Afrikaans
Akan
Albanian
Amharic
Arabic
Armenian
Azerbaijani
Basque
Belarusian
Bemba
Bengali
Bihari
Bosnian
Breton
Bulgarian
Cambodian
Catalan
Cebuano
Cherokee
Chichewa
Chinese (Simplified)
Chinese (Traditional)
Corsican
Croatian
Czech
Danish
Dutch
English
Esperanto
Estonian
Ewe
Faroese
Filipino
Finnish
French
Frisian
Ga
Galician
Georgian
German
Greek
Guarani
Gujarati
Haitian Creole
Hausa
Hawaiian
Hebrew
Hindi
Hmong
Hungarian
Icelandic
Igbo
Indonesian
Interlingua
Irish
Italian
Japanese
Javanese
Kannada
Kazakh
Kinyarwanda
Kirundi
Kongo
Korean
Krio (Sierra Leone)
Kurdish
Kurdish (Soranî)
Kyrgyz
Laothian
Latin
Latvian
Lingala
Lithuanian
Lozi
Luganda
Luo
Luxembourgish
Macedonian
Malagasy
Malay
Malayalam
Maltese
Maori
Marathi
Mauritian Creole
Moldavian
Mongolian
Myanmar (Burmese)
Montenegrin
Nepali
Nigerian Pidgin
Northern Sotho
Norwegian
Norwegian (Nynorsk)
Occitan
Oriya
Oromo
Pashto
Persian
Polish
Portuguese (Brazil)
Portuguese (Portugal)
Punjabi
Quechua
Romanian
Romansh
Runyakitara
Russian
Samoan
Scots Gaelic
Serbian
Serbo-Croatian
Sesotho
Setswana
Seychellois Creole
Shona
Sindhi
Sinhalese
Slovak
Slovenian
Somali
Spanish
Spanish (Latin American)
Sundanese
Swahili
Swedish
Tajik
Tamil
Tatar
Telugu
Thai
Tigrinya
Tonga
Tshiluba
Tumbuka
Turkish
Turkmen
Twi
Uighur
Ukrainian
Urdu
Uzbek
Vietnamese
Welsh
Wolof
Xhosa
Yiddish
Yoruba
Zulu
Thanks, Elizabeth.
Places, ladies.
How are yous?
My name is Rosie Malone.
I'm 27 and I am a crack and heroin addict.
I've been in and out of prison since I was about 14, lying and cheating and
stealing to feed my habit.
Over half the women in prison are struggling with some sort of addiction.
Now, I'm at the end of a two-year sentence and I was recently put on the
wrapped detox wing.
I'm six weeks clean and I get out next week.
And when I get out, I want to stay clean, get back on track and become the
person that I know I can be.
This play is about change.
It's about reformation.
It's about people with troubled pasts and uncertain futures who wouldn't want
a second chance.
So shaken as we are, so one with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant and breathe short-winded accents
of new broils to be commenced in strands afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil shall daub her lips with her own
children's blood.
No more shall trenching war channel her fields, nor bruise her flowerets with
the armoured hoofs of hostile paces.
Those opposing eyes which lately met in the intestine shock and furious close
of civil butchery shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
march all one way.
And be no more opposed against acquaintance, kindred,
and alliance.
Therefore, friends, as far as to the sepulchre of Christ, forthwith
a power of English shall we levy to chase these pagans from the holy land
over whose acres walk those blessed feet.
which 1400 years ago were nailed for our advantage on the
bitter cross.
Oh, now, how?
What time of day is it, lad?
Thou art so fat-witted with drink and of old sack, and one bump...
after supper, and sleeping upon benches afternoon, that thou hast forgotten to
demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know, what a devil hast thou to do
with the time of the day, unless ours were cups of sack, and minutes
capons, and clocks the tongues of whores, and the blessed sun himself a
fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta.
I see no reason why thou should be so superfluous as to demand the time of the
day. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal.
For we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by
Phoebus and our privy.
Sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us who be squires of the knight's body
be called...
thieves of the day's beauty, let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the
shade, minions of the moon, and let men say we be men of good government, being
governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress, the moon, under whose
countenance we steal.
Do say as well.
For the fortunes of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the
sea, being governed as the sea is by the moon. As for proof now, a purse of gold,
most resolutely snatched on Monday night, shall be most dissolutely spent
on Tuesday morning.
Got with swearing, lay boy, and spent with crying, bring in... By the Lord,
thou say is true, lad.
And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?
Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? Well, thou hast
called her to a reckoning many a time, and of.
Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
No, I'll give thee thy due. Thou hast paid all there.
Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch, where it would not, I
have used my credit.
Yea.
And so used it, that were it not here apparent, that thou art e'er apparent.
But a privy sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou
art king?
Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief?
No.
Thou shalt.
Shall I?
Oh, rare.
By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.
Thou judgest false already.
I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of a teeth and so become a rare hangman.
Thou art indeed the most rascalliest sweet young prince and able to corrupt a
saint.
Before I knew thee, how, I knew nothing.
And now am I, if man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked.
I must give over this life.
And I will give it over.
By the Lord. And I do not. I am a villain.
Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
Zunes, where thou wilt, lads?
I'll make one.
And I do not. Call me a villain and baffle me. I see a good amendment of
life indeed.
From praying to purse taking.
Why, how? Tis my vocation, how?
Tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Oggy, oggy, oggy. Oi, oi, oi.
Poinsar. This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried stand to a true
man. Good morrow, Ned. Good morrow, sweetheart.
What says Monsieur Remorse?
What says Sir John Sack and Sugar?
Oh, lovely.
My lads, my lads.
Tomorrow morning, by four o'clock early at Rochester, there are pilgrims going
to Canterbury with rich offerings and traders riding to London with fat
purses. I have visits for you all. You have horses for yourselves. I have
bespoke supper tonight in East Cheap. 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 hanged. How will thou make one?
Who, I?
Rob, I a thief, not I by my faith.
There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest
not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings.
Oh, once in my days I'll be a madcap. Why, that's well said.
Come what will, I'll tarry at home. I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. I
care not. Sir John, a privy.
Leave the prince and me alone. I will lay him down, such reasons for this
adventure that he shall go.
Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the ears for
profiting, that what thou speakest may move and what he hears may be believed,
that the true prince may, for recreation's sake, prove a false
thief.
Farewell. You shall find me in East Cheap. Farewell, thou latter spring.
Farewell. Now, my good, sweet, honey, lord, ride with us tomorrow.
I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone.
Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto and Gadshill shall rob those men, but you and I will
not be there.
And... When they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off
from my shoulders.
But it's like they will know us by our habits and by every other appointment to
be ourselves.
Cut! Our visits we will change after we leave them. And, Sarah, I have cases of
buckram to mask our noted outward garments.
Yay, but...
I fear they will be too hard for us. And I will for three of them. I know them to
be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back. As for the fourth, if he fight
longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms.
Look, the virtue of this jest will be the incomprehensible lies that this same
fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper. How, 30, at least, he fought
with. What wards, what blows, what extremities he endured.
And in the disproof of this lies the jest.
Well,
I'll go with thee. Provide all things necessary and meet me tonight in East
Sheep. There I'll sup farewell.
Farewell, my lord.
I know them all and will a while uphold the unyoked humour of
their idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun, that doth permit the base contagious clouds
to smother up his beauty from the world, that when he please again to be himself,
being wanted, He may be more wondered at by breaking through the
foul and ugly mists of vapours that did seem to strangle him. So, when this
loose behaviour I throw off and pay the debt I never promised, by how
much better than my word I am?
