READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, scene ii |
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Act I, Scene ii:
The same. An Apartment of Prince Henry's.
The same. An Apartment of Prince Henry's.
| [Enter Prince Henry and Falstaff.] |
| FAL.: |
| Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? |
| PRINCE.: |
| 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 wouldst 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 the blessed Sun himself a fair hot wench in |
| flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be |
| so superfluous to demand the time of the day. |
| FAL.: |
| 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 |
| wandering knight so fair. And I pr'ythee, sweet wag, when thou |
| art king,—as, God save thy Grace—Majesty I should say, for |
| grace |
| thou wilt have none,— |
| PRINCE.: |
| What, none? |
| FAL.: |
| No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue |
| to an egg and butter. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. |
| FAL.: |
| Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that |
| are squires of the night's body be called 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 governed, as the sea is, by our noble and |
| chaste mistress the Moon, under whose countenance we steal. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Thou say'st 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 governed, 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 ill 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. |
| FAL.: |
| By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the |
| tavern a most sweet wench? |
| PRINCE.: |
| As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a |
| buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? |
| FAL.: |
| How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips and thy |
| quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? |
| PRINCE.: |
| Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? |
| FAL.: |
| Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning many a time and oft. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? |
| FAL.: |
| No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; |
| and where it would not, I have used my credit. |
| FAL.: |
| Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apparent that |
| thou art heir-apparent—But I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be |
| gallows standing in England when thou art king? and |
| resolution thus fobb'd as it is with the rusty curb of old father |
| antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. |
| PRINCE.: |
| No; thou shalt. |
| FAL.: |
| Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have the |
| hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. |
| FAL.: |
| Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour; |
| as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you. |
| PRINCE.: |
| For obtaining of suits? |
| FAL.: |
| 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. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. |
| FAL.: |
| Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. |
| PRINCE.: |
| What say'st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch? |
| FAL.: |
| Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, and art, indeed, the |
| most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince,—But, Hal, I |
| pr'ythee 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.: |
| Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man |
| regards it. |
| FAL.: |
| 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, an I do |
| not, I am a villain: I'll be damn'd for never a king's son in |
| Christendom. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack? |
| FAL.: |
| Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll make one: an I do not, call |
| me villain, and baffle me. |
| PRINCE.: |
| I see a good amendment of life in thee,—from praying to |
| purse-taking. |
| FAL.: |
| Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour |
| in his vocation. |
| [Enter Pointz.] |
| —Pointz!—Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if |
| men were to be saved 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. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Good morrow, Ned. |
| POINTZ.: |
| 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.: |
| 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. |
| POINTZ.: |
| Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the Devil. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Else he had been damn'd for cozening the Devil. |
| POINTZ.: |
| But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, |
| early at Gads-hill! there are pilgrims gong to Canterbury |
| with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat |
| purses: I have visards for you all; you have horses for |
| yourselves: Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester: I have bespoke |
| supper to-morrow 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 hang'd. |
| FAL.: |
| Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang you |
| for going. |
| POINTZ.: |
| You will, chops? |
| FAL.: |
| Hal, wilt thou make one? |
| PRINCE.: |
| Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. |
| FAL.: |
| There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, |
| nor thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand |
| for ten shillings. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Well, then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. |
| FAL.: |
| Why, that's well said. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. |
| FAL.: |
| By the Lord, I'll be a traitor, then, when thou art king. |
| PRINCE.: |
| I care not. |
| POINTZ.: |
| Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the Prince and me alone: I will |
| lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go. |
| FAL.: |
| 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 believed, 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 Eastcheap. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Farewell, thou latter Spring! farewell, All-hallown Summer! |
| [Exit Falstaff.] |
| POINTZ.: |
| Now, my good sweet honey-lord, ride with us to-morrow: 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. |
| PRINCE.: |
| But how shall we part with them in setting forth? |
| POINTZ.: |
| 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 achieved but we'll set upon them. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Ay, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by our |
| habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves. |
| POINTZ.: |
| Tut! our horses they shall not see,—I'll tie them in the wood; |
| our visards we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrah, I |
| have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted |
| outward garments. |
| PRINCE.: |
| But I doubt they will be too hard for us. |
| POINTZ.: |
| 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 |
| endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest. |
| PRINCE.: |
| Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things necessary and |
| meet me to-night in Eastcheap; there I'll sup. Farewell. |
| POINTZ.: |
| Farewell, my lord. |
| [Exit.] |
| PRINCE.: |
| I know you all, and will awhile uphold |
| The unyok'd humour 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 wonder'd at, |
| By breaking through the foul and ugly mists |
| Of vapours 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 behaviour 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, glittering 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 offence a skill; |
| Redeeming time, when men think least I will. |
| [Exit.] |
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