Holds from all soldiers chief majority

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  And military title capital

  Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.

  Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes,

  This infant warrior, in his enterprises

  Discomfited great Douglas, ta’en him once,

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  Enlargèd him, and made a friend of him,

  To fill the mouth of deep defiance up

  And shake the peace and safety of our throne.

  And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,

  The Archbishop’s Grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,

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  Capitulate against us and are up.

  But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?

  Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,

  Which art my nearest and dearest enemy?

  Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,

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  Base inclination, and the start of spleen,

  To fight against me under Percy’s pay,

  To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns,

  To show how much thou art degenerate.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Do not think so. You shall not find it so.

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  And God forgive them that so much have swayed

  Your Majesty’s good thoughts away from me.

  I will redeem all this on Percy’s head,

  And, in the closing of some glorious day,

  Be bold to tell you that I am your son,

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  When I will wear a garment all of blood

  And stain my favors in a bloody mask,

  Which, washed away, shall scour my shame with it.

  And that shall be the day, whene’er it lights,

  That this same child of honor and renown,

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  This gallant Hotspur, this all-praisèd knight,

  And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.

  For every honor sitting on his helm,

  Would they were multitudes, and on my head

  My shames redoubled! For the time will come

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  That I shall make this northern youth exchange

  His glorious deeds for my indignities.

  Percy is but my factor, good my lord,

  To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf.

  And I will call him to so strict account

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  That he shall render every glory up,

  Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,

  Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.

  This in the name of God I promise here,

  The which if He be pleased I shall perform,

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  I do beseech your Majesty may salve

  The long-grown wounds of my intemperance.

  If not, the end of life cancels all bands,

  And I will die a hundred thousand deaths

  Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

  KING

  160

  A hundred thousand rebels die in this.

  Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein.

  Enter BLUNT

  How now, good Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed.

  BLUNT

  So hath the business that I come to speak of.

  Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word

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  That Douglas and the English rebels met

  The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury.

  A mighty and a fearful head they are,

  If promises be kept on every hand,

  As ever offered foul play in the state.

  KING

  170

  The Earl of Westmoreland set forth today,

  With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster,

  For this advertisement is five days old.—

  On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward.

  On Thursday we ourselves will march. Our meeting

  175

  Is Bridgenorth. And, Harry, you shall march

  Through Gloucestershire; by which account,

  Our business valuèd, some twelve days hence

  Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet.

  Our hands are full of business. Let’s away.

  180

  Advantage feeds him fat while men delay.

  Exeunt

  ACT 3, SCENE 2

  Modern Text

  The KING, PRINCE HENRY of Wales, and others enter.

  KING

  Gentlemen, please leave; the Prince of Wales and I must speak in private. But stay close by, for I’ll need you in a moment.

  The lords exit.

  I don’t know whether God decided, because of some displeasing crime I have committed, to turn my own flesh and blood into a punisher and a plague upon me. The course of your life has me convinced that you are only meant for one purpose in this world: to be God’s vengeance against me for all my misdeeds. Why else would such disorderly and low desires, such poor, such wretched, such lewd, such despicable actions, such wasteful pleasures, and such vulgar company become associated with your high-born self, and call themselves equals with a Prince like you?

  PRINCE HENRY

  Your majesty, I wish I could be proven innocent of all those accusations, for I can certainly clear myself of many of them. But let me beg one favor of you: if I can demonstrate that I’m not guilty of the false charges of these smiling flatterers and wretched gossips (the kinds of stories that are always told about great men), then you will forgive me when I confess to the youthful indiscretions I actually did commit.

  KING

  Let God forgive you! But I’m amazed, Harry, at your inclinations, which run completely contrary to those of your ancestors. Your vulgar behavior has cost you your place on my council, a position now held by your younger brother. You have almost completely alienated yourself from the good graces of the courtiers and the other members of the royal family. The hopes of your youth are now ruined; every man, in his heart, thinks he can see your downfall. If I had been so publicly visible, so overly familiar to people, so freely accessible, so cheap and available to the common hordes, then public opinion (which helped me get the crown) would have stayed loyal to King Richard. I would have stayed a banished man, with no reputation and no promise of success. But because I was so rarely seen in public, people were amazed by me when I did appear; they acted as if I were a comet. Men would tell their children, “That’s him!” Others would ask, “Where? Which one’s Bolingbroke?” I was more gracious than heaven; I acted so modestly that I won the allegiance of their hearts, and the shouts and salutes of their mouths. They even did so when the King himself was present.