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes that like bright metal on a sullen
ground, my reformation, glittering o'er my fault, shall show more goodly
and attract more eyes than that which hath no foil to set it off. I will so
offend to make offence a skill, redeeming time
when men think least I will.
What a waster. What a fucking waster. You pissed it all off the wall. Round
the corner where they chased her. There's tears coming out from
everywhere. The city's hard.
The city's fair. Get back inside.
You've got nothing on that mind. You're bleeding early. Two bobcums.
When she wakes up in the morning, she writes down.
My liege, a post from Wales laden with heavy news.
whose worst is that the noble Mortimer, leading the men of Herefordshire to
fight against the irregular and wild Glendower, was by the rude hands of that
Welshman taken, with a thousand of our people butchered. It seems then that the
tidings of this broil breaks off our business to Jerusalem.
My lads!
bring you smooth and welcome news.
The gallant hutspur, Harry Percy writes, the Earl of Douglas is by him
overthrown. Ten thousand bold scots, two and twenty knights, biting their own
blood on Holmsden plain.
Isn't this an honourable spoiling? A gallant prize?
Her cousin, is it not? In faith it is. A conquest for a prince to boast of. Yea,
there thou makes me sad.
Makes me sin in envy that my lord Northumberland should be the father of
so blessed a son.
A son who is the theme of honour's tongue.
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant, who is sweet fortune's minion and
her pride.
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, see riot and dishonour stain the
brow of my young Harry.
Oh, that it could be proved that some...
Night-tripping fairy had exchanged in cradle clothes our children where they
lay then would I have his Harry and he mine but Let him from my thoughts. What
think you cuz of this young hotspurs pride?
The prisoners which he in this adventure half surprised for his own use He keeps
and sends us word you shall have none and we shall send for him to answer this
My blood hath been too cold and temperate, unapt to stir at these
indignities. But henceforth will I rather be myself, mighty, and to be
feared. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves the scourge of greatness
to be used on it, and that same greatness, too, which our own hands have
helped to make so portly. Oh, my lord. Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see
danger and disobedience in thine eye.
You were about to speak. Yea, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, which my son Harry in the
battle took, were, as he says, not with such strength denied as is delivered to
your majesty.
Either envy, therefore, or me speaking, is guilty of this fault and not my son.
My liege, I did deny you no prisoners.
But I remember when the fight was done, when I was dry with rage and extreme
toil, that breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, came there a certain
lord, neat and trimly dressed, fresh as a bridegroom, with his chin new reaped,
showed like a stubble land, a harvest home. He was perfumed like a milliner.
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, he called them untaught knaves,
unmannerly. to bring a slovenly, unhandsome corpse betwixt the wind and
his nobility.
And with many holiday and lady terms, he questioned me.
Amongst the rest, demanded my prisoners in your majesty's behalf.
And I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, to be so pestered with a
popping jay.
Out of my grief and my impatience, answered neglectingly, I know not what,
he should or he should not, for he made me mad to see him shine so brisk and
smell so sweet and talk so like a waiting gentlewoman of guns and drums
and wounds, God save the mark.
This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answered impolitely,
as I said.
And I beseech you, let not his report come current for an accusation betwixt
my love and your high majesty.
And yet you do withhold your prisoners.
With proviso and exception that we, at our own cost, should ransom straight
your brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer, who on my soul hath willfully
betrayed the lives of those that he did lead to fight. Shall our coffers then be
emptied to redeem a traitor, home? No.
On the barren mountains, let him starve.
For I shall never hold that man, my friend, whose tongue shall ask me for
one penny cost to ransom home rebellious Mortimer. Rebellious Mortimer? He never
did fall off, must have released, but by the chance of war... Sirrah, henceforth
let me not hear you speak of Mortimer.
Send me your prisoners with your speediest means, or you shall hear in
such a kind from me as will displease you.
My Lord Northumberland, we license your departure with your son.
Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it.
And if the devil come and war for them, I will not.
Send him. Brother,
the king has made your nephew mad. He will forsooth have all my prisoners. And
when I urged the ransom once again, then on my face he turned an eye of death,
trembling even at the name of Mortimer. I cannot blame him.
Was not Mortimer proclaimed by Richard that dead is heir to the crown?
He was.
I heard the proclamation.
And then it was when that unhappy king... For whose death we
in the world's wide mouth live scandalized and foully spoken of? But
soft, I pray you, did King Richard then proclaim my brother, Edmund Mortimer,
heir to the crown?
He did.
Myself did him.
Nay then, I cannot blame this subtle king that wished him on the barren
mountain starve.
But shall it be that you that set the crown upon the head of this forgetful
man, and for his sake wear the detested blot of murderous subornation? Shall it
be that you a world of curses undergo?
Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, or fill up chronicles in time to
come, that men of your nobility and power did pledge them both in an unjust
behalf, as both of you, God pardon it, have done, to put down Richard?
that sweet lovely rose, and plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke. No,
yet time serves wherein you may redeem your banished honours and restore
yourselves into the good thoughts of the world again.
Revenge. the jeering and disdained contempt of this proud king, who studies
day and night to answer all the debt he owes to you, even with the bloody
payment of your debts. Therefore, I say... Please, cousin, say no more.
And now I will unclasp a secret book.
And to your quick-conceiving discontents, I'll read you matter deep.
and dangerous.
Why, heaven me thinks it were an easy leap to pluck bright honour from the
pale-faced moon, or dive into the bottom of the deep, where fathom-line could
never touch the ground, and pluck up drowned honour by the locks, so he that
doth redeem her thence might wear, without co-rival, all her dignities.
But out upon this half-faced fellowship.
Peace, cousin.
Let me audience for a while. I cry you mercy.
Those same noble Scots that are your prisoners. I'll keep them all. By God,
he shall not have a scot of them. You lend no ear unto my purposes.
Those prisoners you shall keep. Nay, I will. That's flat. He said he would not
ransom Mortimer. Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer. But I will find him
when he lies asleep and in his ear a holler.
Mortimer.
Nay, nay.
All have a starling shall be taught to speak nothing but.
To keep his anger still in motion.
Qué insensato, impaciente e irritable que nos vienes con humores de mujer sin
pegar tu oído a más lengua que la tuya.
Good uncle, tell your tale.
I have done.
Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
Return them straight without a ransom ask. Then...
Make the Earl of Douglas your only means for power in Scotland, which for diverse
reasons will easily be granted.
You, my lord, your son in Scotland, being thus employed, shall secretly into
the bosom creep of that same noble, well-beloved Archbishop. Of you, is it
not? I speak not what I think might be, but what I know is ruminated, plotted,
and set down. In faith, it is exceedingly well aimed.
We save our heads.
By raising of our head. But bear ourselves as even as we can. The king
will always think him in our debt and think that we think ourselves
unsatisfied. Till he has found a time to pay us home. And see already how he doth
begin to make us strangers to his looks of love. He does, he does. We'll be
revenged on him.
Nephew, farewell.
No further going this than I by letter shall direct your course when time is
ripe. Which will be suddenly.
Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive.
I trust.
Uncle, adieu.
Let the hours be short till fields and blows and groans ablood our sport.
Things do move like sound.
Waves do move like round.
It don't go up and down. It spreads circle round.
Running like a clown. Look at what I found.
Where they threw me down.
Where they threw me down.
On the ten.
Come, shelter, shelter. I have removed Falstaff's horse and he frets like a
sick.
I am a curse to rob in that thief's company.
The rascal hath removed me horse, and tied him I know not where.
If I travel but four foot further afoot, I shall break my wind.
I have forsworn his company hourly this two years, yet I have...
The rascal prince hasn't given me medicines to make me love him or be
hanged.
