Notes originally placed at the bottom of each page appear below, following Act II. Where these notes gloss a word in the text, the gloss can also be found by hovering over the text.

Where these notes refer to an end note (cf. n. = confer notam; "consult note"), a link to the accompanying end note is provided from the Footnotes section. The end notes accompanying Act II begin on page 124 of the original volume.


Scene One

[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? 4

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 8
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale and with
A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven.

Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of. 12

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 16
Shak'd like a coward.

Hot. Why, so it would have done at the same
season, if your mother's cat had but kittened,
though yourself had never been born. 20

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. 24

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 28
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 beldam earth, and topples down
Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth 33
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature.
In passion shook.

Glend.Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 36
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 strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; 41
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 44
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 48
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. 52

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 thee, cousin, to command 56
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, 60
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. 64

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. 68

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? 72

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: 76
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent. 80
And our indentures tripartite are drawn,
Which being sealed interchangeably,
A business that this night may execute,
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you and I 84
And my good Lord Worcester will set forth
To meet your father and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet, 88
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days.
Within that space you may have drawn together
Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.

Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords; 92
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. 96

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 100
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up,
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run
In a new channel, fair and evenly: 104
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 108
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. 112

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 alter'd.

Hot.Will not you? 117

Glend. No, nor you shall not.

Hot.Who shall say me nay?

Glend. Why, that will I.

Hot. Let me not understand you then:
Speak it in Welsh. 120

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, 124
And gave the tongue an helpful ornament;
A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart.
I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew 128
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers;
I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry: 133
'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 136
To any well-deserving friend;
But in the way of bargain, mark you me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone?

Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by night: 141
I'll haste the writer and withal
Break with your wives of your departure hence:
I am afraid my daughter will run mad, 144
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Exit.

Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father!

Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, 149
And of a dragon, and a finless fish,
A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat, 152
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I'll tell thee what;
He held me last night at least nine hours
In reckoning up the several devils' names 156
That were his lackeys: I cried 'hum!' and 'well, go to.'
But mark'd him not a word. O! he's as tedious
As a tired horse, a railing wife;
Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live
With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, 161
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, 164
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments, valiant as a lion
And wondrous affable, and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 168
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope
When you do cross his humour; faith, he does.
I warrant you, that man is not alive 172
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof:
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame; 176
And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,— 180
And that's the dearest grace it renders you,—
Yet often times it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain: 184
The least of which haunting a nobleman
Loseth men's hearts and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides.
Beguiling them of commendation. 188

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed!
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me,
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. 192

Glend. My daughter weeps; she will not part with you:
She'll be a soldier too: she'll to the wars.

Mort. Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy,
Shall follow in your conduct speedily. 196

Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she
answers him in the same.

Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-
will'd harlotry, one that no persuasion can do
good upon. The lady speaks in Welsh.

Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh 200
Which thou pour'st down from these swelling heavens
I am too perfect in; and, but for shame.
In such a parley would I answer thee.
The lady again in Welsh.
I understand thy kisses and thou mine, 204
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 209
With ravishing division, to her lute.

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.

The lady speaks again in Welsh.

Mort. O! I am ignorance itself in this. 212

Glend. She bids you
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep, 217
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference between day and night 220
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

Mort. With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing:
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.

Glend. Do so; 225
And those musicians that shall play to you
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence,
And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend. 228

Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying
down: come, quick, quick, that I may lay my
head in thy lap.

Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. 232

The Music plays.

Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh;
And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous.
By'r lady, he's a good musician.

Lady P. Then should you be nothing but
musical, for you are altogether governed by
humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady
sing in Welsh.

Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl
in Irish. 240

Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken?

Hot. No.

Lady P. Then be still.

Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault. 244

Lady P. Now, God help thee!

Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.

Lady P. What's that?

Hot. Peace! she sings. 248

Here the lady sings a Welsh song.

Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.

Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth.

Hot. Not yours, 'in good sooth!' Heart!
you swear like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you
'in good sooth;' and, 'as true as I live;' and,
'as God shall mend me;' and, 'as sure as day:'
And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths,
As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury. 256
Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath; and leave 'in sooth,'
And such protest of pepper-gingerbread,
To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens. 260
Come, sing.

Lady P. I will not sing.

Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor or be
red-breast teacher. An the indentures be drawn,
I'll away within these two hours; and so, come
in when ye will. Exit.

Glend. Come, come. Lord Mortimer; you are as slow
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. 268
By this our book is drawn; we will but seal,
And then to horse immediately.

