FALSTAFF
Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
PRINCE
art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that forgotten to demand that truly which truly know. What a devil to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.
FALSTAFF
Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phœbus, he, that wand’ring knight so fair. And I , sweet wag, when art king, as God save Grace—Majesty I should say, for grace wilt have none—
PRINCE
What, none?
FALSTAFF
No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.
PRINCE
Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
FALSTAFF
Marry then, sweet wag, when art king, let not us that are squires of the night’s body be called thieves of the day’s beauty: let us be Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon; and let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.
PRINCE
sayest well, and it holds well too, for the fortune of us that are the moon’s men ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatched 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 ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.
FALSTAFF
By the Lord, say’st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet ?
PRINCE
As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?
FALSTAFF
How now, how now, mad wag? What, in quips and quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
PRINCE
Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?
FALSTAFF
Well, called her to a reckoning many a time and .
PRINCE
Did I ever call for to pay part?
FALSTAFF
No, I’ll give due, paid all there.
PRINCE
Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch, and where it would not, I have used my credit.
FALSTAFF
Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent that art heir apparent—But I sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when art king? And resolution thus fubbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic the law? Do not , when art king, hang a thief.
PRINCE
No, .
FALSTAFF
Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.
PRINCE
judgest false already, I mean have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
FALSTAFF
Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my , as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
PRINCE
For obtaining of suits?
FALSTAFF
Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman no lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear.
PRINCE
Or an old lion, or a lover’s lute.
FALSTAFF
Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
PRINCE
What sayest to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?
FALSTAFF
the most unsavoury similes, and art indeed the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of the Council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir, but I marked him not, and yet he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.
PRINCE
well, for wisdom cries out in the streets and no man regards it.
FALSTAFF
O, damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint. done much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive for it. Before I knew , Hal, I knew nothing, and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over. By the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain. I’ll be damned for never a king’s son in Christendom.
PRINCE
Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
FALSTAFF
Zounds, where wilt, lad, I’ll make one. An I do not, call me villain and baffle me.
PRINCE
I see a good amendment of life in , from praying to purse-taking.
FALSTAFF
Why, Hal, my vocation, Hal, no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.
FALSTAFF
Poins!—Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried “Stand!” to a true man.
PRINCE
Good morrow, Ned.
POINS
Good morrow, sweet Hal.—What says Monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and about soul, that soldest him on Good Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon’s leg?
PRINCE
Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will give the devil his due.
POINS
Then art damned for keeping word with the devil.
PRINCE
Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.
POINS
But, my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning, by four o’clock early at Gad’s Hill, there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses. I have visards for you all; you have horses for yourselves. Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester. I have bespoke supper tomorrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns. If you will not, tarry at home and be hanged.
FALSTAFF
Hear , Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, I’ll hang you for going.
POINS
You will, chops?
FALSTAFF
Hal, wilt make one?
PRINCE
Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
FALSTAFF
There’s neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in , nor cam’st not of the blood royal, if darest not stand for ten shillings.
PRINCE
Well then, once in my days I’ll be a madcap.
FALSTAFF
Why, that’s well said.
PRINCE
Well, come what will, I’ll tarry at home.
FALSTAFF
By the Lord, I’ll be a traitor then, when art king.
PRINCE
I care not.
POINS
Sir John, I , leave the Prince and me alone. I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.
FALSTAFF
Well, God give the spirit of persuasion, and him the ears of profiting, that what speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may, for recreation sake, prove a false thief, for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell, you shall find me in Eastcheap.
PRINCE
Farewell, latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer!
POINS
Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us tomorrow. I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid. Yourself and I will not be there. And when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders.
PRINCE
But how shall we part with them in setting forth?
POINS
Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have no sooner achieved but we’ll set upon them.
PRINCE
Yea, but like that they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.
POINS
Tut, our horses they shall not see, I’ll tie them in the wood; our visards we will change after we leave them; and, , I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.
PRINCE
Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
POINS
Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I’ll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lives the jest.
PRINCE
Well, I’ll go with . Provide us all things necessary and meet me tomorrow night in Eastcheap; there I’ll sup. Farewell.
POINS
Farewell, my lord.
PRINCE
I know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyok’d of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder’d at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But, when they seldom come, they wish’d-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glitt’ring my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which no foil to set it off.
I’ll so offend, to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time, when men think least I will.