The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

will talk to you When you are better temper’d to attend.

North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou to break into this woman’s mood, Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!

Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp’d and scourg’d with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.

In Richard’s time-what do you call the place-A plague upon it! it is in GIoucestershire-

‘Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept-His uncle York-where I first bow’d my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke-

‘S blood!

When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh-North. At Berkeley Castle.

Hot. You say true.

Why, what a candy deal of courtesy

This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!

Look, ‘when his infant fortune came to age,’

And ‘gentle Harry Percy,’ and ‘kind cousin’-

O, the devil take such cozeners!- God forgive me!

Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

Wor. Nay, if you have not, to it again.

We will stay your leisure.

Hot. I have done, i’ faith.

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.

Deliver them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglas’ son your only mean For powers In Scotland; which, for divers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assur’d Will easily be granted. [To Northumberland] You, my lord, Your son in Scotland being thus employ’d, Shall secretly into the bosom creep

Of that same noble prelate well-belov’d, The Archbishop.

Hot. Of York, is it not?

Wor. True; who bears hard

His brother’s death at Bristow, the Lord Scroop.

I speak not this in estimation,

As what I think might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,

And only stays but to behold the face Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

Hot. I smell it. Upon my life, it will do well.

North. Before the game is afoot thou still let’st slip.

Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot.

And then the power of Scotland and of York To join with Mortimer, ha?

Wor. And so they shall.

Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim’d.

Wor. And ‘tis no little reason bids us speed, To save our heads by raising of a head; For, bear ourselves as even as we can, The King will always think him in our debt, And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home.

And see already how he doth begin

To make us strangers to his looks of love.

Hot. He does, he does! We’ll be reveng’d on him.

Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this Than I by letters shall direct your course.

When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, I’ll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer, Where you and Douglas, and our pow’rs at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

North. Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust.

Hot. Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! Exeunt.

 

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ACT II. Scene I.

Rochester. An inn yard.

 

Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.

 

1. Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I’ll be hang’d.

Charles’ wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not pack’d.- What, ostler!

Ost. [within] Anon, anon.

1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut’s saddle, put a few flocks in the point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.

 

Enter another Carrier.

 

2. Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned upside down since Robin Ostler died.

1. Car. Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose. It was the death of him.

2. Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas. I am stung like a tench.

1. Car. Like a tench I By the mass, there is ne’er a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.

2. Car. Why, they will allow us ne’er a jordan, and then we leak in your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.

1. Car. What, ostler! come away and be hang’d! come away!

2. Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing Cross.

1. Car. God’s body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved.

What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy head? Canst not hear? An ‘twere not as good deed as drink to break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hang’d!

Hast no faith in thee?

 

Enter Gadshill.

 

Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What’s o’clock?

1. Car. I think it be two o’clock.

Gads. I prithee lend me this lantern to see my gelding in the stable.

1. Car. Nay, by God, soft! I know a trick worth two of that, i’ faith.

Gads. I pray thee lend me thine.

2. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he? Marry, I’ll see thee hang’d first!

Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?

2. Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee.

Come, neighbour Mugs, we’ll call up the gentlemen. They will along with company, for they have great charge.

Exeunt [Carriers].

Gads. What, ho! chamberlain!

 

Enter Chamberlain.

 

Cham. At hand, quoth pickpurse.

Gads. That’s even as fair as- ‘at hand, quoth the chamberlain’; for thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction doth from labouring: thou layest the plot how.

Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told you yesternight. There’s a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper-a kind of auditor; one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are up already and call for eggs and butter. They will away presently.

Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas’ clerks, I’ll give thee this neck.

Cham. No, I’ll none of it. I pray thee keep that for the hangman; for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may.

Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, I’ll make a fat pair of gallows; for if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is no starveling. Tut! there are other Troyans that thou dream’st not of, the which for sport sake are content to do the profession some grace; that would (if matters should be look’d into) for their own credit sake make all whole.

I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms; but with nobility, and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray; and yet, zounds, I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the commonwealth, or rather, not pray to her, but prey on her, for they ride up and down on her and make her their boots.

Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out water in foul way?

Gads. She will, she will! Justice hath liquor’d her. We steal as in a castle, cocksure. We have the receipt of fernseed, we walk invisible.

Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night than to fernseed for your walking invisible.

Gads. Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our purchase, as I and a true man.

Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.

Gads. Go to; ‘homo’ is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave.

Exeunt.

 

Scene II.

The highway near Gadshill.

 

Enter Prince and Poins.

 

Poins. Come, shelter, shelter! I have remov’d Falstaff’s horse, and he frets like a gumm’d velvet.

Prince. Stand close. [They step aside.]

 

Enter Falstaff.

 

Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hang’d! Poins!

Prince. I comes forward I Peace, ye fat-kidney’d rascal! What a brawling dost thou keep!

Fal. Where’s Poins, Hal?

Prince. He is walk’d up to the top of the hill. I’ll go seek him.

[Steps aside.]

Fal. I am accurs’d to rob in that thief’s company. The rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind.

Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitch’d with the rogue’s company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I’ll be hang’d. It could not be else. I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! A plague upon you both!

Bardolph! Peto! I’ll starve ere I’ll rob a foot further. An ‘twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man and to leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! (They whistle.) Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues! give me my horse and be hang’d!

Prince. [comes forward] Peace, ye fat-guts! Lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.

Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? ‘Sblood, I’ll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father’s exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me thus?

Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king’s son.

Prince. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler?

Fal. Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta’en, I’ll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison.

When a jest is so forward-and afoot too-I hate it.

 

Enter Gadshill, [Bardolph and Peto with him].

 

Gads. Stand!

Fal. So I do, against my will.

Poins. [comes fortward] O, ‘tis our setter. I know his voice.

Bardolph, what news?

Bar. Case ye, case ye! On with your vizards! There’s money of the King’s coming down the hill; ‘tis going to the King’s exchequer.

Fal. You lie, ye rogue! ‘Tis going to the King’s tavern.

Gads. There’s enough to make us all.

Fal. To be hang’d.

Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower. If they scape from