40

  napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald’s coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Albans or the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But that’s all one; they’ll find linen enough on every hedge.

  Enter PRINCE HENRY and Lord WESTMORELAND

  PRINCE HENRY

  45

  How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt?

  FALSTAFF

  What, Hal, how now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?—My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy: I thought your Honor had already been at Shrewsbury.

  WESTMORELAND

  50

  Faith, Sir John,’tis more than time that I were there and you too, but my powers are there already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us all. We must away all night.

  FALSTAFF

  Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.

  PRINCE HENRY

  I think to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath already

  55

  made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that come after?

  FALSTAFF

  Mine, Hal, mine.

  PRINCE HENRY

  I did never see such pitiful rascals.

  FALSTAFF

  Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder, food for

  60

  powder. They’ll fill a pit as well as better. Tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.

  WESTMORELAND

  Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly.

  FALSTAFF

  Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that, and

  65

  for their bareness, I am sure they never learned that of me.

  PRINCE HENRY

  No, I’ll be sworn, unless you call three fingers in the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the field.

  Exit PRINCE.

  FALSTAFF

  What, is the King encamped?

  WESTMORELAND

  He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long.

  FALSTAFF

  Well,

  70

  To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast

  Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.

  Exeunt

  ACT 4, SCENE 2

  Modern Text

  FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH enter.

  FALSTAFF

  Bardolph, go ahead of us to Coventry, and fill me a bottle of wine. Our army will keep marching, and we’ll make it to Sutton Coldfield tonight.

  BARDOLPH

  Will you give me some money, captain?

  FALSTAFF

  Spend your own.

  BARDOLPH

  If I buy you this bottle, that makes me an angel.

  FALSTAFF

  Well, if this bottle earns you an angel, then keep it for your troubles. If you earn twenty angels, then keep them all; I’m good for it. Tell my lieutenant Peto to meet me at the city limit.

  BARDOLPH

  I will, captain. Farewell.

  BARDOLPH exits.

  FALSTAFF

  If I’m not ashamed of my soldiers, then I’m a pickled fish. I’ve taken terrible advantage of my position. I’ve pressed a hundred and fifty soldiers into service, and for that, the treasury has paid me over three hundred pounds. I recruited only well-to-do property owners and rich farmer’s sons. I looked for men who were engaged to be married, who were already halfway through their preparations. I found a whole supply of pampered cowards who would rather listen to the devil than a military march; who feared the sound of gunfire more than a wounded bird or a maimed duck might. I recruited only the soft-hearted, who each had as much courage as could fit on a pin head and bribed me to avoid fighting. So now, my battalion is made up of flag bearers, corporals, lieutenants, and crooks as ragged as Lazarus in those paintings where the dogs are licking the sores on his body. I have men who’ve never been soldiers: servants dismissed for their dishonesty; youngest sons with no hope of an inheritance; runaway apprentice bartenders; unemployed stable boys. When the world is calm and peaceful, these men are blisters on society. They’re ten times more ragged than an old, tattered flag, and they’re the kind of men I have to replace the ones who bribed me. You’d think I had a hundred and fifty men who’d just come from pig farming, who eat scraps and garbage. One madman saw us on the march and told me that it looked as if I’d unloaded all the gallows and drafted all the dead bodies. No one’s ever seen such a group of scarecrows. I’m not going to march through Coventry with them tonight, that’s for sure. They march with their legs wide apart, as though they had chains on their ankles. Which makes sense, since I drafted most of them out of jails. There’s only a shirt and a half in the whole group, and the half-shirt is really just two napkins sewn together and thrown over the shoulders like a cape. And the whole shirt, to tell the truth, was stolen from a tavern owner in St. Alban’s, or maybe that drunken innkeeper in Daventry. But that doesn’t matter. They’ll be able to steal plenty of clothing from the hedges, where the washers hang the laundry out to dry.

  PRINCE HENRY and Lord WESTMORELAND enter.

  PRINCE HENRY

  What’s up, swollen Jack! What’s up, quilt?

  FALSTAFF

  Hello there, Hal, you crazy boy! What in the devil’s name are you doing in Warwickshire? And Lord Westmoreland, I beg your pardon. I thought you were already at Shrewsbury.

  WESTMORELAND

  You’re right, Sir John; it’s about time I got there, and you, too. But my army’s already there. The King is waiting for us, so we must march all night.

  FALSTAFF

  Don’t worry about me. I’m as focused as a cat looking for cream to steal.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Steal cream is right—you’ve stolen so much that it’s turned you into butter. But tell me, Jack, whose soldiers are those?

  FALSTAFF

  Mine, Hal, mine.

  PRINCE HENRY

  I never saw such pitiful-looking losers.

