to this losse,
Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous Seas,
That if we wrought out life, was ten to one:
And yet we ventur'd for the gaine propos'd,
Choak'd the respect of likely perill fear'd,
And since we are o're-set, venture againe.
Come, we will all put forth; Body, and Goods,
Mor.
'Tis more then time: And (my most Noble Lord)
I heare for certaine, and do speake the truth:
The gentle Arch-bishop of Yorke is vp
With well appointed Powres: he is a man
Who with a double Surety bindes his Followers.
My Lord (your Sonne) had onely but the Corpes,
But shadowes, and the shewes of men to fight.
For that same word (Rebellion) did diuide
The action of their bodies, from their soules,
And they did fight with queasinesse, constrain'd
As men drinke Potions; that their Weapons only
Seem'd on our side: but for their Spirits and Soules,
This word (Rebellion) it had froze them vp,
As Fish are in a Pond. But now the Bishop
Turnes Insurrection to Religion,
Suppos'd sincere, and holy in his Thoughts:
He's follow'd both with Body, and with Minde:
And doth enlarge his Rising, with the blood
Of faire King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones,
Deriues from heauen, his Quarrell, and his Cause:
Tels them, he doth bestride a bleeding Land,
Gasping for life, vnder great Bullingbrooke,
And more, and lesse, do flocke to follow him.
North.
I knew of this before. But to speake truth,
This present greefe had wip'd it from my minde.
Go in with me, and councell euery man
The aptest way for safety, and reuenge:
Get Posts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed,
Neuer so few, nor neuer yet more need.
Exeunt.
Original text Act I, Scene II Enter Falstaffe, and Page.
Fal.
Sirra, you giant, what saies the Doct. to my
water?
Pag.
He said sir, the water it selfe was a good healthy
water: but for the party that ow'd it, he might haue
more diseases then he knew for.
Fal.
Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at mee: the
braine of this foolish compounded Clay-man, is not able
to inuent any thing that tends to laughter, more then I
inuent, or is inuented on me. I am not onely witty in
my selfe, but the cause that wit is in other men. I doe heere
walke before thee, like a Sow, that hath o'rewhelm'd all
her Litter, but one. If the Prince put thee into my Seruice
for any other reason, then to set mee off, why then I haue
no iudgement. Thou horson Mandrake, thou art
fitter to be worne in my cap, then to wait at my heeles. I
was neuer mann'd with an Agot till now: but I will sette
you neyther in Gold, nor Siluer, but in vilde apparell, and
send you backe againe to your Master, for a Iewell. The
Iuuenall (the Prince your Master) whose Chin is not yet
fledg'd, I will sooner haue a beard grow in the Palme of
my hand, then he shall get one on his cheeke: yet he
will not sticke to say, his Face is a Face-Royall. Heauen may
finish it when he will, it is not a haire amisse yet: he may
keepe it still at a Face-Royall, for a Barber shall neuer earne
six pence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had
writ man euer since his Father was a Batchellour. He may
keepe his owne Grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can
assure him. What said M. Dombledon, about the
Satten for my short Cloake, and Slops?
Pag.
He said sir, you should procure him better Assurance,
then Bardolfe: he wold not take his Bond &
yours, he lik'd not the Security.
Fal.
Let him bee damn'd like the Glutton,
may his Tongue be hotter, a horson Achitophel; a
Rascally-yea-forsooth-knaue, to beare a Gentleman in hand,
and then stand vpon Security? The horson smooth-
pates doe now weare nothing but high shoes, and bunches
of Keyes at their girdles: and if a man is through with
them in honest Taking-vp, then they must stand vpon
Securitie: I had as liefe they would put Rats-bane in my
mouth, as offer to stoppe it with Security. I look'd hee should haue
sent me two and twenty yards of Satten (as I am true
Knight) and he sends me Security. Well, he may
sleep in Security, for he hath the horne of Abundance: and
the lightnesse of his Wife shines through it, and yet
cannot he see, though he haue his owne Lanthorne to light
him. Where's Bardolfe?
