prompt:
Chapter: Scoena Tertia.

Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.

But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to
be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.
He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of
the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues
his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me
see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous.
Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to
sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of
this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The
purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named
vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole
Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition.
Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a
shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine
is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer
was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte,
good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot,
very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this?
Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the
generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now
by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan.
Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord
Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour?
Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters,
to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth?
and are they not some of them set forward already?
What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall
see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he
to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could
diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish
of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him,
let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards
to night.
Enter his Lady.

How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours

   La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence haue I this fortnight bin
A banish'd woman from my Harries bed?
Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth?
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes?
And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee,
To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly?
In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht,
And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres:
Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed,
Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd
Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,
Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,
Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,
Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine,
And all the current of a headdy fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe,
That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame;
And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd,
Such as we see when men restraine their breath
On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these?
Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand,
And I must know it: else he loues me not

   Hot. What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?
  Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone

   Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses fro[m] the Sheriffe?
  Ser. One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now

   Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not

   Ser. It is my Lord

   Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will
backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth
into the Parke

   La. But heare you, my lord

   Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?
  La. What is it carries you away?
  Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse

   La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not
such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile
know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Brother
Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent
for you to line his enterprize. But if you go-
  Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue

   La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly
vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake
thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true

   Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not,
I care not for thee Kate: this is no world
To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.
We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,
And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.
What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?
  La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?
Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,
I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?
Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no

   Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare
I loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate,
I must not haue you henceforth, question me,
Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.
Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,
This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no further wise
Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,
But yet a woman: and for secrecie,
No Lady closer. For I will beleeue
Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know,
And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate

   La. How so farre?
  Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate,
Whither I go, thither shall you go too:
To day will I set forth, to morrow you.
Will this content you Kate?
  La. It must of force.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Prince and Poines.

  Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend
me thy hand to laugh a little

   Poines. Where hast bene Hall?
  Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3.
or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base
string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of
Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke,
and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence,
that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King
of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Falstaffe,
but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and
when I am King of England, I shall command al the good
Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dying
Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then
they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am
so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can
drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my
life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou
wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to sweeten
which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar,
clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker,
one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight
shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril
addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the
Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Falstaffe
come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome,
while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue
me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his
Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile
shew thee a President

   Poines. Francis

   Prin. Thou art perfect

   Poin. Francis.
Enter Drawer.

  Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet,
Ralfe

   Prince. Come hither Francis

   Fran. My Lord

   Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?
  Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to-
  Poin. Francis

   Fran. Anon, anon sir

   Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking
of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as
to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a faire
paire of heeles, and run from it?
  Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in
England, I could finde in my heart

   Poin. Francis

   Fran. Anon, anon sir

   Prin. How old art thou, Francis?
  Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe-
  Poin. Francis

   Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord

   Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou
gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?
  Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two

   Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske
me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it

   Poin. Francis

   Fran. Anon, anon

   Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis:
or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou
wilt. But Francis

   Fran. My Lord

   Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall
button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice
garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch

   Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane?
  Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onely
drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doublet
will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much

   Fran. What sir?
  Poin. Francis

   Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?

Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing
which way
to go.

Enter Vintner.

  Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling?
Looke to the Guests within: My Lord, olde Sir
Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let
them in?
  Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore.
Poines.
Enter Poines.

  Poin. Anon, anon sir

   Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at
the doore, shall we be merry?
  Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee,
What cunning match haue you made this iest of the
Drawer? Come, what's the issue?
  Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues
humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to
the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight.
What's a clocke Francis?
  Fran. Anon, anon sir

   Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words
then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry
is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcell
of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre
of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen
dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies
to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my
sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day?
Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres,
some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee
call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne
shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the drunkard.
Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.
Enter Falstaffe.

  Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?
  Fal. A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance
too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere
I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend
them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of
Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant?
  Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter,
pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of
the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound

   Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there
is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet
a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A villanous
Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou
wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the
face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues
not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them
is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I
say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of
songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still

   Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?
  Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy
Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Subiects
afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer
weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?
  Prin. Why you horson round man? what's the matter?
  Fal. Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and
Poines there?
  Prin. Ye fat paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile
stab thee

   Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call
the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could
run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the
shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you
that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such backing:
giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup
of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day

   Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since
thou drunk'st last

   Falst. All's one for that.

He drinkes.

A plague of all Cowards still, say I

   Prince. What's the matter?
  Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue
ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning

   Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?
  Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred
vpon poore foure of vs

   Prince. What, a hundred, man?
  Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with
a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by
miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,
foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and
through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum.
I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe.
A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake
more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes
of darknesse

   Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?
  Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen

   Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord

   Gad. And bound them

   Peto. No, no, they were not bound

   Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of
them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew

   Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men
set vpon vs

   Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the
other

   Prince. What, fought yee with them all?
  Falst. All? I know not what yee call all: but if I
fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish:
if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde
Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature

   Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of
them

   Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd
two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues
in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde
word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues
in Buckrom let driue at me

   Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now

   Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure

   Poin. I, I, he said foure

   Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust
at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen
points in my Targuet, thus

   Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now

   Falst. In buckrom

   Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes

   Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else

   Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon

   Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal?
  Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack

   Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these
nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of

   Prin. So, two more alreadie

   Falst. Their Points being broken

   Poin. Downe fell his Hose

   Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me
close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of
the eleuen I pay'd

   Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne
out of two?
  Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten
Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and
let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st
not see thy Hand

   Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them,
grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd
Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson obscene
greasie Tallow Catch

   Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the
truth, the truth?
  Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in
Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not
see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou
to this?
  Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason

   Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the
Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not
tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion?
If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would
giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I

   Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine
Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker,
this huge Hill of Flesh

   Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried
Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth
to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath
you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke

   Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and
when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare
me speake but thus

   Poin. Marke Iacke

   Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound
them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how
a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set
on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your
prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House.
And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with
as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne
and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art
thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say
it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting
hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open
and apparant shame?
  Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast
thou now?
  Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare
ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant?
Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest
I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion
will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great matter.
I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of
my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion,
and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue
the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night,
pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold,
all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What,
shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory

   Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing
away

   Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.

Enter Hostesse

  Host. My Lord, the Prince?
  Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st
thou to me?
  Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the
Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee
comes from your Father

   Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall
man, and send him backe againe to my Mother

   Falst. What manner of man is hee?
  Hostesse. An old man

   Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?
Shall I giue him his answere?
  Prin. Prethee doe Iacke

   Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing.
Enter.

  Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you
Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne
away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince;
no, fie

   Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne

   Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes
Sword so hackt?
  Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee
would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make
you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe
the like

   Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse,
to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments
with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did
that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare
his monstrous deuices

   Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene
yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and
euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire
and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what
instinct hadst thou for it?
  Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you
behold these Exhalations?
  Prin. I doe
  Bard. What thinke you they portend?
  Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses

   Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken

   Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.
Enter Falstaffe.

Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How
now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe,
Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee?
  Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres
(Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could
haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague
of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder.
There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn
Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in
the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy;
and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado,
and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true
Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a
plague call you him?
  Poin. O, Glendower

   Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly
Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a
Hill perpendicular

   Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll
kills a Sparrow flying

   Falst. You haue hit it

   Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow

   Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him,
hee will not runne

   Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him
so for running?
  Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will
not budge a foot

   Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct

   Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too,
and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more.
Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is
turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now
as cheape as stinking Mackrell

   Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this
ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as
they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds

   Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee
shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art
not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant,
could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes againe,
as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that
Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth
not thy blood thrill at it?
  Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct

   Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow,
when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me,
practise an answere

   Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee
vpon the particulars of my Life

   Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my
State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my
Crowne

   Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden
Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich
Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne

   Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of
thee now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke
to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I
haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it
in King Cambyses vaine

   Prin. Well, heere is my Legge

   Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie

   Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith

   Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares
are vaine

   Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance?
  Falst. For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen,
For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes

   Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry
Players, as euer I see

   Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine.
Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy
time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though
the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes;
yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares.
Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word,
partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of
thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that
doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere
lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so
poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a
Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee
askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and
take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing,
Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to
many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as
ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie
thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to
thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion;
not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet
there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy
companie, but I know not his Name

   Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie?
  Falst. A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent,
of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble
Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady)
inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his
Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen,
hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes.
If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit
by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue
in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And
tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast
thou beene this moneth?
  Prin. Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand
for mee, and Ile play my Father

   Falst. Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so
maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the
heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare

   Prin. Well, heere I am set

   Falst. And heere I stand: iudge my Masters

   Prin. Now Harry, whence come you?
  Falst. My Noble Lord, from East-cheape

   Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous

   Falst. Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle
ye for a young Prince

   Prin. Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth
ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from
Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a
fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why
do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that
Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of
Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloakebagge
of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the
Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey iniquitie,
that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? wherein
is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein
neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein
Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie?
wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy,
but in nothing?
  Falst. I would your Grace would take me with you:
whom meanes your Grace?
  Prince. That villanous abhominable mis-leader of
Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan

   Falst. My Lord, the man I know

   Prince. I know thou do'st

   Falst. But to say, I know more harme in him then in
my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde
(the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it:
but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-master,
that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault,
Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a
sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd:
if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are
to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish
Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe,
kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Falstaffe,
and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack
Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish
not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and
banish all the World

   Prince. I doe, I will.
Enter Bardolph running.

  Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most
monstrous Watch, is at the doore

   Falst. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much
to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe.
Enter the Hostesse.

  Hostesse. O, my Lord, my Lord

   Falst. Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddlesticke:
what's the matter?
  Hostesse. The Sherife and all the Watch are at the
doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let
them in?
  Falst. Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of
Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without
seeming so

   Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct

   Falst. I deny your Maior: if you will deny the
Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart
as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I
hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as another

   Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest
walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and
good Conscience

   Falst. Both which I haue had: but their date is out,
and therefore Ile hide me.
Enter.

  Prince. Call in the Sherife.
Enter Sherife and the Carrier.

  Prince. Now Master Sherife, what is your will with
mee?
  She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath
followed certaine men vnto this house

   Prince. What men?
  She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord,
a grosse fat man

   Car. As fat as Butter

   Prince. The man, I doe assure you, is not heere,
For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him:
And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will by to morrow Dinner time,
Send him to answere thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg'd withall:
And so let me entreat you, leaue the house

   She. I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen
Haue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes

   Prince. It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable: and so farewell

   She. Good Night, my Noble Lord

   Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?
  She. Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.
Enter.

  Prince. This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules:
goe call him forth

   Peto. Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and
snorting like a Horse

   Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his
Pockets.

He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth certaine Papers.

  Prince. What hast thou found?
  Peto. Nothing but Papers, my Lord

   Prince. Let's see, what be they? reade them

   Peto. Item, a Capon. ii.s.ii.d.
Item, Sawce iiii.d.
Item, Sacke, two Gallons. v.s.viii.d.
Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper. ii.s.vi.d.
Item, Bread. ob

   Prince. O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of
Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is
else, keepe close, wee'le reade it at more aduantage: there
let him sleepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning:
Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall be honorable.
Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot,
and I know his death will be a Match of Twelue-score.
The Money shall be pay'd backe againe with aduantage.
Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good morrow
Peto

   Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: As the four split up the gold, Poins and Harry, in their buckram disguises and new masks, charge the thieves and demand their money. The four flee in terror without putting up a fight--only Falstaff even tries to get in a blow or two. Laden with gold and mightily entertained, Poins and Harry go to their horses, laughing to think of how angry Falstaff will be when he finds out that they have gotten rid of his horse and that he will have to walk back to London


prompt:
Chapter: Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.

  Mort. These promises are faire, the parties sure,
And our induction full of prosperous hope

   Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,
Will you sit downe?
And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,
I haue forgot the Mappe

   Glend. No, here it is:
Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:
For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you,
His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh,
He wisheth you in Heauen

   Hotsp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower
spoke of

   Glend. I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie,
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,
The frame and foundation of the Earth
Shak'd like a Coward

   Hotsp. Why so it would haue done at the same season,
if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe
had neuer beene borne

   Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne

   Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde,
If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke

   Glend. The heauens were all on fire, the Earth did
tremble

   Hotsp. Oh, then the Earth shooke
To see the Heauens on fire,
And not in feare of your Natiuitie.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth
In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth
Is with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext,
By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde
Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing,
Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe
Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,
Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature,
In passion shooke

   Glend. Cousin: of many men
I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue
To tell you once againe, that at my Birth
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:
These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,
And all the courses of my Life doe shew,
I am not in the Roll of common men.
Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,
That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,
Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,
Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,
And hold me pace in deepe experiments

   Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:
Ile to Dinner

   Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad

   Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe

   Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man:
But will they come, when you doe call for them?
  Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the
Deuill

   Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,
By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.
If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither,
And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence.
Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill

   Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable
Chat

   Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head
Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,
And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent him
Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe

   Hotsp. Home without Bootes,
And in foule Weather too,
How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?
  Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe:
Shall wee diuide our Right,
According to our three-fold order ta'ne?
  Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it
Into three Limits, very equally:
England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto,
By South and East, is to my part assign'd:
All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore,
And all the fertile Land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to you
The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.
And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne:
Which being sealed enterchangeably,
(A Businesse that this Night may execute)
To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,
And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power,
As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.
My Father Glendower is not readie yet,
Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes:
Within that space, you may haue drawne 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 steale, and take no leaue,
For there will be a World of Water shed,
Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you

   Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here,
In quantitie equals not one of yours:
See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my Land,
A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out.
Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp,
And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne,
In a new Channell, faire and euenly:
It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,
To rob me of so rich a Bottome here

   Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth

   Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course,
And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposed Continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you

   Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,
And on this North side winne this Cape of Land,
And then he runnes straight and euen

   Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it

   Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd

   Hotsp. Will not you?
  Glend. No, nor you shall not

   Hotsp. Who shall say me nay?
  Glend. Why, that will I

   Hotsp. let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in
Welsh

   Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you:
For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court;
Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe
Many an English Dittie, louely well,
And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament;
A Vertue that was neuer seene in you

   Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:
I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,
And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;
'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge

   Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd

   Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land
To any well-deseruing friend;
But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,
Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.
Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?
  Glend. The Moone shines faire,
You may away by Night:
Ile haste the Writer; and withall,
Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence:
I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
Enter.

  Mort. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father

   Hotsp. I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,
Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;
And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,
A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen,
A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat,
And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,
As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,
He held me last Night, at least, nine howres,
In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names,
That were his Lacqueyes:
I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,
But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious
As a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife,
Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue
With Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre,
Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me,
In any Summer-House in Christendome

   Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,
Exceeding well read, and profited,
In strange Concealements:
Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,
And as Bountifull, as Mynes of India.
Shall I tell you, Cousin,
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope,
When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does.
I warrant you, that man is not aliue,
Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done,
Without the taste of danger, and reproofe:
But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you

   Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame,
And since your comming hither, haue done enough,
To put him quite besides his patience.
You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood,
And that's the dearest grace it renders you;
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage,
Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment,
Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine:
The least of which, haunting a Nobleman,
Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne
Vpon the beautie of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation

   Hotsp. Well, I am school'd:
Good-manners be your speede;
Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue.
Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

  Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me,
My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh

   Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you,
Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres

   Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy
Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.

Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the
same.

  Glend. Shee is desperate heere:
A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,
One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.

The Lady speakes in Welsh.

  Mort. I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty Welsh
Which thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens,
I am too perfect in: and but for shame,
In such a parley should I answere thee.

The Lady againe in welsh.

  Mort. I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,
Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
With rauishing Diuision to her Lute

   Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.

  Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this

   Glend. She bids you,
On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,
And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe,
And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you,
And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse;
Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,
As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme
Begins his Golden Progresse in the East

   Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing:
By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne

   Glend. Doe so:
And those Musitians that shall play to you,
Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence;
And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend

   Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:
Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy
Lappe

   Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.

The Musicke playes.

  Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,
And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous:
Byrlady hee's a good Musitian

   Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall,
For you are altogether gouerned by humors:
Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh

   Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in
Irish

   Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?
  Hotsp. No

   Lady. Then be still

   Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault

   Lady. Now God helpe thee

   Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed

   Lady. What's that?
  Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.

Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.

  Hotsp. Come, Ile haue your Song too

   Lady. Not mine, in good sooth

   Hotsp. Not yours, in good sooth?
You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:
Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue;
And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day:
And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes,
As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury.
Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth,
And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,
To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.
Come, sing

   Lady. I will not sing

   Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest
teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away
within these two howres: and so come in, when yee
will.
Enter.

  Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow,
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe.
By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale,
And then to Horse immediately

   Mort. With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In Wales, at the castle of Owain Glyndwr, the leaders of the rebel armies have gathered to discuss strategy. The two most important members of the Percy family, Hotspur and Worcester, are there, along with Lord Mortimer . Their host, Glyndwr, is Mortimer's father-in-law and the leader of the Welsh rebels. He believes strongly in the ancient Welsh pagan traditions of prophecies, omens, magic, and demons. He claims to be able to call spirits from hell, and he says that at his birth the earth shook and the sky was full of fire. Hotspur makes fun of the Welsh leader's claims of magical power. Despite his best efforts, Mortimer cannot get his tactless brother-in-law to shut up. Hotspur mocks Glyndwr's claim to be able to command the devil; Glyndwr then asserts that he has repelled Henry's invasions three times. By the time the four actually get down to discussing strategy, Glyndwr is none too pleased with his youngest guest. The men take out a large map of Britain and divide it up as they have earlier discussed: after they defeat King Henry, Glyndwr will get the western part of Britain--western England and all of Wales; Mortimer will get the southeast part of England, including London; Hotspur will get the northern part, home to his family. Hotspur begins to complain because he does not like the way that a river curves through his land, and he says that he will have the river straightened out. Irritated, Glyndwr tells Hotspur that he must not do so, and the two bicker again, although Glyndwr ends the dispute this time by giving in. After Glyndwr leaves the room, Mortimer chides Hotspur for bothering Glyndwr. Hotspur says he is bored and annoyed with Glyndwr's talk of prophecies and magic. Mortimer reminds him that Glyndwr is a powerful, courageous, and well-read man, and also possibly a dangerous magician. He points out that Glyndwr has been very tolerant of Hotspur's youthful obnoxiousness. Anyone else, he warns, would have felt the force of Glyndwr's anger already. Worcester agrees and urges Hotspur to mind his manners and show respect. Hotspur claims unconvincingly that he has learned his lesson. Glyndwr brings in Mortimer's and Hotspur's wives; the four must say goodbye, for the men must ride off to meet their allies that very night. Lady Mortimer, Glyndwr's daughter, cannot speak English, and Mortimer knows no Welsh. Lady Mortimer weeps for her husband, who speaks lovingly to her, and Glyndwr translates between them. Mortimer lays his head in her lap, and she sings the company a song in Welsh. Meanwhile, Hotspur and his wife, Lady Percy, bid each other farewell in a half-affectionate, half-fighting manner. By the time Lady Mortimer's song is over, the formal contracts of agreement among the rebel leaders have been drawn up. The men sign them, and Mortimer, Hotspur, and Worcester then set forth. They are heading to Shrewsbury, near the English border with Wales, to meet the Earl of Northumberland  and his ally, the Douglas of Scotland, who will bring with him a thousand soldiers. Glyndwr, meanwhile, will gather his army, which he plans to lead into England within two weeks.


prompt:
Chapter: Scaena Secunda.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

  King. Lords, giue vs leaue:
The Prince of Wales, and I,
Must haue some priuate conference:
But be neere at hand,
For wee shall presently haue neede of you.

