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Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon spent a fad and bloody hour:
As by discharge of their artillery,
And fhape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought it, in the very heat
And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Uncertain of the iffue any way.

K. Henry. Here is a dear and true induftrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each foil
Betwixt that Holmedon, and this feat of ours:
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
The Earl of Douglas is discomfited,

Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights,
Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter fee

On Holmedon's plains. Of prifoners, Hot-spur took
Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest fon
Unto the beaten Dowglas, and the Earls
Of Atbol, Murry, Angus, and Monteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize?, ha, coufin, is it not?

Weft. In faith, a conqueft for a Prince to boast of.
K. Henry. Yea, there thou mak'ft me fad, and mak'st
me fin,

In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father of fo bleft a fon;
A fon, who is the theam of honour's tongue,
Amongst a grove the very ftreightest plant,
Who is fweet fortune's minion, and her pride;
Whilft I, by looking on the praife of him,
See riot and difhonour ftain the brow
Of my young Harry. O could it be prov'd,
That fome night tripping Fairy had exchang'd,
In cradle-cloaths, our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet;
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coufin,
Of this young Percy's pride? the prifoners,
Which he in this adventure hath furpriz'd,


To his own ufe he keeps, and fends me word
I fhall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.

Weft. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all afpects;
Which makes him plume himself, and bristle up
The creft of youth against your dignity.

K. Henry. But I have fent for him to answer this ;
And for this caufe a while we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerufalem.

Coufin, on Wednesday next, our council we
Will hold at Windfor, fo inform the Lords:
But come your felf with speed to us again ;
For more is to be faid, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
Weft. I will, my Liege.


SCENE II. An Apartment of the Prince's. Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falftaff. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

P. Henry. Thou art fo fat-witted with drinking old fack, and unbuttoning thee after fupper, and fleeping upon benches in the afternoon, that thou haft forgotten to demand that truly, which thou would't truly know. What a devil haft thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of fack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the figns of leaping-houses, and the bleffed Sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata; I fee no reason why thou should't be fo fuperfluous, to demand the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed you come near me now, Hal. For we that take purfes, go by the moon and feven ftars, and not by Phoebus, be, that wandring knight fo fair. And I pray thee, fweet wag, when thou art King-as God fave thy Grace, (Majefty I fhould fay, for grace thou wilt have none.)

P. Henry. What! none?

Fal. No, by my troth, not fo much as will ferve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

P. Henry. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry then, fweet wag, when thou art King, let not us that are squires of the night's body, be call'd thieves


of the day's booty. Let us be Diana's forefters, gentlemen of the fhade, minions of the Moon; and let men fay, we be men of good government, being governed as, the fea is, by our noble and chafte miftrefs the Moon, under whose Countenance we Steal.

P. Henry. Thou fay'st well, and it holds well too; for the fortune of us that are the Moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the fea, being govern'd as the fea is, by the Moon. As for proof, now: a purfe of gold moft refolutely fnatch'd on Monday night, and moft diffolutely fpent on Tuesday morning; got with fwearing, lug out; and fpent 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

Fal. By the Lord, thou fay'ft true, lad: and is not mine hoftefs of the tavern a moft fweet wench?

P. Henry. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle *; and is not a buff-jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ?

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. Henry. Why, what a pox have I to do with my ho ftefs of the tavern?

Fal. Well, thou haft call'd her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

P. Henry. Did I ever call thee to pay thy part?

Fal. No, I'll give thee thy due, thou haft paid all there. P. Henry, Yea and elsewhere, fo far as my coin would ftretch, and where it would not I have us'd my credit.

Fal. Yea, and fo us'd it, that were it not here apparent, that thou art heir apparent-But I pr'ythee, fweet wag, fhall there be gallows ftanding in England when thou art King? and refolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antick, the law? Do not thou, when thou art a King, hang a thief.

P. Henry. No; thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare! I'll be a brave judge.


This is a proof that the name of Sir John Oldeafle stood first under this character of Falstaff.


P. Henry. Thou judgeft falfe already; I mean thou fhalt have the hanging of the thieves, and fo become a rare bangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in fome fort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you. P. Henry. For obtaining of fuits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of fuits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. Sblood I am as melancholy as a gib-cat, or a lugg'd bear.

P. Henry. Or an old Lion, or a lover's lute.
Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

P. Henry. What fay' ft thou to a Hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Fal. Thou haft the moft unfavoury fimiles, and art indeed the most incomparative, rafcallieft, fweet young Prince

- But, Hal, I pr'ythee 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 mark'd him not, and yet he talk'd very wifely, and in the Street too.


P. Henry. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the freet, and no man regards it.

Fal. O, thou haft damnable attraction, and art indeed able to corrupt a faint. Thou haft done much harm unto me, Hal, God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now I am, 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 damn'd for never a King's fon in chriftendom.

P. Henry. Where fhall 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. Henry. I fee a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purfe-taking.

Fal, Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal. 'Tis no fin for a man to labour in his vocation.-Poins!

SCENE III. Enter Poins.

Now fhall we know if Gads-bill have fet a match. O, if


men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hor enough for him? this is the moft omnipotent villain, that ever cry'd, ftand, to a true man.

P. Henry. Good morrow, Ned.

Poins. Good morrow, fweet Hal. What fays Monfieur remorfe? what fays Sir John fack and fugar? Jack! how agree the devil and thou about thy foul, that thou foldest him on Good Friday laft, for a cup of Madera, and a cold capon's leg?

P. Henry. Sir John ftands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs; He will give the devil bis due.

Poins. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the devil.

P. Henry. Elfe he had been damn'd for cozening the devil. Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four a clock early at Gads-bill; there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purfes. I have vizards for you all; you have horfes for your felves; Gads-bill lyes to-night in Rochester, I have befpoke fupper to-morrow in Eaft-cheap; we may do it as fecure as fleep: if you will go, I will ftuff your purfes full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd.

Fal. Hear ye, Yedward, if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going.

Poins. You will, chops?"

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Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ?

P. Henry. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. Fal. There's neither honefty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee; thou carn' not of the blood-royal, if thou dar' At not cry, ftand, for ten fhillings.

P. Henry. Well then, once in my days I'll be a mad-cap. Fal. Why, that's well said.

P. Henry. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art King.

P. Henry. I care not,

Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the Prince and me


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