Pag.
He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a
horse.
Fal.
I bought him in Paules, and hee'l buy mee a
horse in Smithfield. If I could get mee a wife in the
Stewes, I were Mann'd, Hors'd, and Wiu'd.
Enter Chiefe Iustice, and Seruant.
Pag.
Sir, heere comes the Nobleman that committed the
Prince for striking him, about Bardolfe.
Fal.
Wait close, I will not see him.
Ch.Iust.
What's he that goes there?
Ser.
Falstaffe, and't please your Lordship.
Iust.
He that was in question for the
Robbery?
Ser.
He my Lord, but he hath since done good
seruice at Shrewsbury: and (as I heare) is now going with
some Charge, to the Lord Iohn of Lancaster.
Iust.
What to Yorke? Call him backe
againe.
Ser.
Sir Iohn Falstaffe.
Fal.
Boy, tell him, I am deafe.
Pag.
You must speake lowder, my Master is deafe.
Iust.
I am sure he is, to the hearing of
any thing good. Go plucke him by the Elbow, I must
speake with him.
Ser.
Sir Iohn.
Fal.
What? a yong knaue and beg? Is there
not wars? Is there not imployment? Doth not the K.
lack subiects? Do not the Rebels want Soldiers? Though
it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame
to begge, then to be on the worst side, were it worse then
the name of Rebellion can tell how to make it.
Ser.
You mistake me Sir.
Fal.
Why sir? Did I say you were an honest man?
Setting my Knight-hood, and my Souldiership aside, I had
lyed in my throat, if I had said so.
Ser.
I pray you (Sir) then set your Knighthood and
your Souldier-ship aside, and giue mee leaue to tell you, you
lye in your throat, if you say I am any other then an
honest man.
Fal.
I giue thee leaue to tell me so? I lay a-side that
which growes to me? If thou get'st any leaue of me,
hang me: if thou tak'st leaue, thou wer't better be
hang'd: you Hunt-counter, hence: Auant.
Ser.
Sir, my Lord would speake with you.
Iust.
Sir Iohn Falstaffe, a word with
you.
Fal.
My good Lord: giue your Lordship good
time of the day. I am glad to see your Lordship abroad: I
heard say your Lordship was sicke. I hope your Lordship
goes abroad by aduise. Your Lordship (though not clean
past your youth) hath yet some smack of age in you:
some rellish of the saltnesse of Time, and I most humbly
beseech your Lordship, to haue a reuerend care of your
health.
Iust.
Sir Iohn, I sent you before
your Expedition, to Shrewsburie.
Fal.
If it please your Lordship, I heare his Maiestie
is return'd with some discomfort from Wales.
Iust.
I talke not of his Maiesty: you
would not come when I sent for you?
Fal.
And I heare moreouer, his Highnesse is falne
into this same whorson Apoplexie.
Iust.
Well, heauen mend him. I pray
let me speak with you.
Fal.
This Apoplexie is (as I take it) a kind of
Lethargie, a sleeping of
the blood, a horson Tingling.
Iust.
What tell you me of it? be it as
it is.
Fal.
It hath it originall from much greefe; from study
and perturbation of the braine. I haue read the cause of
his effects in Galen. It is a kinde of deafenesse.
Iust.
I thinke you are falne into the
disease: For you heare not what I say to you.
Fal.
Very well (my Lord) very well: rather an't
please you) it is the disease of not Listning, the malady
of not Marking, that I am troubled withall.
Iust.
To punish you by the heeles,
would amend the attention of your eares, & I care not
if I be your Physitian
Fal.
I am as poore as Iob, my Lord; but not so
Patient: your Lordship may minister the Potion of
imprisonment to me, in respect of Pouertie: but how I
should bee your Patient, to follow your prescriptions, the
wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeede, a
scruple it selfe.
Iust.
