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twg_000000017300 | and the argument shall be thy running away. FALSTAFF. Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me! Enter the Hostess. HOSTESS. O Jesu, my lord the Prince PRINCE. How now, my lady the hostess! What sayst thou to me? HOSTESS. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door would speak with you: he says | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017301 | he comes from your father. PRINCE. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother. FALSTAFF. What manner of man is he? HOSTESS. An old man. FALSTAFF. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him his answer? PRINCE. Prithee do, Jack. FALSTAFF. Faith, and Ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017302 | send him packing. [_Exit._] PRINCE. Now, sirs: byr Lady, you fought fair, so did you, Peto. So did you, Bardolph. You are lions, too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true prince, no, fie! BARDOLPH. Faith, I ran when I saw others run. PRINCE. Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaffs sword so hacked? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017303 | PETO. Why, he hacked it with his dagger, and said he would swear truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and persuaded us to do the like. BARDOLPH. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and swear it was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017304 | the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year before: I blushed to hear his monstrous devices. PRINCE. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017305 | What instinct hadst thou for it? BARDOLPH. My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these exhalations? PRINCE. I do. BARDOLPH. What think you they portend? PRINCE. Hot livers and cold purses. BARDOLPH. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. PRINCE. No, if rightly taken, halter. Enter Falstaff. Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017306 | creature of bombast? How long ist ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee? FALSTAFF. My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagles talon in the waist. I could have crept into any aldermans thumb-ring: a plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. Theres villanous news abroad: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017307 | here was Sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy, and he of Wales that gave Amamon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hookwhat a plague call you him? POINS. O, Glendower. FALSTAFF. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017308 | Owen, Owen, the same; and his son-in-law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs a-horseback up a hill perpendicular PRINCE. He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying. FALSTAFF. You have hit it. PRINCE. So did he never the sparrow. FALSTAFF. Well, that rascal hath good metal in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017309 | him, he will not run. PRINCE. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running! FALSTAFF. A-horseback, ye cuckoo, but afoot he will not budge a foot. PRINCE. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. FALSTAFF. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more. Worcester is stolen away tonight; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017310 | thy fathers beard is turned white with the news. You may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel. PRINCE. Why then, it is like if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hobnails, by the hundreds. FALSTAFF. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true. It is like we shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017311 | have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible afeard? Thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it? PRINCE. Not a whit, ifaith. I lack some of thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017312 | instinct. FALSTAFF. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid tomorrow when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me practise an answer. PRINCE. Do thou stand for my father and examine me upon the particulars of my life. FALSTAFF. Shall I? Content! This chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. PRINCE. Thy state | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017313 | is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown. FALSTAFF. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017314 | for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses vein. PRINCE. Well, here is my leg. FALSTAFF. And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility. HOSTESS. O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i faith! FALSTAFF. Weep not, sweet Queen, for trickling tears are vain. HOSTESS. O, the Father, how he holds his countenance! FALSTAFF. For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017315 | Gods sake, lords, convey my tristful Queen, For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes. HOSTESS. O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see! FALSTAFF. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain.Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied. For though the camomile, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017316 | the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art my son I have partly thy mothers word, partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017317 | son to me, here lies the point: why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries? A question not to be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief, and take purses? A question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017318 | heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch. This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest. For, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only, but in woes also. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017319 | yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name. PRINCE. What manner of man, an it like your Majesty? FALSTAFF. A goodly portly man, ifaith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017320 | byr Lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff. If that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff; him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017321 | keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me where hast thou been this month? PRINCE. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and Ill play my father. FALSTAFF. Depose me? If thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017322 | for a rabbit-sucker or a poulters hare. PRINCE. Well, here I am set. FALSTAFF. And here I stand. Judge, my masters. PRINCE. Now, Harry, whence come you? FALSTAFF. My noble lord, from Eastcheap. PRINCE. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. FALSTAFF. Sblood, my lord, they are false.Nay, Ill tickle ye for a young prince, ifaith. PRINCE. Swearest thou, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017323 | ungracious boy? Henceforth neer look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace. There is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man. A tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017324 | cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend Vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? Wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? Wherein cunning, but in craft? Wherein crafty, but in villany? Wherein | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017325 | villainous, but in all things? Wherein worthy, but in nothing? FALSTAFF. I would your Grace would take me with you. Whom means your Grace? PRINCE. That villainous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan. FALSTAFF. My lord, the man I know. PRINCE. I know thou dost. FALSTAFF. But to say I know more harm in him than in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017326 | myself were to say more than I know. That he is old, the more the pity, his white hairs do witness it. But that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017327 | that I know is damned. If to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaohs lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins, but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being as he is old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017328 | Harrys company, banish not him thy Harrys company. Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. PRINCE. I do, I will. [_A knocking heard._] [_Exeunt Hostess, Francis and Bardolph._] Enter Bardolph, running. BARDOLPH. O, my lord, my lord, the sheriff with a most monstrous watch is at the door. FALSTAFF. Out, ye rogue! Play out the play. I have much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017329 | to say in the behalf of that Falstaff. Enter the Hostess, hastily. HOSTESS. O Jesu, my lord, my lord PRINCE. Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fiddlestick. Whats the matter? HOSTESS. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door. They are come to search the house. Shall I let them in? FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear, Hal? Never | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017330 | call a true piece of gold a counterfeit: thou art essentially made without seeming so. PRINCE. And thou a natural coward without instinct. FALSTAFF. I deny your major. If you will deny the sheriff, so; if not, let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! I hope I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017331 | shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another. PRINCE. Go hide thee behind the arras. The rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true face and good conscience. FALSTAFF. Both which I have had, but their date is out, and therefore Ill hide me. PRINCE. Call in the sheriff. [_Exeunt all but the Prince and Peto._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017332 | Enter Sheriff and the Carrier. Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me? SHERIFF. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry Hath followed certain men unto this house. PRINCE. What men? SHERIFF. One of them is well known, my gracious lord, A gross fat man. CARRIER. As fat as butter. PRINCE. The man I do assure you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017333 | is not here, For I myself at this time have employd him. And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee, That I will by tomorrow dinner-time, Send him to answer thee, or any man, For anything he shall be charged withal. And so let me entreat you leave the house. SHERIFF. I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017334 | Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. PRINCE. It may be so. If he have robbd these men, He shall be answerable; and so, farewell. SHERIFF. Good night, my noble lord. PRINCE. I think it is good morrow, is it not? SHERIFF. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two oclock. [_Exit Sheriff with the Carrier._] PRINCE. This oily | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017335 | rascal is known as well as Pauls. Go, call him forth. PETO. Falstaff!Fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a horse. PRINCE. Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets. [_He searcheth his pocket, and findeth certain papers._] What hast thou found? PETO. Nothing but papers, my lord. PRINCE. Lets see what they be. Read them. PETO. [_reads_] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017336 | Item, a capon, . . . . . . . . . . . 2s. 2d. Item, sauce, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4d. Item, sack, two gallons, . . . 5s. 8d. Item, anchovies and sack after supper, 2s. 6d. Item, bread, . . . . . . . | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017337 | . . . . . . . . ob. PRINCE. O monstrous! But one halfpennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, keep close. Well read it at more advantage. There let him sleep till day. Ill to the court in the morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017338 | Ill procure this fat rogue a charge of foot, and I know his death will be a march of twelve score. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and so, good morrow, Peto. PETO. Good morrow, good my lord. [_Exeunt._] ACT III SCENE I. Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacons House. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017339 | Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer and Glendower. MORTIMER. These promises are fair, the parties sure, And our induction full of prosperous hope. HOTSPUR. Lord Mortimer and cousin Glendower, Will you sit down? And uncle Worcester, A plague upon it! I have forgot the map. GLENDOWER. No, here it is. Sit, cousin Percy, sit, good cousin Hotspur; For by that name as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017340 | oft as Lancaster doth speak of you His cheek looks pale, and with a rising sigh He wisheth you in heaven. HOTSPUR. And you in hell, As oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of. GLENDOWER. I cannot blame him. At my nativity The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets, and at my birth The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017341 | frame and huge foundation of the Earth Shaked like a coward. HOTSPUR. Why, so it would have done At the same season, if your mothers cat Had but kittend, though yourself had never been born. GLENDOWER. I say the Earth did shake when I was born. HOTSPUR. And I say the Earth was not of my mind, If you suppose | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017342 | as fearing you it shook. GLENDOWER. The heavens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble. HOTSPUR. O, then th Earth shook to see the heavens on fire, And not in fear of your nativity. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions; oft the teeming Earth Is with a kind of colic pinchd and vexd By the imprisoning of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017343 | unruly wind Within her womb, which for enlargement striving, Shakes the old beldam Earth, and topples down Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth Our grandam Earth, having this distemprature, In passion shook. GLENDOWER. Cousin, of many men I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave To tell you once again that at my birth The front of heaven | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017344 | was full of fiery shapes, The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. These signs have markd me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men. Where is he living, clippd in with the sea That chides the banks of England, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017345 | Scotland, Wales, Which calls me pupil or hath read to me? And bring him out that is but womans son Can trace me in the tedious ways of art, And hold me pace in deep experiments. HOTSPUR. I think there is no man speaks better Welsh. Ill to dinner. MORTIMER. Peace, cousin Percy, you will make him mad. GLENDOWER. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017346 | can call spirits from the vasty deep. HOTSPUR. Why, so can I, or so can any man, But will they come when you do call for them? GLENDOWER. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil. HOTSPUR. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil By telling truth; tell truth, and shame the devil. If thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017347 | have power to raise him, bring him hither, And Ill be sworn I have power to shame him hence. O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil! MORTIMER. Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat. GLENDOWER. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye And sandy-bottomd Severn have I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017348 | sent him Bootless home and weather-beaten back. HOTSPUR. Home without boots, and in foul weather too! How scapes he agues, in the devils name! GLENDOWER. Come, heres the map, shall we divide our right According to our threefold order taen? MORTIMER. The archdeacon hath divided it Into three limits very equally: England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, By south and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017349 | east is to my part assignd: 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, Tomorrow, cousin Percy, you and I, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017350 | 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. [_To Glendower._] Within that space you may have drawn together Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen. GLENDOWER. A shorter time shall send | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017351 | 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. HOTSPUR. Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here, In quantity equals not one of yours. See how this river comes me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017352 | cranking in, And cuts me from the best of all my land A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out. Ill have the current in this place dammed 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017353 | bottom here. GLENDOWER. Not wind? It shall, it must. You see it doth. MORTIMER. Yea, but mark how he bears his course, and runs me up With like advantage on the other side, Gelding the opposed continent as much As on the other side it takes from you. WORCESTER. Yea, but a little charge will trench him here, And on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017354 | this north side win this cape of land, And then he runs straight and even. HOTSPUR. Ill have it so, a little charge will do it. GLENDOWER. Ill not have it altered. HOTSPUR. Will not you? GLENDOWER. No, nor you shall not. HOTSPUR. Who shall say me nay? GLENDOWER. Why, that will I. HOTSPUR. Let me not understand you, then; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017355 | speak it in Welsh. GLENDOWER. I can speak English, lord, as well as you, For I was traind up in the English Court, Where being but young I framed to the harp Many an English ditty lovely well, And gave the tongue a helpful ornament A virtue that was never seen in you. HOTSPUR. Marry, and I am glad of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017356 | it with all my heart. I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers; I had rather hear a brazen canstick turnd, Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree, And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry. Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017357 | nag. GLENDOWER. Come, you shall have Trent turnd. HOTSPUR. I do not care. Ill give thrice so much land To any well-deserving friend; But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, Ill cavil on the ninth part of a hair. Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone? GLENDOWER. The moon shines fair, you may away by night. Ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017358 | haste the writer, and withal Break with your wives of your departure hence. I am afraid my daughter will run mad, So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [_Exit._] MORTIMER. Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father! HOTSPUR. I cannot choose. Sometimes he angers me With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, Of the dreamer Merlin and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017359 | his prophecies, And of a dragon and a finless fish, A clip-wingd 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 last night at least nine hours In reckoning up the several devils names That were his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017360 | lackeys: I cried Hum, and Well, go to, But markd him not a word. O, he is as tedious As 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. MORTIMER. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017361 | In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, Exceedingly well read, and profited In strange concealments, valiant as a lion, And wondrous affable, and as bountiful As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? He holds your temper in a high respect And curbs himself even of his natural scope When you come cross his humour, faith, he does. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017362 | warrant you that man is not alive Might so have tempted him as you have done Without the taste of danger and reproof: But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. WORCESTER. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame, And since your coming hither have done enough To put him quite besides his patience. You must needs | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017363 | learn, lord, to amend this fault. Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood And thats 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 mens hearts and leaves behind a stain Upon the beauty of all parts | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017364 | besides, Beguiling them of commendation. HOTSPUR. Well, I am schoold. Good manners be your speed! Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. Enter Glendower with Lady Mortimer and Lady Percy. MORTIMER. This is the deadly spite that angers me, My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. GLENDOWER. My daughter weeps, shell not part with you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017365 | Shell be a soldier too, shell to the wars. MORTIMER. Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy Shall follow in your conduct speedily. [_Glendower speaks to Lady Mortimer in Welsh, and she answers him in the same._] GLENDOWER. She is desperate here, a peevish self-willed harlotry, One that no persuasion can do good upon. [_Lady Mortimer speaks | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017366 | to Mortimer in Welsh._] MORTIMER. I understand thy looks, that pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens I am too perfect in, and but for shame In such a parley should I answer thee. [_Lady Mortimer speaks to him again in Welsh._] I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And thats a feeling disputation, But I will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017367 | never be a truant, love, Till I have learnt thy language; for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly pennd, Sung by a fair queen in a summers bower, With ravishing division, to her lute. GLENDOWER. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. [_Lady Mortimer speaks to Mortimer again in Welsh._] MORTIMER. O, I am ignorance | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017368 | itself in this! GLENDOWER. She bids you on 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 eyelids 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017369 | night, The hour before the heavenly-harnessd team Begins his golden progress in the east. MORTIMER. With all my heart Ill sit and hear her sing, By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. GLENDOWER. Do so, and those musicians that shall play to you Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, And straight they shall be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017370 | here: sit, and attend. HOTSPUR. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down. Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. LADY PERCY. Go, ye giddy goose. [_The music plays._] HOTSPUR. Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh, And tis no marvel hes so humorous. Byr Lady, hes a good musician. LADY PERCY. Then should you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017371 | be nothing but musical, For you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. HOTSPUR. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. LADY PERCY. Wouldst thou have thy head broken? HOTSPUR. No. LADY PERCY. Then be still. HOTSPUR. Neither; tis a womans fault. LADY PERCY. Now God help thee! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017372 | HOTSPUR. To the Welsh ladys bed. LADY PERCY. Whats that? HOTSPUR. Peace, she sings. [_Here the lady sings a Welsh song._] Come, Kate, Ill have your song too. LADY PERCY. Not mine, in good sooth. HOTSPUR. Not yours, in good sooth! Heart! you swear like a comfit-makers wife! Not you, in good sooth, and As true as I live, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017373 | As God shall mend me, and As sure as day And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths As if thou never walkdst further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave In sooth, And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, To velvet-guards and Sunday citizens. Come, sing. LADY PERCY. I will not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017374 | sing. HOTSPUR. Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast-teacher. An the indentures be drawn, Ill away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will. [_Exit._] GLENDOWER. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. By this our s drawn. Well but seal, And then to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017375 | horse immediately. MORTIMER. With all my heart. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter King Henry, Prince Henry and Lords. KING. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I Must have some private conference: but be near at hand, For we shall presently have need of you. [_Exeunt Lords._] I know not whether God will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017376 | have it so For some displeasing service I have done, That, in His secret doom, out of my blood Hell breed revengement and a scourge for me; But thou dost in thy passages of life Make me believe that thou art only markd For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, Could | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017377 | such inordinate and low desires, Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude society, As thou art matchd withal, and grafted to, Accompany the greatness of thy blood, And hold their level with thy princely heart? PRINCE. So please your Majesty, I would I could Quit all offences with as clear excuse As well as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017378 | I am doubtless I can purge Myself of many I am charged withal. Yet such extenuation let me beg As, in reproof of many tales devised, By smiling pickthanks and base newsmongers, Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, I may for some things true, wherein my youth Hath faulty wanderd and irregular, Find pardon on my true | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017379 | submission. KING. God pardon thee! Yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing Quite from the flight of all 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017380 | and expectation of thy time Is ruind, and the soul of every man Prophetically do forethink thy fall. Had I so lavish of my presence been, So common-hackneyd in the eyes of men, So stale and cheap to vulgar company, Opinion, that did help me to the crown, Had still kept loyal to possession, And left me in reputeless banishment, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017381 | A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. By being seldom seen, I could not stir But like a comet I was wonderd 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 dressd myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from mens | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017382 | 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, Neer seen but wonderd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017383 | down With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, Mingled his royalty, with capring 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, Enfeoffd himself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017384 | to popularity, That, being daily swallowd by mens 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 the cuckoo is in June, Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes As, sick | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017385 | 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 drowsed and hung their eyelids down, Slept in his face, and renderd such aspect As cloudy men use to their adversaries, Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full. And in that very line, Harry, standest | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017386 | 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 desired to see thee more, Which now doth that I would not have it do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. PRINCE. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, Be more myself. KING. For all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017387 | the world As thou art to this hour was Richard then When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017388 | He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, Turns head against the lions 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 arms, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017389 | 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 Discomfited great Douglas, taen 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017390 | our throne. And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The Archbishops Grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, Capitulate against us and are up. But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, Which art my nearest and dearest enemy? Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, Base inclination, and the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017391 | start of spleen, To fight against me under Percys pay, To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns, To show how much thou art degenerate. PRINCE. Do not think so, you shall not find it so. And God forgive them that so much have swayd Your Majestys good thoughts away from me! I will redeem all this on Percys | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017392 | 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, washd away, shall scour my shame with it. And that shall be the day, wheneer it lights, That this same child of honour | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017393 | 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 My 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017394 | 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 pleased I shall perform, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017395 | do beseech your Majesty may salve The long-grown wounds of my intemperance. If not, the end of life cancels all bands, And I will die a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. KING. A hundred thousand rebels die in this. Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. Enter Sir Walter Blunt. How now, good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017396 | Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed. BLUNT. So hath the business that I come to 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 offerd foul play in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017397 | a state. KING. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth today, With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster, For this advertisement is five days old. On Wednesday next you, Harry, shall set forward, On Thursday we ourselves will march. Our meeting is Bridgenorth. And, Harry, you Shall march through Gloustershire; by which account, Our business valued, some twelve days hence | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017398 | Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. Our hands are full of business. Lets away, Advantage feeds him fat while men delay. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Eastcheap. A Room in the Boars Head Tavern. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. FALSTAFF. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle? Why, my skin | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017399 | hangs about me like an old ladys loose gown. I am withered like an old apple-john. Well, Ill repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking. I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am | 60 | gutenberg |
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