Poinser! Help!
A plague upon it, when thieves cannot be true one to another.
Peace, ye fat guts!
Lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the
tread of travellers.
Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down?
A privy, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse.
Good king's son.
How do you roll?
Shall I be your skivvy? Oh, go hang thyself in thine own heir apparent
garters. If I be taken, I'll peach for this, and I'll have ballads made on you
all, and sung to filthy tunes.
No! So I do against my will.
What news?
Kiss ye, kiss ye. I'm with your vizards.
There's many of the kings coming down the hill. Tis going to the king's
exchequer. You lie, you rogue. Tis going to the king's tavern.
There's enough to make us all to be hanged. Sirs, you four shall front them
in the narrow lane.
Ned Pines and I will walk lower. If they escape from your encounter, then they
light on us.
How many be there of them? Some eight or ten.
Soons, will they not rob us?
What? A coward?
Sir John Pont.
Indeed, I am no coward, Hal.
Well, we'll leave that to the proof. Farewell, and stand fast.
Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I.
Every man to his business.
Well, contented to be there in respect of the love you bear our house.
But you could be contented. Well, why are you not then in respect of the love
you bear our house?
He shows in this. He loves his own barn better than he loves our house.
Let me hear some more.
The purpose we undertake is dangerous. Why, that's certain. It is dangerous to
take a cold, to sleep, to drink. But I tell you, my lord, fool, out of this
nettle, danger, we pluck this flower.
Safety.
The purpose we undertake is dangerous.
But the friends we have named uncertain, the time itself unsorted, and our whole
plot too light for the canterboys of so great an opposition.
Say you so, say you so.
I'll say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie.
By the Lord, our plot is a good plot, as ever was laid.
Our friends, true and constant, is there not my father, my uncle, and myself?
Lord Edmund Mortimer, Archbishop of York and Owen Glendower, is there not besides
the Douglas?
And have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the night for the next
month? And are not some of them set forward already?
What a pagan rascal is this, an infidel?
Oh, you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and
cold heart, he will to the king to lay open all our proceedings.
Hang him, let him tell the king. We are prepared.
I will set forward tonight.
Now, Kate, I must leave you within these two hours.
Oh, good my lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence have I this fortnight been a banished woman from my Harry's
bed?
Tell me.
Sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee thy stomach pleasure and thy
golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth and start so often when thou
sit'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks and given my
treasures and my rights of thee to...
thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy.
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched and heard thee
murmur tales of iron wars, speak terms of mannage to thy bounding
steed, cry, Courage, to the field!
And thou hast talked of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents of
palisados, frontiers, parapets of prisoners ransomed and of soldiers slain
and all the currents of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war and thus hath so bestirred thee in
thy sleep that beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow like
bubbles in a late disturbed stream, and in thy face strange motions have
appeared, such as we see when men restrain their breath on some great
sudden hest. O, what portents are these?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, and I must know it, else he loves
me not.
Hath Gilliam's with the packet gone? He is, my lord, an hour ago. Hath Butler
bought those horses from the sheriff? One horse, my lord, he bought even now.
What horse?
A roan. A crop ear, is it not? It is, my lord. That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight.
Oh, Esperance!
Bid Butler bring him forth into the park.
But hear you, my lord. What sayest thou, my lady? What is it carries you away?
Why, my horse, my love, my horse. Out!
You mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen as you are tossed with. In faith, I'll
know your business, Harry, that I will. I fear my brother Mortimer hath sent for
you to line his enterprise.
But if you go— So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. Come, come, you— Parakeeto,
answer me directly unto this question that I ask in faith. I'll break thy
little finger, Harry, and if thou wilt not tell me all things true. Away, away,
you trifler!
Love, I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate.
This is no world to play with mammoths and to tilt with lips. We must have
bloody noses and cracked crowns. God's me, my horse!
What say'st thou, Kate?
What wouldst thou have with me?
Do you not love me?
Do you not indeed?
Well, do not then, for since you love me not, I will not love myself.
Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.
Wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am on horseback, I will swear I love thee
infinitely.
But hark you, Kate, I must not have you henceforth question me,
whither I go, or reason whereabout.
Whither I must, I must.
And to conclude, this evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no father wiser than Harry Hotspur's wife.
A constant you are, but yet a woman, and for secrecy no lady closer, for I well
believe thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know.
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. How so far?
Not an inch further.
But hark ye, Kate, whither I go, thither shall you go too.
For today will I set forth, tomorrow you.
Will this content you, Kate?
It must of force.
Plague of all cowards, I say.
And a vengeance too.
Marry and amen. Give me a cup of sack, woman.
Is there no virtue extant?
If manhood, good manhood, be not extinct upon the face of this earth, then am I a
shot and herring?
There live not four good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat.
And grows old.
Plague of all cowards, I say still.
Hell no, old sack.
What mutter are you? A king's son.
A king's son?
You, Prince of Wales?
Why your horse on round, man?
What's the matter? Are not you a coward?
Answer me to that. And poins thou. Not soons, you fat poins.
And ye call me coward? By the Lord, I will stab thee. I call thee coward.
I see thee damned, ere I call thee coward, but I would give a thousand
pound I could run as fast as thou canst.
Call you that back into your friends.
Give me them that can face me.
Plague of all cowards still I say.
What's the matter?
What's the matter?
There be four of us here have taken a thousand pound this day morning.
Where is it, Jack? Where is it? Where is it?
Taken from us it is.
A hundred upon poor four of us. What? A hundred, man?
I have scaped by miracle.
I'm eight times thrust through the doublet. Four through the O's.
Me buckler cut through and through. Me sword act like an handsaw.
A.K. Signum.
I never dealt better since I was a man.
All would not do.
A plague of old cowards.
Let them speak.
If they speak more or less than truth, they are villains.
And the sons of darkness.
Speak, sirs. How was us?
We all sat upon some dozen.
Sixteen at least, my lord.
Bound them. No, no, they were not bound. You rogue.
They were bound.
Every man of them.
Or I am a Jew else. A Hebrew Jew.
As we sat sharing, some six or seven freshmen sat upon us. And I'm bound the
rest and then come in the other. What? What you?
With them all?
All.
I know not what you call all.
But if I fault not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish.
Pray God, you've not murdered some of them.
No, that's past praying for.
I have peppered two of them.
Two, I'm sure I've paid. Two rogues in Buckram suits.
I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in me face.
Call me horse.
Thou knowest my old ward. Here I lay, and thus I bore my point.
Four rogues in Buckram let drive at me. What, four?
Thou says what, two even now?
Four, Hal, I told thee four.
Aye, aye, he said four.
These four in Buckram.
Came all afront and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took each of
their seven points in my target, that. What, seven? Well, there were four even
then. Aye, in Buckram suits.
There's nine in Buckram that I told thee of. So two more already.
Began to give me ground, but I followed me close.
Came in foot and hand, and with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid.
Oh, monstrous. Eleven.
Even Buckram men grown out of two. Perhaps the devil would have it. Three
misbegotten knaves in Kendall Green come at me back and let drive at me.
For it was so dark how thou couldst not see thy hand.
Oi, how could thou know these men in Kendall Green when it was so dark thou
couldst not see thy hand?
Oh, come, tell us your reason, Jack.
What sayest thou to this? Come, your reason, Jack. Your reason. What?
Upon compa...
Zunes and I were on all the racks in the world. I would not tell you on
compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion.
I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine coward.
This bed presser. This horseback breaker.
This huge hill of flesh. Bad!
You starveling. You eel skin.
