LADY PERCY

  Do you not love me? Do you not indeed?

  90

  Well, do not then, for since you love me not,

  I will not love myself. Do you not love me?

  Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.

  HOTSPUR

  Come, wilt thou see me ride?

  And when I am a-horseback, I will swear

  95

  I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate,

  I must not have you henceforth question me

  Whither I go, nor reason whereabout.

  Whither I must, I must; and to conclude,

  This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.

  100

  I know you wise, but yet no farther wise

  Than Harry Percy’s wife; constant you are,

  But yet a woman; and for secrecy

  No lady closer, for I well believe

  Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,

  105

  And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

  LADY PERCY

  How? So far?

  HOTSPUR

  Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate,

  Whither I go, thither shall you go too.

  Today will I set forth, tomorrow you.

  110

  Will this content you, Kate?

  LADY PERCY

  It must, of force.

  Exeunt

  ACT 2, SCENE 3

  Modern Text

  HOTSPUR enters alone, reading a letter.

  HOTSPUR

  “As for me, sir, I would be happy to be there because of the love I bear for your family.” He would be happy to be here. Well, why isn’t he, then? He says he loves my family, but he clearly loves his barn more than our house. I’ll read on. “Your plan is dangerous.” That’s true, and it’s also dangerous to catch a cold, to sleep, to drink. But I tell you, my lord fool, we shall pluck a flower of safety from this thorn of danger. “Your plan is dangerous; your allies untrustworthy; your timing poor; and your whole project too weak to counter so powerful an opponent.” Is that so? Is that so? I’ll say it once again: you are a stupid, cowardly dog, and a liar. What an idiot this is! By God, our plan is as good a plan as ever hatched, our allies loyal and firm. A good plan, good allies, and very promising; it’s an excellent plan, very good allies. What a yellowbellied fool this is! Why, the Archbishop of York approves of the plan, and how it’s progressing. Damn! If I were with this imbecile right now, I’d break his head open with his wife’s fan. Don’t we have my father? And my uncle, and me? Edmund Mortimer, York, and Owen Glendower? And besides, don’t we have Douglas? Haven’t they all sent me letters, promising to meet me with their armies by the ninth of next month? And aren’t some of them on their way already? What an unbelievable ass this is! Faithless! Ha! Just watch; he’ll run to the King in cold fear and spill our secrets. Oh, I could split myself in two and knock my own self senseless for unfolding this important plan to such a coward. To hell with him! Let him tell the King; we’re ready. I’ll set off tonight.

  His wife, LADY PERCY, enters.

  What is it, Kate? I must leave you in a few hours.

  LADY PERCY

  Oh, my good lord, why are you alone like this? What have I done to make my Harry banish me from his bed these past two weeks? Tell me, sweet husband, what has stolen your appetite, your desire, and your sleep? Why do you stare at the ground and jump in your skin when you are sitting alone? Where is the color in your cheeks? Why have you taken all your attention, which should be mine, and given it to this dark mood and terrible sadness? While you sleep so lightly, I’ve watched you and heard you mumble stories of war. I’ve heard you give commands to your horse. I’ve heard you yell, “Courage! To the field!” And you have talked of charges and retreats; of trenches, tents; of fences, ramparts, and walls; of all types of cannon; of prisoners’ ransoms and of dead soldiers, and of all the movements of a violent battle. Your soul has also been at war and has disturbed you in your sleep. Beads of sweat have broken out on your forehead, like bubbles in a churning stream. And on your face I’ve seen strange expressions, like a man who’s gulping his breath at an awful, sudden command. Oh, what does all this mean? My lord is contemplating some serious matters, and if he doesn’t tell me about them, he surely doesn’t love me.

  HOTSPUR

  You there!

  A SERVANT enters.

  Has Gilliams left with my letters?

  SERVANT

  He has, my lord, an hour ago.

  HOTSPUR

  Did Butler bring those horses from the sheriff?

  SERVANT

  He brought one of them just now.

  HOTSPUR

  Which one? A brown one, right? With its ears clipped?

  SERVANT

  Yes, my lord.

  HOTSPUR

  That brown horse will be my throne. I’ll mount him in a second. Oh, “Hope is my Comfort!” Tell Butler to walk him out in the fields.

  The SERVANT exits.

  LADY PERCY

  Listen, my lord.

  HOTSPUR

  What is it, my lady?

  LADY PERCY

  What is it that’s got you so carried away?

