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SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER BLUNT,
and others. K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in stronds* afar remote.
* Strands of the sea.
No more the thirsty Erinnys* of this soil
West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,
K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord; For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north, and thus it did import. On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, That ever-valiant and approved Scot, At Holmedon met,
* The fury of discord.
Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend,
West. In faith,
K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak’st me sin
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester,
K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this;
* Soiled with dirt of different colours. † Piled up in a heap.
For more is to be said, and to be done,
[Excunt. SCENE II.-The same. Another Room in the Paiacs.
Enter HENRY Prince of Wales, and FALSTAFF. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What the devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials of signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taflata; I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.
Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus, he, that
wandering knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none),
P. Hen. What, none ?
Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.
P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.
Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us be- Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: And let men say, we be men of good government: being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress, the moon, under whose countenance we-steal.
P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: A purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing-lay by !* and spent with crying-bring int now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder: and, by-and-by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.
Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?
P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ?I
Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?
Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.
P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ? * Stand.
+ I. e. more wine. • The dress of sheriff's officers. VOL. II.
Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used my credit.
Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But, I prythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty crub of old father antic the law ? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. P. Hen. No; thou shalt. Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
P. Hen. For obtaining of suits ?
Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits : whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a jib* cat, or a lugged bear.
P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?
Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,--sweet young prince, -But, Hal, I prythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, Sir; but I marked him not : and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.
P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it,
Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration; I and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain ; I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom. P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack ?
Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do not, call me villain, and baffle & me.
P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying, to purse-taking.
Enter Poins, at a distance. Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins !-Now shall we know if Gadshill hath set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what
* Gelded cat.
+ Croak of a frog.
Treat me with ignominy.