Уильям Шекспир - The First Part of King Henry the Fourth

Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if
men
were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough
for
him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried
'Stand!'
to a true man.
Prince. Good morrow, Ned.
Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? What
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!

Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow. I
have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff,

Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have
already waylaid; yourself 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.
Prince. How shall we part with them in setting forth?
Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them and appoint
them
a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail;
and
then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which
they
shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.
Prince. Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our
horses, by
our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.
Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see- I'll tie them in the
wood; our wizards we will change after we leave them; and,
sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our
noted outward garments.
Prince. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred
cowards as ever turn'd back; and for the third, if he fight
longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of
this jest will lie the incomprehensible lies that this same
fat
rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at
least,
he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he
endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.
Prince. Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things
necessary
and meet me to-night in Eastcheap. There I'll sup. Farewell.
Poins. Farewell, my lord. Exit.
Prince. I know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyok'd humour of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to lie himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wond'red at
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
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;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time when men think least I will. Exit.