You dried neat skin. tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stockfisher,
for breath to utter what is like thee, you tailor's yard, you sheath, you
bowcase, you vile standing tuck.
Do I breathe a while? Yeah.
And then to it again.
And when thou hast tired thyself with base Comparisons? Hear me speak about
this. Mark, Jack. We, too, saw you four set on two and were
masters of their wealth. Then did we, too, set on you four and with a word.
Oh, shit off.
Outface you from your price and have it. Yay.
and can show it you here in the house and false have you carried your guts
away as nimbly with as quick dexterity and roared for mercy and still run and
roared as ever I heard a bull calf.
Mammy! Now, what trick, huh? What device, what bolt hole canst thou now
find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame? Come, let's hear Jack.
What trick hast thou now?
me to kill the heir apparent.
Should I turn upon the true prince?
Thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules, who's a good boy.
But beware instinct.
The lion shall not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter.
I was now a coward on instinct.
But by the long legs, I am glad you have the money.
That's what I want. I want money.
That's what I want.
Your love gives me such a thrill.
But your loving won't pay my bills. I want money.
That's what I want.
My lord, there is a nobleman of the cult at Dorwood. Speak with you.
He says he comes from your father.
I'll give him as much as I make him a royal man and send him back again to me
mother.
Oi, oi, oi, oi. Oi, what manner of man is he?
An old man.
What duffs of gravity out of his bed at midnight?
Shall I give him an answer?
Pretty do, Jack. Faith, and I'll send him packing.
Now, sirs, by our lady, you fought fair. So did you, Pito. So did you, Bardolph.
You are lions too.
You ran away upon instinct.
Now, don't touch the true prince. No, boy.
Faith, I ran when I saw others run.
Faith.
Now, tell me now in earnest.
How came Falstaff's sword so hacked? Why, he hacked it with his dagger and
said he would swear truth out of England but that he would make you believe it
was done in fight. In fight.
And got us to tickle their noses with spear grass to make them bleed and then
to swear it was the blood of true men.
My sweet creature of Bombas. There's villainous news of rebellion abroad.
Thy must to thy father's court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the
north, Oxford, and he of Wales, that swore the devil is true liegement upon
the cross of a Welsh hook.
What a play call you in?
Owen Glendower.
Well, he is there. And a thousand Scots too.
Worcester is stolen away tonight. Thy father's beard turns white with the
news. You can buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel.
But tell me how?
Art thou not horrible of fear?
Thou being heir apparent, doth thy blood not tremble at it?
Not a whit, if faith.
I lack some of thy instinct.
Well, thou will be horrible, chid, tomorrow, when thou comest to thy
father. If thou love me, practice an answer.
Do thou stand for my father and examine me on the particulars of my life?
Shall I?
Content, this chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and
this cushion my crown.
If the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shall thou be moved.
Well, here is my leg.
And here is my speech.
Stand aside, nobility.
rendest thy time, but also how thou art
accompanied that thou art my son, partly I have thy mother's word, partly
mine own opinion, but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye and a
foolish hanging of thy nether lip that doth warrant me. Oh, Jesus, this is
excellent sport of fight. Weep not.
Queen, for trickling tears are vain.
If then thou be son to me. Oh, here lies the point.
Why being son to me art thou so pointed at?
Shall the son of England prove a thief and take passes? A question to be asked.
Oh, 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.
Oh, Jesus, he doth it like one of these theatrical players as ever I see.
Peace, good pinepot. Peace, good tickle brain.
Harry,
there is a virtuous man whom I've often, often Orphan.
Orphan. Noted in thy company, but I know not his name.
What manner of man an it like, your majesty?
Oh, a goodly portly man, if they.
And a corpulent of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage.
And now I remember me. His name is... Fulton.
That man be lewdly given, he deceiveth me, for...
you in his looks, him keep with, the rest banish.
And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me,
where hast thou been this month?
Does thou speak like a king?
Do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father?
Depose me!
grievous.
Blood, my lord, they are false. Now I'll tickle thee for a young prince of ours.
Swearest thou, ungracious boy, thou art
violently carried away from grace.
There is a devil haunts thee, and the likeness of an old fat man.
A ton of man is thy companion.
Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that swollen parcel of
dropsies, that stuffed cloak bag of guts? Yeah, all right, all right.
That reverent vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity
in years.
I mean, wherein is he good but to taste sack?
and cleanly, but to carve a cape on and eat it. Wherein cunning, but in craft.
Wherein crafty, but in villainy. Wherein villainous, but in all things.
And wherein worthy, but in nothing.
I would your grace would take me with you.
Who means your grace?
I mean that villainous, abominable, misleader of youth.
That Satan!
Falstaff!
My lord, the man I know.
I know thou dost. That he is, savin' your reverence, a whoremaster, that I
utterly deny.
If sack and sugar be a fault, then God help the wicked.
If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old man I know is damned.
If to be fat be to be hated.
Then no, good my lord, banish pito.
Banish bardo.
Banish poise.
But good Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack
Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being as he is
old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company.
Banish plump Jack.
and banish all the world.
I do.
I will.
Oh, my lord, my lord, the sheriff with a most monstrous watch is at the door.
Out, you rogue.
Play out the play.
Oh, Jesus.
They are come to search the house.
Shall I let them in? Go.
I.D. behind the arras. The rest, walk up above.
Now, my matters for a true face and a good conscience. Yes, both of which I
have had, but their date is out and therefore I'll hide me.
Take the notice.
Call in the sheriff.
Master Sheriff, what is your will with me?
First, pardon me, my lord.
A hue and cry have followed certain men unto this house.
What men?
One of them, my gracious lord, is well known.
fat as butter oh the man I do assure you is not here for I myself at this
time have employed him and sheriff I will engage my word to thee that I will
by tomorrow dinner time send him to answer thee or any man for anything he
shall be charged with all and so let me entreat you leave
the house I will my lord
There were persons in this robbery have lost 300 pounds.
It may be so.
If he have robbed these men, he shall be answerable.
And so farewell.
Good night, my gracious lad.
Relax, he's a friend, he's a friend, he's a friend.
Go, call him forth.
Full stop.
Fast asleep and snorting like a horse.
Hark how hard he fetches breath, searches pockets, and there let him
sleep till day.
We must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable.
The money shall be paid back again with advantage, and be with me betimes in the
morning. And so...
Good morrow, Ned.
Good morrow, good my lord.
Lord Mortimer and cousin Glendower. Will you sit down? And Uncle Worcester.
A plague upon it. I have forgot the map.
No.
Here it is.
No way. No way. No way.
Sit, cousin Percy, sit, good cousin Hotspur, for by that name, whene'er the
English king doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with a rising sigh
he wisheth you in heaven.
And you in hell, as oft as he has Owen Glendower spoke of. I cannot blame him.
At my nativity, the front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, of burning
cressets. And at my birth, the frame and huge foundation of the earth shaked like
a coward.
Why, so it would have done at the same season if your mother's cat had been
kittened, though you yourself had never been born. I say the earth did shake
when I was born.
And I say the earth was not of my mind.
If you suppose as fearing you it should. The heavens were all on fire, the earth
did tremble. Oh, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire.
And not in fear of your nativity.
Disease in nature oftentimes breaks forth in strange eruptions. Oft the
teeming earth is with a kind of colic, pinched and vexed by the imprisoning of
unruly wind within her womb.
which for enlargement striving shakes the old bell-dam earth and topples down
steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth our grand-dam earth having this
distemperature in passion shook.
Cousin, of many men I do not bear these crossings.
Give me leave to tell you once again that at my birth
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes.
The goats ran from the mountains.
And the herds were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have marked me extraordinary.
