SCENE II.
London. Another street
Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS
PRINCE. Before God, I am exceeding weary.
POINS. Is't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not
have
attach'd one of so high blood.
PRINCE. Faith, it does me; though it discolours the complexion
of
my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me
to
desire small beer?
POINS. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to
remember so weak a composition.
PRINCE. Belike then my appetite was not-princely got; for, by
my
troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But
indeed these humble considerations make me out of love with
my
greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name,
or
to know thy face to-morrow, or to take note how many pair of
silk
stockings thou hast--viz., these, and those that were thy
peach-colour'd ones--or to bear the inventory of thy shirts-
as,
one for superfluity, and another for use! But that the
tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low ebb
of
linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou
hast
not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries
have made a shift to eat up thy holland. And God knows
whether
those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen shall inherit
his
kingdom; but the midwives say the children are not in the
fault;
whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily
strengthened.
POINS. How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you
should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good young princes
would
do so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is?
PRINCE. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?
POINS. Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing.
PRINCE. It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than
thine.
POINS. Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that you will
tell.
PRINCE. Marry, I tell thee it is not meet that I should be sad,
now
my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee--as to one it
pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend--I could
be
sad and sad indeed too.
POINS. Very hardly upon such a subject.
PRINCE. By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil's
book
as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency: let the
end
try the man. But I tell thee my heart bleeds inwardly that my
father is so sick; and keeping such vile company as thou art
hath
in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow.
POINS. The reason?
PRINCE. What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep?
POINS. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
PRINCE. It would be every man's thought; and thou art a blessed
fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man's thought in
the
world keeps the road-way better than thine. Every man would
think
me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful
thought to think so?
POINS. Why, because you have been so lewd and so much engraffed
to
Falstaff.
PRINCE. And to thee.
POINS. By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it with
mine
own ears. The worst that they can say of me is that I am a
second
brother and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those
two
things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes
Bardolph.
Enter BARDOLPH and PAGE
PRINCE. And the boy that I gave Falstaff. 'A had him from me
Christian; and look if the fat villain have not transform'd
him
ape.
BARDOLPH. God save your Grace!
PRINCE. And yours, most noble Bardolph!
POINS. Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be
blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly
man-at-arms
are you become! Is't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's
maidenhead?
PAGE. 'A calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and
I
could discern no part of his face from the window. At last I
spied his eyes; and methought he had made two holes in the
alewife's new petticoat, and so peep'd through.
PRINCE. Has not the boy profited?
BARDOLPH. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away!
PAGE. Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away!
PRINCE. Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
PAGE. Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a
firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream.
PRINCE. A crown's worth of good interpretation. There 'tis,
boy.
[Giving a crown]
POINS. O that this blossom could be kept from cankers!
Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
BARDOLPH. An you do not make him be hang'd among you, the
gallows
shall have wrong.
PRINCE. And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
BARDOLPH. Well, my lord. He heard of your Grace's coming to
town.
There's a letter for you.
POINS. Deliver'd with good respect. And how doth the martlemas,
your master?
BARDOLPH. In bodily health, sir.
POINS. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician; but that
moves
not him. Though that be sick, it dies not.
PRINCE. I do allow this well to be as familiar with me as my
dog;
and he holds his place, for look you how he writes.
POINS. [Reads] 'John Falstaff, knight'--Every man must know
that
as oft as he has occasion to name himself, even like those
that
are kin to the King; for they never prick their finger but
they
say 'There's some of the King's blood spilt.' 'How comes
that?'
says he that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as
ready as a borrower's cap: 'I am the King's poor cousin,
sir.'
PRINCE. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from
Japhet. But the letter: [Reads] 'Sir John Falstaff, knight,
to
the son of the King nearest his father, Harry Prince of
Wales,
greeting.'
POINS. Why, this is a certificate.
PRINCE. Peace! [Reads] 'I will imitate the honourable Romans
in
brevity.'-
POINS. He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded.
PRINCE. [Reads] 'I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I
leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses
thy
favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister
Nell.
Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell.
