Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now
could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London,
it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a
Moneth, and a good iest for euer
Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming.
Enter Theeues againe.
Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse
before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand
Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe
valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke
Prin. Your money
Poin. Villaines.
As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all
run
away, leauing the booty behind them.
Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse:
The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly,
that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow
for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to
death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't
not for laughing, I should pitty him
Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.
But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to
be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.
He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of
the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues
his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me
see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous.
Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to
sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of
this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The
purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named
vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole
Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition.
Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a
shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine
is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer
was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte,
good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot,
very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this?
Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the
generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now
by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan.
Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord
Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour?
Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters,
to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth?
and are they not some of them set forward already?
What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall
see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he
to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could
diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish
of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him,
let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards
to night.
Enter his Lady.
How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours
La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence haue I this fortnight bin
A banish'd woman from my Harries bed?
Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth?
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes?
And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee,
To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly?
In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht,
And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres:
Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed,
Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd
Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,
Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,
Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,
Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine,
And all the current of a headdy fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe,
That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame;
And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd,
Such as we see when men restraine their breath
On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these?
Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand,
And I must know it: else he loues me not
Hot. What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?
Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone
Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses fro[m] the Sheriffe?
Ser. One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now
Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not
Ser. It is my Lord
Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will
backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth
into the Parke
La. But heare you, my lord
Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?
La. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse
La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not
such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile
know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Brother
Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent
for you to line his enterprize. But if you go-
Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue
La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly
vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake
thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true
Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not,
I care not for thee Kate: this is no world
To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.
We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,
And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.
What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?
La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?
Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,
I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?
Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no
Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare
I loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate,
I must not haue you henceforth, question me,
Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.
Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,
This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no further wise
Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,
But yet a woman: and for secrecie,
No Lady closer. For I will beleeue
Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know,
And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate
La. How so farre?
Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate,
Whither I go, thither shall you go too:
To day will I set forth, to morrow you.
Will this content you Kate?
La. It must of force.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Prince and Poines.
Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend
me thy hand to laugh a little
Poines. Where hast bene Hall?
Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3.
or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base
string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of
Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke,
and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence,
that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King
of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Falstaffe,
but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and
when I am King of England, I shall command al the good
Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dying
Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then
they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am
so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can
drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my
life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou
wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to sweeten
which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar,
clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker,
one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight
shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril
addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the
Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Falstaffe
come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome,
while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue
me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his
Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile
shew thee a President
Poines. Francis
Prin. Thou art perfect
Poin. Francis.
Enter Drawer.
Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet,
Ralfe
Prince. Come hither Francis
Fran. My Lord
Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?
Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to-
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking
of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as
to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a faire
paire of heeles, and run from it?
Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in
England, I could finde in my heart
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. How old art thou, Francis?
Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe-
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord
Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou
gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?
Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two
Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske
me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it
Poin. Francis
Fran. Anon, anon
Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis:
or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou
wilt. But Francis
Fran. My Lord
Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall
button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice
garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch
Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane?
Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onely
drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doublet
will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much
Fran. What sir?
Poin. Francis
Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?
Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing
which way
to go.
Enter Vintner.
Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling?
Looke to the Guests within: My Lord, olde Sir
Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let
them in?
Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore.
Poines.
Enter Poines.
Poin. Anon, anon sir
Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at
the doore, shall we be merry?
Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee,
What cunning match haue you made this iest of the
Drawer? Come, what's the issue?
Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues
humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to
the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight.
What's a clocke Francis?
Fran. Anon, anon sir
Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words
then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry
is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcell
of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre
of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen
dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies
to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my
sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day?
Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres,
some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee
call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne
shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the drunkard.
Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.
Enter Falstaffe.
Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?
Fal. A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance
too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere
I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend
them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of
Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant?
Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter,
pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of
the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound
Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there
is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet
a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A villanous
Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou
wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the
face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues
not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them
is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I
say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of
songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still
Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?
Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy
Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Subiects
afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer
weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?