And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the role of common man.
Where is he living?
clipped in with the sea that chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, that
calls me pupil, or hath read to me, and bring him out that his butt-woman son
can trace me in the tedious ways of art, and hold me pace in deep experiments.
I think there is no man speaks better Welsh after dinner. Hey, peace, cousin
Percy. You will make him mad. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Why, so can
I. And so can any man.
But will they come?
When you do call for them.
Why, cousin, I can teach you to command the devil.
And I can teach thee, cuz, to shame the devil by telling truth.
Tell truth and shame the devil. If thou have power to raise him, bring him
hither. Then I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence. Oh, while you live,
tell truth and shame the devil.
Come, here's the map.
Shall we divide our right according to our threefold order, Teyon?
Divided? It is into three limits.
So... England by the rivers Trent and Severn by the south and east
are, to my part, assigned.
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore and all the fertile land within
this bound to Owen Glendower.
And, dear cuz, to you.
The remnant northward lying off from Trent. Let me fix my portion north from
Burton here. In quantity equals not one of yours.
See how this river comes me cranking in.
Cuts me from the best of all my land.
A huge half moon. A monstrous cantle at.
I'll have the current in this place dammed up. And here the smug and silver
Trent shall run in a new channel. Fair?
And evenly.
It shall not wind with such a deep indent to rob me of so rich a value
there. Not wind. It shall. It must. You see, it doth.
Yea, and mark how it bears its course and cuts me off with like advantage on
the other side. It's gilding the opposed continent as much as on the other side
it takes from you.
Yea, but a little change.
We'll trench him.
Hit.
And on the north side win this cape of land. And then he runs straight and
even. I'll have it so.
A little change will do it. I'll not have it all done. Will not you?
No, no, you shall not. Who shall say me nay? Why that will I? Let me not
understand you then.
Speak it in Welsh.
I can speak English, Lord, as well as you.
For I was trained up in the English court.
Where being but young, I framed to the harp many an English city lovely well
and gave the tongue a helpful ornament, a virtue that was never seen in you.
Come, you shall have Trent turned.
Nice one, lads.
I do not care.
Give thrice so much land to any well-deserving friend.
But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone? The moon shines fair.
You may away by night.
Break with the ladies your departure hence, for there will be a world of
water shed upon the parting of your wives and you.
your shoulders how I wish it was for
your dad
of my poorest subjects are at this hour asleep.
O sleep, O gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse,
how have I frighted thee, that thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, nor
steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather sleep liest thou in smoky cribs, upon uneasy pallets stretching
thee, and hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber than in the
perfumed chambers of the great, under a canopy of costly state, and
lulled with sound of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile in loathsome beds,
and leav'st the kingly couch a watch-case or a common laram bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock
his brains in cradle of the rude, imperious surge, and in the visitation
of the winds, who take the ruffian billows by the top, curling their
monstrous heads, and hanging them with deafening clamour in the slippery
clouds, that with the hurly death itself awakes?
Canst thou?
O partial sleep!
Give thy repose to the wet seaboy In an hour so rude And in
the calmest and most stillest night With all appliances
and means to boot Deny it to a king
Then happy low lie down
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
I know not whether God would have it so for some displeasing service I have
done, but thou dost in thy passages of life make me believe that thou art only
marked for the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven to punish my mistreadings.
Tell me else.
Could such inordinate and low desires, such poor, such bare, such lewd,
such mean attempts, such barren pleasures, rude society as thou art
matched withal and grafted to, accompany the greatness of thy blood and hold
their level with thy princely heart? So please, your majesty.
I would, I could, quit all offences with this clear excuse, as well as I am
certain I can purge myself of many I am charged withal.
Yet such extenuation let me beg, as in this proof of many tales, devised by
smiling picktanks and base newsmongers, I may, for some things true,
wherein my youth had faulty wondered and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission. Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
and art almost an alien to the hearts of all the court and princes of thy blood.
The hope and expectation of thy time is ruined, and the soul of
every man prophetically doth forethink thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been?
So cheap and stale to vulgar company, opinion that did help me to the crown
had left me in reputeless banishment.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir, but like a comet I was wondered at,
that men would tell their children, this is he.
Others would say, where? Which is Bolingbroke?
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven and dressed myself in such
humility.
that I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, loud shouts and exclamations
from their mouths, even in the presence of the crowning king.
The skipping king. He ambled up and down, mingled his royalty with capering
fools, grew a companion to the common streets, enfeefed himself to popularity.
So when he had occasion to be seen, he was but as the cuckoo is in June.
Heard, not regarded.
Seen, but with such eyes as sick and blunted with community, afford no
extraordinary gaze, such as is bent on sun-like majesty, being with his
presence glutted, gorged, and full. And in that very line, Harry, standest thou.
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege with vile participation.
Not an eye, but is a weary of thy common sight, save mine.
which hath desired to see thee more. I shall hereafter, my twice-greatest lord,
be more myself. For all the world, as thou art to this hour, was Richard then.
And even as I was then, is Hotspur now.
He hath more worthy interest to the state than thou, the shadow of
succession.
He doth fill fields with harness to the realm, turns head against a lion's angry
jaws, and being no more in debt to years than thou, leads ancient lords and
reverend bishops on to bloody battles and to bruising arms to shake the peace
and safety of our throne.
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my
foes who art my nearest and dearest enemy?
Thou art like enough through vassal fear, base inclination and the start of
spleen to fight against me and the hotspurs pay to dog his heels and curtsy
at his frowns to show how much thou art degenerate. Do not think so!
You shall not find it so. And God forgive those that so much have swayed
your majesty's good thoughts away from me. I will redeem all this on Hotspur's
head. And in the closing of some glorious day, be bold to tell you that I
am your son.
I will wear a garment all of blood and stain my favours in a bloody mask which,
washed away, shall scour my shame with it, and that shall be the day whene'er
it lights that this same child of honour and renown, this gallant hotspur, this
all-praised knight, and your unthought-of harried chants to meet, for
every honour sitting on his helm, would they were multitudes, and on my head my
shames were doubled.
For the time will come when I will make this northern youth exchange his
glorious deeds for my indignities. And I will call him to so strict account that
he shall render every glory up, or I will tear the reckoning from
his heart. This in the name of God I promise here.
alone, this is not your scene, all right? Whatever.
Hello, Sir Walter.
Thy looks are full of speed.
So have the news I come to speak of, that Douglas and the English rebels met
the 11th of this month at Shrewsbury.
How mighty and a fearful head they are as ever offered foul play in the state.
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall step forward. On Thursday, we ourselves shall
march. Come, let's away.
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay.
Now, now, Dame Partlet the Hen,
have you inquired yet who picked my pocket?
Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? Do you think... I keep thieves in
my house. I have searched. I have inquired.
Man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant.
The tenth part of a hair was never lost in my house before. You lie, hostess.
I'll be sworn my pocket was picked.
Go to.
You are a woman.
Go. Who, I?
No, I defy thee.
God's light, I was never called so in my own house before.
Go to. I know thee well enough.
No, Sir John.
You do not know me, Sir John.
I know you, Sir John. You owe me money, Sir John.
And now you pick a quarrel to begal me of it.
I brought you a dozen of shirts to your back.
And for your diet and drinkings and money lent you, you owe four and twenty
pounds. He had his part of it. Let him pay.
He? Alas, he is poor. He hath nothing.
How poor?
Look upon his face. What call you rich?
He's Scottish. He's paranoid. He's related to Donald Trump.
Oh, don't worry about it, mate. You ain't got the hair.
Shall I not take my knees in mine in, but I should have my pocket picked?