  HOTSPUR

  My horse, my love. My horse.

  LADY PERCY

  Enough, you crazy fool! Not even a weasel is as hot-headed as you are. I swear, I’ll find out what you’re up to, Harry, I will. I fear that my brother, Mortimer, is making some kind of move over his claim to the throne, and has asked you to help. But if you go—

  HOTSPUR

  —such a long way on foot, I’ll be tired.

  LADY PERCY

  Stop it, you little parrot. Answer me straight. I swear, Harry, I’ll break your little finger if you don’t tell me everything, and the truth, too.

  HOTSPUR

  Get away from me, you nag! Love? I don’t love you. I don’t even care about you, Kate. This is no time for playing with dolls and jousting with kisses; we’ll have bloody noses and broken heads, and spread them around, too. For God’s sake, my horse! What, Kate? What do you want from me?

  LADY PERCY

  You don’t love me? Really, you don’t? Well, fine then; don’t love me. And since you don’t love me, I won’t love myself. You don’t love me? Seriously, tell me if you’re joking or if you mean it.

  HOTSPUR

  Will you see me off? Once I’m on my horse, I’ll swear I love you till the end of time. But listen here, Kate. From now on, I won’t have you asking me where I’m going, nor guessing why I’m doing what I’m doing. I must go where I must go. This is final: tonight I must leave you, sweet Kate. I know you are wise, but your wisdom doesn’t go further than your role as my wife. You may be able to keep a secret, but you’re still a woman; and yet no woman can keep secrets like you, because you cannot reveal what you don’t actually know. And that is as far as I will trust you, sweet Kate.

  LADY PERCY

  Oh really? That far?

  HOTSPUR

  Not an inch further. But listen here, Kate. Wherever I go, you will go too. I leave today, and tomorrow, you. Will this make you content, Kate?

  LADY PERCY

  It must.

  They exit.

  ACT 2, SCENE 4

  Original Text

  Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS

  PRINCE HENRY

  Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room and lend me thy hand to laugh a little.

  POINS

  Where hast been, Hal?

  PRINCE HENRY

  With three or four loggerheads amongst three or fourscore

  5

  hogsheads. I have sounded the very bass string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of

  10

  courtesy, and tell me flatly I am no proud jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy—by the Lord, so they call me—and when I am King of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep “dyeing scarlet,” and when you breathe in your

  15

  watering, they cry “Hem!” and bid you “Play it off!” To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honor that thou wert not with me in this action; but, sweet Ned—to sweeten

  20

  which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now into my hand by an underskinker, one that never spake other English in his life than “Eight shillings and sixpence,” and “You are welcome,” with this shrill addition, “Anon, anon, sir.—Score a pint of bastard

  25

  in the Half-moon,” or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, do thou stand in some by-room while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling “Francis,” that his tale to me may be nothing but “Anon.” Step aside, and

  30

  I’ll show thee a precedent.

  Exit POINS

  POINS

  (within) Francis!

  PRINCE HENRY

  Thou art perfect.

  POINS

  (within) Francis!

  Enter FRANCIS, a drawer

  FRANCIS

  Anon, anon, sir.—Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph.

  PRINCE HENRY

  35

  Come hither, Francis.

  FRANCIS

  My lord?

  PRINCE HENRY

  How long hast thou to serve, Francis?

  FRANCIS

  Forsooth, five years, and as much as to—

  POINS

  (within) Francis!

  FRANCIS

  40

  Anon, anon, sir.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Five year! By ’r lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter! But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, and show it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?

  FRANCIS

  45

  O Lord, sir, I’ll be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heart—

  POINS

  (within) Francis!

  FRANCIS

  Anon, sir.

  PRINCE HENRY

  How old art thou, Francis?

  FRANCIS

  50

  Let me see. About Michaelmas next, I shall be—

  POINS

  (within) Francis!

  FRANCIS

  Anon, sir. (to PRINCE HENRY) Pray, stay a little, my lord.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the sugar thou gavest me,’twas a pennyworth, was ’t not?

  FRANCIS

  55

  O Lord, I would it had been two!

  PRINCE HENRY

  I will give thee for it a thousand pound. Ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.

  POINS

  (within) Francis!

  FRANCIS

  Anon, anon.

  PRINCE HENRY

  60

  Anon, Francis? No, Francis, but tomorrow, Francis; or, Francis, o’ Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis—

  FRANCIS

  My lord?