Mort. With all my heart. Exeunt.

Scene Two

[London. The Palace]

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

King. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I
Must have some private conference: but be near at hand,
For we shall presently have need of you.

Exeunt Lords.

I know not whether God will have it so, 4
For some displeasing service I have done,
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me;
But thou dost in thy passages of life 8
Make me believe that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven
To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate and low desires, 12
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood 16
And hold their level with thy princely heart?

Prince. So please your majesty, I would I could
Quit all offences with as clear excuse
As well as I am doubtless I can purge 20
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission. 28

King. God pardon thee! yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, 32
Which by thy younger brother is supplied,
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood.
The hope and expectation of thy time 36
Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man
Prophetically do forethink thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, 40
So stale and cheap to vulgar company,
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession
And left me in reputeless banishment, 44
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But like a comet I was wonder' d at;
That men would tell their children, 'This is he;'
Others would say, 'Where? which is Bolingbroke?' 49
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical, 56
Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast,
And won by rareness such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down 60
With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state,
Mingled his royalty with capering fools,
Had his great name profaned with their scorns,
And gave his countenance, against his name, 65
To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative;
Grew a companion to the common streets, 68
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity;
That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey and began
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much. 73
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,
Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes
As, sick and blunted with community, 77
Afford no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; 80
But rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries,
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou; 85
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With vile participation: not an eye
But is aweary of thy common sight, 88
Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, 92
Be more myself.

King. For all the world,
As thou art to this hour was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh;
And even as I was then is Percy now. 96
Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state
Than thou the shadow of succession;
For of no right, nor colour like to right, 100
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm,
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws,
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on 104
To bloody battles and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions and great name in arms,
Holds from all soldiers chief majority, 109
And military title capital,
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.
Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, 112
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomfited great Douglas; ta'en him once,
Enlarged him and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up 116
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against us and are up. 120
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen, 125
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate. 128

Prince. Do not think so; you shall not find it so:
And God forgive them, that so much have sway'd
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head, 132
And in the closing of some glorious day
Be bold to tell you that I am your son;
When I will wear a garment all of blood
And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 136
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it:
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 140
And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.
For every honour sitting on his helm,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled! For the time will come
That I shall make this northern youth exchange 145
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account
That he shall render every glory up, 150
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which, if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty may salve 155
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of life cancels all bands,
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

King. A hundred thousand rebels die in this: 160
Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein.

Enter Blunt.

How now, good Blunt! thy looks are full of speed.

Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word 164
That Douglas and the English rebels met,
The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury.
A mighty and a fearful head they are,—
If promises be kept on every hand,— 168
As ever offer'd foul play in a state.

King. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day,
With him my son. Lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement is five days old. 172
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward;
On Thursday we ourselves will march: our meeting
Is Bridgenorth; and Harry, you shall march
Through Gloucestershire; by which account, 176
Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business: let's away;
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay. 180


Scene Three

[Eastcheap. The Boar's Head Tavern]

Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely
since this last action? do I not bate? do I not
dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an
old lady's loose gown; I am withered like an old
apple-john. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly,
while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart
shortly, and then I shall have no strength to re-
pent. An I have not forgotten what the inside
of a church is made of, I am a peppercorn, a
brewer's horse: the inside of a church! Com-
pany, villainous company, hath been the spoil
of me. 12

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you can-
not live long.

Fal. Why, there is it: come, sing me a bawdy
song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given
as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough:
swore little; diced not—above seven times a week;
went to a bawdy-house not above once in a
quarter—of an hour; paid money that I bor-
rowed—three or four times; lived well and in good
compass; and now I live out of all order, out of
all compass. 23

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that
you must needs be out of all compass, out of all
reasonable compass, Sir John. 26

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend
my life: thou art our admiral, thou bearest the
lantern in the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee:
thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. 32

Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use
of it as many a man doth of a Death's head, or
a memento mori: I never see thy face but I think
upon hell-fire and Dives that lived in purple;
for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If
thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear
by thy face; my oath should be, 'By this fire,
that's God's angel:' but thou art altogether
given over, and wert indeed, but for the light in
thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou
rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch my
horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an
ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, there's no
purchase in money. O! thou art a perpetual
triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light. Thou hast
saved me a thousand marks in links and torches,
walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern
and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk
me would have bought me lights as good cheap
at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have
maintained that salamander of yours with fire
any time this two-and-thirty years; God reward
me for it! 55

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly.

Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be

Enter Hostess.

How now, Dame Partlet the hen! have you
inquired yet who picked my pocket? 61

Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think,
Sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my
house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has
my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant
by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in
my house before. 67

Fal. You lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved
and lost many a hair; and I'll be sworn my
pocket was picked. Go to, you are a woman; go.

Host. Who, I? No; I defy thee: God's light!
I was never called so in my own house before. 72

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Host. No, Sir John; you do not know me,
Sir John: I know you, Sir John: you owe me
money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to
beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts
to your back. 78

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given
them away to bakers' wives, and they have
made bolters of them. 81

Host. Now, as I am true woman, holland of
eight shillings an ell. You owe money here be-
sides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings,
and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound. 85

Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay.

Host. He! alas! he is poor; he hath nothing.

Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; what
call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them
coin his cheeks. I'll not pay a denier. What!
will you make a younker of me? shall I not take
mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my
pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my
grandfather's worth forty mark.

Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell
him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. 97

Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup;
sblood! an he were here, I would cudgel him
like a dog, if he would say so. 100

Enter the Prince and Peto marching. Falstaff meets them, playing on his truncheon like a fife.

Fal. How now, lad! is the wind in that door,
i' faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.

Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me. 104

Prince. What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly?
How does thy husband? I love him well, he is
an honest man.

Host. Good my lord, hear me. 108

Fal. Prithee, let her alone, and list to me.

Prince. What sayest thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind
the arras and had my pocket picked: this house
is turned bawdy-house; they pick pockets. 113

Prince. What didst thou lose, Jack?

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four
bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of
my grandfather's. 117

Prince. A trifle; some eight-penny matter.

Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said I
heard your Grace say so: and, my lord, he speaks
most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as
he is, and said he would cudgel you. 122

Prince. What! he did not?

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor wo-
manhood in me else. 125

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a
stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee than
in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, Maid
may be the deputy's wife of the ward to
thee. Go, you thing, go.

Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. What thing! why, a thing to thank
God on. 133

Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I
would thou shouldst know it; I am an honest
man's wife; and, setting thy knighthood aside,
thou art a knave to call me so. 137

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art
a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou? 140

Fal. What beast! why, an otter.

Prince. An otter, Sir John! why, an otter?

Fal. Why? she's neither fish nor flesh; a
man knows not where to have her. 144

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so:
thou or any man knows where to have me, thou
knave thou!

Prince. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he
slanders thee most grossly. 149

Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this
other day you ought him a thousand pound.

Prince. Sirrah! do I owe you a thousand
pound? 153

Fal. A thousand pound, Hal! a million: thy
love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love.

Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and
said he would cudgel you. 157

Fal. Did I, Bardolph?

Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so.

Fal. Yea; if he said my ring was copper. 160

Prince. I say 'tis copper: darest thou be as
good as thy word now?

Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art
but man, I dare; but as thou art prince, I fear
thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. 165

Prince. And why not as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the
lion: dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy
father? nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle
break! 170

Prince. O! if it should, how would thy guts
fall about thy knees. But, sirrah, there's no
room for faith, truth, or honesty in this bosom
of thine; it is all filled up with guts and midriff.
Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket!
Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal,
if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern
reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and
one poor pennyworth of sugar-candy to make
thee long-winded; if thy pocket were enriched
with any other injuries but these, I am a villain.
And yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket
up wrong. Art thou not ashamed? 183

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest in
the state of innocency Adam fell; and what
should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of
villainy? Thou seest I have more flesh than
another man, and therefore more frailty. You
confess then, you picked my pocket? 189

Prince. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee. Go make ready
breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants,
cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable
to any honest reason: thou seest I am pacified
still. Nay prithee, be gone. Exit Hostess.
Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery,
lad, how is that answered? 197

Prince. O! my sweet beef, I must still be good
angel to thee: the money is paid back again.

Fal. O! I do not like that paying back; 'tis
a double labour. 201

Prince. I am good friends with my father
and may do anything.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing
thou dost, and do it with unwashed hands too.

Bard. Do, my lord.

Prince. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge
of foot. 208

Fal. I would it had been of horse. Where
shall I find one that can steal well? O! for a
fine thief, of the age of two-and-twenty, or there-
abouts; I am heinously unprovided. Well, God
be thanked for these rebels; they offend none
but the virtuous: I laud them, I praise them.

Prince. Bardolph!