Prin. Why you horson round man? what's the matter?
Fal. Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and
Poines there?
Prin. Ye fat paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile
stab thee
Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call
the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could
run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the
shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you
that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such backing:
giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup
of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day
Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since
thou drunk'st last
Falst. All's one for that.
He drinkes.
A plague of all Cowards still, say I
Prince. What's the matter?
Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue
ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning
Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?
Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred
vpon poore foure of vs
Prince. What, a hundred, man?
Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with
a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by
miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,
foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and
through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum.
I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe.
A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake
more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes
of darknesse
Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?
Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen
Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord
Gad. And bound them
Peto. No, no, they were not bound
Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of
them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew
Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men
set vpon vs
Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the
other
Prince. What, fought yee with them all?
Falst. All? I know not what yee call all: but if I
fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish:
if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde
Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature
Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of
them
Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd
two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues
in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde
word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues
in Buckrom let driue at me
Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now
Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure
Poin. I, I, he said foure
Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust
at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen
points in my Targuet, thus
Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now
Falst. In buckrom
Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes
Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else
Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon
Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal?
Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack
Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these
nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of
Prin. So, two more alreadie
Falst. Their Points being broken
Poin. Downe fell his Hose
Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me
close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of
the eleuen I pay'd
Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne
out of two?
Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten
Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and
let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st
not see thy Hand
Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them,
grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd
Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson obscene
greasie Tallow Catch
Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the
truth, the truth?
Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in
Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not
see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou
to this?
Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason
Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the
Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not
tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion?
If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would
giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I
Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine
Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker,
this huge Hill of Flesh
Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried
Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth
to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath
you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke
Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and
when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare
me speake but thus
Poin. Marke Iacke
Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound
them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how
a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set
on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your
prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House.
And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with
as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne
and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art
thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say
it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting
hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open
and apparant shame?
Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast
thou now?
Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare
ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant?
Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest
I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion
will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great matter.
I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of
my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion,
and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue
the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night,
pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold,
all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What,
shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory
Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing
away
Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.
Enter Hostesse
Host. My Lord, the Prince?
Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st
thou to me?
Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the
Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee
comes from your Father
Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall
man, and send him backe againe to my Mother
Falst. What manner of man is hee?
Hostesse. An old man
Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?
Shall I giue him his answere?
Prin. Prethee doe Iacke
Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing.
Enter.
Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you
Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne
away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince;
no, fie
Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne
Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes
Sword so hackt?
Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee
would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make
you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe
the like
Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse,
to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments
with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did
that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare
his monstrous deuices
Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene
yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and
euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire
and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what
instinct hadst thou for it?
Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you
behold these Exhalations?
Prin. I doe
Bard. What thinke you they portend?
Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses
Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken
Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.
Enter Falstaffe.
Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How
now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe,
Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee?
Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres
(Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could
haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague
of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder.
There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn
Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in
the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy;
and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado,
and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true
Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a
plague call you him?
Poin. O, Glendower
Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly
Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a
Hill perpendicular
Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll
kills a Sparrow flying
Falst. You haue hit it
Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow
Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him,
hee will not runne
Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him
so for running?
Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will
not budge a foot
Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct
Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too,
and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more.
Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is
turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now
as cheape as stinking Mackrell
Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this
ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as
they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds
Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee
shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art
not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant,
could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes againe,
as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that
Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth
not thy blood thrill at it?
Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct
Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow,
when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me,
practise an answere
Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee
vpon the particulars of my Life
Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my
State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my
Crowne
Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden
Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich
Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne
Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of
thee now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke
to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I
haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it
in King Cambyses vaine
Prin. Well, heere is my Legge
Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie
Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith
Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares
are vaine
Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance?
Falst. For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen,
For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes
Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry
Players, as euer I see
Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine.
Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy
time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though
the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes;
yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares.
Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word,
partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of
thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that
doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere
lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so
poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a
Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee
askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and
take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing,
Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to
many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as
ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie
thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to
thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion;
not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet
there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy
companie, but I know not his Name