Henry IV Part 2 (1921) Yale/Text/Act I
ACT FIRST
Scene One
[The Same]
Enter Lord Bardolph, at one door.
L. Bard. Who keeps the gate here? ho!
[Enter the Porter above.]
Where is the earl?
Port. What shall I say you are?
L. Bard.Tell thou the earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard: 4
Please it your honour knock but at the gate,
And he himself will answer.
Enter Northumberland.
L. Bard.Here comes the earl.
North. What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem. 8
The times are wild; contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
L. Bard.Noble earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. 12
North. Good, an God will!
L. Bard.As good as heart can wish.
The king is almost wounded to the death;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts 16
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son: O! such a day, 20
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times
Since Cæsar's fortunes.
North.How is this deriv'd?
Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? 24
L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence;
A gentleman well bred and of good name,
That freely render'd me these news for true.
North. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent 28
On Tuesday last to listen after news.
L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way;
And he is furnish'd with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me. 32
Enter Trovers.
North. Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back
With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd,
Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard 36
A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. 40
He told me that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels 44
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head, and, starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
North.Ha! Again: 48
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, Coldspur? that rebellion
Had met ill luck?
L. Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what:
If my young lord your son have not the day, 52
Upon mine honour, for a silken point
I'll give my barony: never talk of it.
North. Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers
Give then such instances of loss?
L. Bard.Who, he? 56
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
The horse he rode on, and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
Enter Morton.
North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 60
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:
So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? 64
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
North.How doth my son, and brother?
Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek 68
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 72
And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.
This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus; 76
Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas';
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, 80
Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.'
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;
But, for my lord your son,—
North.Why, he is dead.—
See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath! 84
He that but fears the thing he would not know
Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes
That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton:
Tell thou thy earl his divination lies, 88
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid;
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. 92
North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye:
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so; 96
The tongue offends not that reports his death:
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
Not he which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 100
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend.
L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. 104
Mor. I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen;
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd, 108
To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death,—whose spirit lent a fire 112
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,—
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best-temper'd courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party steel'd; 116
Which once in him abated, all the rest
Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead:
And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, 120
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, 124
Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slain the appearance of the king, 128
'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backs; and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is, that the king hath won, and hath sent out 132
A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn. 136
In poison there is physic; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well:
And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints, 140
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief, 144
Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch!
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel
Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif!
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head 148
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron; and approach
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland! 152
Let heaven kiss earth! now let not nature's hand
Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die!
And let this world no longer be a stage
To feed contention in a lingering act; 156
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead! 160
Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.
L. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
Mor. The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er 164
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast the event of war, my noble lord,
And summ'd the account of chance, before you said,
'Let us make head.' It was your presurmise 168
That in the dole of blows your son might drop:
You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er;
You were advis'd his flesh was capable 172
Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd:
Yet did you say, 'Go forth'; and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain 176
The stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen,
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
L. Bard. We all that are engaged to this loss 180
Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas
That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one;
And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd
Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd; 184
And since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
Mor. 'Tis more than time: and, my most noble lord,
I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, 188
The gentle Archbishop of York is up,
With well-appointed powers: he is a man
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corpse, 192
But shadows and the shows of men to fight;
For that same word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls;
And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd, 196
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
Seem'd on our side: but, for their spirits and souls,
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,
As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop 200
Turns insurrection to religion:
Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He's follow'd both with body and with mind,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood 204
Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; 208
And more and less do flock to follow him.
North. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth,
This present grief had wip'd it from my mind.
Go in with me; and counsel every man 212
The aptest way for safety and revenge:
Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed:
Never so few, and never yet more need. Exeunt.
Scene Two
[London. A Street]
Enter Sir John [Falstaff,] with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.
Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor
to my water?
Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good
healthy water; but, for the party that owed it, 4
he might have moe diseases than he knew for.
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at
me: the brain of this foolish-compounded clay,
man, is not able to invent anything that tends 8
to laughter, more than I invent or is invented
on me: I am not only witty in myself, but the
cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk
before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all 12
her litter but one. If the prince put thee into
my service for any other reason than to set me
off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whore-
son mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my 16
cap than to wait at my heels. I was never
manned with an agate till now; but I will set
you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel,
and send you back again to your master, for a 20
jewel; the juvenal, the prince your master, whose
chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a
beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall
get one on his cheek; and yet he will not stick 24
to say, his face is a face-royal: God may finish it
when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet: he may
keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber shall
never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he'll 28
be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his
father was a bachelor. He may keep his own
grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure
him. What said Master Dombledon about the 32
satin for my short cloak and my slops?