Exeunt. Lords.

I know not whether Heauen will haue it so,
For some displeasing seruice I haue done;
That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood,
Hee'le breede Reuengement, and a Scourge for me:
But thou do'st in thy passages of Life,
Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd
For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauen
To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate and low desires,
Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude societie,
As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too,
Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood,
And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?
  Prince. So please your Maiesty, I would I could
Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,
As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge
My selfe of many I am charg'd withall:
Yet such extenuation let me begge,
As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd,
Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare,
By smiling Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers;
I may for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,
Finde pardon on my true submission

   King. Heauen pardon thee:
Yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the Court and Princes of my blood.
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man
Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.
Had I so lauish of my presence beene,
So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheape to vulgar Company;
Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne,
Had still kept loyall to possession,
And left me in reputelesse banishment,
A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood.
By being seldome seene, I could not stirre,
But like a Comet, I was wondred at,
That men would tell their Children, This is hee:
Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke.
And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen,
And drest my selfe in such Humilitie,
That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts,
Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes,
Euen in the presence of the Crowned King.
Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new,
My Presence like a Robe Pontificall,
Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State,
Seldome but sumptuous, shewed like a Feast,
And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie.
The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe,
With shallow Iesters, and rash Bauin Wits,
Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his state,
Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles,
Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes,
And gaue his Countenance, against his Name,
To laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the push
Of euery Beardlesse vaine Comparatiue;
Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,
Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie:
That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes,
They surfeted with Honey, and began to loathe
The taste of Sweetnesse, whereof a little
More then a little, is by much too much.
So when he had occasion to be seene,
He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune,
Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes,
As sicke and blunted with Communitie,
Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze,
Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie,
When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe,
Slept in his Face, and rendred such aspect
As Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries,
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou:
For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge,
With vile participation. Not an Eye
But is awearie of thy common sight,
Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more:
Which now doth that I would not haue it doe,
Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse

   Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
Be more my selfe

   King. For all the World,
As thou art to this houre, was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh;
And euen as I was then, is Percy now:
Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the State
Then thou, the shadow of Succession;
For of no Right, nor colour like to Right.
He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme,
Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes;
And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou,
Leades ancient Lords, and reuerent Bishops on
To bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes.
What neuer-dying Honor hath he got,
Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes,
Whose hot Incursions, and great Name in Armes,
Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie,
And Militarie Title Capitall.
Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ,
Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes,
This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises,
Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp,
And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against vs, and are vp.
But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee?
Why, Harry, doe I tell thee of my Foes,
Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie?
Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare,
Base Inclination, and the start of Spleene,
To fight against me vnder Percies pay,
To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes,
To shew how much thou art degenerate

   Prince. Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so:
And Heauen forgiue them, that so much haue sway'd
Your Maiesties good thoughts away from me:
I will redeeme all this on Percies head,
And in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne,
When I will weare a Garment all of Blood,
And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske:
Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, when ere it lights,
That this same Child of Honor and Renowne.
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight.
And your vnthought-of Harry chance to meet:
For euery Honor sitting on his Helme,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled. For the time will come,
That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchange
His glorious Deedes for my Indignities:
Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord,
To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe:
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render euery Glory vp,
Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time,
Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart.
This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here:
The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue,
I doe beseech your Maiestie, may salue
The long-growne Wounds of my intemperature:
If not, the end of Life cancells all Bands,
And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths,
Ere breake the smallest parcell of this Vow

   King. A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this:
Thou shalt haue Charge, and soueraigne trust herein.
Enter Blunt.

How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed

   Blunt. So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Dowglas and the English Rebels met
The eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury:
A mightie and a fearefull Head they are,
(If Promises be kept on euery hand)
As euer offered foule play in a State

   King. The earle of Westmerland set forth to day:
With him my sonne, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old.
On Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward:
On thursday, wee our selues will march.
Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march
Through Glocestershire: by which account,
Our Businesse valued some twelue dayes hence,
Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete.
Our Hands are full of Businesse: let's away,
Aduantage feedes him fat, while men delay.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

  Falst. Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this
last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why
my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose
Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well,
Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking:
I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no
strength to repent. And i haue not forgotten what the
in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper-Corne, a
Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villanous
Company hath beene the spoyle of me

   Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue
long

   Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song,
make me merry; I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman
need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not
aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not
aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I
borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good
compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of compasse

   Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must
needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable
compasse, Sir Iohn

   Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy
Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne
in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the
Knight of the burning Lampe

   Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme

   Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as
many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori.
I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues
that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning,
burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would
sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire:
But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede,
but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse.
When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to
catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene
an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase
in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting
Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand
Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the
Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that
thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as
good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue
maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time
this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it

   Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly

   Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.
Enter Hostesse.

How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet
who pick'd my Pocket?
  Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn?
doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue
search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by
Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a
hayre was neuer lost in my house before

   Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost
many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd:
goe to, you are a Woman, goe

   Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so
in mine owne house before

   Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough

   Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn:
I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and
now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought
you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe

   Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them
away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of
them

   Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight
shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn,
for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you,
foure and twentie pounds

   Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay

   Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing

   Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call
you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his
Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a
Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne,
but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring
of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke

   Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not
how oft, that that Ring was Copper

   Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe:
and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge,
if hee would say so.
Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his
Trunchion like a Fife.

  Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore?
Must we all march?
  Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion

   Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me

   Prince. What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How
does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest
man

   Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee

   Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee

   Prince. What say'st thou, Iacke?
  Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the
Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd
Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets

   Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke?
  Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds
of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers

   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) hee speakes most vilely of
you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee
would cudgell you

   Prince. What hee did not?
  Host. There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood
in me else

   Falst. There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune;
nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for
Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife
of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go

   Host. Say, what thing? what thing?
  Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on

   Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou
shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting
thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so

   Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast
to say otherwise

   Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?
  Fal. What beast? Why an Otter

   Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?
  Fal. Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes
not where to haue her

   Host. Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie
man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou

   Prince. Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee
most grossely

   Host. So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other
day, You ought him a thousand pound

   Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
  Falst. A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is
worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue

   Host. Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee
would cudgell you

   Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
  Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so

   Fal. Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper

   Prince. I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as
thy word now?
  Fal. Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I
dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the
roaring of the Lyons Whelpe

   Prince. And why not as the Lyon?
  Fal. The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon:
Do'st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay
if I do, let my Girdle breake

   Prin. O, if it should, how would thy guttes fall about
thy knees. But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth,
nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe
with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman
with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent
imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but
Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses,
and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee
long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with anie other
iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will
stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not
asham'd?
  Fal. Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state
of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke
Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue
more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty.
You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?
  Prin. It appeares so by the Story

   Fal. Hostesse, I forgiue thee:
Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband,
Looke to thy Seruants, and cherish thy Guests:
Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason:
Thou seest, I am pacified still.
Nay, I prethee be gone.

Exit Hostesse.

Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad?
How is that answered?
  Prin. O my sweet Beefe:
I must still be good Angell to thee.
The Monie is paid backe againe

   Fal. O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double
Labour

   Prin. I am good Friends with my Father, and may do
anything

   Fal. Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st,
and do it with vnwash'd hands too

   Bard. Do my Lord

   Prin. I haue procured thee Iacke, A Charge of Foot

   Fal. I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde
one that can steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and
twentie, or thereabout: I am heynously vnprouided. Wel
God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but
the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them

   Prin. Bardolph

   Bar. My Lord

   Prin. Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster
To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland,
Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I,
Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
Iacke, meet me tomorrow in the Temple Hall
At two a clocke in the afternoone,
There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue
Money and Order for their Furniture.
The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye,
And either they, or we must lower lye

   Fal. Rare words! braue world.
Hostesse, my breakfast, come:
Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.

Exeunt. omnes.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Prince Harry has come to the royal palace, after a long absence, to answer his father's summons. Henry is both sad and angry and rebukes his son in stinging terms. He says he would like to be able to forgive Harry but he cannot tolerate Harry's recent behavior. Henry asserts that if Harry continues to hang around with commoners, he will never command the respect a king must have. Henry feels that familiarity breeds contempt: only that which is rare and unusual is well respected. When he himself was waging the war that made him a king, he adds, he didn't slum around London the way Harry does. Rather, when he made his occasional appearances, he was very courteous and regal. That way, the common people respected and loved him in a way that they do not respect or love Harry. Henry then tells Harry that he is behaving just like Richard II : the common people scorned and hated Richard, who spent too much time indulging in pleasures and who made friends and counselors out of fools. In Henry's opinion, such dissolute behavior will make the people hate Harry too. Henry continues his diatribe against Harry, saying that he feels that Hotspur currently has more real right than Harry to inherit the throne. For, although Harry has the claim of blood inheritance, Hotspur is the one who demonstrates his courage in warfare, winning honor in his battles and daring to take on even the king himself. While Hotspur reminds Henry of himself when he was young, Henry does not recognize himself at all in Harry. In fact, it is clear  that Harry acts like such a scoundrel because he hates his father. Henry is sure that Harry will soon go over to Hotspur's side, joining forces with Henry's deadly enemies. Clearly moved, Harry breaks out into an emotional speech in which he asserts that Henry is wrong. He swears that he will take revenge upon Hotspur for everything that Hotspur has ever done against Henry. He adds that when he finally defeats Hotspur in combat, all of Hotspur's honor, glories, and achievements will become Harry's own. He vows to begin acting in a way suitable to the heir to the throne, and he solemnly declares that he will carry out what he has sworn or die in the attempt. Pleased but wary, Henry tells Harry that he may have the command of soldiers in the upcoming war, to prove himself sincere and carry out his vow. Sir Walter Blunt, one of Henry's trusted allies, enters suddenly, bearing the news that the Douglas, the leader of the Scottish rebels, met the English rebels several days earlier at Shrewsbury, in the west of England. The combined force will soon be ready to attack. Henry says that he already knows about this development and has sent out his younger son, Prince John , and the Earl of Westmoreland to meet them. Next Wednesday, he adds, Harry will set out, and on Thursday, Henry and his forces will follow. All will meet at Bridgnorth, not far from the rebels' camp at Shrewsbury, in twelve days.


prompt:
Chapter: Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas.

  Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth
In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie,
Such attribution should the Dowglas haue,
As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe,
Should go so generall currant through the world.
By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie
The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place
In my hearts loue, hath no man then your Selfe.
Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord

   Dow. Thou art the King of Honor:
No man so potent breathes vpon the ground,
But I will Beard him.
Enter a Messenger.

  Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What letters hast there?
I can but thanke you

   Mess. These Letters come from your Father

   Hot. Letters from him?
Why comes he not himselfe?
  Mes. He cannot come, my Lord,
He is greeuous sicke

   Hot. How? haz he the leysure to be sicke now,
In such a iustling time? Who leades his power?
Vnder whose Gouernment come they along?
  Mess. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde

   Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?
  Mess. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth:
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his Physician

   Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole,
Ere he by sicknesse had beene visited:
His health was neuer better worth then now

   Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect
The very Life-blood of our Enterprise,
'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe.
He writes me here, that inward sicknesse,
And that his friends by deputation
Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet,
To lay so dangerous and deare a trust
On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne.
Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,
That with our small coniunction we should on,
To see how Fortune is dispos'd to vs:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the King is certainely possest
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
  Wor. Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs

   Hotsp. A perillous Gash, a very Limme lopt off:
And yet, in faith, it is not his present want
Seemes more then we shall finde it.
Were it good, to set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one Cast? To set so rich a mayne
On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre,
It were not good: for therein should we reade
The very Bottome, and the Soule of Hope,
The very List, the very vtmost Bound
Of all our fortunes

   Dowg. Faith, and so wee should,
Where now remaines a sweet reuersion.
We may boldly spend, vpon the hope
Of what is to come in:
A comfort of retyrement liues in this

   Hotsp. A Randeuous, a Home to flye vnto,
If that the Deuill and Mischance looke bigge
Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires

   Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here:
The qualitie and Heire of our Attempt
Brookes no diuision: It will be thought
By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisedome, loyaltie, and meere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the Earle from hence.
And thinke, how such an apprehension
May turne the tyde of fearefull Faction,
And breede a kinde of question in our cause:
For well you know, wee of the offring side,
Must keepe aloofe from strict arbitrement,
And stop all sight-holes, euery loope, from whence
The eye of reason may prie in vpon vs:
This absence of your Father drawes a Curtaine,
That shewes the ignorant a kinde of feare,
Before not dreamt of

   Hotsp. You strayne too farre.
I rather of his absence make this vse:
It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion,
A larger Dare to your great Enterprize,
Then if the Earle were here: for men must thinke,
If we without his helpe, can make a Head
To push against the Kingdome; with his helpe,
We shall o're-turne it topsie-turuy downe:
Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole

   Dowg. As heart can thinke:
There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland,
At this Dreame of Feare.
Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

  Hotsp. My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule

   Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord.
The Earle of Westmerland, seuen thousand strong,
Is marching hither-wards, with Prince Iohn

   Hotsp. No harme: what more?
  Vern. And further, I haue learn'd,
The King himselfe in person hath set forth,
Or hither-wards intended speedily,
With strong and mightie preparation

   Hotsp. He shall be welcome too.
Where is his Sonne,
The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales,
And his Cumrades, that daft the World aside,
And bid it passe?
  Vern. All furnisht, all in Armes,
All plum'd like Estridges, that with the Winde
Bayted like Eagles, hauing lately bath'd,
Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images,
As full of spirit as the Moneth of May,
And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-summer,
Wanton as youthfull Goates, wilde as young Bulls.
I saw young Harry with his Beuer on,
His Cushes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd,
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his Seat,
As if an Angell dropt downe from the Clouds,
To turne and winde a fierie Pegasus,
And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship

   Hotsp. No more, no more,
Worse then the Sunne in March:
This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come.
They come like Sacrifices in their trimme,
And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre,
All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them:
The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit
Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,
To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh,
And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse,
Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt,
Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse
Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse?
Oh, that Glendower were come

   Ver. There is more newes:
I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes

   Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of
yet

   Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound

   Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach
vnto?
  Ver. To thirty thousand

   Hot. Forty let it be,
My Father and Glendower being both away,
The powres of vs, may serue so great a day.
Come, let vs take a muster speedily:
Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily

   Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare
Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In the rebels' base camp in Shrewsbury , Hotspur, Worcester, and the Douglas are discussing their strategy of attack when a messenger arrives bearing bad news. Hotspur's father, Northumberland, is very sick and has decided not to lead his troops to Hotspur--or to send them at all. Worcester is deeply disturbed by this news, since not only will Northumberland's absence seriously weaken the rebel forces, but it will also betray to the world that the rebels are divided among themselves. Hotspur, however, quickly manages to convince himself that all is well and bounces back optimistically. Another messenger arrives, Sir Richard Vernon, who is a relative of the Percys. Vernon has information that Henry's forces, commanded by the Earl of Westmoreland and Henry's younger son, Prince John, are marching toward Shrewsbury with seven thousand men. Moreover, the king himself and the Prince of Wales--Harry--are also approaching with still more forces. Vernon has seen Harry bearing himself regally in his armor: he strikes all who see him as an excellent horseman and an awe-inspiring young soldier. Unintimidated, Hotspur expresses a wish to meet Harry in single combat to the death. But Vernon has still more bad news: Glyndwr has sent word from Wales that he will not be able to assemble his forces within the allotted fourteen days. This development is very alarming to both Worcester and the Douglas, since the battle will clearly occur before Glyndwr can arrive. Hotspur, however, refuses to let anything sway his confidence: even if they must die, they will die merrily. The -Douglas, recovering from the alarming news, claims to have no fear of death at all, and the men continue to plan their battle


prompt:
Chapter: Scaena Secunda.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

  Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a
Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le
to Sutton-cop-hill to Night

   Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine?
  Falst. Lay out, lay out

   Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell

   Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it
make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage.
Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end

   Bard. I will Captaine: farewell.
Enter.

  Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a
sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse damnably.
I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie
Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me
none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire
me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd
twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues,
as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as
feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole,
or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes
and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then
Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices:
And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Corporals,
Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as
ragged a Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Gluttons
Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were
neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, younger
Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and
Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and
long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged,
then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the
roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that
you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd
Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating
Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way,
and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the
dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile
not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay,
and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if
they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them
out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my
Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt together,
and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds
Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth,
stolne from my Host of S[aint]. Albones, or the Red-Nose
Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde
Linnen enough on euery Hedge.
Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.

  Prince. How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt?
  Falst. What Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill
do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmerland,
I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had already
beene at Shrewsbury

   West. 'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were
there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie.
The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away
all to Night

   Falst. Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to
steale Creame

   Prince. I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft
hath alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose
fellowes are these that come after?
  Falst. Mine, Hal, mine

   Prince. I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals

   Falst. Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Powder,
foode for Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better:
tush man, mortall men, mortall men

   Westm. I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding
poore and bare, too beggarly

   Falst. Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they
had that; and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer
learn'd that of me

   Prince. No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers
on the Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already
in the field

   Falst. What, is the King encamp'd?
  Westm. Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too
long

   Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning
of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.

Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Meanwhile, on the road near Coventry--in southeastern England, east of London--Falstaff and his men are marching west toward their rendezvous with Henry at Bridgnorth. Falstaff sends Bardolph to buy some wine, and, while Bardolph is gone, Falstaff talks aloud about his methods for finding his unit of foot soldiers. Falstaff proves a very corrupt military captain, which is not surprising. Instead of using his power of impressment to draft the best fighters available into his division, he has instead targeted wealthy merchants and farmers who want to stay home. These individuals are willing to bribe Falstaff in order to get out of the service. As a result, Falstaff has made a good deal of money for himself, but his troops consist only of ragtag souls willing to let themselves be hired as soldiers: kleptomaniac house servants, youngest sons with no inheritance, and bankrupt laborers. They are mostly undernourished, untrustworthy, and unimpressive. While Falstaff waits for Bardolph to return, Harry and Henry's ally, the Earl of Westmoreland, comes down the road and take him by surprise. Westmoreland casts a dubious eye upon Falstaff's conscripts, but Falstaff cheerfully tells him that they are good enough for cannon fodder. Harry warns Falstaff that he must hurry, for Hotspur and the Percy allies are already preparing to fight, and Henry has already made camp at Bridgnorth. The group hurries westward to meet Henry


prompt:
Chapter: Scoena Tertia.

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.

