Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece of gold a
counterfeit. Thou art
essentially mad without
seeming so.
Prince. And thou a natural
coward without instinct.
Fal. I deny your major. If you will deny the
sheriff, so; if not,
let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a
plague on my bringing up! I hope I shall as soon be strangled
with a
halter as another.
Prince. Go hide thee behind the arras. The rest walk, up above.
Now, my masters, for a true face and good conscience.
Fal. Both which I have had; but their date is out, and therefore
I'll hide me. Exit.
Prince. Call in the
sheriff.
[Exeunt Manent the Prince and Peto.]
Enter Sheriff and the Carrier.
Now, Master Sheriff, what is your will with me?
Sher. First,
pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry
Hath followed certain men unto this house.
Prince. What men?
Sher. One of them is well known, my
gracious lord-
A gross fat man.
Carrier. As fat as butter.
Prince. The man, I do assure you, is not here,
For I myself at this time have employ'd him.
And,
sheriff, I will engage my word to thee
That I will by to-
morrow dinner time
Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For anything he shall be charg'd withal;
And so let me
entreat you leave the house.
Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen
Have in this
robbery lost three hundred marks.
Prince. It may be so. If he have robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable; and so farewell.
Sher. Good night, my noble lord.
Prince. I think it is good
morrow, is it not?
Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock.
Exit [with Carrier].
Prince. This oily
rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go call him
forth.
Peto. Falstaff! Fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a
horse.
Prince. Hark how hard he fetches
breath. Search his pockets.
He searcheth his pockets and findeth certain papers.
What hast thou found?
Peto. Nothing but papers, my lord.
Prince. Let's see whit they be. Read them.
Peto. [reads] 'Item. A capon. . . . . . . . . . . . . ii s. ii d.
Item, Sauce. . . . . . . . . . . . . . iiii d.
Item, Sack two gallons . . . . . . . . v s. viii d.
Item, Anchovies and sack after supper. ii s. vi d.
Item, Bread. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ob.'
Prince. O
monstrous! but one halfpennyworth of bread to this
intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, keep close; we'll
read it at more
advantage. There let him sleep till day. I'll to
the court in the morning . We must all to the wars. and thy place
shall be
honourable. I'll
procure this fat rogue a
charge of
foot; and I know, his death will be a march of twelve score. The
money shall be paid back again with
advantage. Be with me betimes
in the morning, and so good
morrow, Peto.
Peto. Good
morrow, good my lord.
Exeunt.
ACT III. Scene I.
Bangor. The Archdeacon's house.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.
Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure,
And our induction full of
prosperous hope.
Hot. Lord Mortimer, and cousin Glendower,
Will you sit down?
And uncle Worcester. A
plague upon it!
I have forgot the map.
Glend. No, here it is.
Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur,
For by that name as oft as Lancaster
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with
A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven.
Hot. And you in hell, as oft as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.
Glend. I cannot blame him. At my nativity
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes
Of burning cressets, and at my birth
The frame and huge
foundation of the earth
Shak'd like a
coward.
Hot. Why, so it would have done at the same season, if your
mother's cat had but
kitten'd, though yourself had never been
born.
Glend. I say the earth did shake when I was born.
Hot. And I say the earth was not of my mind,
If you suppose as fearing you it shook.
Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.
Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,
And not in fear of your nativity.
Diseased nature
oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of
unruly wind
Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth and topples down
Steeples and mossgrown towers. At your birth
Our grandam earth, having this distemp'rature,
In
passion shook.
Glend. Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
To tell you once again that at my birth
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were
strangelyclamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipp'd in with the sea
That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales,
Which calls me pupil or hath read to me?
And bring him out that is but woman's son
Can trace me in the
tedious ways of art
And hold me pace in deep experiments.
Hot. I think there's no man speaks better Welsh. I'll to dinner.
Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad.
Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man;
But will they come when you do call for them?
Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil.
Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil-
By telling truth. Tell truth and shame the devil.
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence.
O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil!
Mort. Come, come, no more of this
unprofitable chat.
Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head
Against my power;
thrice from the banks of Wye
And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him
Bootless home and weather-beaten back.
Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too?
How scapes he agues, in the devil's name
Glend. Come, here's the map. Shall we divide our right
According to our threefold order ta'en?
Mort. The Archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits very equally.
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east is to my part assign'd;
All
westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the
fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower; and, dear coz, to you
The
remnantnorthward lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn;
Which being sealed interchangeably
(A business that this night may execute),
To-
morrow, cousin Percy, you and I
And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth
To meet your father and the Scottish bower,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days.
[To Glend.] Within that space you may have drawn together
Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.
Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords;
And in my conduct shall your ladies come,
From whom you now must steal and take no leave,
For there will be a world of water shed
Upon the
parting of your wives and you.
Hot. Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here,
In quantity equals not one of yours.
See how this river comes me cranking in
And cuts me from the best of all my land
A huge half-moon, a
monstrous cantle out.
I'll have the current ill this place damm'd up,
And here the smug and sliver Trent shall run
In a new
channel fair and evenly.
It shall not wind with such a deep indent
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.
Glend. Not wind? It shall, it must! You see it doth.
Mort. Yea, but
Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up
With like
advantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposed
continent as much
As on the other side it takes from you.
Wor. Yea, but a little
charge will
trench him here
And on this north side win this cape of land;
And then he runs straight and even.
Hot. I'll have it so. A little
charge will do it.
Glend. I will not have it alt'red.
Hot. Will not you?
Glend. No, nor you shall not.
Hot. Who shall say me nay?
Glend. No, that will I.
Hot. Let me not understand you then; speak it in Welsh.
Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you;
For I was train'd up in the English court,
Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty lovely well,
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament-
A
virtue that was never seen in you.
Hot. Marry,
And I am glad of it with all my heart!
I had rather be a
kitten and cry mew
Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.
I had rather hear a
brazen canstick turn'd
Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree,
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry.
'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag,
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.
Hot. I do not care. I'll give
thrice so much land