SCENE II. London. The palace. The First part of King Henry the Fourth  Shakespeare homepage  |  Henry IV, part 1  | Act 3, Scene 2 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE II. London. The palace. 

 Enter KING HENRY IV, PRINCE HENRY, and others  KING HENRY IV  Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I 

 Must have some private conference; but be near at hand, 

 For we shall presently have need of you. 



 Exeunt Lords  I know not whether God will have it so, 

 For some displeasing service I have done, 

 That, in his secret doom, out of my blood 

 He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me; 

 But thou dost in thy passages of life 

 Make me believe that thou art only mark'd 

 For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven 

 To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, 

 Could such inordinate and low desires, 

 Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, 

 Such barren pleasures, rude society, 

 As thou art match'd withal and grafted to, 

 Accompany the greatness of thy blood 

 And hold their level with thy princely heart? 

 PRINCE HENRY  So please your majesty, I would I could 

 Quit all offences with as clear excuse 

 As well as I am doubtless I can purge 

 Myself of many I am charged withal: 

 Yet such extenuation let me beg, 

 As, in reproof of many tales devised, 

 which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, 

 By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers, 

 I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 

 Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, 

 Find pardon on my true submission. 

 KING HENRY IV  God pardon thee! yet let me wonder, Harry, 

 At thy affections, which do hold a wing 

 Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 

 Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost. 

 Which by thy younger brother is supplied, 

 And art almost an alien to the hearts 

 Of all the court and princes of my blood: 

 The hope and expectation of thy time 

 Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man 

 Prophetically doth forethink thy fall. 

 Had I so lavish of my presence been, 

 So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, 

 So stale and cheap to vulgar company, 

 Opinion, that did help me to the crown, 

 Had still kept loyal to possession 

 And left me in reputeless banishment, 

 A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. 

 By being seldom seen, I could not stir 

 But like a comet I was wonder'd at; 

 That men would tell their children 'This is he;' 

 Others would say 'Where, which is Bolingbroke?' 

 And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, 

 And dress'd myself in such humility 

 That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 

 Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 

 Even in the presence of the crowned king. 

 Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; 

 My presence, like a robe pontifical, 

 Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state, 

 Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast 

 And won by rareness such solemnity. 

 The skipping king, he ambled up and down 

 With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, 

 Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, 

 Mingled his royalty with capering fools, 

 Had his great name profaned with their scorns 

 And gave his countenance, against his name, 

 To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push 

 Of every beardless vain comparative, 

 Grew a companion to the common streets, 

 Enfeoff'd himself to popularity; 

 That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, 

 They surfeited with honey and began 

 To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 

 More than a little is by much too much. 

 So when he had occasion to be seen, 

 He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 

 Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes 

 As, sick and blunted with community, 

 Afford no extraordinary gaze, 

 Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 

 When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; 

 But rather drowzed and hung their eyelids down, 

 Slept in his face and render'd such aspect 

 As cloudy men use to their adversaries, 

 Being with his presence glutted, gorged and full. 

 And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; 

 For thou has lost thy princely privilege 

 With vile participation: not an eye 

 But is a-weary of thy common sight, 

 Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more; 

 Which now doth that I would not have it do, 

 Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 

 PRINCE HENRY  I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, 

 Be more myself. 

 KING HENRY IV  For all the world 

 As thou art to this hour was Richard then 

 When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, 

 And even as I was then is Percy now. 

 Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot, 

 He hath more worthy interest to the state 

 Than thou the shadow of succession; 

 For of no right, nor colour like to right, 

 He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, 

 Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, 

 And, being no more in debt to years than thou, 

 Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on 

 To bloody battles and to bruising arms. 

 What never-dying honour hath he got 

 Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds, 

 Whose hot incursions and great name in arms 

 Holds from all soldiers chief majority 

 And military title capital 

 Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ: 

 Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, 

 This infant warrior, in his enterprises 

 Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once, 

 Enlarged him and made a friend of him, 

 To fill the mouth of deep defiance up 

 And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 

 And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, 

 The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, 

 Capitulate against us and are up. 

 But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? 

 Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 

 Which art my near'st and dearest enemy? 

 Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, 

 Base inclination and the start of spleen 

 To fight against me under Percy's pay, 

 To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, 

 To show how much thou art degenerate. 

 PRINCE HENRY  Do not think so; you shall not find it so: 

 And God forgive them that so much have sway'd 

 Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! 