  FALSTAFF

  Now, now: they’re good enough to die. Cannon fodder, cannon fodder—they’ll fill a mass grave as well as better men would. They’re just men, just men.

  WESTMORELAND

  Maybe so, Sir John, but I think they look terribly poor and bare; they look like beggars.

  FALSTAFF

  Well, I don’t know where they got their poverty, but their bareness—or their bare-bonedness—well, they didn’t get that from me.

  PRINCE HENRY

  That’s for sure. Unless you think several inches of fat over your ribs makes you “bare-boned.” But hurry up, sirrah: Percy is already at the battlefield.

  PERCY exits.

  FALSTAFF

  What, has the King already made camp?

  WESTMORELAND

  He has, Sir John: I’m afraid we may be too late.

  FALSTAFF

  Well, a hungry guest arrives early for a feast, but a poor soldier arrives late to a battle.

  They exit.

  ACT 4, SCENE 3

  Original Text

  Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and VERNON

  HOTSPUR

  We’ll fight with him tonight.

  WORCESTER

  It may not be.

  DOUGLAS

  You give him then advantage.

  VERNON

  Not a whit.

  HOTSPUR

  Why say you so? Looks he not for supply?

  VERNON

  So do we.

  HOTSPUR

  5

  His is certain; ours is doubtful.

  WORCESTER

  Good cousin, be advised. Stir not tonight.

  VERNON

  (to HOTSPUR) Do not, my lord.

  DOUGLAS

  You do not counsel well.

  You speak it out of fear and cold heart.

  VERNON

  Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life

  10

  (And I dare well maintain it with my life),

  If well-respected honor bid me on,

  I hold as little counsel with weak fear

  As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives.

  Let it be seen tomorrow in the battle

  15

  Which of us fears.

  DOUGLAS

  Yea, or tonight.

  VERNON

  Content.

  HOTSPUR

  Tonight, say I.

  VERNON

  Come, come it nay not be. I wonder much,

  Being men of such great leading as you are,

  20

  That you foresee not what impediments

  Drag back our expedition. Certain horse

  Of my cousin Vernon’s are not yet come up.

  Your Uncle Worcester’s horse came but today,

  And now their pride and mettle is asleep,

  25

  Their courage with hard labor tame and dull,

  That not a horse is half the half of himself.

  HOTSPUR

  So are the horses of the enemy

  In general journey-bated and brought low.

  The better part of ours are full of rest.

  WORCESTER

  30

  The number of the King exceedeth ours.

  For God’s sake, cousin, stay till all come in.

  The trumpet sounds a parley

  Enter BLUNT

  BLUNT

  I come with gracious offers from the King,

  If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect.

  HOTSPUR

  Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt, and would to God

  35

  You were of our determination.

  Some of us love you well, and even those some

  Envy your great deservings and good name

  Because you are not of our quality

  But stand against us like an enemy.

  BLUNT

  40

  And God defend but still I should stand so,

  So long as out of limit and true rule

  You stand against anointed majesty.

  But to my charge. The king hath sent to know

  The nature of your griefs, and whereupon

  45

  You conjure from the breast of civil peace

  Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land

  Audacious cruelty. If that the king

  Have any way your good deserts forgot,

  Which he confesseth to be manifold,

  50

  He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed

  You shall have your desires with interest

  And pardon absolute for yourself and these

  Herein misled by your suggestion.

  HOTSPUR

  The king is kind, and well we know the king

  55

  Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.

  My father and my uncle and myself

  Did give him that same royalty he wears,

  And when he was not six-and-twenty strong,

  Sick in the world’s regard, wretched and low,

  60

  A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,

  My father gave him welcome to the shore;

  And when he heard him swear and vow to God

  He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,

  To sue his livery, and beg his peace,

  65

  With tears of innocency and terms of zeal,

  My father, in kind heart and pity moved,

  Swore him assistance and performed it too.

  Now when the lords and barons of the realm

  Perceived Northumberland did lean to him,

  70

  The more and less came in with cap and knee,

  Met him in boroughs, cities, villages,

  Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,

  Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths,

  Gave him their heirs as pages, followed him

  75

  Even at the heels in golden multitudes.

  He presently, as greatness knows itself,

  Steps me a little higher than his vow

  Made to my father while his blood was poor

  Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh,

  80

  And now forsooth takes on him to reform

  Some certain edicts and some strait decrees

  That lie too heavy on the commonwealth,

  Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep

  Over his country’s wrongs, and by this face,

  85

  This seeming brow of justice, did he win

  The hearts of all that he did angle for,

  Proceeded further—cut me off the heads

  Of all the favourites that the absent King

  In deputation left behind him here

  90

  When he was personal in the Irish war.

