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twg_000000017200 | more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare! NORTHUMBERLAND. Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. HOTSPUR. By Heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017201 | honour by the locks, So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities. But out upon this half-faced fellowship! WORCESTER. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he should attend. Good cousin, give me audience for a while. HOTSPUR. I cry you mercy. WORCESTER. Those same noble Scots That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017202 | are your prisoners HOTSPUR. Ill keep them all; By God, he shall not have a Scot of them, No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not. Ill keep them, by this hand! WORCESTER. You start away, And lend no ear unto my purposes: Those prisoners you shall keep HOTSPUR. Nay, I will: thats flat. He said he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017203 | would not ransom Mortimer, Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer, But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear Ill holla Mortimer! Nay, Ill have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him, To keep his anger still in motion. WORCESTER. Hear you, cousin, a word. HOTSPUR. All studies | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017204 | here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales, But that I think his father loves him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance I would have him poisond with a pot of ale. WORCESTER. Farewell, kinsman. I will talk to you When you are better temperd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017205 | to attend. NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou to break into this womans mood, Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own! HOTSPUR. Why, look you, I am whippd and scourged with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. In Richards timewhat do you call the place? A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017206 | plague upont! It is in Gloucestershire. Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept, His uncle York, where I first bowd my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke, Sblood, when you and he came back from Ravenspurgh. NORTHUMBERLAND. At Berkeley castle. HOTSPUR. You say true. Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017207 | me! Look, when his infant fortune came to age, And, Gentle Harry Percy, and kind cousin. O, the devil take such cozeners!God forgive me! Good uncle, tell your tale. I have done. WORCESTER. Nay, if you have not, to it again, We will stay your leisure. HOTSPUR. I have done, ifaith. WORCESTER. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners; Deliver | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017208 | them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglas son your only mean For powers in Scotland, which, for divers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assured Will easily be granted.[_To Northumberland._] You, my lord, Your son in Scotland being thus employd, Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same noble prelate well beloved, The Archbishop. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017209 | HOTSPUR. Of York, is it not? WORCESTER. True, who bears hard His brothers death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop. I speak not this in estimation, As what I think might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set down, And only stays but to behold the face Of that occasion that shall bring it on. HOTSPUR. I smell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017210 | it. Upon my life it will do well. NORTHUMBERLAND. Before the game is afoot thou still letst slip. HOTSPUR. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot; And then the power of Scotland and of York To join with Mortimer, ha? WORCESTER. And so they shall. HOTSPUR. In faith, it is exceedingly well aimd. WORCESTER. And tis no little | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017211 | reason bids us speed, To save our heads by raising of a head; For, bear ourselves as even as we can, The King will always think him in our debt, And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home: And see already how he doth begin To make us strangers to his looks | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017212 | of love. HOTSPUR. He does, he does, well be revenged on him. WORCESTER. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this Than I by letters shall direct your course. When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, Ill steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer, Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017213 | To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty. NORTHUMBERLAND. Farewell, good brother; we shall thrive, I trust. HOTSPUR. Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short, Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! [_Exeunt._] ACT II SCENE I. Rochester. An Inn-Yard. Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017214 | FIRST CARRIER. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, Ill be hangd. Charles wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packd.What, ostler! OSTLER. [_within._] Anon, anon. FIRST CARRIER. I prithee, Tom, beat Cuts saddle, put a few flocks in the point; poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess. Enter another | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017215 | Carrier. SECOND CARRIER. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned upside down since Robin ostler died. FIRST CARRIER. Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him. SECOND CARRIER. I think this be the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017216 | most villainous house in all London road for fleas. I am stung like a tench. FIRST CARRIER. Like a tench! By the Mass, there is neer a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first cock. SECOND CARRIER. Why, they will allow us neer a jordan, and then we leak in your chimney, and your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017217 | chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach. FIRST CARRIER. What, ostler! Come away and be hanged, come away. SECOND CARRIER. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing Cross. FIRST CARRIER. Gods body! The turkeys in my pannier are quite starved.What, ostler! A plague on thee! Hast thou never an eye | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017218 | in thy head? Canst not hear? An twere not as good deed as drink to break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hanged. Hast no faith in thee? Enter Gadshill. GADSHILL. Good morrow, carriers. Whats oclock? FIRST CARRIER. I think it be two oclock. GADSHILL. I prithee, lend me thy lantern, to see my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017219 | gelding in the stable. FIRST CARRIER. Nay, by God, soft! I know a trick worth two of that, ifaith. GADSHILL. I pray thee, lend me thine. SECOND CARRIER. Ay, when? Canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he! Marry, Ill see thee hanged first. GADSHILL. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London? SECOND CARRIER. Time enough | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017220 | to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbour Mugs, well call up the gentlemen. They will along with company, for they have great charge. [_Exeunt Carriers._] GADSHILL. What, ho! Chamberlain! Enter Chamberlain. CHAMBERLAIN. At hand, quoth pick-purse. GADSHILL. Thats even as fair as at hand, quoth the chamberlain, for thou variest no more from picking of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017221 | purses than giving direction doth from labouring; thou layest the plot how. CHAMBERLAIN. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told you yesternight: theres a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper; a kind of auditor, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017222 | one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are up already, and call for eggs and butter. They will away presently. GADSHILL. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas clerks, Ill give thee this neck. CHAMBERLAIN. No, Ill none of it. I pray thee, keep that for the hangman, for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017223 | as truly as a man of falsehood may. GADSHILL. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, Ill make a fat pair of gallows; for, if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is no starveling. Tut, there are other Troyans that thou dreamst not of, the which for sport sake are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017224 | content to do the profession some grace, that would, if matters should be looked into, for their own credit sake make all whole. I am joined with no foot-land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms, but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017225 | speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray: and yet, zounds, I lie, for they pray continually to their saint the commonwealth, or rather not pray to her, but prey on her, for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots. CHAMBERLAIN. What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out water in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017226 | foul way? GADSHILL. She will, she will; justice hath liquored her. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible. CHAMBERLAIN. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible. GADSHILL. Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017227 | purchase, as I am a true man. CHAMBERLAIN. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. GADSHILL. Go to; _homo_ is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The Road by Gads-hill. Enter Prince Henry and Poins; Bardolph and Peto | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017228 | at some distance. POINS. Come, shelter, shelter! I have removed Falstaffs horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. PRINCE. Stand close. [_They retire._] Enter Falstaff. FALSTAFF. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! PRINCE. [_Coming forward._] Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! What a brawling dost thou keep! FALSTAFF. Wheres Poins, Hal? PRINCE. He is walked up to the top of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017229 | hill. Ill go seek him. [_Retires._] FALSTAFF. I am accursed to rob in that thiefs company. The rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the square further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017230 | scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the rogues company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, Ill be hanged. It could not be else: I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! A plague upon you both! Bardolph! Peto! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017231 | Ill starve ere Ill rob a foot further. An twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man, and to leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017232 | upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! [_They whistle._] Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues, give me my horse and be hanged! PRINCE. [_Coming forward._] Peace, you fat guts, lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers. FALSTAFF. Have you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017233 | any levers to lift me up again, being down? Sblood, Ill not bear my own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy fathers exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me thus? PRINCE. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. FALSTAFF. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good kings | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017234 | son. PRINCE. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler? FALSTAFF. Hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be taen, Ill peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poisonwhen a jest is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017235 | Gadshill. GADSHILL. Stand! FALSTAFF. So I do, against my will. POINS. O, tis our setter. I know his voice. Comes forward with Bardolph and Peto. BARDOLPH. What news? GADSHILL. Case ye, case ye, on with your visards. Theres money of the Kings coming down the hill, tis going to the Kings exchequer. FALSTAFF. You lie, ye rogue, tis going to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017236 | the Kings tavern. GADSHILL. Theres enough to make us all. FALSTAFF. To be hanged. PRINCE. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane. Ned Poins and I will walk lower; if they scape from your encounter, then they light on us. PETO. How many be there of them? GADSHILL. Some eight or ten. FALSTAFF. Zounds, will they not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017237 | rob us? PRINCE. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? FALSTAFF. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather, but yet no coward, Hal. PRINCE. Well, we leave that to the proof. POINS. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge. When thou needst him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast. FALSTAFF. Now cannot I strike him, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017238 | if I should be hanged. PRINCE. [_aside to Poins._] Ned, where are our disguises? POINS. [_aside to Prince Henry._] Here, hard by. Stand close. [_Exeunt Prince and Poins._] FALSTAFF. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I. Every man to his business. Enter the Travellers. FIRST TRAVELLER. Come, neighbour, the boy shall lead our horses down the hill; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017239 | well walk afoot awhile and ease our legs. THIEVES. Stand! SECOND TRAVELLER. Jesu bless us! FALSTAFF. Strike, down with them, cut the villains throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars, bacon-fed knaves, they hate us youth. Down with them, fleece them! FIRST TRAVELLER. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever! FALSTAFF. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017240 | fat chuffs, I would your store were here! On, bacons, on! What, ye knaves! young men must live. You are grandjurors, are ye? Well jure ye, faith. [_Here they rob them and bind them. Exeunt_] Enter Prince Henry and Poins in buckram suits. PRINCE. The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou and I rob the thieves, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017241 | go merrily to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. POINS. Stand close, I hear them coming. [_They retire._] Enter the Thieves again. FALSTAFF. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, theres no equity | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017242 | stirring. Theres no more valour in that Poins than in a wild duck. [_As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them._] PRINCE. Your money! POINS. Villains! [_Falstaff after a blow or two, and the others run away, leaving the booty behind them._] PRINCE. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse. The thieves are all scatterd, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017243 | possessd with fear So strongly that they dare not meet each other; Each takes his fellow for an officer. Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. Weret not for laughing, I should pity him. POINS. How the fat rogue roared! [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Warkworth. A Room in the Castle. Enter Hotspur, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017244 | reading a letter. HOTSPUR. 