Thine, by yea and no--which is as much as to say as
thou usest him--JACK FALSTAFF with my familiars,
JOHN with my brothers and sisters, and SIR JOHN with
all Europe.'
POINS. My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat
it.
PRINCE. That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you
use
me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister?
POINS. God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said
so.
PRINCE. Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the
spirits
of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. Is your master
here in
London?
BARDOLPH. Yea, my lord.
PRINCE. Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank?
BARDOLPH. At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.
PRINCE. What company?
PAGE. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.
PRINCE. Sup any women with him?
PAGE. None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll
Tearsheet.
PRINCE. What pagan may that be?
PAGE. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my
master's.
PRINCE. Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town
bull.
Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?
POINS. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you.
PRINCE. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master
that
I am yet come to town. There's for your silence.
BARDOLPH. I have no tongue, sir.
PAGE. And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
PRINCE. Fare you well; go. Exeunt BARDOLPH and PAGE
This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.
POINS. I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans
and
London.
PRINCE. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in
his
true colours, and not ourselves be seen?
POINS. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon
him at
his table as drawers.
PRINCE. From a god to a bull? A heavy descension! It was Jove's
case. From a prince to a prentice? A low transformation! That
shall be mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with
the
folly. Follow me, Ned.
Exeunt
SCENE III.
Warkworth. Before the castle
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY
NORTHUMBERLAND. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs;
Put not you on the visage of the times
And be, like them, to Percy troublesome.
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. I have given over, I will speak no more.
Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.
NORTHUMBERLAND. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn;
And but my going nothing can redeem it.
LADY PERCY. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars!
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now;
When your own 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.
Who 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. He was indeed the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
He had no legs that practis'd not his gait;
And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant;
For those who could speak low and tardily
Would turn their own perfection to abuse
To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait,
In diet, in affections of delight,
In military rules, humours of blood,
He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
That fashion'd others. And him--O wondrous him!
O miracle of men!--him did you leave--
Second to none, unseconded by you--
To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage, to abide a field
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
Did seem defensible. So you left him.
Never, O 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,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.
NORTHUMBERLAND. Beshrew 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 it will seek me in another place,
And find me worse provided.
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. O, fly to Scotland
Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
LADY PERCY. If they get ground and vantage of the King,
Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves,
First let them try themselves. So did your son;
He was so suff'red; so came I a widow;
And never shall have length of life enough
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
For recordation to my noble husband.
NORTHUMBERLAND. Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind
As with the tide swell'd up unto his height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back.
I will resolve for Scotland. There am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
London. The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap
Enter FRANCIS and another DRAWER
FRANCIS. What the devil hast thou brought there-apple-johns?
Thou
knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.
SECOND DRAWER. Mass, thou say'st true. The Prince once set a
dish
of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more
Sir
Johns; and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now take my
leave
of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.' It ang'red
him
to the heart; but he hath forgot that.
FRANCIS. Why, then, cover and set them down; and see if thou
canst
find out Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear
some
music.
Enter third DRAWER
THIRD DRAWER. Dispatch! The room where they supp'd is too hot;
they'll come in straight.
FRANCIS. Sirrah, here will be the Prince and Master Poins anon;
and
they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John
must
not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.
THIRD DRAWER. By the mass, here will be old uds; it will be an
excellent stratagem.
SECOND DRAWER. I'll see if I can find out Sneak.
Exeunt second and third DRAWERS
Enter HOSTESS and DOLL TEARSHEET
HOSTESS. I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an
excellent
good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as
heart
would desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as
any
rose, in good truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too
much
canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it
perfumes
the blood ere one can say 'What's this?' How do you now?
DOLL. Better than I was--hem.
HOSTESS. Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold.
Lo, here comes Sir John.
Enter FALSTAFF
FALSTAFF. [Singing] 'When Arthur first in court'--Empty the
Jordan. [Exit FRANCIS]--[Singing] 'And was a worthy king'--
How
now, Mistress Doll!
HOSTESS. Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.
FALSTAFF. So is all her sect; and they be once in a calm, they
are
sick.
DOLL. A pox damn you, you muddy rascal! Is that all the comfort
you
give me?