I sent for you (when there were
matters against you for your life) to come speake with me.
Fal.
As I was then aduised by my learned Councel,
in the lawes of this Land-seruice, I did not come.
Iust.
Wel, the truth is (sir Iohn) you
liue in great infamy
Fal.
He that buckles him in my belt, cãnot liue
in lesse.
Iust.
Your Meanes is very slender, and
your wast great.
Fal.
I would it were otherwise: I would my Meanes
were greater, and my waste slenderer.
Iust.
You haue misled the youthfull
Prince.
Fal.
The yong Prince hath misled mee. I am the
Fellow with the great belly, and he my Dogge.
Iust.
Well, I am loth to gall a new-
heal'd wound: your daies seruice at Shrewsbury, hath a
little gilded ouer your Nights exploit on Gads-hill. You
may thanke the vnquiet time, for your quiet o're-posting
that Action.
Fal.
My Lord?
Iust.
But since all is wel, keep it so:
wake not a sleeping Wolfe.
Fal.
To wake a Wolfe, is as bad as to smell a Fox.
Iu.
What? you are as a candle, the
better part burnt out
Fal.
A Wassell-Candle, my Lord; all Tallow: if I did
say of wax, my growth would approue the truth.
Iust.
There is not a white haire on your
face, but shold haue his effect of grauity.
Fal.
His effect of grauy, grauy, grauy.
Iust.
You follow the yong Prince vp
and downe, like his euill Angell.
Fal.
Not so (my Lord) your ill Angell is light: but I
hope, he that lookes vpon mee, will take mee without,
weighing: and yet, in some respects I grant, I cannot
go: I cannot tell. Vertue is of so little regard in these
Costor-mongers, that true valor is turn'd Beare-heard.
Pregnancie is made a Tapster, and hath his quicke wit
wasted in giuing Recknings: all the other gifts appertinent
to man (as the malice of this Age shapes them) are
not woorth a Gooseberry. You that are old, consider not
the capacities of vs that are yong: you measure the
heat of our Liuers, with the bitternes of your gals: &
we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confesse,
are wagges too.
Iust.
Do you set downe your name in
the scrowle of youth, that are written downe old, with all
the Charracters of age? Haue you not a moist eye? a dry
hand? a yellow cheeke? a white beard? a decreasing leg?
an incresing belly? Is not your voice broken? your winde
short? your wit single? and euery part
about you blasted with Antiquity? and wil you cal
your selfe yong? Fy, fy, fy, sir Iohn.
Fal.
My Lord, I was borne
with a white head, & somthing a
round belly. For my voice, I haue lost it with hallowing
and singing of Anthemes. To approue my youth farther,
I will not: the truth is, I am onely olde in iudgement and
vnderstanding: and he that will caper with mee for a
thousand Markes, let him lend me the mony, & haue
at him. For the boxe of th' eare that the Prince gaue you,
he gaue it like a rude Prince, and you tooke it like a
sensible Lord. I haue checkt him for it, and the yong
Lion repents: Marry not in ashes and sacke-cloath,
but in new Silke, and old Sacke.
Iust.
Wel, heauen send the Prince
a better companion.
Fal.
Heauen send the Companion a better Prince: I
cannot rid my hands of him.
Iust.
Well, the King hath seuer'd you
and Prince Harry, I heare you are going with Lord Iohn
of Lancaster, against the Archbishop, and the Earle of
Northumberland
Fal.
Yes, I thanke your pretty sweet wit for it: but
looke you pray, (all you that kisse my Ladie Peace, at home)
that our Armies ioyn not in a hot day: for
if I take but two shirts out with me, and I meane not to
sweat extraordinarily: if it bee a hot day, if I brandish
any thing but my Bottle, would I might neuer spit white
againe: There is not a daungerous Action can peepe out
his head, but I am thrust vpon it. Well, I cannot last
euer.
Iust.
Well, be honest, be honest, and
heauen blesse your Expedition.
