Henry IV, Part I - William Shakespeare (books suggested by elon musk TXT) 📗

prince! Prince How now, my lady the hostess! what sayest thou to me? Hostess Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door would speak with you: he says he comes from your father. Prince Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother. Falstaff What manner of man is he? Hostess An old man. Falstaff What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him his answer? Prince Prithee, do, Jack. Falstaff ’Faith, and I’ll send him packing. Exit. Prince Now, sirs: by’r lady, you fought fair; so did you, Peto; so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true prince; no, fie! Bardolph ’Faith, I ran when I saw others run. Prince ’Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff’s sword so hacked? Peto Why, he hacked it with his dagger, and said he would swear truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and persuaded us to do the like. Bardolph Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it and swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices. Prince O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou rannest away: what instinct hadst thou for it? Bardolph My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations? Prince I do. Bardolph What think you they portend? Prince Hot livers and cold purses. Bardolph Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. Prince No, if rightly taken, halter. Re-enter Falstaff. Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombast! How long is’t ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee? Falstaff My own knee! when I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle’s talon in the waist; I could have crept into any alderman’s thumb-ring: a plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder. There’s villanous news abroad: here was Sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy, and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the bastinado and made Lucifer cuckold and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook⁠—what a plague call you him? Poins O, Glendower. Falstaff Owen, Owen, the same; and his son-in-law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o’ horseback up a hill perpendicular⁠— Prince He that rides at high speed and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying. Falstaff You have hit it. Prince So did he never the sparrow. Falstaff Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him; he will not run. Prince Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running! Falstaff O’ horseback, ye cuckoo; but afoot he will not budge a foot. Prince Yes, Jack, upon instinct. Falstaff I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more: Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father’s beard is turned white with the news: you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel. Prince Why, then, it is like, if there come a hot June and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds. Falstaff By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like we shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible afeard? thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it? Prince Not a whit, i’ faith; I lack some of thy instinct. Falstaff Well, thou wert be horribly chid to-morrow when thou comest to thy father: if thou love me, practise an answer. Prince Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life. Falstaff Shall I? content: this chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. Prince Thy state is taken for a joined-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown! Falstaff Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses’ vein. Prince Well, here is my leg. Falstaff And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility. Hostess O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i’ faith! Falstaff Weep not, sweet queen; for trickling tears are vain. Hostess O, the father, how he holds his countenance! Falstaff

For God’s sake, lords, convey my tristful queen;
For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes.

Hostess O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see! Falstaff Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain. Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I have partly thy mother’s word, partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villanous trick of thine eye and a foolish-hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point; why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries? a question not to be asked. Shall the sun of England prove a thief and take purses? a question to be asked.