 I will redeem all this on Percy's head 

 And in the closing of some glorious day 

 Be bold to tell you that I am your son; 

 When I will wear a garment all of blood 

 And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 

 Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it: 

 And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, 

 That this same child of honour and renown, 

 This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 

 And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. 

 For every honour sitting on his helm, 

 Would they were multitudes, and on my head 

 My shames redoubled! for the time will come, 

 That I shall make this northern youth exchange 

 His glorious deeds for my indignities. 

 Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 

 To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 

 And I will call him to so strict account, 

 That he shall render every glory up, 

 Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 

 Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 

 This, in the name of God, I promise here: 

 The which if He be pleased I shall perform, 

 I do beseech your majesty may salve 

 The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: 

 If not, the end of life cancels all bands; 

 And I will die a hundred thousand deaths 

 Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 

 KING HENRY IV  A hundred thousand rebels die in this: 

 Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. 



 Enter BLUNT  How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. 

 SIR WALTER BLUNT  So hath the business that I come to speak of. 

 Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word 

 That Douglas and the English rebels met 

 The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury 

 A mighty and a fearful head they are, 

 If promises be kept on every hand, 

 As ever offer'd foul play in the state. 

 KING HENRY IV  The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day; 

 With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster; 

 For this advertisement is five days old: 

 On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward; 

 On Thursday we ourselves will march: our meeting 

 Is Bridgenorth: and, Harry, you shall march 

 Through Gloucestershire; by which account, 

 Our business valued, some twelve days hence 

 Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. 

 Our hands are full of business: let's away; 

 Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. 



 Exeunt  Scene III  Eastcheap. The Boar's-Head Tavern. 



 Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH  FALSTAFF  Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last 

 action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why my 

 skin hangs about me like an like an old lady's loose 

 gown; I am withered like an old apple-john. Well, 

 I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some 

 liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I 

 shall have no strength to repent. An I have not 

 forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I 

 am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a 

 church! Company, villanous company, hath been the 

 spoil of me. 

 BARDOLPH  Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long. 

 FALSTAFF  Why, there is it: come sing me a bawdy song; make 

 me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman 

 need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced not 

 above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house once 

 in a quarter--of an hour; paid money that I 

 borrowed, three of four times; lived well and in 

 good compass: and now I live out of all order, out 

 of all compass. 

 BARDOLPH  Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs 

 be out of all compass, out of all reasonable 

 compass, Sir John. 

 FALSTAFF  Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: 

 thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in 

 the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the 

 Knight of the Burning Lamp. 

 BARDOLPH  Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. 

 FALSTAFF  No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many 

 a man doth of a Death's-head or a memento mori: I 

 never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire and 

 Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his 

 robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way 

 given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath 

 should be 'By this fire, that's God's angel:' but 

 thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but 

 for the light in thy face, the son of utter 

 darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in the 

 night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou 

 hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, 

 there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a 

 perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! 

 Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and 

 torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt 

 tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast 

 drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap 

 at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have 

 maintained that salamander of yours with fire any 

 time this two and thirty years; God reward me for 

 it! 

 BARDOLPH  'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! 

 FALSTAFF  God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned. 



 Enter Hostess  How now, Dame Partlet the hen! have you inquired 

 yet who picked my pocket? 

 Hostess  Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you 

 think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, 

 I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy 

 by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair 

 was never lost in my house before. 

 FALSTAFF  Ye lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved and lost many 

 a hair; and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked. Go 

 to, you are a woman, go. 

 Hostess  Who, I? no; I defy thee: God's light, I was never 

 called so in mine own house before. 

 FALSTAFF  Go to, I know you well enough. 

 Hostess  No, Sir John; You do not know me, Sir John. I know 

 you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John; and now 

 you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought 

 you a dozen of shirts to your back. 

 FALSTAFF  Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to 

 bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them. 

 Hostess  Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight 

 shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir 

 John, for your diet and by-drinkings, and money lent 

 you, four and twenty pound. 

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

 Hostess  He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. 

 FALSTAFF  How! poor? look upon his face; what call you rich? 

 let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks: 

 Ill not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker 

 of me? shall I not take mine case in mine inn but I 

 shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a 

 seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark. 

 Hostess  O Jesu, I have heard the prince tell him, I know not 

 how oft, that ring was copper! 

 FALSTAFF  How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup: 'sblood, an 

 he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he 

 would say so. 



 Enter PRINCE HENRY and PETO, marching, and FALSTAFF meets them playing on his truncheon like a life  How now, lad! is the wind in that door, i' faith? 

 must we all march? 