Fal.
Will your Lordship lend mee a thousand pound,
to furnish me forth?
Iust.
Not a peny, not a peny: you
are too impatient to beare crosses. Fare you well. Commend
mee to my Cosin Westmerland.
Fal.
If I do, fillop me with a three-man-Beetle. A
man can no more separate Age and Couetousnesse, then he
can part yong limbes and letchery: but the Gowt galles the
one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the
Degrees preuent my curses. Boy?
Page.
Sir.
Fal.
What money is in my purse?
Page.
Seuen groats, and two pence.
Fal.
I can get no remedy against this Consumption of
the purse. Borrowing onely lingers, and lingers it out,
but the disease is incureable. Go beare this letter to my
Lord of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earle
of Westmerland, and this to old Mistris Vrsula, whome
I haue weekly sworne to marry, since I perceiu'd the first
white haire on my chin. About it: you know where to
finde me.
A pox of this Gowt, or a Gowt of this Poxe: for the one
or th' other playes the rogue with my great toe: It is no
matter, if I do halt, I haue the warres for my colour, and
my Pension shall seeme the more reasonable. A good wit
will make vse of any thing: I will turne diseases to
commodity.
Exeunt
Original text Act I, Scene III Enter Archbishop, Hastings, Mowbray,
and Lord Bardolfe
Ar.
Thus haue you heard our causes, & kno our Means:
And my most noble Friends, I pray you all
Speake plainly your opinions of our hopes,
And first (Lord Marshall) what say you to it?
Mow.
I well allow the occasion of our Armes,
But gladly would be better satisfied,
How (in our Meanes) we should aduance our selues
To looke with forhead bold and big enough
Vpon the Power and puisance of the King.
Hast.
Our present Musters grow vpon the File
To fiue and twenty thousand men of choice:
And our Supplies, liue largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosome burnes
With an incensed Fire of Iniuries.
L.Bar.
The question then (Lord Hastings) standeth thus
Whether our present fiue and twenty thousand
May hold-vp-head, without Northumberland:
Hast.
With him, we may.
L.Bar.
I marry, there's the point:
But if without him we be thought to feeble,
My iudgement is, we should not step too farre
Till we had his Assistance by the hand.
For in a Theame so bloody fac'd, as this,
Coniecture, Expectation, and Surmise
Of Aydes incertaine, should not be admitted.
Arch.
'Tis very true Lord Bardolfe, for indeed
It was yong Hotspurres case, at Shrewsbury.
L.Bar.
It was (my Lord) who lin'd himself with hope,
Eating the ayre, on promise of Supply,
Flatt'ring himselfe with Proiect of a power,
Much smaller, then the smallest of his Thoughts,
And so with great imagination
(Proper to mad men) led his Powers to death,
And (winking) leap'd into destruction.
Hast.
But (by your leaue) it neuer yet did hurt,
To lay downe likely-hoods, and formes of hope.
L.Bar.
Yes, if this present quality of warre,
Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot,
Liues so in hope: As in an early Spring,
We see th' appearing buds, which to proue fruite,
Hope giues not so much warrant, as Dispaire
That Frosts will bite them. When we meane to build,
We first suruey the Plot, then draw the Modell,
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the Erection,
Which if we finde out-weighes Ability,
What do we then, but draw a-new the Modell
In fewer offices? Or at least, desist
To builde at all? Much more, in this great worke,
(Which is (almost) to plucke a Kingdome downe,
And set another vp) should we suruey
The plot of Situation, and the Modell;
Consent vpon a sure Foundation:
Question Surueyors, know our owne estate,
How able such a Worke to vndergo,
To weigh against his Opposite? Or else,
We fortifie in Paper, and in Figures,
Vsing the Names of men, instead of men:
Like one, that drawes the Modell of a house
Beyond his power to builde it; who (halfe through)
Giues o're, and leaues his part-created Cost
A naked subiect to the Weeping Clouds,
And waste, for churlish Winters tyranny.