  Hotsp. Wee'le fight with him to Night

   Worc. It may not be

   Dowg. You giue him then aduantage

   Vern. Not a whit

   Hotsp. Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?
  Vern. So doe wee

   Hotsp. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull

   Worc. Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night

   Vern. Doe not, my Lord

   Dowg. You doe not counsaile well:
You speake it out of feare, and cold heart

   Vern. Doe me no slander, Dowglas: by my Life,
And I dare well maintaine it with my Life,
If well-respected Honor bid me on,
I hold as little counsaile with weake feare,
As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day liues.
Let it be seene to morrow in the Battell,
Which of vs feares

   Dowg. Yea, or to night

   Vern. Content

   Hotsp. To night, say I

   Vern. Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being me[n] of such great leading as you are
That you fore-see not what impediments
Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horse
Of my Cousin Vernons are not yet come vp,
Your Vnckle Worcesters Horse came but to day,
And now their pride and mettall is asleepe,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a Horse is halfe the halfe of himselfe

   Hotsp. So are the Horses of the Enemie
In generall iourney bated, and brought low:
The better part of ours are full of rest

   Worc. The number of the King exceedeth ours:
For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in.

The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.

  Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect

   Hotsp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt:
And would to God you were of our determination.

Some of vs loue you well: and euen those some
Enuie your great deseruings, and good name,
Because you are not of our qualitie,
But stand against vs like an Enemie

   Blunt. And Heauen defend, but still I should stand so,
So long as out of Limit, and true Rule,
You stand against anoynted Maiestie.
But to my Charge.
The King hath sent to know
The nature of your Griefes, and whereupon
You coniure from the Brest of Ciuill Peace,
Such bold Hostilitie, teaching his dutious Land
Audacious Crueltie. If that the King
Haue any way your good Deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,
He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed
You shall haue your desires, with interest;
And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these,
Herein mis-led, by your suggestion

   Hotsp. The King is kinde:
And well wee know, the King
Knowes at what time to promise, when to pay.
My Father, my Vnckle, and my selfe,
Did giue him that same Royaltie he weares:
And when he was not sixe and twentie strong,
Sicke in the Worlds regard, wretched, and low,
A poore vnminded Out-law, sneaking home,
My Father gaue him welcome to the shore:
And when he heard him sweare, and vow to God,
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
To sue his Liuerie, and begge his Peace,
With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale;
My Father, in kinde heart and pitty mou'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realme
Perceiu'd Northumberland did leane to him,
The more and lesse came in with Cap and Knee,
Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages,
Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes,
Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes,
Gaue him their Heires, as Pages followed him,
Euen at the heeles, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as Greatnesse knowes it selfe,
Step me a little higher then his Vow
Made to my Father, while his blood was poore,
Vpon the naked shore at Rauenspurgh:
And now (forsooth) takes on him to reforme
Some certaine Edicts, and some strait Decrees,
That lay too heauie on the Common-wealth;
Cryes out vpon abuses, seemes to weepe
Ouer his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face,
This seeming Brow of Iustice, did he winne
The hearts of all that hee did angle for.
Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads
Of all the Fauorites, that the absent King
In deputation left behinde him heere,
When hee was personall in the Irish Warre

   Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this

   Hotsp. Then to the point.
In short time after, hee depos'd the King.
Soone after that, depriu'd him of his Life:
And in the neck of that, task't the whole State.
To make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March,
Who is, if euery Owner were plac'd,
Indeede his King, to be engag'd in Wales,
There, without Ransome, to lye forfeited:
Disgrac'd me in my happie Victories,
Sought to intrap me by intelligence,
Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord,
In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court,
Broke Oath on Oath, committed Wrong on Wrong,
And in conclusion, droue vs to seeke out
This Head of safetie; and withall, to prie
Into his Title: the which wee finde
Too indirect, for long continuance

   Blunt. Shall I returne this answer to the King?
  Hotsp. Not so, Sir Walter.
Wee'le with-draw a while:
Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some suretie for a safe returne againe,
And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle
Bring him our purpose: and so farewell

   Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Loue

   Hotsp. And't may be, so wee shall

   Blunt. Pray Heauen you doe.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.

  Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this sealed Briefe
With winged haste to the Lord Marshall,
This to my Cousin Scroope, and all the rest
To whom they are directed.
If you knew how much they doe import,
You would make haste

   Sir Mich. My good Lord, I guesse their tenor

   Arch. Like enough you doe.
To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly giuen to vnderstand,
The King, with mightie and quick-raysed Power,
Meetes with Lord Harry: and I feare, Sir Michell,
What with the sicknesse of Northumberland,
Whose Power was in the first proportion;
And what with Owen Glendowers absence thence,
Who with them was rated firmely too,
And comes not in, ouer-rul'd by Prophecies,
I feare the Power of Percy is too weake,
To wage an instant tryall with the King

   Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, you need not feare,
There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer

   Arch. No, Mortimer is not there

   Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
And there is my Lord of Worcester,
And a Head of gallant Warriors,
Noble Gentlemen

   Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath Drawne
The speciall head of all the Land together:
The Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt;
And many moe Corriuals, and deare men
Of estimation, and command in Armes

   Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd
  Arch. I hope no lesse? Yet needfull 'tis to feare,
And to preuent the worst, Sir Michell speed;
For if Lord Percy thriue not, ere the King
Dismisse his power, he meanes to visit vs:
For he hath heard of our Confederacie,
And, 'tis but Wisedome to make strong against him:
Therefore make hast, I must go write againe
To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michell.

Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: At the rebels' camp in Shrewsbury, Hotspur and the Douglas argue with Worcester about whether they ought to attack Henry's forces right away or hold off for a while. Worcester and Vernon urge them to wait: not all of the forces that Vernon will send have arrived yet, and since Worcester's band of knights on horses has just arrived that day, the horses are still worn out. But Hotspur and the Douglas are both impatient to attack. Sir Walter Blunt arrives in their camp, bearing an offer of peace from Henry. If Hotspur and his allies will state their grievances against Henry and disband their attack, he says, Henry promises that he will satisfy their desires and grant full amnesty to the rebels. Hotspur then launches into a long speech in which he describes his family's dissatisfaction with Henry: when Henry himself had been the underdog several years before, trying to seize power from the king at the time, Richard II, the Percy family gave him invaluable help. Henry, then known as Henry Bolingbroke, had once been a mere cousin of the former king. Exiled by his royal cousin for flimsy reasons, Henry returned to England while King Richard was away fighting in Ireland. He originally claimed that he had only come to reclaim the title and inheritance that were due to him from his father, Richard's recently deceased uncle, whose lands Richard had seized upon his death. Henry stayed, of course, to fight for the crown of England. Partly swayed by the influence and power of the Percy family, the common people of England and the nobles of -Richard's court joined Henry's faction, allowing him to take over power from Richard in a bloodless coup--though Richard was later assassinated in mysterious circumstances. Now, King Henry seems to have forgotten the gratitude he owes the Percy family--the most recent example being his refusal to pay a ransom for Mortimer after Mortimer was captured in Wales. Blunt asks if he should take Hotspur's words as a declaration of war; Hotspur replies that Blunt should return to Henry and await Worcester in the morning with the rebels' decision. Hotspur suggests they may decide to accept Henry's offer of amnesty after all


prompt:
Chapter: Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaffe.

