[Act 1, Scene 2]
Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir Iohn Fal
staffe, and Pointz.
Hal, what time of day is it Lad?
Thou art so fat‑witted with drinking of olde
Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping
vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten
to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know.
What a diuell hast thou thou to do with the time of the day?
vnlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons,
and clocks the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes
of Leaping‑houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire
hot Wench in Flame‑coloured Taffata; I see no reason
why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the
time of the day.
Indeed you come neere me now
Hal, for we that
take Purses, go by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not
by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I
prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God saue
thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte
No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to
an Egge and Butter.
Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
Marry, then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King,
let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd
Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be
sters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone;
and let men say, we be men of good Goeurnment, being
gouerned as the Sea is, by our noble and chast mistris the
Moone, vnder whose countenance we steale.
Thou say'st well, and it holds well too; for the
fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and
flow like the Sea, being gouerned as the Sea is, by the
Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most reso
lutely snatch'd on Monday night and most dissolutely
spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by:
and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe
as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow
as the ridge of the Gallowes.
Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of
the Tauerne a most sweet Wench?
As the honey, my old Lad of the Castle: and is
not a Buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?
How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy
quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe
with a Buffe‑Ierkin?
Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Ho
stesse of the Tauerne?
Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a
time and oft.
Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?
No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid al there.
Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would
stretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit.
Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it not heere apparant,
that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag,
shall there be Gallowes standing in England when thou
art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the ru
stie curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou
when thou art a King, hang a Theefe.
No, thou shalt.
Shall I? O rare! Ile be a Lord, I'll be a braue Iudge.
Thou iudgest false already. I mean, thou shalt
haue the hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare
Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with
my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell
For obtaining of suites?
Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hang
man hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a
Gyb‑Cat, or a lugg'd Beare.
Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute.
Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe.
What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly
Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art in
deed the most comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince.
Hal, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I wold
thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good names
were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated
me the other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd
him not, and yet hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded
him not, and yet he talkt wisely, and in the street too.
Thou didst well: for no man regards it.
O, thou hast damn
ble iteration, and art indeede
able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vn
Hall, God forgiue thee for it. Before I knew thee
Hal, I knew nothing: and now am I am (if a man shold speake
truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must giue o
uer this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a
Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Chri
Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke?
Where thou wilt, Lad! Ile make one: and I doe
not, call me Villaine, and bafflle me.
I see a good amendment of life in thee: From
Praying, to Purse‑taking.
Hal, 'tis my Vocation
Hal: 'Tis no sin for a
man to labour in his Vocation.
Now shall we know if Gads hill haue set a
Watch. O, if men were to be saued by merit, what hole
in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omni
potent Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true man.
Good morrow sweet
Hal. What saies Mon
sieur Remorse? What sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar:
Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee about thy Soule,
that thou soldest him on Good‑Friday last, for a Cup of
Madera, and a cold Capons legge?
Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue
his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs:
He will give the diuell his due.
Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with
Else he had damn'd for cozening the diuell.
But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by
foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes go
ing to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders ri
ding to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards for you
all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads‑hill lyes to
night in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in
Eastcheape; we may doe it as secure as sleepe: if you will
go, I will stuffe your Purses full of Crownes: if you will
not, tarry at home and be hang'd.
Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not,
Ile hang you for going.
You will chops.
Hal, wilt thou make one?
Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I.
There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fel
lowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood‑royall,
if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings.
Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad‑cap.
Why, that's well said.
Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home.
Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King.
An ink mark follows the end of this line.
I care not.
Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone,
I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that
he shall go.
Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion;
and he the cares of profiting, that what thou speakest,
may moue; and what he heares may be beleeued, that the
true Prince, may (for recreation sake) proue a false theefe;
for the poore abuses of the time, want countenance. Far
well, you shall finde me in Eastcheape.
Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown
Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs
to morrow. I haue a iest to execute, that I cannot man
Falstaffe, Haruey, Rossill, and
robbe those men that wee haue already way‑layde, your
selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the boo
ty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my
But how shal we part with them in setting forth?
Why, we wil set forth before or after them, and
appoint them a place of meeting, wherin it is at our plea
sure to faile; and then will they aduenture vppon the ex
, which they shall haue no sooner atchie
ued, but wee'l set vpon them.
I, but tis like that they will know vs by our
horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to
be our selues.
Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in
the wood, our vizards wee will change after wee leaue
them: and sirah, I haue Cases of Buckram for the nonce,
to immaske our noted outward garments.
But I doubt they will be too hard for vs.
Well for two of them, I know them to bee as
true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third
if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes.
The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes
that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper:
how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what
blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe
of this, lyes the iest.
Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things
necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape,
there Ile sup. Farewell.
Farewell, my Lord.
I know you all, and will a‑while vphold
The vnyoak'd humor of your idlenesse:
Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne,
Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes
To smother vp his Beauty from the world,
That when he please againe to be himselfe,
Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,
By breaking through the foule and vgly mists
Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him.
If all the yeare were playing holidaies,
To sport, would be as tedious as to worke;
But when they seldome come, they wisht‑for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So when this loose behauiour I throw off,
And pay the debt I neuer promised;
By how much better then my word I am,
By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes,
And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground:
My reformation glittering o're my fault,
Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Then that which hath no soyle to set it off.
Ile so offend, to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.