DOLL. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas poor ape, how thou sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops :-Ah, rogue! i'faith,* I love thee. Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the nine worthies: ah, villain !

FAL. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.

DOLL. Do, ant thou darest, for thy heart: if thou dost, I'll canvas thee between a pair of sheets. PAGE. The music is come, sir.

boar-pig,(6) when wilt thou leave fighting o' days, and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?

Enter behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS, disguised like Drawers.

FAL. Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's head; do not bid me remember mine end.

DOLL. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of? FAL. A good shallow young fellow he would have made a good pantler, he would have chipped bread well.

DOLL. They say, Poins hath a good wit.

FAL. He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard; there is no more conceit in him, than is in a mallet.

DOLL. Why doth the prince love him so then?

a Tidy-] Tidy meant plump: from the Teutonic, tydigk, ripe, mature, in good condition.

FAL. Because their legs are both of a bigness; and he plays at quoits well; and eats conger and fennel; and drinks off candles' ends for flapdragons ;(7) and rides the wild mare with the boys; and jumps upon joint-stools; and swears with a good grace; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories: and such other gambol faculties he hath, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince admits him : for the prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.

P. HEN. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?

POINS. Let's beat him before his whore.

P. HEN. Look, if the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.

POINS. Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

FAL. Kiss me, Doll.

P. HEN. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what says the almanac to that?

POINS. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables; his note-book, his counsel-keeper.

b

FAL. Thou dost give me flattering busses. DOLL. Nay, truly, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.

FAL. I am old, I am old.

DOLL. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all.

FAL. What stuff wilt* have a kirtle of? I shall receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come it grows late, we'll to bed. Thou❜lt forget me, when I am

gone.

DOLL. By my troth thou 'lt set me a weeping, anthou say'st so: prove that ever I§ dress myself handsome till thy return.- -Well, hearken

the end.

FAL. Some sack, Francis.

P. HEN. POINS. Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing. FAL. Ha! a bastard son of the king's ?—And art not thou Poins his brother?

P. HEN. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead?

FAL. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.

P. HEN. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.

HOST. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace!

welcome to London.-Now, heaven bless that sweet face of thine! What! are you come from Wales?

FAL. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, -by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. [Leaning his hand upon DOLL. DOLL. How! you fat fool, I scorn you.

POINS. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.

P. HEN. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?

*

HOST. God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, by my troth.

FAL. Didst thou hear me?

P. HEN. Yes; and you knew me, as you did when you run away by Gads-hill: you knew, I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose, to try my patience.

FAL. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing.

P. HEN. I shall drive you, then, to confess the wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle you. FAL. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no abuse.

P. HEN. Not! to dispraise me; and call me pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what?

FAL. No abuse, Hal.

POINS. No abuse!

:

FAL. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him :in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal;-none, Ned, none;-no, boys, none.

P. HEN. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman, to close with us? Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is thy boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

POINS. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

FAL. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privykitchen, where he doth nothing but roast maltworms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him; but the devil outbids him too. P. HEN. For the women?

and Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius are the Fiery Trigon, but this does not much assist us in understanding the allusion intended. e Poins his brother?] Poins's brother.

and burns, poor soul!* For the other, I owe her money; and whether she be damned for that, I know not.

HOST. No, I warrant you.

FAL. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art quit for that: marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law: for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

HOST. All victuallers do so; what's a joint of mutton or two, in a whole Lent?

P. HEN. You, gentlewoman,DOLL. What says your grace? FAL. His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. [Knocking without.

HOST. Who knocks so loud at door? look to the door there, Francis.

Enter PETO.

P. HEN. Peto! how now? what news? PETO. The king your father is at Westminster; And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, Come from the north: and, as I came along, I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking everyone for sir John Falstaff.

P. HEN. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,

So idly to profane the precious time,
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

(*) Old text, souls.

Give me my sword and cloak:-Falstaff, good night.

[Exeunt P. HENRY, POINS, PETO, and BAR

DOLPH.

FAL. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. [Knocking heard.] More knocking at the door!

Re-enter BARDOLPH.

How now? what's the matter?

BARD. You must away to court, sir, presently; a dozen captains stay at door for you.

FAL. Pay the musicians, sirrah. [To the Page.] Farewell, hostess ;-farewell, Doll.-You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches:-if I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go.

DOLL. I cannot speak.-If my heart be not ready to burst:-well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.

FAL. Farewell, farewell.

a SCENE I.-] This scene does not appear in the first quarto, published in 1600; but another edition was issued in the same year to supply the omission.

But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,

And well consider of them: make good speed.--
[Exit Page.
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep!-O'sleep! O gentle sleep!
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,

And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god! why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Can'st thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Enter WARWICK and SURREY, and SIR JOHN BLUNT.

WAR. Many good morrows to your majesty!
K. HEN. Is it good morrow, lords?
WAR. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.

K. HEN. Why then, good morrow to you all,

my lords.

Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? WAR. We have, my liege.

K. HEN. Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom,

How foul it is: what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.

&

WAR. It is but as a body, yet distemper'd; a Which to his former strength may be restor❜d, With good advice, and little medicine:My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.

K. HEN. O God!* that one might read the book of fate,

And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent (Weary of solid firmness) melt itself

Into the sea! and, other times, to see

The beachy girdle of the ocean

Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,b

(*) First folio, Heaven.

a Yet distemper'd;] That is, now distemper'd. See note (b), p. 346.

The happiest youth,-viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,—
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
"Tis not ten years gone,

Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together, and, in two years after,
Were they at wars: it is but eight years, since
This Percy was the man nearest my soul;
Who, like a brother, toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot;
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard,
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by,
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,)

[TO WARWICK.
When Richard, with his eye brim-full of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;-
Though then, God knows, I had no such intent;
But that necessity so bow'd the state,

That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss :-
The time shall come, thus did he follow it,
The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption :—so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition,
And the division of our amity.

WAR. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd:
The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life; which in their seeds,
And weak beginnings, lie intreasured.

Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And, by the necessary form of this,

King Richard might create a perfect guess,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness;
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.

K. HEN. Are these things, then, necessities?
Then let us meet them like necessities:-
And that same word even now cries out on us.
They say, the bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.

WAR.
It cannot be, my lord;
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd.-Please it your grace,
To go to bed; upon my soul,+ my lord,
The powers that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.

To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain instance, that Glendower is dead.
Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill;