P. Hen. And to thee.

Poin. By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it with mine own ears: the worst that they can say of me is, that I am a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph.

P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaff: 'a had him from me Christian; and look, if the fat villain have not transformed him ape.

Enter BARDOLPH and PAGE.

Bard. God save your grace!

P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph!

Bard. [to the Page] Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is 't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead?

Page. He called me even now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window: at last I spied his eyes; and methought he had made two holes in the alewife's new petticoat, and so peeped through.

P. Hen. Hath not the boy profited?

Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away! Page. Away, you rascally Althaa's dream, away! P. Hen. Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy? Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed she was delivered of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream. P. Hen. A crown's worth of good interpretation: 'tis, boy.

there

[Gives money.

Poin. O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers! - Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee. [Gives money. Bard. An you do not make him be hanged among you, the gallows shall have wrong.

P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph ?

Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's coming to town: there's a letter for you. [Gives a letter.

And how doth the

Poin. Delivered with good respect. martlemas, your master?

Bard. In bodily health, sir.

Poin. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician; but that moves not him: though that be sick, it dies not.

P. Hen. I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog: and he holds his place; for look you how he writes. [Gives the letter to Pointz.

Poin. [reads] "John Falstaff, knight," every man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to name himself: even like those that are kin to the king; for they never prick their finger but they say, "There's some of the king's blood spilt." "How comes that?" says he, that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower's cap, "I am the king's poor cousin, sir."

P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. But to the letter:

Poin. [reads] "Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the king, nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting.” Why, this is a certificate.

P. Hen. Peace!

Poin. [reads] "I will imitate the honourable Roman in brevity:" sure he means brevity in breath, short-winded.

"I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Pointz; for he misuses thy favours so much, that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayest; and so, farewell.

"Thine, by yea and no (which is as much as to say, as thou usest him), JACK FALSTAFF With my familiars, JOHN with my brothers and sisters, and SIR JOHN with all Europe." My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack, and make him eat it. P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? must I marry your sister?

Poin. God send the wench no worse fortune! but I never said so.

P. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with the time; and

the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. Is your master here in London?

Bard. Yes, my lord.

P. Hen. Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank?

Bard. At the old place, my lord,

P. Hen. What company?

in Eastcheap.

Page. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.

P. Hen. Sup any women with him?

Page. None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.

P. Hen. What pagan may that be?

Page. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's.

P. Hen. Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper? Poin. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you. P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town: there's for your silence. [Gives money.

Bard. I have no tongue, sir.
Page. And for mine, sir, I will govern it.

P. Hen. Fare ye well; go. [Exeunt Bardolph and Page.] This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.

Poin. I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London.

P. Hen. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?

Poin. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers.

P. Hen. From a god to a bull? a heavy descension! it was Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall be mine; for in every thing the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Warkworth. Before the castle.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, Lady NORTHUMBERLAND, and
Lady PERCY.

North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs:

Put not you on the visage of the times,

And be, like them, to Percy troublesome.

Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more: Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.

North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.

Lady P. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars!
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now;

When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look to see his father
Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain.
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?

There were two honours lost, yours and your son's.
may heavenly glory brighten it!

For yours,

For his,

it stuck upon him, as the sun
In the gray vault of heaven; and by his light
Did all the chivalry of England move

To do brave acts: he was, indeed, the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves:
He had no legs that practis'd not his gait;

And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant;

For those that could speak low and tardily

Would turn their own perfection to abuse,
To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait,
In diet, in affections of delight,

In military rules, humours of blood,

He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
That fashion'd others. And him,

O wondrous him!

O miracle of men! - him did you leave

Second to none, unseconded by you
To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage; to abide a field

Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
Did seem defensible:

so you left him.

Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong
To hold your honour more precise and nice
With others than with him! let them alone:
The marshal and the archbishop are strong:
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.

North.

Beshrew your heart,

Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me
With new lamenting ancient oversights.

But I must go, and meet with danger there;
Or it will seek me in another place,

And find me worse provided.

Lady N.

O, fly to Scotland,

Till that the nobles and the armèd commons

Have of their puissance made a little taste.

Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the king,

Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,

To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves,

First let them try themselves. So did your son;
He was so suffer'd: so came I a widow;

And never shall have length of life enough

To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,

For recordation to my noble husband.

North. Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind As with the tide swell'd up unto his height,

That makes a still-stand, running neither way:
Fain would I go to meet the árchbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back.
I will resolve for Scotland: there am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company.

[Exeunt.