PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource

Scene Study (Male-Male)

FAL.

Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

PRINCE.

Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldest truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-color’d taffata; I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

FAL.

Indeed you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he, “that wand’ring knight so fair.” And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art a king, as, God save thy Grace—Majesty I should say, for grace thou wilt have none—

PRINCE.

What, none?

FAL.

No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

PRINCE.

Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.

FAL.

Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night’s body be call’d 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 govern’d, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

PRINCE.

Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the fortune of us that are the moon’s men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern’d, as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatch’d on Monday night and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing “Lay by,” and spent with crying “Bring in”; now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

FAL.

By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

PRINCE.

As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

FAL.

How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?

PRINCE.

Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

FAL.

Well, thou hast call’d her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

PRINCE.

Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

FAL.

No, I’ll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

PRINCE.

Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch, and where it would not, I have us’d my credit.

FAL.

Yea, and so us’d it that, were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent—But I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fubb’d as it is with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

PRINCE.

No, thou shalt.

FAL.

Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.

PRINCE.

Thou judgest false already. I mean thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

FAL.

Well, Hal, well, and in some sort it jumps with my humor as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.

PRINCE.

For obtaining of suits?

FAL.

Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugg’d bear.

PRINCE.

Or an old lion, or a lover’s lute.

FAL.

Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

PRINCE.

What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

FAL.

Thou hast the most unsavory similes and art indeed the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I prithee trouble me no more with vanity; I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of the Council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir, but I mark’d him not, and yet he talk’d very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he talk’d wisely, and in the street too.

PRINCE.

Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

FAL.

O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing, and now am I, if a 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, I’ll be damn’d for never a king’s son in Christendom.

PRINCE.

Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?

FAL.

’Zounds, where thou wilt, lad, I’ll make one, an’ I do not, call me villain and baffle me.

PRINCE.

I see a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purse-taking.

FAL.

Why, Hal, ’tis my vocation, Hal, ’tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation.

 

Use Power Search to search the works

Please consider making a small donation to help keep this site free.

PP

Log in or Register

Register
Forgot username  Forgot password
Get the Shakespeare Pro app