FALSTAFF. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
DOLL. I make them! Gluttony and diseases make them: I make them
not.
FALSTAFF. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to
make
the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you;
grant
that, my poor virtue, grant that.
DOLL. Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.
FALSTAFF. 'Your brooches, pearls, and ouches.' For to serve
bravely
is to come halting off; you know, to come off the breach with
his
pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon
the
charg'd chambers bravely--
DOLL. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!
HOSTESS. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never
meet
but you fall to some discord. You are both, i' good truth, as
rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with
another's
confirmities. What the good-year! one must bear, and that
must be
you. You are the weaker vessel, as as they say, the emptier
vessel.
DOLL. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogs-head?
There's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him;
you
have not seen a hulk better stuff'd in the hold. Come, I'll
be
friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the wars; and
whether
I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares.
Re-enter FRANCIS
FRANCIS. Sir, Ancient Pistol's below and would speak with you.
DOLL. Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it
is
the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England.
HOSTESS. If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith!
I
must live among my neighbours; I'll no swaggerers. I am in
good
name and fame with the very best. Shut the door. There comes
no
swaggerers here; I have not liv'd all this while to have
swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you.
FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear, hostess?
HOSTESS. Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes no
swaggerers here.
FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
HOSTESS. Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me; and your ancient
swagg'rer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick,
the
debuty, t' other day; and, as he said to me--'twas no longer
ago
than Wednesday last, i' good faith!--'Neighbour Quickly,'
says
he--Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then--'Neighbour
Quickly,'
says he 'receive those that are civil, for' said he 'you are
in
an ill name.' Now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon. 'For'
says he
'you are an honest woman and well thought on, therefore take
heed
what guests you receive. Receive' says he 'no swaggering
companions.' There comes none here. You would bless you to
hear
what he said. No, I'll no swagg'rers.
FALSTAFF. He's no swagg'rer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' faith;
you
may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He'll not
swagger
with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of
resistance. Call him up, drawer.
Exit FRANCIS
HOSTESS. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my
house,
nor no cheater; but I do not love swaggering, by my troth. I
am
the worse when one says 'swagger.' Feel, masters, how I
shake;
look you, I warrant you.
DOLL. So you do, hostess.
HOSTESS. Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen
leaf. I
cannot abide swagg'rers.
Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and PAGE
PISTOL. God save you, Sir John!
FALSTAFF. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you
with
a cup of sack; do you discharge upon mine hostess.
PISTOL. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
FALSTAFF. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly offend
her.
HOSTESS. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets. I'll drink
no
more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.
PISTOL. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you.
DOLL. Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What! you poor,
base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy
rogue, away! I am meat for your master.
PISTOL. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
DOLL. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By
this
wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play
the
saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you
basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir?
God's light, with two points on your shoulder? Much!
PISTOL. God let me not live but I will murder your ruff for
this.
FALSTAFF. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here.
Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.
HOSTESS. No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.
DOLL. Captain! Thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not
ashamed
to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would
truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you
have earn'd them. You a captain! you slave, for what? For
tearing
a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! hang him,
rogue! He lives upon mouldy stew'd prunes and dried cakes. A
captain! God's light, these villains will make the word as
odious
as the word 'occupy'; which was an excellent good word before
it
was ill sorted. Therefore captains had need look to't.
BARDOLPH. Pray thee go down, good ancient.
FALSTAFF. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
PISTOL. Not I! I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could
tear
her; I'll be reveng'd of her.
PAGE. Pray thee go down.
PISTOL. I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damn'd lake, by
this
hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile
also.
Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors!
Have
we not Hiren here?
HOSTESS. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i'
faith; I
beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
PISTOL. These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses,
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty mile a day,
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,
And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?
HOSTESS. By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter words.
BARDOLPH. Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a brawl
anon.
PISTOL. Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not
Hiren
here?
HOSTESS. O' my word, Captain, there's none such here. What the
good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be
quiet.
PISTOL. Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
Come, give's some sack.
'Si fortune me tormente sperato me contento.'
Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire.
Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there.
[Laying down his sword]
Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothings?
FALSTAFF. Pistol, I would be quiet.
PISTOL. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the
seven
stars.
DOLL. For God's sake thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure
such a
fustian rascal.
PISTOL. Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags?
FALSTAFF. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat
shilling.
Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be nothing
here.
BARDOLPH. Come, get you down stairs.
PISTOL. What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
[Snatching up his sword]
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!
HOSTESS. Here's goodly stuff toward!
FALSTAFF. Give me my rapier, boy.
DOLL. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
FALSTAFF. Get you down stairs.
[Drawing and driving PISTOL out]
HOSTESS. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house
afore
I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant
now.
Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked
weapons.
Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH
DOLL. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you
whoreson little valiant villain, you!
HOSTESS. Are you not hurt i' th' groin? Methought 'a made a
shrewd
thrust at your belly.
Re-enter BARDOLPH
FALSTAFF. Have you turn'd him out a doors?
BARDOLPH. Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, sir,
i'
th' shoulder.
FALSTAFF. A rascal! to brave me!
DOLL. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou
sweat'st! Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson
chops. Ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous
as
Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better
than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain!
FALSTAFF. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
DOLL. Do, an thou dar'st for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll
canvass
thee between a pair of sheets.
Enter musicians
PAGE. The music is come, sir.
FALSTAFF. Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Don. A
rascal
bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quick-silver.
DOLL. I' faith, and thou follow'dst him like a church. Thou
whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou
leave
fighting a days and foining a nights, and begin to patch up
thine
old body for heaven?
Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS disguised as drawers
FALSTAFF. Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a death's-head;
do
not bid me remember mine end.
DOLL. Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of?
FALSTAFF. A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have made a
good
pantler; 'a would ha' chipp'd bread well.
DOLL. They say Poins has a good wit.
FALSTAFF. He a good wit! hang him, baboon! His wit's as thick
as
Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is in
a
mallet.
DOLL. Why does the Prince love him so, then?
FALSTAFF. Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a
plays at
quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off
candles'
ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys,
and
jumps upon join'd-stools, and swears with a good grace, and
wears
his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the Leg, and
breeds
no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other
gambol
faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for
the
which the Prince admits him. For the Prince himself is such
another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between
their
avoirdupois.
PRINCE. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?
POINS. Let's beat him before his whore.
PRINCE. Look whe'er the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd
like a parrot.
POINS. Is it not strange that desire should so many years
outlive
performance?
FALSTAFF. Kiss me, Doll.
PRINCE. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says
th'
almanac to that?
POINS. And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not
lisping
to his master's old tables, his note-book, his
counsel-keeper.
FALSTAFF. Thou dost give me flattering busses.
DOLL. By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
FALSTAFF. I am old, I am old.
DOLL. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of
them all.
FALSTAFF. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive
money a
Thursday. Shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come. 'A
grows late; we'll to bed. Thou't forget me when I am gone.
DOLL. By my troth, thou't set me a-weeping, an thou say'st so.
Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return.
Well,
hearken a' th' end.
FALSTAFF. Some sack, Francis.
PRINCE & POINS. Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing]
FALSTAFF. Ha! a bastard son of the King's? And art thou not
Poins
his brother?
PRINCE. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost
thou
lead!
FALSTAFF. A better than thou. I am a gentleman: thou art a
drawer.
PRINCE. Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears.
HOSTESS. O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome
to
London. Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine. O Jesu,
are
you come from Wales?
FALSTAFF. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light
flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
[Leaning his band upon DOLL]
DOLL. How, you fat fool! I scorn you.
POINS. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn
all
to a merriment, if you take not the heat.
PRINCE. YOU whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak
of
me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
HOSTESS. God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, by
my
troth.
FALSTAFF. Didst thou hear me?
PRINCE. Yea; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by
Gadshill. You knew I was at your back, and spoke it on
purpose to
try my patience.
FALSTAFF. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within
hearing.
PRINCE. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse, and
then I know how to handle you.
FALSTAFF. No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no abuse.
PRINCE. Not to dispraise me, and call me pander, and
bread-chipper, and I know not what!
FALSTAFF. No abuse, Hal.
POINS. No abuse!