 BARDOLPH  Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. 

 Hostess  My lord, I pray you, hear me. 

 PRINCE HENRY  What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy 

 husband? I love him well; he is an honest man. 

 Hostess  Good my lord, hear me. 

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

 PRINCE HENRY  What sayest thou, Jack? 

 FALSTAFF  The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras 

 and had my pocket picked: this house is turned 

 bawdy-house; they pick pockets. 

 PRINCE HENRY  What didst thou lose, Jack? 

 FALSTAFF  Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of 

 forty pound apiece, and a seal-ring of my 

 grandfather's. 

 PRINCE HENRY  A trifle, some eight-penny matter. 

 Hostess  So I told him, my lord; and I said I heard your 

 grace say so: and, my lord, he speaks most vilely 

 of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said 

 he would cudgel you. 

 PRINCE HENRY  What! he did not? 

 Hostess  There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. 

 FALSTAFF  There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed 

 prune; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn 

 fox; and for womanhood, Maid Marian may be the 

 deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, 

 go 

 Hostess  Say, what thing? what thing? 

 FALSTAFF  What thing! why, a thing to thank God on. 

 Hostess  I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou 

 shouldst know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, 

 setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to 

 call me so. 

 FALSTAFF  Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say 

 otherwise. 

 Hostess  Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? 

 FALSTAFF  What beast! why, an otter. 

 PRINCE HENRY  An otter, Sir John! Why an otter? 

 FALSTAFF  Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not 

 where to have her. 

 Hostess  Thou art an unjust man in saying so: thou or any 

 man knows where to have me, thou knave, thou! 

 PRINCE HENRY  Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly. 

 Hostess  So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you 

 ought him a thousand pound. 

 PRINCE HENRY  Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? 

 FALSTAFF  A thousand pound, Ha! a million: thy love is worth 

 a million: thou owest me thy love. 

 Hostess  Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would 

 cudgel you. 

 FALSTAFF  Did I, Bardolph? 

 BARDOLPH  Indeed, Sir John, you said so. 

 FALSTAFF  Yea, if he said my ring was copper. 

 PRINCE HENRY  I say 'tis copper: darest thou be as good as thy word now? 

 FALSTAFF  Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: 

 but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the 

 roaring of a lion's whelp. 

 PRINCE HENRY  And why not as the lion? 

 FALSTAFF  The king is to be feared as the lion: dost thou 

 think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an 

 I do, I pray God my girdle break. 

 PRINCE HENRY  O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy 

 knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, 

 truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine; it is all 

 filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest 

 woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whoreson, 

 impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in 

 thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of 

 bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of 

 sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket 

 were enriched with any other injuries but these, I 

 am a villain: and yet you will stand to if; you will 

 not pocket up wrong: art thou not ashamed? 

 FALSTAFF  Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest in the state of 

 innocency Adam fell; and what should poor Jack 

 Falstaff do in the days of villany? Thou seest I 

 have more flesh than another man, and therefore more 

 frailty. You confess then, you picked my pocket? 

 PRINCE HENRY  It appears so by the story. 

 FALSTAFF  Hostess, I forgive thee: go, make ready breakfast; 

 love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy 

 guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest 

 reason: thou seest I am pacified still. Nay, 

 prithee, be gone. 



 Exit Hostess  Now Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, 

 lad, how is that answered? 

 PRINCE HENRY  O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to 

 thee: the money is paid back again. 

 FALSTAFF  O, I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double labour. 

 PRINCE HENRY  I am good friends with my father and may do any thing. 

 FALSTAFF  Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and 

 do it with unwashed hands too. 

 BARDOLPH  Do, my lord. 

 PRINCE HENRY  I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. 

 FALSTAFF  I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find 

 one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the 

 age of two and twenty or thereabouts! I am 

 heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for 

 these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous: I 

 laud them, I praise them. 

 PRINCE HENRY  Bardolph! 

 BARDOLPH  My lord? 

 PRINCE HENRY  Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, to my 

 brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland. 



 Exit Bardolph  Go, Peto, to horse, to horse; for thou and I have 

 thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. 



 Exit Peto  Jack, meet me to-morrow in the temple hall at two 

 o'clock in the afternoon. 

 There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive 

 Money and order for their furniture. 

 The land is burning; Percy stands on high; 

 And either we or they must lower lie. 



 Exit PRINCE HENRY  FALSTAFF  Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast, come! 

 O, I could wish this tavern were my drum! 



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