KING HENRY IV.-PART I. ACT I. SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir WALTER Blunt, and others. K. HEN. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, WEST. My liege, this haste was hot in question, K. HEN. It seems, then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land. WEST. This, match'd with other like, my gracious lord For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north, and thus it did report: Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; And shape of likelihood, the news was told; K. HEN. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend, Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news: Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, On Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners, Hotspur took To beaten Douglas; and the earl of Athol, Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. And is not this an honourable spoil? A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. K. HEN. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and makʼst me sin In envy that my lord Northumberland Should be the father of so bless'd a son: A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; But let him from my thoughts:-What think you, coz', To his own use he keeps; and sends me word, I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife. WEST. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester, Malevolent to you in all aspects; Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity. K. HEN. But I have sent for him to answer this: And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we Will hold at Windsor; and so inform the lords; Than out of anger can be uttered. WEST. I will, my liege. SCENE II.-The same. [Exeunt. Another Room in the Palace. Enter HENRY PRINCE OF WALES, and FALSTAFF. FAL. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? P. HEN. 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. What a devil bast 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 taffata; I see no reason whý thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day. FAL. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus, he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king,—as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,) P. HEN. What! none? FAL. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. P. HEN. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. FAL. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the knight's body be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us be Diana's 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. P. HEN. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the 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 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. FAL. Thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? P. HEN. 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 buffjerkin? P. HEN. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? FAL. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft. P. HEN. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? FAL. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. P. HEN. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and where it would not I have used my credit. FAL. 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 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. P. HEN. No; thou shalt. FAL. Shall I? O rare! I'll be a brave judge. P. HEN. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. FAL. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. P. HEN. For obtaining of suits? FAL. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear.) P. HEN. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. FAL. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. |