Bard. My lord? 216

Prince. Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster,
To my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland.
Go, Peto, to horse, to horse! for thou and I
Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time. 220
Jack, meet me to-morrow in the Temple-hall
At two o'clock in the afternoon:
There shalt thou know thy charge, and there receive
Money and order for their furniture. 224
The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either we or they must lower lie.

Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast; come!
O! I could wish this tavern were my drum. 228

Exeunt omnes.

Footnotes to Act III

Scene One

2 induction: beginning
8 Lancaster: the king
15 cressets: beacon lights
31 enlargement: release
32 beldam: grandmother
35 passion: pain
44 clipp'd in with: surrounded by
45 chides: lashes
46 read to: instructed
48 trace: follow
art: magic
68 bootless: without advantage; cf. I. i. 29
75 hitherto: to this spot
81 indentures tripartite: three copies of the agreement
82 interchangeably: each party signing each copy
93 conduct: escort
97 moiety: portion
99 cranking: winding
100 the best of all my land; cf. n.
101 cantle: piece
103 smug: neat, trim
106 bottom: low, rich land
111 Gelding: cutting
opposed continent: country opposite
113 charge: expense
130 canstick: candlestick
133 mincing: affected
143 break with: inform
148-152 Cf. n.
153 skimble-skamble: nonsensical
162 cates: dainties
163 summer-house: country house
165 profited: proficient
166 concealments: mysteries
170 scope: tendencies
176 too wilful-blame: to be blamed for too great wilfulness
180 blood: spirit
181 dearest: most valuable
182 present: indicate
183 government: self-control
184 opinion: arrogance
188 Beguiling: cheating
189 be your speed: bring you good fortune
195 aunt: cf. n. on I. iii. 145-146
198 harlotry: silly girl
200-203 Cf. n.
205 disputation: conversation
208 highly penn'd: written in high style
210 division: modulation
214 wanton: soft, luxurious
224 book: indentures
234 humorous: capricious
240 brach: a bitch-hound
252 comfit-maker: confectioner
255 sarcenet: flimsy; cf. n.
256 Finsbury; cf. n.
260 velvet-guards; cf. n.
263 tailor; cf. n.
264 red-breast teacher: trainer of singing-birds

Scene Two

1 give . . . leave: leave us
3 presently: immediately
6 doom: judgment
8 thy passages of life: the actions of thy life
19 Quit: clear myself
23 reproof: refutation
devis'd: invented
30 affections: tastes
36 time: age, reign
42 Opinion: public opinion
43 to possession: to the possessor, i.e. King Richard
50 stole, etc.; cf. n.
61 bavin: brushwood, which soon burns out
62 carded; cf. n.
65 against his name: contrary to his dignity
66 stand the push: withstand the attack
67 comparative: one who affects wit; cf. I. ii. 90
69 Enfeoff'd himself: gave himself up entirely
popularity: low company
77 community: commonness
83 cloudy: sullen
87 vile participation: base companionship
98 interest: claim
99 shadow of succession; cf. n.
100 colour: pretext
101 harness: armour
109 majority: pre-eminence
110 capital: chief
115 enlarged: released
120 Capitulate: form a league
124 vassal: slavish
125 start of spleen: impulse of ill temper
136 favours: features
147 factor: agent
148 engross up: collect
151 worship: honour
157 bands: bonds
172 advertisement: news
177 valued: taken into consideration

Scene Three

2 bate: fall off, grow thin
5 apple-john: an apple that keeps well but becomes very shrivelled
6 liking: (good) bodily condition
9 peppercorn: the dried berry from which pepper is ground
10 brewer's horse; cf. n.
28 admiral: flag-ship
35 memento mori; cf. n.
36 Dives; cf. n.
40 God's angel; cf. n.
45 ignis fatuus: will o' the wisp
48 links: torches
51 as good cheap: at as good a bargain
53 salamander: mythical animal supposed to live in fire
60 Partlet; cf. n.
79 dowlas: coarse linen
81 bolters: sieves
82 holland: fine linen
83 ell: yard and a quarter
90 denier: the tenth part of a penny
91 younker: young greenhorn
98 sneak-cup: one who shirks his liquor (?)
103 Newgate: a prison
128 drawn fox: a fox driven from cover and tricky in his attempts to get back
128-129 Cf. n.
151 ought: owed
176 embossed: swollen
181 injuries; cf. n.
205 unwashed hands; cf. n.
224 furniture: equipment
228 drum; cf. n.