I have lost a seal ring of my grandfather's worth 40 mark.
Oh, Jesus.
I've heard the prince tell him, I know not how...
was copper.
Ow. The prince is a jack.
A sneak up.
Splat. And he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog and he should say, so how
now, lad?
Is the wind in that dory faith? Must we all march?
My lord, I pray you hear me.
What sayest thou, mistress, quickly?
How to thy husband?
I love him well. He's an honest man.
Good, my lord. Hear me. Privy, let her alone and listen to me. What sayest
thou, Jack? The other night I fell asleep here and had my... pocket picked.
This house is turned baldy house.
They pick pockets.
What does they'll lose, Jack? Well, they'll believe me, Hal.
Three or four bonds worth forty pound apiece and a seal ring of my
grandfather's. A trifle. Some eight penny matter. So I told him, my lord,
and I said, I heard your grace say so, and my lord, he speaks most vilely of
you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is, and said he would cudgel you.
What? He did not.
Oh, there's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. No more faith in
you than in a stewed prune.
Go, you thing, go.
Say what thing?
What thing? I am an honest man's wife, and setting thy knighthood aside, thou
art a knave to call me such. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say
otherwise. Say what beast? Thou knave thou. What beast?
What an otter.
An otter? Sir John, why an otter? She's neither fish nor flesh.
A man knows not where to have her. Thou art an unjust man in saying so.
Thou or any man knows where to have me. Thou knoth thou. Sex with you is like
throwing a sausage up a street.
Hey,
you've seen more pricks than a dartboard.
You've got a snatch like a clown's pocket.
You've got a twat like the... TARDIS!
Stick to the Shakespeare.
Hannah, we talked about this scene. Yeah, we decided it was... No, you
decided. I know what you're trying to do. Just... Just get on with the play.
Yeah.
Hostess, though say it's true. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, Andrea.
Come on.
Though say it's true, hostess, and he slanders thee most grossly.
So he doth you, my lord.
and said this other day you owed him a thousand pound.
Sarah, do I owe you a thousand pound? A thousand pound? How?
A million?
Thy love is worth a million.
Nay, my lord, he called you Jack and said he would cudgel you. Did I,
Bardolph? Did so, John, you said so.
Yet if he said my ring was copper... I say it is copper.
There's no room for faith, truth or honesty in this bosom of thine. It's all
filled up with guts and midriff.
You charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket?
Aye, aye.
Why, thou whoreson, impudent rascal, art thou not ashamed?
You confess, then, you picked my pocket.
It appears so, by the story.
Oh, Stess, I forgive thee.
Go, make ready breakfast.
Love thy husband.
Look to thy servants, cherish thy guests.
Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason.
Thou seest I am pacified.
Nay, prithee, be gone.
Now how to the news at court for the robbery, lads? How is that answered?
Oh, my sweet beef, I must still be a good angel to thee. The money is paid
back again. I am good friends with my father.
And I may do anything.
Rob me the exchequer, the first thing thou dost. Do my lot.
I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.
Oh, would it have been of horse?
Well, God be thanked for these rebels.
They offend none but the virtuous.
I'll load them.
Oh, I praise them.
Bardolph. My lord.
Go bear this letter to my lord of Westmoreland.
Peto, to horse, to horse.
You and I have 30 miles to ride you out of your dinner time.
Jack, meet me tomorrow in the temple hall. Two o'clock in the afternoon.
There shalt thou know thy charge.
The land is burning.
Hotspur stands on high.
And neither we or they must lower lie.
Redwoods!
Oh, Stess, my breakfast, come.
Oh, I could wish this tavern were my drum.
My noble Scot, by God, I cannot flatter, I do defy the tongues of soothers,
but a braver place in my heart's love hath no man than yourself.
Nay, task me to my word.
Approve me, Lord. Thou art the king of honour. No man so potent breathed upon
the ground, but I will defy him.
Do so, and tis well.
What letters hast thou there? These letters come from your father.
Letters from him? Why comes he not himself?
He cannot come, my lord.
He is grievous sick.
Sick? Now?
What droop now?
This sickness doth infect the very lifeblood of our enterprise.
Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
He writes me here that inward sickness.
and that his friends by deputation could not so soon be drawn.
Nor did he think it meet to lay so dangerous and dear a trust on any soul
deputed but his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement that with our small conjunction we
should on.
For as he writes, there is no quailing now, because the king is certainly
possessed of all our purposes.
What say you to it?
Your father's sickness is a maimed doer.
There'll be thought by some that know not why he is away, that wisdom,
loyalty, and mere dislike of our proceedings kept the earl from him. I
rather of his absence make this use.
It lends a luster, a more great opinion, a larger dare to our great
enterprise than if the earl were here. For men may think if we, without his
help, can make a head to push against a kingdom, with his help we shall turn it
topsy-turvy down.
My cousin Vernon, welcomed by my soul.
Pray God my news be worth a welcome, Lord.
The Earl of Westmoreland, 7,000 strong, is marching hitherwards. No harm.
What more? And further, I have learned the King himself in person is set forth,
or hitherwards intended, speedily, with strong and mighty preparation.
He shall be welcomed too.
Where is his son, the nimble-footed madcap prince of Wales, and his comrades
that doffed the world aside and bid it pass?
All furnished, all in arms, as full of spirit as the month of May and
gorgeous as the sun at midsummer.
I saw young Harry with his armour on rise from the ground like feathered
mercury and vaulted with such ease into his seat.
as if an angel dropped down from the clouds to turn and wind a fiery pegasus
and witch the world with noble horsemanship. No more, no more.
Let them come.
They come like sacrifices in their trim, and to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war,
all hot and bleeding, will we offer them. The maled mass shall on his altar
sit up to the ears in blood.
I am on fire to hear this rich reprisal is so nigh and yet not ours.
That Glendower will come.
There is more news.
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. What may the king's whole battle
reach unto?
Thirty thousand.
Forty! Let it be.
My father...
And Glendower be in both away.
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us take a muster speedily. Your doomsday is near. Die all, die
merrily. I come with gracious offers of the king, if you'll vouchsafe me hearing
and respect.
Welcome, my noble lord.
And would to God you are of our determination. The king hath sent to
know the nature of your griefs. And whereupon you conjure from the breast of
civil peace such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land audacious
cruelty. My father and my uncle and myself did give him that same royalty he
wears.
My lord, we will withdraw a while.
And in the morning shall my uncle Worcester give the king our purposes.
So farewell.
How now, my lord of Worcester?
It is not well that you and I should meet upon such terms as now we meet.
You have deceived our trust and made us doff our easy robes of peace to
crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.
This is not well, my lord.
This is not well.
I'll say you to it.
Will you again unknit that churlish knot of all abhorrent war?
and move in that obedient orb again where you did give a fair and natural
light and be no more a prodigy of fear and a portent of cursed mischief to the
unborn dimes.
Hear me, my liege.
For mine own part, I could be well content to entertain the larg end of my
life with quiet hours, for I do protest I have not sought the day of this
dislike. You have not sought it.
How comes it then?
Rebellion, lying is why, and I found it. Peace to us, peace.
It did please your majesty to turn your looks of favour from myself and all our
house. And yet I must remember you, my lord. We were the first and dearest of
your friends. For you, my staff of office, did I break in Richard's time.
hosted day and night to meet you on the way and kiss your hand when yet you were
in place and in account nothing so strong or fortunate as I. It was myself,
my brother and his son that brought you home and boldly did out there the
dangers of the time. You swore to us and you did swear that oath at Doncaster
that you did nothing purpose against the state, nor claim no further than your
new fallen right, the seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster. To this we swore
our aid, but in short space it rained down fortune, showering on your
head, and such a flood of greatness fell on you. What with our help?
