Great Britain -- History -- Henry IV, 1399-1413 -- Drama; Henry IV, King of England, 1367-1413 -- Drama; Historical drama
says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and
thee
about thy soul, that thou 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 thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the
devil.
Prince. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the devil.
Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four
o'clock
early, at Gadshill! There are pilgrims gong to Canterbury
with
rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses.
I
have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves.
Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester. I have bespoke supper
to-morrow 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 hang'd!
Fal. Hear ye, Yedward: if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang
you
for going.
Poins. You will, chops?
Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?
Prince. Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in
thee,
nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal if thou darest not
stand
for ten shillings.
Prince. Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.
Fal. Why, that's well said.
Prince. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.
Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
Prince. I care not.
Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the Prince and me alone. I
will
lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall
go.
Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the
ears
of profiting, that what thou 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, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown
summer!
Exit Falstaff.
Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow. I
have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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