FALSTAFF. No abuse, Ned, i' th' world; honest Ned, none. I
disprais'd him before the wicked--that the wicked might not
fall
in love with thee; in which doing, I have done the part of a
careful friend and a true subject; and thy father is to give
me
thanks for it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; no, faith,
boys,
none.
PRINCE. See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth
not
make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us?
Is
she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is
thy
boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in
his
nose, of the wicked?
POINS. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
FALSTAFF. The fiend hath prick'd down Bardolph irrecoverable;
and
his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing
but
roast malt-worms. For the boy--there is a good angel about
him;
but the devil outbids him too.
PRINCE. For the women?
FALSTAFF. For one of them--she's in hell already, and burns
poor
souls. For th' other--I owe her money; and whether she be
damn'd
for that, I know not.
HOSTESS. No, I warrant you.
FALSTAFF. No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for
that.
Marry, there is another indictment upon thee for suffering
flesh
to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which
I
think thou wilt howl.
HOSTESS. All vict'lers do so. What's a joint of mutton or two
in a
whole Lent?
PRINCE. You, gentlewoman--
DOLL. What says your Grace?
FALSTAFF. His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against.
[Knocking within]
HOSTESS. Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door there,
Francis.
Enter PETO
PRINCE. Peto, how now! What news?
PETO. The King your father is at Westminster;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
Come from the north; and as I came along
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
PRINCE. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame
So idly to profane the precious time,
When tempest of commotion, like the south,
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
Exeunt PRINCE, POINS, PETO, and BARDOLPH
FALSTAFF. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we
must hence, and leave it unpick'd. [Knocking within] More
knocking at the door!
Re-enter BARDOLPH
How now! What's the matter?
BARDOLPH. You must away to court, sir, presently;
A dozen captains stay at door for you.
FALSTAFF. [To the PAGE]. Pay the musicians, sirrah.--Farewell,
hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of
merit are sought after; the undeserver may sleep, when the
man of
action is call'd on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent
away post, I will see you again ere I go.
DOLL. I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst!
Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
FALSTAFF. Farewell, farewell.
Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH
HOSTESS. Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these
twenty-nine
years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted
man--well, fare thee well.
BARDOLPH. [ Within] Mistress Tearsheet!
HOSTESS. What's the matter?
BARDOLPH. [ Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
HOSTESS. O, run Doll, run, run, good Come. [To BARDOLPH] She
comes blubber'd.--Yea, will you come, Doll? Exeunt
<>
ACT III. SCENE I.
Westminster. The palace
Enter the KING in his nightgown, with a page
KING. Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters
And well consider of them. Make good speed. Exit page
How many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee,
That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull'd 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 'larum-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 deafing clamour in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy 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.
Enter WARWICK and Surrey
WARWICK. Many good morrows to your Majesty!
KING. Is it good morrow, lords?
WARWICK. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
KING. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.
Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you?
WARWICK. We have, my liege.
KING. Then you perceive the body of our kingdom
How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.
WARWICK. It is but as a body yet distempered;
Which to his former strength may be restored
With good advice and little medicine.
My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.
KING. O God! that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea; and other times to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean
Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
Would shut the book and sit him down and die.
'Tis not ten years gone
Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together, and in two years after
Were they at wars. It is but eight years since
This Percy was the man nearest my soul;
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs
And laid his love and life under my foot;
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by--
[To WARWICK] You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember--
When Richard, with his eye brim full of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
'Northumberland, thou ladder by the which
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne'--
Though then, God knows, I had no such intent
But that necessity so bow'd the state
That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss--
'The time shall come'--thus did he follow it--
'The time will come that foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption' so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition
And the division of our amity.
WARWICK. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the natures of the times deceas'd;
The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, who in their seeds
And weak beginning lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And, by the necessary form of this,
King Richard might create a perfect guess
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness;
Which should not find a ground to root upon
Unless on you.
KING. Are these things then necessities?
Then let us meet them like necessities;
And that same word even now cries out on us.
They say the Bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.
WARWICK. It cannot be, my lord.
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace
To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord,
The powers that you already have sent forth
Shall bring this prize in very easily.