Hast.
Grant that our hopes (yet likely of faire byrth)
Should be still-borne: and that we now possest
The vtmost man of expectation:
I thinke we are a Body strong enough
(Euen as we are) to equall with the King.
L.Bar.
What is the King but fiue & twenty thousand?
Hast.
To vs no more: nay not so much Lord Bardolf.
For his diuisions (as the Times do braul)
Are in three Heads: one Power against the French,
And one against Glendower: Perforce a third
Must take vp vs: So is the vnfirme King
In three diuided: and his Coffers sound
With hollow Pouerty, and Emptinesse.
Ar.
That he should draw his seuerall strengths togither
And come against vs in full puissance
Need not be dreaded.
Hast.
If he should do so,
He leaues his backe vnarm'd, the French, and Welch
Baying him at the heeles: neuer feare that.
L.Bar.
Who is it like should lead his Forces hither?
Hast.
The Duke of Lancaster, and Westmerland:
Against the Welsh himselfe, and Harrie Monmouth.
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I haue no certaine notice.
Arch.
Let vs on:
And publish the occasion of our Armes.
The Common-wealth is sicke of their owne Choice,
Their ouer-greedy loue hath surfetted:
An habitation giddy, and vnsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond Many, with what loud applause
Did'st thou beate heauen with blessing Bullingbrooke,
Before he was, what thou would'st haue him be?
And being now trimm'd in thine owne desires,
Thou (beastly Feeder) art so full of him,
That thou prouok'st thy selfe to cast him vp.
So, so, (thou common Dogge) did'st thou disgorge
Thy glutton-bosome of the Royall Richard,
And now thou would'st eate thy dead vomit vp,
And howl'st to finde it. What trust is in these Times?
They, that when Richard liu'd, would haue him dye,
Are now become enamour'd on his graue.
Thou that threw'st dust vpon his goodly head
When through proud London he came sighing on,
After th' admired heeles of Bullingbrooke,
Cri'st now, O Earth, yeeld vs that King againe,
And take thou this (O thoughts of men accurs'd)
"Past, and to Come, seemes best; things Present, worst.
Mow.
Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on?
Hast.
We are Times subiects, and Time bids, be gon.
| Modern text Enter the Lord Bardolph at one door
LORD BARDOLPH
Who keeps the gate here, ho?
Enter the Porter
Where is the Earl?
PORTER
What shall I say you are?
LORD BARDOLPH
Tell thou the Earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
PORTER
His lordship is walked forth into the orchard.
Please it your honour knock but at the gate,
And he himself will answer.
Enter Northumberland
LORD BARDOLPH
Here comes the Earl.
Exit Porter
NORTHUMBERLAND
What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild; contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
LORD BARDOLPH
Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Good, an God will!
LORD BARDOLPH
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
Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
And Westmorland and Stafford fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
So fought, so followed, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times
Since Caesar's fortunes!
NORTHUMBERLAND
How is this derived?
Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
LORD BARDOLPH
I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
A gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely rendered me these news for true.
Enter Travers
NORTHUMBERLAND
Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent
On Tuesday last to listen after news.
LORD BARDOLPH
My lord, I overrode him on the way,
And he is furnished with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
TRAVERS
My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back
With joyful tidings, and, being better horsed,
Outrode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman almost forspent with speed,
That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He asked the way to Chester, and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had ill 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 seemed in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Ha? Again!
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion
Had met ill luck?
LORD BARDOLPH
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.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
Give then such instances of loss?
LORD BARDOLPH
Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
The horse he rode on, and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
Enter Morton
NORTHUMBERLAND
Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witnessed usurpation.
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
MORTON
I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
NORTHUMBERLAND
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
And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death ere thou reportest 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 my ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with ‘ Brother, son, and all are dead.’
MORTON
Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;
But, for my lord your son –
NORTHUMBERLAND
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 feared is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;
Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
MORTON
You are too great to be by me gainsaid;
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye.
