Henry IV, Pt. 1
Act 1, Scene 2
London. An apartment of the Prince’s.
- Enter Prince of Wales and Sir John Falstaff.
- Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
Prince Henry3 - 12
- Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack, and
- unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches
- after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly
- which thou wouldest truly know. What a devil hast thou to do
- with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack,
- and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and
- dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun
- himself a fair hot wench in flame-color’d taffeta; I see no
- reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the
- time of the day.
Falstaff13 - 17
- Indeed you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go
- by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he,
- “that wand’ring knight so fair.” And I prithee, sweet wag,
- when thou art a king, as, God save thy Grace—Majesty I
- should say, for grace thou wilt have none—
- What, none?
Falstaff19 - 20
- No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to be prologue to
- an egg and butter.
- Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
Falstaff22 - 28
- Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that
- are squires of the night’s body be call’d thieves of the
- day’s beauty. Let us be Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the
- shade, minions of the moon, and let men say we be men of
- good government, being govern’d, as the sea is, by our noble
- and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we
Prince Henry29 - 36
- Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the fortune of
- us that are the moon’s men doth ebb and flow like the sea,
- being govern’d, as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof,
- now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatch’d on Monday
- night and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got
- with swearing “Lay by,” and spent with crying “Bring in”;
- now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and
- by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.
Falstaff37 - 38
- By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad. And is not my hostess of
- the tavern a most sweet wench?
Prince Henry39 - 40
- As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not
- a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?
Falstaff41 - 42
- How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy
- quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
- Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?
Falstaff44 - 45
- Well, thou hast call’d her to a reckoning many a time and
- Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
- No, I’ll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
Prince Henry48 - 49
- Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch, and
- where it would not, I have us’d my credit.
Falstaff50 - 55
- Yea, and so us’d it that, were it not here apparent that
- thou art heir apparent—But I prithee, sweet wag, shall there
- be gallows standing in England when thou art king? And
- resolution thus fubb’d as it is with the rusty curb of old
- father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang
- a thief.
- No, thou shalt.
- Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.
Prince Henry58 - 59
- Thou judgest false already. I mean thou shalt have the
- hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
Falstaff60 - 61
- Well, Hal, well, and in some sort it jumps with my humor as
- well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
- For obtaining of suits?
Falstaff63 - 65
- Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no
- lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a
- lugg’d bear.
- Or an old lion, or a lover’s lute.
- Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
- What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?
Falstaff69 - 76
- Thou hast the most unsavory similes and art indeed the most
- comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I
- prithee trouble me no more with vanity; I would to God thou
- and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be
- bought. An old lord of the Council rated me the other day in
- the street about you, sir, but I mark’d him not, and yet he
- talk’d very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he
- talk’d wisely, and in the street too.
Prince Henry77 - 78
- Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no
- man regards it.
Falstaff79 - 86
- O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to
- corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal, God
- forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew
- nothing, and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little
- better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life,
- and I will give it over. By the Lord, and I do not, I am a
- villain, I’ll be damn’d for never a king’s son in
- Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
Falstaff88 - 89
- ’Zounds, where thou wilt, lad, I’ll make one, an’ I do not,
- call me villain and baffle me.
Prince Henry90 - 91
- I see a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to
Falstaff92 - 98
- Why, Hal, ’tis my vocation, Hal, ’tis no sin for a man to
- labor in his vocation.
- Enter Poins.
- Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if
- men were to be sav’d by merit, what hole in hell were hot
- enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain that
- ever cried “Stand!” to a true man.
- Good morrow, Ned.
Poins100 - 103
- Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? What
- says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and
- thee about thy soul that thou soldest him on Good Friday
- last, for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon’s leg?
Prince Henry104 - 106
- Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his
- bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will
- give the devil his due.
- Then art thou damn’d for keeping thy word with the devil.
- Else he had been damn’d for cozening the devil.
Poins109 - 117
- But, my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning by four a’ clock
- early, at Gadshill, there are pilgrims going to Canterbury
- with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat
- purses. I have vizards for you all; you have horses for
- yourselves. Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester. I have
- bespoke supper tomorrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as
- secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses
- full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home and be
Falstaff118 - 119
- Hear ye, Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, I’ll hang
- you for going.
- You will, chops?
- Hal, wilt thou make one?
- Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
Falstaff123 - 125
- There’s neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in
- thee, nor thou cam’st not of the blood royal, if thou darest
- not stand for ten shillings.
- Well then, once in my days I’ll be a madcap.
- Why, that’s well said.
- Well, come what will, I’ll tarry at home.
- By the Lord, I’ll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
- I care not.
Poins131 - 133
- Sir John, I prithee leave the Prince and me alone, I will
- lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall
Falstaff134 - 139
- Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the
- ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move and what
- he hears may be believ’d, that the true prince may (for
- recreation sake) prove a false thief, for the poor abuses of
- the time want countenance. Farewell, you shall find me in
- Farewell, the latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer!
- Exit Falstaff.
Poins142 - 147
- Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us tomorrow. I have
- a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff,
- Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we
- have already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there; and
- when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut
- this head off from my shoulders.
- How shall we part with them in setting forth?
Poins149 - 153
- Why, we will set forth before or after them and appoint them
- a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail;
- and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves,
- which they shall have no sooner achiev’d but we’ll set upon
Prince Henry154 - 155
- Yea, but ’tis like that they will know us by our horses, by
- our habits, and by every other appointment to be ourselves.
Poins156 - 159
- Tut, our horses they shall not see—I’ll tie them in the
- wood; our vizards we will change after we leave them; and,
- sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our
- noted outward garments.
- Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
Poins161 - 168
- Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred
- cowards as ever turn’d back; and for the third, if he fight
- longer than he sees reason, I’ll forswear arms. The virtue
- of this jest will be the incomprehensible lies that this
- same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper, how
- thirty at least he fought with, what wards, what blows, what
- extremities he endur’d, and in the reproof of this lives the
Prince Henry169 - 171
- Well, I’ll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary,
- and meet me tomorrow night in Eastcheap, there I’ll sup.
- Farewell, my lord.
- Exit Poins.
Prince Henry174 - 196
- I know you all, and will a while uphold
- The unyok’d humor of your idleness,
- Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
- Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
- To smother up his beauty from the world,
- That when he please again to be himself,
- Being wanted, he may be more wond’red at
- By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
- Of vapors that did seem to strangle him.
- If all the year were playing holidays,
- To sport would be as tedious as to work;
- But when they seldom come, they wish’d for come,
- And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
- So when this loose behavior I throw off
- And pay the debt I never promised,
- By how much better than my word I am,
- By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes,
- And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
- My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault,
- Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
- Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
- I’ll so offend, to make offense a skill,
- Redeeming time when men think least I will.