The First Part Of King Henry The Fourth

1 Enter Prince Henry and Sir John Falstaff.
2 FALSTAFF.
3 Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
4 PRINCE.
5 Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee
6 after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast
7 forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a
8 devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups
9 of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials
10 the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot
11 wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be
12 so superfluous to demand the time of the day.
13 FALSTAFF.
14 Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go by the
15 moon and the seven stars, and not by Phœbus, he, that wand’ring knight
16 so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as God save thy
17 Grace—Majesty I should say, for grace thou wilt have none—
18 PRINCE.
19 What, none?
20 FALSTAFF.
21 No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and
22 butter.
23 PRINCE.
24 Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
25 FALSTAFF.
26 Marry then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires
27 of the night’s body be called thieves of the day’s beauty: let us be
28 Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon; and let
29 men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by
30 our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we
31 steal.
32 PRINCE.
33 Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the fortune of us that are
34 the moon’s men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the
35 sea is, by the moon. As for proof now: a purse of gold most resolutely
36 snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday
37 morning, got with swearing “Lay by” and spent with crying “Bring in”;
38 now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as
39 high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.
40 FALSTAFF.
41 By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern
42 a most sweet wench?
43 PRINCE.
44 As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff
45 jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?
46 FALSTAFF.
47 How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy quiddities? What
48 a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
49 PRINCE.
50 Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?
51 FALSTAFF.
52 Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.
53 PRINCE.
54 Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
55 FALSTAFF.
56 No, I’ll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
57 PRINCE.
58 Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch, and where it would
59 not, I have used my credit.
60 FALSTAFF.
61 Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent that thou art heir
62 apparent—But I prithee sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in
63 England when thou art king? And resolution thus fubbed as it is with
64 the rusty curb of old father Antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art
65 king, hang a thief.
66 PRINCE.
67 No, thou shalt.
68 FALSTAFF.
69 Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.
70 PRINCE.
71 Thou judgest false already, I mean thou shalt have the hanging of the
72 thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
73 FALSTAFF.
74 Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as
75 waiting in the court, I can tell you.
76 PRINCE.
77 For obtaining of suits?
78 FALSTAFF.
79 Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe.
80 ’Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear.
81 PRINCE.
82 Or an old lion, or a lover’s lute.
83 FALSTAFF.
84 Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
85 PRINCE.
86 What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?
87 FALSTAFF.
88 Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, and art indeed the most
89 comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I prithee
90 trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew where a
91 commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of the Council
92 rated me the other day in the street about you, sir, but I marked him
93 not, and yet he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he
94 talked wisely, and in the street too.
95 PRINCE.
96 Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out in the streets and no man regards
97 it.
98 FALSTAFF.
99 O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a
100 saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it.
101 Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing, and now am I, if a man should
102 speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over
103 this life, and I will give it over. By the Lord, an I do not, I am a
104 villain. I’ll be damned for never a king’s son in Christendom.
105 PRINCE.
106 Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
107 FALSTAFF.
108 Zounds, where thou wilt, lad, I’ll make one. An I do not, call me
109 villain and baffle me.
110 PRINCE.
111 I see a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purse-taking.
112 FALSTAFF.
113 Why, Hal, ’tis my vocation, Hal, ’tis no sin for a man to labour in his
114 vocation.
115 Enter Poins.
116 Poins!—Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if men were
117 to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This
118 is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried “Stand!” to a true man.
119 PRINCE.
120 Good morrow, Ned.
121 POINS.
122 Good morrow, sweet Hal.—What says Monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John
123 Sack-and-sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul,
124 that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a
125 cold capon’s leg?
126 PRINCE.
127 Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain, for he
128 was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will give the devil his due.
129 POINS.
130 Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil.
131 PRINCE.
132 Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.
133 POINS.
134 But, my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning, by four o’clock early at Gad’s
135 Hill, there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and
136 traders riding to London with fat purses. I have visards for you all;
137 you have horses for yourselves. Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester. I
138 have bespoke supper tomorrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure
139 as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns. If
140 you will not, tarry at home and be hanged.
141 FALSTAFF.
142 Hear ye, Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, I’ll hang you for
143 going.
144 POINS.
145 You will, chops?
146 FALSTAFF.
147 Hal, wilt thou make one?
148 PRINCE.
149 Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
150 FALSTAFF.
151 There’s neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou
152 cam’st not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten
153 shillings.
154 PRINCE.
155 Well then, once in my days I’ll be a madcap.
156 FALSTAFF.
157 Why, that’s well said.
158 PRINCE.
159 Well, come what will, I’ll tarry at home.
160 FALSTAFF.
161 By the Lord, I’ll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
162 PRINCE.
163 I care not.
164 POINS.
165 Sir John, I prithee, leave the Prince and me alone. I will lay him down
166 such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.
167 FALSTAFF.
168 Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion, and him the ears of
169 profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be
170 believed, that the true prince may, for recreation sake, prove a false
171 thief, for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell, you
172 shall find me in Eastcheap.
173 PRINCE.
174 Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer!
175 [_Exit Falstaff._]
176 POINS.
177 Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us tomorrow. I have a jest to
178 execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and
179 Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid. Yourself and
180 I will not be there. And when they have the booty, if you and I do not
181 rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders.
182 PRINCE.
183 But how shall we part with them in setting forth?
184 POINS.
185 Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place
186 of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they
187 adventure upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have no sooner
188 achieved but we’ll set upon them.
189 PRINCE.
190 Yea, but ’tis like that they will know us by our horses, by our habits,
191 and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.
192 POINS.
193 Tut, our horses they shall not see, I’ll tie them in the wood; our
194 visards we will change after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases
195 of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.
196 PRINCE.
197 Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
198 POINS.
199 Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever
200 turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason,
201 I’ll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be the
202 incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when we
203 meet at supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what wards, what
204 blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lives
205 the jest.
206 PRINCE.
207 Well, I’ll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary and meet me
208 tomorrow night in Eastcheap; there I’ll sup. Farewell.
209 POINS.
210 Farewell, my lord.
211 [_Exit._]
212 PRINCE.
213 I know you all, and will awhile uphold
214 The unyok’d humour of your idleness.
215 Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
216 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
217 To smother up his beauty from the world,
218 That, when he please again to be himself,
219 Being wanted, he may be more wonder’d at,
220 By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
221 Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
222 If all the year were playing holidays,
223 To sport would be as tedious as to work;
224 But, when they seldom come, they wish’d-for come,
225 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
226 So when this loose behaviour I throw off,
227 And pay the debt I never promised,
228 By how much better than my word I am,
229 By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;
230 And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
231 My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault,
232 Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
233 Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
234 I’ll so offend, to make offence a skill,
235 Redeeming time, when men think least I will.
236 [_Exit._]