Thou shakest thy head, and holdest it fear or sin
To speak a truth. If he be slain –
The tongue offends not that reports his death;
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
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
Remembered tolling a departing friend.
LORD BARDOLPH
I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
MORTON
I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen;
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed,
To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best-tempered courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party steeled,
Which once in him abated, all the rest
Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead;
And as the thing that's heavy in itself
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester
So soon ta'en prisoner, and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slain th' appearance of the King,
'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame
Of those that turned 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 Westmorland. This is the news at full.
NORTHUMBERLAND
For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic, and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well.
And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,
Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief,
Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch!
A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
Must glove this hand. And hence, thou sickly coif!
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
Which princes, fleshed with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon th' enraged Northumberland!
Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Nature's hand
Keep the wild flood confined! 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 BARDOLPH
This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.
MORTON
Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour;
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 th' event of war, my noble lord,
And summed the account of chance before you said
‘ Let us make head.’ It was your presurmise
That in the dole of blows your son might drop.
You knew he walked o'er perils, on an edge,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er.
You were advised his flesh was capable
Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged.
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?
LORD BARDOLPH
We all that are engaged to this loss
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one;
And yet we ventured for the gain proposed,
Choked the respect of likely peril feared,
And since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
MORTON
'Tis more than time. And, my most noble lord,
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 corpse,
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, constrained,
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
Seemed on our side; but, for their spirits and souls,
This word – ‘ rebellion ’ – it had froze them up
As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop
Turns insurrection to religion;
Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He's followed both with body and with mind,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scraped 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 and less do flock to follow him.
NORTHUMBERLAND
I knew of this before, but, to speak truth,
This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
Go in with me, and counsel every man
The aptest way for safety and revenge.
Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed –
Never so few, and never yet more need.
Exeunt
Modern text Enter Sir John Falstaff, followed by his Page bearing
his sword and buckler
FALSTAFF
Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my
water?
PAGE
He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy
water; but, for the party that owed it, he might have
more diseases than he knew for.
FALSTAFF
Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The
brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able
to invent anything that intends 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 judgement. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art
fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I
was never manned with an agate till now, but I will inset
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
fledge. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of
my hand than he shall get one off his cheek; and yet he
will not stick to say his face is a face-royal. God may
finish it when He will, 'tis not a hair amiss yet. He may
keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn
sixpence out of it. And yet he'll be crowing as if he had
writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may
keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine, I can
assure him. What said Master Dommelton about the
satin for my short cloak and my slops?
PAGE
He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance
than Bardolph. He would not take his bond and
yours; he liked not the security.
FALSTAFF
Let him be damned like the glutton! Pray
God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! A
rascally yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman in hand,
and then stand upon security! The whoreson smoothy-
pates do now wear nothing but high shoes and bunches
of keys at their girdles; and if a man is through 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 'a should
have sent me two-and-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, and
the lightness of his wife shines through it – and yet
cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light
him. Where's Bardolph?
PAGE
He's gone in Smithfield to buy your worship a
horse.
FALSTAFF
I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a
horse in Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in the
stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.
Enter the Lord Chief Justice and his Servant
PAGE
Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the
Prince for striking him about Bardolph.
FALSTAFF
Wait close; I will not see him.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
What's he that goes there?
SERVANT
Falstaff, an't please your lordship.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
He that was in question for the
robbery?
SERVANT
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.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
What, to York? Call him back
again.
SERVANT
Sir John Falstaff!
FALSTAFF
Boy, tell him I am deaf.
PAGE
You must speak louder; my master is deaf.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
I am sure he is, to the hearing of
anything good. Go pluck him by the elbow; I must
speak with him.
SERVANT
Sir John!
FALSTAFF
What! A young knave, and begging! 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.
SERVANT
You mistake me, sir.
FALSTAFF
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.
SERVANT
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.