  This is how I kept myself fresh and new. I was like a priest’s ceremonial vestments: rarely seen, but admired. I appeared seldomly, but marvelously, like a feast made all the more impressive by its rarity. Now, ridiculous King Richard pranced about with vapid clowns and superficial wits, quickly lit and just as quickly burnt out. He degraded himself, mingling his royal self with those skipping fools.

  His reputation was ruined by their scornful attitudes. He lost face by laughing with those joking boys, and tolerating the rudeness of every smooth-faced, disdainful prankster. He spent his time in common, public places, surrendering himself to the pursuit of popularity. Soon, they saw him every day and it was like overdosing on honey; they began to hate the taste of that sweetness. A little too much is as bad as far too much. Seeing him became as common a sight as a cuckoo in June—heard but not paid attention to; seen, but by eyes so used to seeing that they took it for granted. They didn’t look with a special gaze, as they do at the sun when it shines only rarely. Instead, they grew bored, they looked away.

  They slept in front of him and watched him dully, the way a sullen man looks at his enemy. They were stuffed, gorged, and full with his presence. And that is just where you stand, Harry. You have lost your princely status by associating with vile criminals: there’s not an eye in the kingdom that isn’t weary of looking at you. No eyes except mine, that is, which had wished to see more of you; and now they’re acting against me, blinding themselves with foolish tears.

  PRINCE HENRY

  From now on, my very gracious father, I will behave more like myself.

  KING

  At this moment, you seem just like Richard did when I returned from France to lead the revolt. And just as I was then, Percy seems now.

  I swear on my scepter and my soul, he has more of a right to the throne than you, you shadowy copy of a king. For without a right to the throne—nor anything even resembling a right—he has filled the kingdom’s battlefields with armies. He seeks to lead an army against the King, into the jaws of the lion. And even though he is no older than you are, he leads old statesmen and venerable bishops into bloody battles and violent wars. What lasting honor he won, by beating the renowned Douglas! That man’s great exploits, violent invasions, and glorious military reputation had won him praise throughout the Christian world as the most outstanding soldier.

  And yet Hotspur, this Mars in baby clothes, this infant warrior, has defeated Douglas three times, captured him once, then freed him and made him his ally. Now they have become a huge threat to my throne. And what do you have to say about this? Percy, Northumberland, the Archbishop of York, Douglas, and Mortimer have banded together, and now they are after me. But why am I telling you this?

  Why should I tell you about my foes, Harry, when you are my most beloved and most dangerous enemy? With your sycophantic fear, your vulgar inclinations, and your short temper, I wouldn’t be surprised if you left me to fight under Percy, following his heels like a dog and bowing to him when he frowns. Just to prove what a degenerate you are.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Don’t think that; that will not happen. God forgive whoever turned you against me like this! I’ll redeem myself by beating Percy. And at the end of some glorious victory, I’ll come to you and proudly say that I am your son. I will wear a garment made of blood, and my face will be stained by a bloody mask which, when washed away, will clean me of my shame. This will be the day, whenever it happens, that this famous and honored child—this brave Hotspur, this highly praised knight—will meet your disregarded Harry in battle.

  I wish that every honor he’s earned were multiplied, and that every one of my shames were doubled. For the time will come when I’ll make this youth from the north exchange his glorious deeds for my embarrassments. Percy is working for me, my lord. He’s collecting glories on my behalf, and I’m going to hold him strictly accountable for them. He’ll either have to surrender every last one of those glories to me, no matter how small, or I’ll tear them right out of his heart.

  This I promise you, in the name of God. And if God allows me to do these things, then I beg you to heal the wound caused by my long years of bad behavior. If not, then my death will cancel all my debts. I would rather die a hundred-thousand deaths than break even the smallest part of this promise.

  KING

  Through this vow, a hundred-thousand rebels are killed. You will be given a position of command, and absolute trust in this undertaking.

  BLUNT enters.