  BLUNT

  Tut, I came not to hear this.

  HOTSPUR

  Then to the point.

  In short time after, he deposed the King,

  Soon after that deprived him of his life

  And, in the neck of that, tasked the whole state.

  95

  To make that worse, suffered his kinsman March

  (Who is, if every owner were well placed,

  Indeed his king) to be engaged in Wales,

  There without ransom to lie forfeited,

  Disgraced me in my happy victories,

  100

  Sought to entrap me by intelligence,

  Rated mine uncle from the council board,

  In rage dismissed my father from the court,

  Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong,

  And in conclusion drove us to seek out

  105

  This head of safety, and withal to pry

  Into his title, the which we find

  Too indirect for long continuance.

  BLUNT

  Shall I return this answer to the King?

  HOTSPUR

  Not so, Sir Walter. We’ll withdraw awhile.

  110

  Go to the King, and let there be impawned

  Some surety for a safe return again,

  And in the morning early shall my uncle

  Bring him our purposes. And so farewell.

  BLUNT

  I would you would accept of grace and love.

  HOTSPUR

  115

  And maybe so we shall.

  BLUNT

  Pray God you do.

  Exeunt

  ACT 4, SCENE 3

  Modern Text

  HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and VERNON enter.

  HOTSPUR

  We’ll fight him tonight.

  WORCESTER

  We can’t do that.

  DOUGLAS

  Then you’re giving him the advantage.

  VERNON

  Not in the least.

  HOTSPUR

  Why do you say that? Doesn’t he have backup coming?

  VERNON

  So do we.

  HOTSPUR

  His is guaranteed. Ours isn’t.

  WORCESTER

  Nephew, I’m telling you. Don’t start the fighting tonight.

  VERNON

  (to HOTSPUR) Don’t, my lord.

  DOUGLAS

  You’re giving poor advice, based on fear and cowardice.

  VERNON

  Don’t slander me, Douglas. I swear on my life—and I’ll prove it with my life—that if I’m roused to fight through thoughtful, careful consideration, I’m just as unafraid as you, my lord, or any Scotsman alive. In tomorrow’s battle, we’ll see which one of us is afraid.

  DOUGLAS

  Fine. Or tonight.

  VERNON

  That’s enough.

  HOTSPUR

  Tonight, I say.

  VERNON

  Come on, we can’t do that. I wonder how—being the great leaders you are—you cannot see the problems we’re facing. My cousin has yet to arrive with his horses, and your Uncle Worcester’s troops only arrived today. Their spirit and their bravery is asleep; their courage is dulled and tamed by the hard journey. They don’t have even a quarter of their usual strength.

  HOTSPUR

  The enemy’s horses are tired from the journey as well. The majority of ours are well-rested.

  WORCESTER

  But the King has more men then we do. For God’s sake, nephew, wait until everyone arrives.

  A trumpet announces the approach of an envoy.

  BLUNT enters.

  BLUNT

  I’m here with a generous offer from the King, if you’ll listen to me and treat me with respect.

  HOTSPUR

  Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt. I wish to God you were on our side. Many of us think very highly of you, though we begrudge you your honor and reputation, since you fight on the enemy’s side.

  BLUNT

  And I hope to God I always will, so long as you overstep the bounds of allegiance and duty by standing against the anointed King. But let me get to the point. The King sent me to learn your complaints, and to find out why you are stirring up warfare in a time of peace, and spreading violent dissent throughout his loyal country. If the King has somehow overlooked one of your deserving acts—which, he admits, there are many—he asks you to name your complaints. He’ll meet your demands, with interest, as quickly as possible, and grant an absolute pardon to you and everyone who has followed your mistaken lead.

  HOTSPUR

  That’s kind of the King. We know all too well about the promises the King makes, and the ways he keeps his word. My father, my uncle, and I put that crown on his head. And when he had barely twenty-six men supporting him, when no one cared about him, when he was wretched and low, a poor, forsaken criminal trying to sneak home, my father welcomed him. When he swore an oath to God, weeping and speaking passionately, that he had come back to England only to reclaim his father’s title and make peace with King Richard, my father took pity on him, swore to help him and did so.

  When the country’s most important men saw that Northumberland was on his side, they came to see Henry, and bowed down to him. They met him in towns, cities, villages; they waited for him on bridges, stood in the streets, lay gifts before him, swore their loyalty, pledged the support of their sons, followed him like servants. Soon enough, he began to understand his power. He overstepped the promise he’d made to my father at Ravenspurgh, when his blood was still humble. And then, suddenly, he took it upon himself to reform certain laws and strict decrees that weighed too heavily on the kingdom. He made angry speeches about the abuses we were suffering, and seemed to weep over the country’s problems.