The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) π
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused the user so destroys it:
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.
10
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire:
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind,
Shall hate be fairer lodged than
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North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou to break into this womanβs mood, Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!
Hot. Why, look you, I am whippβd and scourgβd with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richardβs time-what do you call the place-A plague upon it! it is in GIoucestershire-
βTwas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept-His uncle York-where I first bowβd my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke-
βS 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, βwhen his infant fortune came to age,β
And βgentle Harry Percy,β and βkind cousinβ-
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, iβ faith.
Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
Deliver them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglasβ son your only mean For powers In Scotland; which, for divers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assurβd Will easily be granted. [To Northumberland] You, my lord, Your son in Scotland being thus employβd, Shall secretly into the bosom creep
Of that same noble prelate well-belovβd, The Archbishop.
Hot. Of York, is it not?
Wor. True; who bears hard
His brotherβs 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 letβst 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 aimβd.
Wor. And βtis 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! Weβll be revengβd 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, Iβll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer, Where you and Douglas, and our powβrs 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, Iβll be hangβd.
Charlesβ wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packβd.- What, ostler!
Ost. [within] Anon, anon.
1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cutβs 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 neβer a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.
2. Car. Why, they will allow us neβer 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 hangβd! 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. Godβs 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 βtwere not as good deed as drink to break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hangβd!
Hast no faith in thee?
Enter Gadshill.
Gads. Good morrow, carriers. Whatβs oβclock?
1. Car. I think it be two oβclock.
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, iβ faith.
Gads. I pray thee lend me thine.
2. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he? Marry, Iβll see thee hangβd 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, weβll 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. Thatβs even as fair as- βat hand, quoth the chamberlainβ; 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. Thereβs 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 Nicholasβ clerks, Iβll give thee this neck.
Cham. No, Iβll 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, Iβll 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 dreamβst not of, the which for sport sake are content to do the profession some grace; that would (if matters should be lookβd 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 liquorβd 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; βhomoβ 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 removβd Falstaffβs horse, and he frets like a gummβd velvet.
Prince. Stand close. [They step aside.]
Enter Falstaff.
Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hangβd! Poins!
Prince. I comes forward I Peace, ye fat-kidneyβd rascal! What a brawling dost thou keep!
Fal. Whereβs Poins, Hal?
Prince. He is walkβd up to the top of the hill. Iβll go seek him.
[Steps aside.]
Fal. I am accursβd to rob in that thiefβs 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 bewitchβd with the rogueβs company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, Iβll be hangβd. It could not be else. I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! A plague upon you both!
Bardolph! Peto! Iβll starve ere Iβll rob a foot further. An βtwere 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 hangβd!
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? βSblood, Iβll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy fatherβs 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 kingβs son.
Prince. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler?
Fal. Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be taβen, Iβll 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, βtis our setter. I know his voice.
Bardolph, what news?
Bar. Case ye, case ye! On with your vizards! Thereβs money of the Kingβs coming down the hill; βtis going to the Kingβs exchequer.
Fal. You lie, ye rogue! βTis going to the Kingβs tavern.
Gads. Thereβs enough to make us all.
Fal. To be hangβd.
Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower. If they scape from
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