Page. He said, sir, you should procure him
better assurance than Bardolph; he would not
take his bond and yours: he liked not the 36
security.
Fal. Let him be damned like the glutton! Pray
God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achito-
phel! a rascally yea-forsooth knave! to bear a 40
gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security.
The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear noth-
ing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their
girdles; and if a man is through with them in 44
honest taking up, then they must stand upon
security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane
in my mouth as offer to stop it with security. I
looked a' should have sent me two and twenty 48
yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he
sends me security. Well, he may sleep in secur-
ity; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the
lightness of his wife shines through it: and yet 52
cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn
to light him. Where's Bardolph?
Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your
worship a horse. 56
Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy
me a horse in Smithfield: an I could get me
but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed,
and wived. 60
Enter Chief Justice and Servant.
Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that
committed the prince for striking him about
Bardolph.
Fal. Wait close; I will not see him. 64
Ch. Just. What's he that goes there?
Ser. Falstaff, an 't please your lordship.
Ch. Just. He that was in question for the
robbery? 68
Ser. He, my lord; but he hath since done
good service at Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is
now going with some charge to the Lord John
of Lancaster. 72
Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back
again.
Ser. Sir John Falstaff!
Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf. 76
Page. You must speak louder, my master is
deaf.
Ch. Just. I am sure he is, to the hearing of
anything good. Go, pluck him by the elbow; I 80
must speak with him.
Ser. Sir John!
Fal. What! a young knave, and beg! Is there
not wars? is there not employment? doth not 84
the king lack subjects? do not the rebels want
soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any
side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be
on the worst side, were it worse than the name 88
of rebellion can tell how to make it.
Ser. You mistake me, sir.
Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest
man? setting my knighthood and my soldier- 92
ship aside, I had lied in my throat if I had
said so.
Ser. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood
and your soldiership aside, and give me leave to 96
tell you you lie in your throat if you say I
am any other than an honest man.
Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay
aside that which grows to me! If thou gett'st 100
any leave of me, hang me: if thou takest leave,
thou wert better be hanged. You hunt counter:
hence! avaunt!
Ser. Sir, my lord would speak with you. 104
Ch. Just. Sir John Falstaff, a word with
you.
Fal. My good lord! God give your lordship
good time of day. I am glad to see your lord- 108
ship abroad; I heard say your lordship was sick:
I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice.
Your lordship, though not clean past your youth,
hath yet some smack of age in you, some relish 112
of the saltness of time; and I most humbly be-
seech your lordship to have a reverend care of
your health.
Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your 116
expedition to Shrewsbury.
Fal. An 't please your lordship, I hear his
majesty is returned with some discomfort from
Wales. 120
Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty. You
would not come when I sent for you.
Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highness is
fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy. 124
Ch. Just. Well, God mend him! I pray you,
let me speak with you.
Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of
lethargy, an 't please your lordship; a kind of 128
sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling.
Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as
it is.
Fal. It hath it original from much grief, 132
from study and perturbation of the brain. I
have read the cause of his effects in Galen: it is
a kind of deafness.
Ch. Just. I think you are fallen into the dis- 136
ease, for you hear not what I say to you.
Fal. Very well, my lord, very well: rather,
an 't please you, it is the disease of not listening,
the malady of not marking, that I am troubled 140
withal.
Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels would
amend the attention of your ears; and I care
not if I do become your physician. 144
Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so
patient: your lordship may minister the potion
of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty;
but how I should be your patient to follow your 148
prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of
a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself.
Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were
matters against you for your life, to come speak 152
with me.
Fal. As I was then advised by my learned
counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did
not come. 156
Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you
live in great infamy.
Fal. He that buckles him in my belt cannot
live in less. 160
Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and
your waste is great.
Fal. I would it were otherwise: I would my
means were greater and my waist slenderer. 164
Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince.
Fal. The young prince hath misled me: I
am the fellow with the great belly, and he my
dog. 168
Ch. Just. Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed
wound: your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a
little gilded over your night's exploit on Gads-
hill: you may thank the unquiet time for your 172
quiet o'er-posting that action.
Fal. My lord!
Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so:
wake not a sleeping wolf. 176
Fal. To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a
fox.
Ch. Just. What! you are as a candle, the
better part burnt out. 180
Fal. A wassail candle, my lord; all tallow:
if I did say of wax, my growth would approve
the truth.
Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your 184
face but should have his effect of gravity.
Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up
and down, like his ill angel. 188
Fal. Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light,
but I hope he that looks upon me will take me
without weighing: and yet, in some respects, I
grant, I cannot go, I cannot tell. Virtue is of 192
so little regard in these costermonger times that
true valour is turned bear-herd: pregnancy is
made a tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted
in giving reckonings: all the other gifts apperti- 196
nent to man, as the malice of this age shapes
them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that are
old consider not the capacities of us that are
young; you measure the heat of our livers with 200
the bitterness of your galls; and we that are in
the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are
wags too.
Ch. Just. Do you set down your name in the 204
scroll of youth, that are written down old with
all the characters of age? Have you not a moist
eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard,
a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not 208
your voice broken, your wind short, your chin
double, your wit single, and every part about
you blasted with antiquity, and will you yet call
yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John! 212
Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the
clock in the afternoon, with a white head, and
something a round belly. For my voice, I have
lost it with hollaing, and singing of anthems. 216
To approve my youth further, I will not: the
truth is, I am only old in judgment and under-
standing; and he that will caper with me for a
thousand marks, let him lend me the money, 220
and have at him! For the box o' the ear that
the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince,
and you took it like a sensible lord. I have
checked him for it, and the young lion repents; 224
marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new
silk and old sack.
Ch. Just. Well, God send the prince a better
companion! 228
Fal. God send the companion a better prince!
I cannot rid my hands of him.
Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed you
and Prince Harry. I hear you are going with 232
Lord John of Lancaster against the archbishop
and the Earl of Northumberland.
Fal. Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for
it. But look you pray, all you that kiss my lady 236
Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot
day; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out
with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily:
if it be a hot day, and I brandish anything but 240
my bottle, I would I might never spit white again.
There is not a dangerous action can peep out
his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I can-
not last ever. But it was always yet the trick of 244
our English nation, if they have a good thing, to
make it too common. If you will needs say I am
an old man, you should give me rest. I would
to God my name were not so terrible to the 248
enemy as it is: I were better to be eaten to death
with rust than to be scoured to nothing with
perpetual motion.
Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest; and 252
God bless your expedition.
Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand
pound to furnish me forth?
Ch. Just. Not a penny; not a penny; you are 256
too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well:
commend me to my cousin Westmoreland.
Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle.
A man can no more separate age and covetous- 260
ness than a' can part young limbs and lechery;
but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches
the other; and so both the degrees prevent my
curses. Boy! 264
Page. Sir!
Fal. What money is in my purse?
Page. Seven groats and twopence.
Fal. I can get no remedy against this con- 268
sumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers
and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.
Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster;
this to the prince; this to the Earl of Westmore- 272
land; and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom I
have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived
the first white hair on my chin. About it: you
know where to find me. A pox of this gout! 276
or, a gout of this pox! for the one or the
other plays the rogue with my great toe. 'Tis
no matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my
colour, and my pension shall seem the more 280
reasonable. A good wit will make use of any-
thing; I will turn diseases to commodity. Exeunt.
Scene Three
[York. The Archbishop's Palace]
Enter Archbishop, Hastings, Mowbray, and Lord Bardolph.
Arch. Thus have you heard our cause and known our means;
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes:
And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it? 4
Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms;
But gladly would be better satisfied
How in our means we should advance ourselves
To look with forehead bold and big enough 8
Upon the power and puissance of the king.
Hast. Our present musters grow upon the file
To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice;
And our supplies live largely in the hope 12
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
With an incensed fire of injuries.
L. Bard. The question, then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus:
Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand 16
May hold up head without Northumberland.
Hast. With him, we may.
L. Bard.Ay, marry, there's the point:
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is, we should not step too far 20
Till we had his assistance by the hand;
For in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
Of aids incertain should not be admitted. 24
Arch. 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for, indeed
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.
L. Bard. It was, my lord; who lin'd himself with hope,
Eating the air on promise of supply, 28
Flattering himself with project of a power
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts;
And so, with great imagination
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, 32
And winking leap'd into destruction.
Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
L. Bard. Yes, if this present quality of war,— 36
Indeed the instant action,—a cause on foot,
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant as despair 40
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model;
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection; 44
Which if we find outweighs ability,
What do we then but draw anew the model
In fewer offices, or at last desist
To build at all? Much more, in this great work,— 48
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
And set another up,—should we survey
The plot of situation and the model,
Consent upon a sure foundation, 52
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite; or else,
We fortify in paper, and in figures, 56
Using the names of men instead of men:
Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it; who, half through,
Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost 60
A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
Hast. Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd 64
The utmost man of expectation;
I think we are a body strong enough,
Even as we are, to equal with the king.
L. Bard. What! is the king but five-and-twenty thousand? 68
Hast. To us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph.
