ACT I SCENE II | London. An apartment of the Prince's. |
[Enter the PRINCE OF WALES and FALSTAFF] |
FALSTAFF | Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? |
PRINCE HENRY | 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. | 5 |
| What a 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 the |
| signs of leaping-houses and the blessed sun himself |
| a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no | 10 |
| reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand |
| the time of the day. |
FALSTAFF | Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take |
| purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not |
| by Phoebus, he,'that wandering knight so fair.' And, | 15 |
| I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as, God |
| save thy grace,--majesty I should say, for grace |
| thou wilt have none,-- |
PRINCE HENRY | What, none? |
FALSTAFF | No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to | 20 |
| prologue to an egg and butter. |
PRINCE HENRY | Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. |
FALSTAFF | 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 | 25 |
| 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. |
PRINCE HENRY | Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the | 30 |
| 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 | 35 |
| swearing 'Lay by' and spent with crying 'Bring in;' |
| 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. |
FALSTAFF | By the Lord, thou sayest true, lad. And is not my |
| hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? | 40 |
PRINCE HENRY | As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And |
| is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? |
FALSTAFF | How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips and |
| thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a |
| buff jerkin? | 45 |
PRINCE HENRY | Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? |
FALSTAFF | Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a |
| time and oft. |
PRINCE HENRY | Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? |
FALSTAFF | No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. | 50 |
PRINCE HENRY | Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; |
| and where it would not, I have used my credit. |
FALSTAFF | Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent |
| that thou art heir apparent--But, I prithee, sweet |
| wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when | 55 |
| thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is |
| with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do |
| not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. |
PRINCE HENRY | No; thou shalt. |
FALSTAFF | Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.
| 60 |
PRINCE HENRY | Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have |
| the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman. |
FALSTAFF | Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my |
| humour as well as waiting in the court, I can tell |
| you. | 65 |
PRINCE HENRY | For obtaining of suits? |
FALSTAFF | Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman |
| hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy |
| as a gib cat or a lugged bear. |
PRINCE HENRY | Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. | 70 |
FALSTAFF | Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. |
PRINCE HENRY | What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of |
| Moor-ditch? |
FALSTAFF | Thou hast the most unsavoury similes and art indeed |
| the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young | 75 |
| prince. But, Hal, I prithee, 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 | 80 |
| he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not; and |
| yet he talked wisely, and in the street too. |
PRINCE HENRY | Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the |
| streets, and no man regards it. |
FALSTAFF | O, thou hast damnable iteration and art indeed able | 85 |
| 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 | 90 |
| it over: by the Lord, and I do not, I am a villain: |
| I'll be damned for never a king's son in |
| Christendom. |
PRINCE HENRY | Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? |
FALSTAFF | 'Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll make one; an I | 95 |
| do not, call me villain and baffle me. |
PRINCE HENRY | I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying |
| to purse-taking. |
FALSTAFF | Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a |
| man to labour in his vocation. | 100 |
[Enter POINS] |
| Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a |
| match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what |
| hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the |
| most omnipotent villain that ever cried 'Stand' to |
| a true man. | 105 |
PRINCE HENRY | Good morrow, Ned. |
POINS | Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? |
| what says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack! how |
| agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou |
| soldest him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Madeira | 110 |
| and a cold capon's leg? |
PRINCE HENRY | Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have |
| his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of |
| proverbs: he will give the devil his due. |
POINS | Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil. | 115 |
PRINCE HENRY | Else he had been damned for cozening the devil. |
POINS | But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four |
| o'clock, early at Gadshill! there are pilgrims going |
| to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders |
| riding to London with fat purses: I have vizards | 120 |
| for you all; you have horses for yourselves: |
| Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester: I have bespoke |
| supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap: we may do it |
| as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff |
| your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry | 125 |
| at home and be hanged. |
FALSTAFF | Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go not, |
| I'll hang you for going. |
POINS | You will, chops? |
FALSTAFF | Hal, wilt thou make one? | 130 |
PRINCE HENRY | Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. |
FALSTAFF | There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good |
| fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood |
| royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. |
PRINCE HENRY | Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. | 135 |
FALSTAFF | Why, that's well said. |
PRINCE HENRY | Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. |
FALSTAFF | By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. |
PRINCE HENRY | I care not. |
POINS | Sir John, I prithee, leave the prince and me alone: | 140 |
| I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure |
| that he shall go. |
FALSTAFF | Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him |
| the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may |
| move and what he hears may be believed, that the | 145 |
| true prince may, for recreation sake, prove a false |
| thief; for the poor abuses of the time want |
| countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap. |
PRINCE HENRY | Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer! |
[Exit Falstaff] |
POINS | Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us | 150 |
| to-morrow: I have a jest to execute that I cannot |
| manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto and Gadshill |
| shall rob those men that we have already waylaid: |
| yourself and I will not be there; and when they |
| have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut | 155 |
| this head off from my shoulders. |
PRINCE HENRY | How shall we part with them in setting forth? |
POINS | Why, we will set forth before or after them, and |
| appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at |
| our pleasure to fail, and then will they adventure | 160 |
| upon the exploit themselves; which they shall have |
| no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them. |
PRINCE HENRY | Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our |
| horses, by our habits and by every other |
| appointment, to be ourselves. | 165 |
POINS | Tut! our horses they shall not see: I'll tie them |
| in the wood; our vizards we will change after we |
| leave them: and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram |
| for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments. |
PRINCE HENRY | Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us. | 170 |
POINS | Well, for two of them, I know them to be as |
| true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the |
| third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll |
| forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the |
| incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will | 175 |
| tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at |
| least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what |
| extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this |
| lies the jest. |
PRINCE HENRY | Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things | 180 |
| necessary and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap; |
| there I'll sup. Farewell. |
POINS | Farewell, my lord. |
[Exit Poins] |
PRINCE HENRY | I know you all, and will awhile uphold |
| The unyoked humour of your idleness: | 185 |
| Yet herein will I imitate the sun, |
| Who doth permit the base contagious clouds |
| To smother up his beauty from the world, |
| That, when he please again to be himself, |
| Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, | 190 |
| By breaking through the foul and ugly mists |
| Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. |
| If all the year were playing holidays, |
| To sport would be as tedious as to work; |
| But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, | 195 |
| And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. |
| So, when this loose behavior I throw off |
| And pay the debt I never promised, |
| By how much better than my word I am, |
| By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; | 200 |
| And like bright metal on a sullen ground, |
| My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, |
| Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes |
| Than that which hath no foil to set it off. |
| I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; | 205 |
| Redeeming time when men think least I will. |
[Exit] |