FALSTAFF
I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that
which grows to me? If thou gettest any leave of me,
hang me. If thou takest leave, thou wert better be
hanged. You hunt counter. Hence! Avaunt!
SERVANT
Sir, my lord would speak with you.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Sir John Falstaff, a word with
you.
FALSTAFF
My good lord! God give your lordship good
time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad; I
heard say your lordship was sick. I hope your lordship
goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not clean
past your youth, have 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
health.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Sir John, I sent for you – before
your expedition to Shrewsbury.
FALSTAFF
An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty
is returned with some discomfort from Wales.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
I talk not of his majesty. You
would not come when I sent for you.
FALSTAFF
And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen
into this same whoreson apoplexy.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Well, God mend him! I pray you
let me speak with you.
FALSTAFF
This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of
lethargy, an't please your lordship, a kind of sleeping in
the blood, a whoreson tingling.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
What tell you me of it? Be it as
it is.
FALSTAFF
It hath it 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.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
I think you are fallen into the
disease, for you hear not what I say to you.
FALSTAFF
Very well, my lord, very well. Rather, an't
please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady
of not marking, that I am troubled withal.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
To punish you by the heels
would amend the attention of your ears, and I care not
if I do become your physician.
FALSTAFF
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.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
I sent for you, when there were
matters against you for your life, to come speak with me.
FALSTAFF
As I was then advised by my learned counsel
in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Well, the truth is, Sir John, you
live in great infamy.
FALSTAFF
He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live
in less.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Your means are very slender, and
your waste is great.
FALSTAFF
I would it were otherwise; I would my means
were greater and my waist slenderer.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
You have misled the youthful
Prince.
FALSTAFF
The young Prince hath misled me. I am the
fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
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 Gad's Hill. You
may thank th' unquiet time for your quiet o'erposting
that action.
FALSTAFF
My lord!
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
But since all is well, keep it so.
Wake not a sleeping wolf.
FALSTAFF
To wake a wolf is as bad as smell a fox.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
What! You are as a candle, the
better part burnt out.
FALSTAFF
A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow – if I did
say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
There is not a white hair in your
face but should have his effect of gravity.
FALSTAFF
His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
You follow the young Prince up
and down, like his ill angel.
FALSTAFF
Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light, but I
hope he that looks upon me will take me without
weighing. And yet in some respects, I grant, I cannot
go – I cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these
costermongers' times that true valour is turned bear-herd;
pregnancy is made a tapster, and his quick wit
wasted in giving reckonings; all the other gifts appertinent
to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are
not worth a gooseberry. You that are old consider not
the capacities of us that are young; you do measure the
heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls; and
we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess,
are wags too.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Do you set down your name in
the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all
the characters of age? Have you not a moist eye, a dry
hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg,
an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind
short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part
about you blasted with antiquity? And will you yet call
yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!
FALSTAFF
My lord, I was born about three of the clock
in the afternoon, with a white head, and something a
round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with hallooing,
and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further,
I will not. The truth is, I am only old in judgement and
understanding; and he that will caper with me for a
thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have
at him! For the box of the ear that the Prince gave you,
he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a
sensible lord. I have checked him for it, and the young
lion repents – (aside) marry, not in ashes and sackcloth,
but in new silk and old sack.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Well, God send the Prince a
better companion!
FALSTAFF
God send the companion a better prince! I
cannot rid my hands of him.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Well, the King hath severed you
and Prince Harry. I hear you are going with Lord John
of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of
Northumberland.
FALSTAFF
Yea, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But
look you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home,
that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord,
I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to
sweat extraordinarily. If it be a hot day, and I brandish
anything but a bottle – I would I might never spit white
again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out
his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot last
ever – but it was alway yet the trick of our English
nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common.
If ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give
me rest. I would to God my name were not so terrible
to the enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten to death
with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual
motion.
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Well, be honest, be honest, and
God bless your expedition!