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
Are in three heads: one power against the French,
And one against Glendower; perforce, a third 72
Must take up us: so is the unfirm king
In three divided, and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
Arch. That he should draw his several strengths together 76
And come against us in full puissance,
Need not be dreaded.
Hast.If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh
Baying him at the heels: never fear that. 80
L. Bard. Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
Hast. The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland;
Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth:
But who is substituted 'gainst the French 84
I have no certain notice.
Arch.Let us on
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited. 88
A habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many! with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke 92
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be:
And being now trimm'd in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. 96
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard,
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times? 100
They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave:
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came sighing on 104
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke,
Cry'st now, 'O earth! yield us that king again,
And take thou this!' O, thoughts of men accurst!
Past and to come seem best; things present worst. 108
Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?
Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. [Exeunt.]
Footnotes to Act I
Scene One
2 What: who
3 attend: await
4 orchard: garden
13 an: if
19 brawn: the fleshy part of the body, especially the buttocks or the calf of the leg
21 follow'd: carried through
30 over-rode: passed
37 forspent: exhausted
43 able: active
48 Staying: awaiting
question: talk
53 point: lacing, garter
57 hilding: worthless
62 strond: shore
63 witness'd usurpation: traces of its usurpation
69 apter: more ready
87 is chanced: has happened
108 quittance: return of blows
112 In few: in short
114 bruited: rumored
116-118 Cf. n.
128 Cf. n.
129 'Gan vail his stomach: began to lower his arrogant spirit
did grace: reflected credit on, set in a good light
141 buckle: bend
144 grief: suffering
grief: sorrow
145 nice: dainty, effeminate
147 sickly quoif: sick man's hood
148 wanton: effeminate
149 flesh'd: made fierce by combat as a dog fed only on flesh
151 ragged'st: roughest
161 strained passion: exaggerated emotion
163 complices: allies
166-179 Cf. n.
166 cast the event: considered the outcome
168 make head: raise an army
169 dole: distribution
170 edge: dangerous narrow path
172 advis'd: aware
177 stiff-borne: obstinately carried out
180 engaged to: involved in
184 respect: consideration
190 well-appointed: well-equipped
196 queasiness: squeamishness
204, 205 Cf. n.
204 enlarge: widen the scope or appeal
208 Bolingbroke; cf. n.
209 more and less: high and low
214 make: collect
Scene Two
4 owed: owned
6 gird: jeer
15 whoreson: a coarse term of endearment (as here) or of contempt (as in l. 30)
16 mandrake: a poisonous plant whose forked root was supposed to resemble the human form
18 manned with an agate; cf. n.
21 juvenal: used jocularly for 'youth'
25 face-royal; cf. n.
29 writ man: enrolled himself a man
33 slops: loose breeches
38 glutton; cf. n.
39 Achitophel; cf. n.
40 yea-forsooth knave; cf. n.
bear . . . in hand: delude with false hopes
42 smooth-pates: roundheads, or Puritanical citizen class
44 through: serious
45 taking up: obtaining goods on trust
48 a': he
51-54 Cf. n.
57 Paul's; cf. n.
61, 62 Cf. n.
71 charge: military command
102 hunt counter; cf. n.
130 What: why
132 it: its
134 his: its
142 punish by the heels: commit to prison; originally, to the stocks
147 in respect of: on account of
155 land-service: military service
166-168 Cf. n.
173 o'er-posting: getting over rapidly
181 wassail candle: large candle used at a feast
182 wax; cf. n.
approve: prove
188 ill: evil
189-192 Cf. n.
193 costermonger: commercial
194 bear-herd: one who leads about a tame bear
pregnancy: readiness of wit
196 reckonings: bills
202 vaward: vanguard
210 single: thin
220 marks: a mark was worth about thirteen shillings
226 sack: Spanish wine
241 spit white; cf. n.
257 Cf. n.
259 Cf. n.
263 prevent: anticipate
267 groat: a coin worth fourpence
279 halt: limp
280 colour: excuse
282 commodity: merchandise to be sold at a profit
Scene Three
10 file: muster roll
12 supplies: reinforcements
27 lin'd: strengthened
29, 30 project . . . smaller: anticipation of an army actually much smaller
33 winking: with eyes closed
36-41 Cf. n.
43 figure: plan
47 offices: domestic quarters
53-55 Cf. n.
60 part-created cost: costly fragment
62 churlish: rough
70 as . . . brawl: as the turbulent times dictate
81 like: probable
91 fond many: foolish multitude
94 trimm'd . . . desires: supplied with what thou didst desire
109 draw: assemble