  What’s wrong, Blunt? You look like there’s an emergency.

  BLUNT

  There is, which is what I’ve come to tell you. Lord Mortimer of Scotland sent word that Douglas and the English rebels met at Shrewsbury, on the eleventh of this month. If everyone involved keeps their word, they will have an army as enormous and terrifying as any that ever caused trouble in this kingdom.

  KING

  We heard this news five days ago. The Earl of Westmoreland left today, along with my son Lord John of Lancaster. Harry, you’ll go next Wednesday. On Thursday, I will go myself. We’ll meet at Bridgenorth. Harry, you will march through Gloucestershire. Given the amount of time we’ll all need, we should come together with our full forces at Bridgenorth twelve days from now. There’s a lot to do, so let’s go. Our enemies will take advantage if we’re slow.

  They exit.

  ACT 3, SCENE 3

  Original Text

  Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH

  FALSTAFF

  Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an like an old lady’s loose gown. I am withered like an old applejohn. Well, I’ll repent, and that suddenly, while

  5

  I am in some liking. I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a peppercorn, a brewer’s horse. The inside of a church! Company, villanous company, hath been the spoil of me.

  BARDOLPH

  10

  Sir John, you are so fretful you cannot live long.

  FALSTAFF

  Why, there is it. Come sing me a bawdy song, make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be, virtuous enough: swore little; diced not above seven times—a week; went to a bawdy house once in a quarter—of

  15

  an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

  BARDOLPH

  Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

  FALSTAFF

  20

  Do thou amend thy face, and I’ll amend my life. Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop, but ’tis in the nose of thee. Thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

  BARDOLPH

  Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.

  FALSTAFF

  No, I’ll be sworn, I make as good use of it as many a man

  25

  doth of a death’s-head or a memento mori. I never see thy face but I think upon hellfire and Dives that lived in purple, for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face. My oath should be “By this fire, that’s God’s angel.” But thou art

  30

  altogether given over, and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there’s no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an

  35

  everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandler’s in Europe. I have maintained that

  40

  salamander of yours with fire any time this two and thirty years, God reward me for it.

  BARDOLPH

  ’Sblood, I would my face were in your belly!

  FALSTAFF

  Godamercy, so should I be sure to be heart-burned!

  Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY

  How now, Dame Partlet the hen, have you enquired yet

  45

  who picked my pocket?

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John, do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have enquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant. The tithe of a hair was never lost in my house

  50

  before.

  FALSTAFF

  You lie, hostess. Bardolph was shaved and lost many a hair; and I’ll be sworn my pocket was picked. Go to, you are a woman, go.

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  Who, I? No; I defy thee! God’s light, I was never called so

  55

  in mine own house before.

  FALSTAFF

  Go to, I know you well enough.

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John. I know you, Sir John. You owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen of shirts to

  60

  your back.

  FALSTAFF

  Dowlas, filthy dowlas. I have given them away to bakers’ wives; they have made bolters of them.

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings,

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  and money lent you, four and twenty pound.

  FALSTAFF

  (points at BARDOLPH) He had his part of it. Let him pay.

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  He? Alas, he is poor. He hath nothing.

  FALSTAFF

  How, poor? Look upon his face. What call you rich? Let them coin his nose. Let them coin his cheeks. I’ll not pay a

  70

  denier. What, will you make a younker of me? Shall I not take mine case in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal ring of my grandfather’s worth forty mark.

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  O Jesu, I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft,

  75

  that that ring was copper!

  FALSTAFF

  How? The Prince is a jack, a sneak-up. ’Sblood, an he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so.

  Enter PRINCE HENRY and PETO, marching, and FALSTAFF meets them playing on his truncheon like a fife

  How now, lad, is the wind in that door, i’ faith? Must we all march?

  BARDOLPH

  80

  Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  My lord, I pray you, hear me.

  PRINCE HENRY

  What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man.

  MISTRESS QUICKLY

  Good my lord, hear me.

  FALSTAFF

  85

  Prithee, let her alone, and list to me.

  PRINCE HENRY

  What say’st thou, Jack?

  FALSTAFF

  The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked. This house is turned bawdy house; they pick pockets.

  PRINCE HENRY

  90

  What didst thou lose, Jack?