  King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere
Aboue yon busky hill: the day lookes pale
At his distemperature
  Prin. The Southerne winde
Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes,
And by his hollow whistling in the Leaues,
Fortels a Tempest, and a blust'ring day

   King. Then with the losers let it sympathize,
For nothing can seeme foule to those that win.

The Trumpet sounds.

Enter Worcester.

  King. How now my Lord of Worster? 'Tis not well
That you and I should meet vpon such tearmes,
As now we meet. You haue deceiu'd our trust,
And made vs doffe our easie Robes of Peace,
To crush our old limbes in vngentle Steele:
This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.
What say you to it? Will you againe vnknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred Warre?
And moue in the obedient Orbe againe,
Where you did giue a faire and naturall light,
And be no more an exhall'd Meteor,
A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent
Of broached Mischeefe, to the vnborne Times?
  Wor. Heare me, my Liege:
For mine owne part, I could be well content
To entertaine the Lagge-end of my life
With quiet houres: For I do protest,
I haue not sought the day of this dislike

   King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then?
  Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it

   Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace

   Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookes
Of Fauour, from my Selfe, and all our House;
And yet I must remember you my Lord,
We were the first, and dearest of your Friends:
For you, my staffe of Office did I breake
In Richards time, and poasted day and night
To meete you on the way, and kisse your hand,
When yet you were in place, and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I;
It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
The danger of the time. You swore to vs,
And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State,
Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right,
The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster,
To this, we sware our aide: But in short space,
It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your head,
And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you,
What with our helpe, what with the absent King.
What with the iniuries of wanton time,
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
And the contrarious Windes that held the King
So long in the vnlucky Irish Warres,
That all in England did repute him dead:
And from this swarme of faire aduantages,
You tooke occasion to be quickly woo'd,
To gripe the generall sway into your hand,
Forgot your Oath to vs at Doncaster,
And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so,
As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,
Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our Nest
Grew by our Feeding, to so great a builke,
That euen our Loue durst not come neere your sight
For feare of swallowing: But with nimble wing
We were infor'd for safety sake, to flye
Out of your sight, and raise this present Head,
Whereby we stand opposed by such meanes
As you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe,
By vnkinde vsage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworne to vs in yonger enterprize

   Kin. These things indeed you haue articulated,
Proclaim'd at Market Crosses, read in Churches,
To face the Garment of Rebellion
With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle Changelings, and poore Discontents,
Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes
Of hurly burly Innouation:
And neuer yet did Insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause:
Nor moody Beggars, staruing for a time
Of pell-mell hauocke, and confusion

   Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a soule
Shall pay full dearely for this encounter,
If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your Nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the world
In praise of Henry Percie: By my Hopes,
This present enterprize set off his head,
I do not thinke a brauer Gentleman,
More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong,
More daring, or more bold, is now aliue,
To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds.
For my part, I may speake it to my shame,
I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry,
And so I heare, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty,
I am content that he shall take the oddes
Of his great name and estimation,
And will, to saue the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him, in a Single Fight

   King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee,
Albeit, considerations infinite
Do make against it: No good Worster, no,
We loue our people well; euen those we loue
That are misled vpon your Cousins part:
And will they take the offer of our Grace:
Both he, and they, and you; yea euery man
Shall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his.
So tell your Cousin, and bring me word,
What he will do. But if he will not yeeld,
Rebuke and dread correction waite on vs,
And they shall do their Office. So bee gone,
We will not now be troubled with reply,
We offer faire, take it aduisedly.

Exit Worcester.

  Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life,
The Dowglas and the Hotspurre both together,
Are confident against the world in Armes

   King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge,
For on their answer will we set on them;
And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.

Exeunt.

Manet Prince and Falstaffe.

  Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell,
And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship

   Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendship
Say thy prayers, and farewell

   Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well

   Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death

   Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him
before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him,
that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes
me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come
on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an
arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No.
Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour
A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A
trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday.
Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it
insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with
the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, therfore
Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so
ends my Catechisme.
Enter.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: scene i onour pricks me on. Therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. In their camp at Shrewsbury, Henry and Harry watch the sun rise, red and dim, on the morning of the all-important battle. Worcester and Vernon arrive as messengers from the rebel camp, and Henry addresses Worcester, asking if he is willing to avoid the conflict, which will inevitably be destructive, and make peace. Worcester says that he would have avoided the conflict if he could have but that Henry's behavior has made doing so impossible. He takes up Hotspur's accusations to Blunt in Act IV, scene iii, reminding Henry that the Percy family gave him assistance when Henry was still the underdog and that, without their help, Henry never could have overthrown Richard II. He says that Henry has become so forgetful of his debts and so hostile toward the Percys lately that the family feels that it has no choice but to flee from court and raise an army to bring about justice. Henry dismisses these charges as mere excuses, declaring that those who are discontented for small and petty reasons and who are driven by the lust for power can always find some reason to try to overthrow those currently in power. Harry then offers a solution: he bids Worcester tell Hotspur that, since the whole world knows what a valiant knight Hotspur is, Harry himself will meet Hotspur in single combat to decide the conflict. This way, he proposes, the many men who would die in a full-fledged battle will be spared. Worcester departs, and Harry and Henry agree that the rebels probably will not accept the offer--Hotspur and the Douglas are both too confident of their chances in pitched battle. Henry departs to prepare his troops, and Harry and Falstaff say their last goodbyes before the fight. After Harry leaves, Falstaff muses about the worthlessness of honor, suggesting that only dead men can keep it--although they get no benefit from it--while the living are forced to suffer on honor's behalf