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 househe shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017245 | Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake is dangerousWhy, thats certain. Tis 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 itself unsorted, and your whole plot | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017246 | 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! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid, our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and full | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017247 | 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. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his ladys fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself? Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017248 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017249 | 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 skim milk with so honourable an action! Hang him, let him tell the King, we are prepared. I will set forward tonight. Enter Lady Percy. How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017250 | hours. LADY PERCY. O my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence have I this fortnight been A banishd woman from my Harrys bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what ist 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 sitst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017251 | alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks, And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy? In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watchd, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars, Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed, Cry Courage! To the field! And thou hast talkd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017252 | Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, Of prisoners ransom, and of soldiers slain, And all the currents of a heady fight. Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, And thus hath so bestirrd thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow Like bubbles | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017253 | in a late-disturbed stream, And in thy face strange motions have appeard, Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it, else he loves me not. HOTSPUR. What, ho! Enter a Servant. Is Gilliams with the packet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017254 | gone? SERVANT. He is, my lord, an hour ago. HOTSPUR. Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff? SERVANT. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. HOTSPUR. What horse? A roan, a crop-ear, is it not? SERVANT. It is, my lord. HOTSPUR. That roan shall be my throne. Well, I will back him straight. O Esperance! Bid Butler lead | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017255 | him forth into the park. [_Exit Servant._] LADY PERCY. But hear you, my lord. HOTSPUR. What sayst thou, my lady? LADY PERCY. What is it carries you away? HOTSPUR. Why, my horse, my love, my horse. LADY PERCY. Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen As you are tossd with. In faith, Ill know | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017256 | 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 HOTSPUR. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. LADY PERCY. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me Directly unto this question that I ask. In faith, Ill break thy little finger, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017257 | Harry, If thou wilt not tell me all things true. HOTSPUR. Away, Away, you trifler! Love, I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips. We must have bloody noses and crackd crowns, And pass them current too.Gods me, my horse! What sayst thou, Kate? What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017258 | wouldst thou have with me? LADY PERCY. Do you not love me? Do you not indeed? 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. HOTSPUR. Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a-horseback I will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017259 | 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 farther wise Than Harry Percys wife; constant you are, But yet a woman; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017260 | for secrecy, No lady closer, for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. LADY PERCY. How? So far? HOTSPUR. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate, Whither I go, thither shall you go too. Today will I set forth, tomorrow you. Will this content you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017261 | Kate? LADY PERCY. It must, of force. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Eastcheap. A Room in the Boars Head Tavern. Enter Prince Henry. PRINCE. Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Enter Poins. POINS. Where hast been, Hal? PRINCE. With three or four loggerheads amongst three or fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017262 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017263 | like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy,by the Lord, so they call meand when I am King of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dyeing scarlet, and when you breathe in your watering, they cry Hem! and bid you Play it off! To conclude, I am so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017264 | 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 Nedto sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now into | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017265 | my hand by an underskinker, 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 the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017266 | 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 Ill show thee a precedent. [_Exit Poins._] POINS. [_Within_] Francis! PRINCE. Thou art perfect. POINS. [_Within_] Francis! Enter Francis. FRANCIS. Anon, anon, sir.Look down into the Pomegarnet, Ralph. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017267 | PRINCE. Come hither, Francis. FRANCIS. My lord? PRINCE. How long hast thou to serve, Francis? FRANCIS. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to POINS. [_within._] Francis! FRANCIS. Anon, anon, sir. PRINCE. Five year! Byr Lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter! But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017268 | show it a fair pair of heels, and run from it? FRANCIS. O Lord, sir, Ill be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heart POINS. [_within._] Francis! FRANCIS. Anon, sir. PRINCE. How old art thou, Francis? FRANCIS. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shall be POINS. [_within._] Francis! FRANCIS. Anon, sir.Pray, stay a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017269 | little, my lord. PRINCE. Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the sugar thou gavest me, twas a pennyworth, wast not? FRANCIS. O Lord, I would it had been two! PRINCE. I will give thee for it a thousand pound. Ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. POINS. [_within._] Francis! FRANCIS. Anon, anon. PRINCE. Anon, Francis? No, Francis, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017270 | but tomorrow, Francis; or, Francis, a Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis, FRANCIS. My lord? PRINCE. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch FRANCIS. O Lord, sir, who do you mean? PRINCE. Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink, for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully. In | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017271 | Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much. FRANCIS. What, sir? POINS. [_within._] Francis! PRINCE. Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them call? [_Here they both call him; the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go._] Enter Vintner. VINTNER. What, standst thou still, and hearst such a calling? Look to the guests within. [_Exit Francis._] My lord, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017272 | old Sir John with half-a-dozen more are at the door. Shall I let them in? PRINCE. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. [_Exit Vintner._] Poins! Enter Poins. POINS. Anon, anon, sir. PRINCE. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door; shall we be merry? POINS. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017273 | ye, what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? Come, whats the issue? PRINCE. I am now of all humours that have showed themselves humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve oclock at midnight. Enter Francis. Whats oclock, Francis? FRANCIS. Anon, anon, sir. [_Exit Francis._] PRINCE. That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017274 | ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is upstairs and downstairs; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percys mind, the Hotspur of the north, he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017275 | says to his wife, Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed today? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I prithee, call in Falstaff. Ill play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017276 | wife. _Rivo!_ says the drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow. Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph and Peto; followed by Francis with wine. POINS. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? FALSTAFF. 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, Ill sew nether-stocks, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017277 | and mend them and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? [_Drinks._] PRINCE. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter (pitiful-hearted Titan!), that melted at the sweet tale of the suns? If thou didst, then behold that compound. FALSTAFF. You rogue, heres lime in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017278 | 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 villanous 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017279 | lives not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat, and grows old, God help the while, a bad world, I say. I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say still. PRINCE. How now, wool-sack, what mutter you? FALSTAFF. A kings son! If I do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017280 | 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, Ill never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of Wales! PRINCE. Why, you whoreson round man, whats the matter? FALSTAFF. Are not you a coward? Answer me to thatand Poins there? POINS. Zounds, ye | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017281 | fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by the Lord, Ill stab thee. FALSTAFF. I call thee coward? Ill 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017282 | 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 today. PRINCE. O villain! Thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunkst last. FALSTAFF. All is one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I. [_Drinks._] PRINCE. Whats the matter? FALSTAFF. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017283 | Whats the matter? There be four of us here have taen a thousand pound this day morning. PRINCE. Where is it, Jack, where is it? FALSTAFF. Where is it? Taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us. PRINCE. What, a hundred, man? FALSTAFF. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017284 | 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 handsaw. _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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017285 | more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness. PRINCE. Speak, sirs, how was it? GADSHILL. We four set upon some dozen. FALSTAFF. Sixteen at least, my lord. GADSHILL. And bound them. PETO. No, no, they were not bound. FALSTAFF. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Jew else, an | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017286 | Ebrew Jew. GADSHILL. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us. FALSTAFF. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other. PRINCE. What, fought you with them all? FALSTAFF. All? I know not what you call all, but if I fought not with fifty of them I am a bunch of radish. If there | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017287 | were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature. PRINCE. Pray God you have not murdered some of them. FALSTAFF. Nay, thats 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017288 | 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. PRINCE. What, four? Thou saidst but two even now. FALSTAFF. Four, Hal, I told thee four. POINS. Ay, ay, he said four. FALSTAFF. These four came all afront, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017289 | mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus. PRINCE. Seven? Why, there were but four even now. FALSTAFF. In buckram? POINS. Ay, four, in buckram suits. FALSTAFF. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. PRINCE. [_aside to Poins._] Prithee let him alone, we shall have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017290 | more anon. FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear me, Hal? PRINCE. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. FALSTAFF. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of PRINCE. So, two more already. FALSTAFF. Their points being broken POINS. Down fell their hose. FALSTAFF. Began to give me ground; but I followed me close, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017291 | came in foot and hand, and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid. PRINCE. O monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out of two! FALSTAFF. But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at my back and let drive at me, for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017292 | hand. PRINCE. 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-catch FALSTAFF. What, art thou mad? Art thou mad? Is not the truth the truth? PRINCE. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017293 | couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason. What sayest thou to this? POINS. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. FALSTAFF. What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were 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 plentiful as blackberries, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017294 | I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. PRINCE. Ill be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh FALSTAFF. Sblood, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neats-tongue, you bulls pizzle, you stock-fishO, for breath to utter what is like thee! You tailors-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017295 | vile standing tuck PRINCE. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again, and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this. POINS. Mark, Jack. PRINCE. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017296 | two set on you four, and, with a word, outfaced 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017297 | 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, lets hear, Jack, what trick hast thou now? FALSTAFF. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017298 | you, my masters, was it for me to kill the heir-apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was now a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself, and thee, during | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017299 | my lifeI for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.Hostess, clap to the doors. Watch tonight, pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play extempore? PRINCE. Content; | 60 | gutenberg |
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