He that rides at high speed and with his pistol kills a sparrow
You have hit it.
So did he never the sparrow.
Well, that rascal hath good metal in him; he will not run.
Why, what a rascal art thou, then, to praise him so for running!
O' horseback, ye cuckoo! but a-foot he will not budge a foot.
Yes, Jack, upon instinct.
I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake,
and a thousand blue-caps more:
Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father's beard is turn'd
white with the news: you may buy land now as cheap as stinking
But, tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible afeard? thou being
heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again
as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower?
art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it?
Not a whit, i'faith; I lack some of thy instinct.
Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow when thou comest to
thy father. If thou love life, practise an answer.
Do thou stand for my father and examine me upon the particulars
of my life.
Shall I? content: this chair shall be my state, this dagger my
sceptre, and this cushion my crown.
Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre for a
leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown.
Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt
thou be moved. —
Give me a cup of sack, to make my eyes look red, that it may be
thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it
in King Cambyses' vein.
Well, here is my leg.
And here is my speech. — Stand aside, nobility.
O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i faith!
Weep not, sweet Queen; for trickling tears are vain.
O, the Father, how he holds his countenance!
For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful Queen;
For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.
O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever
Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain. — Harry, I do not
only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art
accompanied: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on,
the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner
it wears. That thou art my son, 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 son to me, here lies the point: Why, being son to me,
art thou so pointed at?
Shall the blessed Sun of heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries?
a question not to be ask'd. Shall the son of England prove a thief,
and take purses? a question to be ask'd.
There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast 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; so doth the company thou
keepest: for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in
tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only,
but in woes also. And yet there is a virtuous man whom I have
often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.
What manner of man, an it like your Majesty?
A goodly portly man, i'faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look,
a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age
some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore; and now I
remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given,
he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks.
If, then, the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree,
then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff: him
keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell
me where hast thou been this month?
Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll play
Depose me! if thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both
in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a
Well, here I am set.
And here I stand. — Judge, my masters.
Now, Harry, whence come you?
My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.