FALSTAFF
Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound
to furnish me forth?
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Not a penny, not a penny! You
are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend
me to my cousin Westmorland.
Exeunt Lord Chief Justice and Servant
FALSTAFF
If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A
man can no more separate age and covetousness than 'a
can part young limbs and lechery; but the gout galls the
one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the
degrees prevent my curses. Boy!
PAGE
Sir?
FALSTAFF
What money is in my purse?
PAGE
Seven groats and two pence.
FALSTAFF
I can get no remedy against this consumption of
the purse; borrowing only lingers and lingers it out,
but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter to my
lord of Lancaster; this to the Prince; this to the Earl
of Westmorland – and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom
I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first
white hair of my chin. About it! You know where to
find me.
Exit Page
A pox of this gout! Or a gout of this pox! For the one
or the other plays the rogue with my great toe. 'Tis no
matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and
my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good wit
will make use of anything; I will turn diseases to
commodity.
Exit
Modern text Enter the Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray the
Earl Marshal, Lord Hastings, and Lord Bardolph
ARCHBISHOP
Thus have you heard our cause and known our means,
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes.
And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?
MOWBRAY
I well allow the occasion of our arms,
But gladly would be better satisfied
How in our means we should advance ourselves
To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the power and puissance of the King.
HASTINGS
Our present musters grow upon the file
To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice;
And our supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
With an incensed fire of injuries.
LORD BARDOLPH
The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus –
Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland.
HASTINGS
With him we may.
LORD BARDOLPH
Yea, marry, there's the point;
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgement is, we should not step too far
Till we had his assistance by the hand;
For in a theme so bloody-faced as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
Of aids incertain should not be admitted.
ARCHBISHOP
'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph, for indeed
It was young Hotspur's cause at Shrewsbury.
LORD BARDOLPH
It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope,
Eating the air and promise of supply,
Flattering himself in project of a power
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts,
And so, with great imagination
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,
And winking leaped into destruction.
HASTINGS
But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
LORD BARDOLPH
Yes, if this present quality of war,
Indeed, the instant action, a cause on foot,
Lives so in hope – as in an early spring
We see th' appearing buds; which to prove fruit
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model,
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection,
Which if we find outweighs ability,
What do we then but draw anew the model
In fewer offices, or at least desist
To build at all? Much more, in this great work –
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
And set another up – should we survey
The plot of situation and the model,
Consent upon a sure foundation,
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite; or else
We fortify in paper and in figures,
Using the names of men instead of men,
Like one that draws the model of an house
Beyond his power to build it, who, half-through,
Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost
A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
HASTINGS
Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
Should be still-born, and that we now possessed
The utmost man of expectation,
I think we are so, body strong enough,
Even as we are, to equal with the King.
LORD BARDOLPH
What, is the King but five-and-twenty thousand?
HASTINGS
To us no more, nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph;
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
Are in three heads: one power against the French;
And one against Glendower; perforce a third
Must take up us. So is the unfirm King
In three divided, and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
ARCHBISHOP
That he should draw his several strengths together
And come against us in full puissance
Need not be dreaded.
HASTINGS
If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarmed, the French and Welsh
Baying him at the heels; never fear that.
LORD BARDOLPH
Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
HASTINGS
The Duke of Lancaster and Westmorland;
Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth:
But who is substituted 'gainst the French
I have no certain notice.
ARCHBISHOP
Let us on,
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;
Their overgreedy love hath surfeited.
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many, with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!
And being now trimmed in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him
That thou provokest thyself to cast him up.
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard –
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
And howlest to find it. What trust is in these times?
They that, when Richard lived, would have him die
Are now become enamoured on his grave.
Thou that threwest dust upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came sighing on
After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke,
Cryest now ‘ O earth, yield us that king again,
And take thou this!’ O thoughts of men accursed!
Past and to come seems best; things present, worst.
MOWBRAY
Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?
HASTINGS
We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.
Exeunt
|