What with the absent king?
What with the injuries of a wanton time, the seeming sufferances that you had
borne, and the contrarious winds that held the king so long in his unlucky
Irish wars that all in England did repute him dead.
And from the swarm of fair advantages, you took occasion to be quickly
wooed, to grip the general sway into your hand.
Forget your oath to us at Doncaster, and being fed by us, used us. So as that
ungentle gull, the cuckoo bird, useth the sparrow, did oppress our nest and
grew by our feeding to so great a bulk that even our love does not come near
your sight for fair swallowing.
But with nimble wing, we were enforced for safety's sake to fly out of sight.
and raises present head whereby we stand opposed by such means as you yourself
have forged against yourself by unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
and violation of all faith and truth sworn to us in your younger enterprise.
These things indeed you have articulate, proclaimed at market crosses, read in
churches, to trim the garment of rebellion with some fine colours that
may please the eye of fickle changelings and poor discontents who gape and rub
the elbow at the news of pell-mell havoc and confusion.
In both your armies there is many a soul shall pay full dearly for this encounter
if once they join in trial.
Tell your nephew.
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world in praise of Harry Hotspur.
I do not think a braver gentleman, more active, valiant, more daring, or more
bold, is now alive to grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant bin to
chivalry, yet this But for my father's majesty, I will, to save the blood on
either side, try fortune with him in a single fight. And Prince of Wales,
so dare we venture thee, and yet considerations infinite to make against
it.
No, good Worcester, no, we love our people well, even those we love that are
misled upon your nephew's part. And will they take the offer of our grace?
Both he and they and you, yea, every man, shall be my friend again, and I'll
be his.
So tell your nephew, and bring me word what he will do.
So be gone.
How?
If you should see me, down in the battleground, and bestride me so.
Tis a point of friendship.
Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
Say thy prayers and farewell.
I would it were bedtime, Hal, and all were well.
Why thou ow'st God a death?
Tis not due yet.
I be so forward with him that calls not on me?
Well, tis no matter.
Honor pricks me on.
Yeah, but how if honor do prick me off when I come
on?
How then?
Can honor set a leg?
No.
Or an arm?
Or take away the grief of a wound?
No.
What is honour?
A word.
What is in that word, honour? What is that, honour?
Air.
Who hath it?
He that died of Wednesday?
Doth he feel it?
No. Doth he hear it?
No.
Tis insensible then.
Yeah, to the dead.
But will it not live with the living?
No.
Why?
Slander will not suffer it.
Therefore I'll have none of it.
Honour is a mere scutcheon.
And so ends my catechism.
Oh no, mind have you must not know, good Vernon, the liberal and
kind offer of the king.
T'was best he did, then are we all undone.
It is not possible, it cannot be, the king will keep his word in loving us.
He shall suspect us still and find the time to pay this offense in other
faults. Look how we can, oh sad, oh merrily.
Interpretation will misquote our looks, and we shall feed like oxen at a stall,
the better cherished still than nearer death.
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot, but hath the excuse of youth and heat of
blood. All his offenses live upon my head and upon his father's. We did train
him on, and his corruption be attained from us. We, as the spring of all, shall
pay for all.
Therefore, good cousin.
Let not Hotspur know in any case the offer of the king.
Deliver what you will. I'll say it is so.
Here comes your nephew.
Uncle, what news?
There is no seeming mercy in the king.
Did you beg any? God forbid. I told him gently of our grievances, of
his oath-breaking, which he mended thus. He calls us traitors, rebels.
and will scourge with haughty arm that hateful name in us. Arm, gentlemen, two
arms, for I will throw a brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,
which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
My lord, here are letters for you.
I cannot read them now.
Gentlemen.
The time of life is short. To spend that shortness basely were too long.
Let each man do his best.
Now, Esperance, Percy, and set on.
Sound all the lofty instruments of war.
And by that music, let us all embrace.
And if we live, we live to tread on kings.
If die, brave death, when princes die with us.
is thy name, that in this battle dost thou crossest me?
No, then, my name is Douglas, and I do haunt thee in the battle thus, because
some tell me that thou art a king.
They tell thee true.
Nay, then this arm shall end thee, unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.
I was not born a yielder, thou proud scot.
All's one, here breathless lies the king. Where?
Here. This, Douglas?
No, I know this face full well. A gallant knight he was, his name was
Blunt, Semblably furnished like the king himself.
A fool go with thy soul whither it goes.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? The king hath many marching in his
coats. Now by this hand I'll kill all his courts.
I'll murder all his wardrobe piece by piece until I meet the king.
Another king?
God, they grow like hydra's heads.
I am the Douglas, foetal to all those that wear those colours on them.
What art thou that counterfeits the person of a king?
The king himself, who Douglas grieves at heart so many of his shadows thou hast
met, and not the very king.
I fear thou art another counterfeit, and yet in faith thou best thee like a king.
But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be, and thus I win thee. Hold up
thy head, vile Scot, or thou would like never to hold it up again.
It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee. He'll never promise it, but he
means to pay.
If I mistake not, thou art the Prince of Wales.
Thou speaks as if I would deny me name.
My name is Harry Hotspur.
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, nor can one England brook a
double reign of Harry Hotspur and the Prince of Wales. Nor shall it, Harry,
for the hour is come to end the one of us.
And would to God thy name in arms were now as great as mine.
robbed me of my youth.
I rather bear the loss of brittle life than those proud titles thou hast
won of me.
They wound my thoughts more than sword my flesh.
But thoughts, the slaves of life.
And life, time's fool.
And time that takes a survey of all the world must have a stop.
I could prophesy, but that the earthy and cold hand of death lies on my
tongue.
No, Hotspur, thou art dust and food for worms.
For worms, brave Harry.
Fare thee well, great heart.
Thou weaved ambition, and what art thou shrunk?
When that this body did contain a spirit, a kingdom, for it was too small
a bound, but now two paces of the vilest earth is room enough.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven.
Old acquaintance.
Could not all this flesh keep in a little life?
Poor Jack.
Farewell.
I could have better spared a better man.
Death had not struck so fat a deer today.
Though many dearer in this bloody fray.
Embowelled will I see thee, by and by, till then, in blood, by noble hots for
a life.
Embowelled?
Splug, t'was time to counterfeit.
Well that hot termagant Scott paid me, Scott and Lot too.
The better part of valour is discretion.
Where in the better part I have saved me life.
Soon's I am afraid of this gunpowder hotspur, though he be dead.
For what if he doth counterfeit too and rise?
Therefore I'll make him sure.
Yeah, and I'll swear I killed him.
Come here.
Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?
I did.
I saw him dead, breathless and bleeding on the ground.
I tell lies.
I pray thee, speak.
There is Percy.
If thy father should do me any honour, so.
If not, let him kill the next hotspur himself.
I look to be either an earl.
Or a duke, I can assure you.
Why, Hotspur, I killed myself and saw thee dead.
Lord, how this world is given to lying?
I grant you I was down and out of breath and so was he.
But we rose both at an instant and fought a long hour.
This is the strangest tale that ever I heard.
This is the strangest, fellow, my noble lord. Come.
Bring your luggage nobly on your back. For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
The trumpet sounds retreat.
The day is ours. He that rewards me, may God reward him.
Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.
Ill-spirited Worcester, did not we send grace, pardon, and terms of love
to all of you? Five thousand creatures would have lived this hour if, like a
Christian, thou hadst truly borne betwixt our armies true intelligence.
What I have done, my safety urge me to, and I embrace this fortune patiently.