  PRINCE HENRY

  Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal-button, not-pated,

  65

  agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch—

  FRANCIS

  O Lord, sir, who do you mean?

  PRINCE HENRY

  Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink, for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully. In

  70

  Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.

  FRANCIS

  What, sir?

  POINS

  (within) Francis!

  PRINCE HENRY

  Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them call?

  Here they both call him. FRANCIS the drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.

  Enter VINTNER

  VINTNER

  What, stand’st thou still and hear’st such a calling? Look to

  75

  the guests within.

  Exit FRANCIS

  My lord, old Sir John with half a dozen more are at the door. Shall I let them in?

  PRINCE HENRY

  Let them alone awhile, and then open the door.

  Exit VINTNER

  Poins!

  Reenter POINS

  POINS

  80

  Anon, anon, sir.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door. Shall we be merry?

  POINS

  As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark you, what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer. Come,

  85

  what’s the issue?

  PRINCE HENRY

  I am now of all humors that have showed themselves humors since the old days of Goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o’clock at midnight.

  Enter FRANCIS

  What’s o’clock, Francis?

  FRANCIS

  90

  Anon, anon, sir.

  Exit FRANCIS

  PRINCE HENRY

  That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is upstairs and downstairs, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy’s mind, the Hotspur of the north, he

  95

  that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife “Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.” “O my sweet Harry,” says she, “how many hast thou killed today?” “Give my roan horse a drench,” says he, and answers “Some fourteen,” an hour

  100

  after. “A trifle, a trifle.” I prithee, call in Falstaff. I’ll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. “Rivo!” says the drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.

  Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, PETO, and BARDOLPH, followed by FRANCIS with wine

  POINS

  Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?

  FALSTAFF

  105

  A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry and amen!—Give me a cup of sack, boy.—Ere I lead this life long, I’ll sew netherstocks and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!—Give me a cup of sack, rogue.—Is there no virtue extant? (he drinketh)

  PRINCE HENRY

  110

  Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter?—Pitiful-hearted Titan!—that melted at the sweet tale of the sun’s? If thou didst, then behold that compound.

  FALSTAFF

  (to FRANCIS) You rogue, here’s lime in this sack too.—There is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man, yet a

  115

  coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it. A villanous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack. Die when thou wilt. If manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There lives not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is

  120

  fat and grows old, God help the while. A bad world, I say. I would I were a weaver. I could sing psalms, or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say still.

  PRINCE HENRY

  How now, woolsack, what mutter you?

  FALSTAFF

  A King’s son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with

  125

  a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I’ll never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of Wales!

  PRINCE HENRY

  Why, you whoreson round man, what’s the matter?

  FALSTAFF

  Are not you a coward? Answer me to that—and Poins

  130

  there?

  POINS

  Zounds, ye fat paunch, an you call me coward, by the Lord, I’ll stab thee.

  FALSTAFF

  I call thee coward? I’ll see thee damned ere I call thee coward, but I would give a thousand pound I could run as

  135

  fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders you care not who sees your back. Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me.—Give me a cup of sack.—I am a rogue if I drunk today.

  PRINCE HENRY

  140

  O villain, thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk’st last.

  FALSTAFF

  All is one for that. (he drinketh) A plague of all cowards, still say I.

  PRINCE HENRY

  What’s the matter?

  FALSTAFF

  What’s the matter? There be four of us here have ta’en a

  145

  thousand pound this day morning.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Where is it, Jack? Where is it?

  FALSTAFF

  Where is it? Taken from us it is. A hundred upon poor four of us.

  PRINCE HENRY

  What, a hundred, man?

  FALSTAFF

  150

  I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have ’scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler cut through and through, my sword hacked like a handsaw. Ecce signum! I never dealt better since I was a

  155

  man. All would not do. A plague of all cowards! (points to GADSHILL, PETO and BARDOLPH) Let them speak. If they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.

  PRINCE HENRY

  Speak, sirs, how was it?

  GADSHILL

  160

  We four set upon some dozen.

  FALSTAFF

  Sixteen at least, my lord.

  BARDOLPH

  And bound them.

  PETO

  No, no, they were not bound.

  FALSTAFF

  You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a

  165

  Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.

  GADSHILL

  As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us.

  FALSTAFF

  And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.

  PRINCE HENRY

  What, fought you with them all?

  FALSTAFF