teen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever fince thou haft blush'd extempore; thou hadft fire and fword on thy fide, and yet thou ranneft away; what instinct hadft thou for it? Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations? P. Henry. I do. Bard. What think you they portend? SCENE Re-enter Falstaff. XI. Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my fweet creature of bombaft, how long is't ago, Jack, fince thou faw'ft thy own knee? Fal. My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an Eagle's talon in the wafte; I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: a plague of fighing and grief, it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: here was Sir John Braby from your Father; you must go to the Court in the morning. That fame mad fellow of the north, Percy, and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true Liegeman upon the crofs of a Welfb hook: what a plague call you him Poins. O, Glendower. Fal. Owen, Owen; the fame; and his fon-in-law (5) taken in the manner ] The Quarto and Folio read with the manner, which is right. Taken with the manner is a law phrafe, and then in common ufe, to fignify taken in the fact. But the Oxford Editor alters it, for better fecurity of the fense, to taken in the MANOUR, i. e. I fuppofe, by the lord of it, as a ftrey. Mortimer, Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runs a horseback up a hill perpendicular P. Henry. He that rides at high speed, and with a piftol kills a Sparrow flying. Fal. You have hit it. P. Henry. So did he never the Sparrow. Fal. Well, that rascal had good mettle in him, he will not run. P. Henry. Why, what a rafcal art thou then, to praise him fo for running? Fal. A horseback, ye cuckow,--but afoot, he will not budge a foot. P. Henry. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. Fal. I grant ye, upon inftinct: well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thoufand blue-caps more. Worcester is ftoln away by night: thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news: you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel. P. Henry. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffetting hold, we fhall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundred. Fal. By the mafs, lad, thou fay'ft true; it is like, we fhall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horribly afeard? thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out three fuch enemies again as that fiend Dowglas, that fpirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it? P. Henry. Not a whit, i'faith; I lack fome of thy instinct. Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to morrow, when thou com'ft to thy father: if thou do love me, practise an answer. P. Henry. Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life. Fal. 1 Fal. Shall I? content: this Chair fhall be my State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cufhion my Crown. P. Henry. Thy ftate is taken for a joint-ftool, thy golden fcepter for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich Crown for a pitiful bald crown. Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now fhalt thou be moved-Give me a cup of Sack to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I muft fpeak in paffion, and I will do it in King Cambyfes' vein. lity P. Henry, Well, here is my leg. Fal. And here is my fpeech-Stand afide, Nobi Hoft. This is excellent fport, i'faith. Fal. Weep not, fweet Queen, for trickling tears are vain. a Hoft. O the father! how he holds his countenance? Fal. For God's fake, lords, convey my triftful Queen, For tears do ftop the flood-gates of her eyes.. Hoft. O rare, he doth it as like one of those harlotry Players, as I ever fee. Fal, Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain--Harry, I do not only marvel, where thou fpendest thy time; but alfo, how thou art accompany'd: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the 'fafter it grows: yet youth, the more it is wafted, ⚫ the fooner it wears. Thou art my fon; I have partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly, a villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be fon to me, here lyeth the point; why, being fon to me, art thou fo pointed at? Shall the • bleffed Sun of heav'n prove a micher, and eat black 6 King Cambyfes' vein.] A bombaft play of that time. Harry, I do not only marvel, &c.] A ridicule on the public oratory of that time. 8a micher,] i. e. Truant; to mich, is to lurk out of fight, a hedge creeper. • berries? 'berries? a queftion not to be ask'd. Shall the fon of England prove a thief and take purfes? a question to be ask'd. There is a thing, Harry, which thou ⚫haft often heard of, and it is known to many in our 'Land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient 'writers do report, doth defile; fo doth the company 'thou keep'ft; for, Harry, now do I not speak to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in paffion; not in words only, but in woes alfo; and yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have often ' noted in thy company, but I know not his name. P. Henry. What manner of man, an it like your Majesty? Fal. A goodly portly man, i'faith, and a corpu'lent; of a chearful look, a pleafing eye, and a most 'noble carriage; and, as I think, his age fome fifty, or, by'r-lady, inclining to threefcore; and now, I ' remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man 'fhould be lewdly given, he deceives me; for, Harry, "I fee virtue in his looks. (a) If then the fruit may 'be known by the tree, as the tree by the fruit, then peremptorily I fpeak it, there is virtue in that Falftaff, him keep with, the reft banish. And tell me "now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where haft thou "been this month? P. Henry. Doft thou fpeak like a King? do thou ftand for Me, and I'll play my father. Fal. Depofe me? If thou doft it half fo gravely, fo majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbet-fucker, or a poulterer's hare. P. Henry. Well, here I am fet. 9 or a poulterer's hare.] Meaning a painted hare, shaped on a board ufed by poulterers for a fign. (a) If then the fruit may be known by the tree, as the tree by the fruit. Oxford Editor.-Vulg. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree. VOL. IV. L Fal. Fal. And here I ftand; judge, my masters. P. Henry. The Complaints I hear of thee are grievous. Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false. — Nay, I'll tickle ye for a young Prince. P. Henry, Sweareft thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look on me; thou art violently carried away from grace; there's a devil haunts thee, in the ⚫ likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man is thy com'panion. Why doft thou converfe with that trunk of humours, that boulting-hutch of beaftlinefs, that fwoln parcel of dropfies, that huge bombard of fack, ⚫ that stufft cloak-bag of guts, that roafted Manningtree Ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to tafte fack and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villainous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in ⚫ nothing? Fal. I would, your Grace would take me with you: whom means your Grace? P. Henry. That villainous abominable mif-leader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Sathan. Fal. My lord, the man I know. P. Henry. I know, thou doft. Fal. But to fay, I know more harm in him than in my felf, were to fay more than I know. That he is old, the more is the pity, his white hairs do witness it; but that he is, (faving your reverence,) a whoremafter, that I utterly deny. If fack and fugar be a fault, God help the wicked! if to be old and merry, be a fin, then many an old Hoft, that I know, is damn'd: if to be fat, be to be hated, then • Pharoah's |