Bear Worcester to the death.
And Vernon too.
Here the Douglas is.
I beseech your grace I may dispose of him.
With all my heart.
Deliver him up to his pleasure, ransomless and free.
His valour shown upon our crests today had taught us all to cherish such high
deeds, even in the bosom of our adversaries.
Then this remains that we divide our powers. My cousin Westmoreland toward
York shall bend you with your dearest speed.
Myself and you, son Harry, will to Wales to fight Glendower and the Mortimer who,
as we hear, are busily in arms.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, meeting the check of such another
day.
Who keeps the gate here, ho?
He that but fears the thing he would not know hath by instinct knowledge from
others' eyes that what he feared is chanced. Say not that Hotspur's dead.
I am sorry I should force you to believe that which I would to God I had not
seen.
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
rendering faint quittance.
wearied and out-breathed to the Prince of Wales, whose swift wrath beat
down our never-daunted hotspur to the earth, from whence with life
he never more sprung up.
The sum of all is that the King hath won.
That is the news at full.
Sweet earl, divorce not your wisdom from your honour.
The lives of all your loving complices lean on your health, the which, if you
give o'er to stormy passion, must of force decay.
I hear for certain, and do speak truth, the Archbishop of York is up with well
-appointed powers.
He is a man who with a double surety binds his followers, turns insurrection
to religion, and more and less do you flock to follow him. Go in with me. I'll
counsel every man the aptest way for safety and revenge.
My honour is at pawn, and but my going, nothing can redeem it. Ah, for God's
sake, go not to these wars!
The time was, father, that you broke your word when
your dear Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, threw many a northward look to
see his father bring up his powers.
But he did long in vain.
What then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours lost, yours and your son's. For yours, the God
of heaven, brighten it. For his, it stuck upon him as the sun
in the grey vault of heaven.
And by his light did all the chivalry of England move to do brave acts
in speech, in gait, in diet, in affections of delight, in military
rules, in humours of blood.
He was the mark and glass, copy and book that fashioned others.
And him...
unseconded by you, to look upon the hideous god of war in
disadvantage, so you left him.
Never, never do his ghost the wrong to hold your honour
more precise and nice with others than with him.
Let them alone.
The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong.
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers today, might I, hanging on
Hotspur's neck, have talked of a prince's grave?
Be sure your heart, fair daughter.
You do draw my spirits from me with new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must
go and meet with danger there, or he will seek me in another place and find
me worse provided.
Within doors and none abroad.
How doth the king?
Exceeding ill.
I heard ye the good news, yes.
The earl of Northumberland is overthrown. He altered much upon the
hearing it. If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic. Not so
much noise, my lord. Sweet prince, speak low.
The king your father is disposed to sleep.
Let us withdraw into the other room. We'll please your grace to go along with
us. No, I will sit and watch here by the king.
Why does the crown lie here upon his pillow?
Being so troublesome a bad fellow.
Oh, polished perturbation.
Golden care.
There lies a downy feather which stirs not.
Did he suspire that light and weightless down, perforce, must move?
My gracious lead.
My father.
This sleep is sound indeed.
This is a sleep that from this golden wriggle has divorced so
many English kings.
thy due from me is tears
and heavy sorrows of the
blood, which nature,
love and filial
tenderness shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.
And thy due to me is this imperial crown,
which as immediate as thy place and blood
derives itself to me.
Lo, here it sits,
which God shall guard, and put the
world's whole strength into one giant arm.
It shall not force this lineal honour from me. Dost thou so hunger for mine
empty chair that thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours before thy hour be
ripe? O foolish youth, thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours were thine without offence.
Thy life did manifest, thou lovest me not, and thou wilt have me die ashore of
it. Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself, and bid the merry bells ring to
thine ear that thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Give that which gave thee life unto the worms.
Pluck down, my officers, break my decrees.
Harry V is crowned.
all you sage counsellors hence, and to the English court assemble now from
every region, apes of idleness.
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum. Have you a ruffian that will
swear, drink, dance, revel the night, rob, murder, commit the oldest sins, the
newest kind of ways, be happy, he will trouble you no more.
England shall give him office, honour, might, for the fifth.
Harry from curbed license plucks the muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.
Oh, my poor country, sick with civil blows, oh, thou wilt be a wilderness
again, peopled with wolves, thine old inhabitants.
There is your crown.
God witness with me, when I here came in and found no course of breath within
your majesty, how cold it struck my heart.
If I do fain, I'll let me in my present wildness die and never live to show the
incredulous world the noble change that I have purposed.
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead and dead.
Almost my liege to think you were. I spake unto this crown as having sense,
and thus upbraided it. The care on thee, depending, hath
fed upon the body of my father.
Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold.
Other less fine in carat is more precious.
preserving life and medicine, potable, but thou, most fine, most honoured, most
renowned, as at thy bearer up, and thus my most royal liege, I put it on my head
to try with it, as with an enemy that had before my face murdered my
father, the quarrel of a true inheritor. Come hither, Harry.
Sit thou by my bed.
and here I think the very latest counsel that ever I shall breathe.
God knows, my son, by what by-paths and indirect crooked ways I met this crown.
But now my death changes the mood, for what in me was purchased falls upon
thee in a more fairer sort.
Yet though thou stand'st more strong than I could do, thou art not firm
enough. since griefs are green, and all my friends, which thou must make thy
friends, have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out. Therefore, my Harry,
be at thy course to busy giddy minds with foreign quarrels,
that action thus borne out may waste the memory of the former days.
Ah, more would I.
But my lungs are wasted so that strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God forgive,
and grant it may with thee in
true peace live.
My gracious Lise, you warn us, war
us. kept as gave it me, then plain and right must
my possession be, which I, with more than with a common pain, against all
the world will rightfully maintain.
Health, peace, and happiness to our royal father.
Doth any name particular belong unto this chamber where I first did swoon?
Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord.
Lord be to God, it hath been prophesied to me many years,
I should not die, but in Jerusalem, which
vainly I supposed the Holy Land.
In this Jerusalem, let Harry die.
Show me, masters.
I shall make the king do you grace. I shall leer upon him as he comes by and
do but mark the countenance that he will give me.
God bless thy lungs, good name. Come here, Bardolph.
Stand behind me.
Oh, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the
money I borrowed on you.
But it is no matter. This poor show doth better.
This doth infer the zeal I have to see him. It does, sir. It shows my
earnestness of affection, my devotion, as it were, to ride day and
night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift
me. Tis best certain.
But to stand stained with travel and sweating with desire to see him,
thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if...
There were nothing to be done but to sow you. To sow indeed. So shaken as we are,
so one with care, find we a time for frighted peace to pant
and breathe short-winded accents of new broils to be commenced in
strands afar remote.
speak to thee, my heart.
I know thee not, old man.
Fall to thy prayers.
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester.
Oh, I have long dreamed of such a kind of man.
So surfaced, swelled, so old, and so profane, but being awaked, I do
despise my dream. Make less thy body, hence, and more.
thy grace, leave gormandising, know the grave doth gape for thee, thrice wider
than for other men, replying not to me with a fool-born jest, presume not that
I am the thing I was.
For God doth know, and so shall the world perceive, that I have
turned away my former self.
So will I those that kept me company.
When thou dost hear that I am as I have been, approach me, and thou shalt be as
thou wast, the tutor and the feeder of my riots. Till then, I banish thee on
pain of death, not to come near our person by ten miles. Rosie, don't go!
Don't do it! You won't make it on the outside! Get off me!
No, get off!
Rosie, don't!
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get subtitles in any language from opensubtitles.com, and translate them here.