The arden shakespeare co.., p.157
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works, page 157
there not besides the Douglas? Have I not all their
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letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next
month, and are they not some of them set forward
already? What a pagan rascal is this, an infidel! Ha!
You shall see now in very sincerity of fear and cold
heart will he to the King, and lay open all our
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proceedings! O, I could divide myself, and go to
buffets, for moving such a dish of skim milk with so
honourable an action! Hang him, let him tell the King,
we are prepared: I will set forward tonight.
Enter LADY PERCY.
How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two
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hours.
LADY PERCY O my good lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence have I this fortnight been
A banish’d woman from my Harry’s bed?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is’t that takes from thee
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Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
And start so often when thou sit’st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,
And given my treasures and my rights of thee
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To thick-ey’d musing, and curst melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,
Cry ‘Courage! To the field!’ And thou hast talk’d
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Of sallies, and retires, of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
Of prisoners’ ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the currents of a heady fight.
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Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream,
And in thy face strange motions have appear’d,
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Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
HOTSPUR What ho!
Enter a Servant.
Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
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SERVANT He is, my lord, an hour ago.
HOTSPUR
Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?
SERVANT One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
HOTSPUR What horse? A roan, a crop-ear is it not?
SERVANT It is, my lord.
HOTSPUR That roan shall be my throne.
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Well, I will back him straight: O Esperance!
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
Exit Servant.
LADY PERCY But hear you, my lord.
HOTSPUR What say’st thou, my lady?
LADY PERCY What is it carries you away?
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HOTSPUR Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
LADY PERCY Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
As you are toss’d with. In faith,
I’ll know your business, Harry, that I will;
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I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title, and hath sent for you
To line his enterprise. But if you go –
HOTSPUR So far afoot I shall be weary, love.
LADY PERCY Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
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Directly unto this question that I ask;
In faith, I’ll break thy little finger, Harry,
And if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
HOTSPUR Away,
Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not,
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I care not for thee, Kate; this is no world
To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips;
We must have bloody noses, and crack’d crowns,
And pass them current too. God’s me! my horse!
What say’st thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have
with me?
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LADY PERCY Do you not love me? Do you not indeed?
Well, do not then, for since you love me not
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.
HOTSPUR Come, wilt thou see me ride?
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And when I am a-horseback I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate,
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout:
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
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This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no farther wise
Than Harry Percy’s wife; constant you are,
But yet a woman; and for secrecy
No lady closer, for I well believe
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Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.
LADY PERCY How? so far?
HOTSPUR Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate,
Whither I go, thither shall you go too:
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Today will I set forth, tomorrow you.
Will this content you, Kate?
LADY PERCY It must, of force.
Exeunt.
2.4 Enter PRINCE and POINS.
PRINCE Ned, prithee come out of that fat room, and
lend me thy hand to laugh a little.
POINS Where hast been, Hal?
PRINCE With three or four loggerheads, amongst three
or fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded the very
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basestring of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a
leash of drawers, and can call them all by their christen
names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it
already upon their salvation, that though I be but
Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy, and tell
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me flatly I am no proud Jack like Falstaff, but a
Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy (by the Lord,
so they call me!), and when I am King of England I
shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They
call drinking deep ‘dyeing scarlet’, and when you
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breathe in your watering they cry ‘Hem!’ and bid you
‘Play it off!’ To conclude, I am so good a proficient in
one quarter of an hour that I can drink with any tinker
in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned,
thou hast lost much honour that thou wert not with
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me in this action; but, sweet Ned – to sweeten which
name of Ned I give thee this pennyworth of sugar,
clapped even now into my hand by an underskinker,
one that never spake other English in his life than
‘Eight shillings and sixpence’, and ‘You are welcome’,
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with this shrill addition, ‘Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint
of bastard in the Half-moon’, or so. But Ned, to drive
away the time till Falstaff come: – I prithee do thou
stand in some by-room, while I question my puny
drawer to what end he gave me the sugar, and do thou
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never leave calling ‘Francis!’, that his tale to me may
be nothing but ‘Anon’. Step aside, and I’ll show thee a
precedent. [Poins retires.]
POINS [within] Francis!
PRINCE Thou art perfect.
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POINS [within] Francis!
Enter FRANCIS, a drawer.
FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. Look down into the
Pomgarnet, Ralph.
PRINCE Come hither, Francis.
FRANCIS My lord?
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PRINCE How long hast thou to serve, Francis?
FRANCIS Forsooth, five years, and as much as to –
POINS [within] Francis!
FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir.
PRINCE Five year! By’r lady, a long lease for the clinking
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of pewter; but Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to
play the coward with thy indenture, and show it a fair
pair of heels, and run from it?
FRANCIS O Lord, sir, I’ll be sworn upon all the books in
England, I could find in my heart –
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POINS [within] Francis!
FRANCIS Anon, sir.
PRINCE How old art thou, Francis?
FRANCIS Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shall
be –
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POINS [within] Francis!
FRANCIS Anon, sir – pray stay a little, my lord.
PRINCE Nay but hark you, Francis, for the sugar thou
gavest me, ’twas a pennyworth, was’t not?
FRANCIS O Lord, I would it had been two!
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PRINCE I will give thee for it a thousand pound – ask me
when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.
POINS [within] Francis!
FRANCIS Anon, anon.
PRINCE Anon, Francis? No, Francis, but tomorrow,
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Francis; or, Francis, a-Thursday; or indeed, Francis,
when thou wilt. But Francis!
FRANCIS My lord?
PRINCE Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-
button, not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-
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garter, smooth-tongue Spanish pouch?
FRANCIS O Lord, sir, who do you mean?
PRINCE Why then your brown bastard is your only
drink: for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet
will sully. In Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.
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FRANCIS What, sir?
POINS [within] Francis!
PRINCE Away, you rogue, dost thou not hear them call?
[Here they both call him; the Drawer stands amazed, not
knowing which way to go.]
Enter Vintner.
VINTNER What, stand’st thou still and hear’st such a
calling? Look to the guests within. Exit Francis.
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My lord, old Sir John with half-a-dozen more are at
the door – shall I let them in?
PRINCE Let them alone awhile, and then open the door.
Exit Vintner.
Poins!
Re-enter POINS.
POINS Anon, anon, sir.
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PRINCE Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are
at the door; shall we be merry?
POINS As merry as crickets, my lad; but hark ye, what
cunning match have you made with this jest of the
drawer: come, what’s the issue?
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PRINCE I am now of all humours that have showed
themselves humours since the old days of goodman
Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o’clock at
midnight.
Re-enter FRANCIS.
What’s o’clock, Francis?
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FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. Exit.
PRINCE That ever this fellow should have fewer words
than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His
industry is up-stairs and down-stairs, his eloquence
the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy’s mind,
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the Hotspur of the north, he that kills me some six or
seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands,
and says to his wife, ‘Fie upon this quiet life, I want
work’. ‘O my sweet Harry’, says she, ‘how many hast
thou killed today?’ ‘Give my roan horse a drench’, says
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he, and answers, ‘Some fourteen’, an hour after; ‘a
trifle, a trifle’. I prithee call in Falstaff; I’ll play Percy,
and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his
wife. Rivo! says the drunkard: call in Ribs, call in
Tallow.
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Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH and PETO; followed by FRANCIS, with wine.
POINS Welcome, Jack, where hast thou been?
FALSTAFF A plague of all cowards, I say, and a