To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain instance that Glendower is dead.
Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill;
And these unseasoned hours perforce must ad
Unto your sickness.
KING. I will take your counsel.
And, were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. Exeunt
SCENE II.
Gloucestershire. Before Justice, SHALLOW'S house
Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE,
BULLCALF,
and servants behind
SHALLOW. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir;
give me
your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth
my
good cousin Silence?
SILENCE. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
SHALLOW. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your
fairest
daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?
SILENCE. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!
SHALLOW. By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin William is
become
a good scholar; he is at Oxford still, is he not?
SILENCE. Indeed, sir, to my cost.
SHALLOW. 'A must, then, to the Inns o' Court shortly. I was
once of
Clement's Inn; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow
yet.
SILENCE. You were call'd 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin.
SHALLOW. By the mass, I was call'd anything; and I would have
done
anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little
John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and
Francis
Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsole man--you had not four
such
swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of Court again. And I may say
to
you we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of
them
all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John,
boy,
and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.
SILENCE. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about
soldiers?
SHALLOW. The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break
Scoggin's head at the court gate, when 'a was a crack not
thus
high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson
Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the
mad
days that I have spent! and to see how many of my old
acquaintance are dead!
SILENCE. We shall all follow, cousin.
SHALLOW. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as
the
Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good
yoke
of bullocks at Stamford fair?
SILENCE. By my troth, I was not there.
SHALLOW. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living
yet?
SILENCE. Dead, sir.
SHALLOW. Jesu, Jesu, dead! drew a good bow; and dead! 'A shot a
fine shoot. John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much
money on
his head. Dead! 'A would have clapp'd i' th' clout at twelve
score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and
fourteen
and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to
see.
How a score of ewes now?
SILENCE. Thereafter as they be--a score of good ewes may be
worth
ten pounds.
SHALLOW. And is old Double dead?
Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him
SILENCE. Here come two of Sir John Falstaffs men, as I think.
SHALLOW. Good morrow, honest gentlemen.
BARDOLPH. I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?
SHALLOW. I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this
county,
and one of the King's justices of the peace. What is your
good
pleasure with me?
BARDOLPH. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir
John Falstaff--a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most
gallant
leader.
SHALLOW. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good back-sword
man.
How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife
doth?
BARDOLPH. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than
with a
wife.
SHALLOW. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said
indeed
too. 'Better accommodated!' It is good; yea, indeed, is it.
Good
phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable.
'Accommodated!' It comes of accommodo. Very good; a good
phrase.
BARDOLPH. Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. 'Phrase' call you
it?
By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the
word
with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of
exceeding
good command, by heaven. Accommodated: that is, when a man
is, as
they say, accommodated; or, when a man is being-whereby 'a
may be
thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.
Enter FALSTAFF
SHALLOW. It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. Give
me
your good hand, give me your worship's good hand. By my
troth,
you like well and bear your years very well. Welcome, good
Sir
John.
FALSTAFF. I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert
Shallow.
Master Surecard, as I think?
SHALLOW. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission
with
me.
FALSTAFF. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of
the
peace.
SILENCE. Your good worship is welcome.
FALSTAFF. Fie! this is hot weather. Gentlemen, have you
provided me
here half a dozen sufficient men?
SHALLOW. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?
FALSTAFF. Let me see them, I beseech you.
SHALLOW. Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Where's the roll?
Let
me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so,--so, so--yea,
marry, sir. Rafe Mouldy! Let them appear as I call; let them
do
so, let them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy?
MOULDY. Here, an't please you.
SHALLOW. What think you, Sir John? A good-limb'd fellow; young,
strong, and of good friends.
FALSTAFF. Is thy name Mouldy?
MOULDY. Yea, an't please you.
FALSTAFF. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd.
SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! Things that are
mouldy lack use. Very singular good! In faith, well said, Sir
John; very well said.
FALSTAFF. Prick him.
MOULDY. I was prick'd well enough before, an you could have let
me
alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do her
husbandry
and her drudgery. You need not to have prick'd me; there are
other men fitter to go out than I.
FALSTAFF. Go to; peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is
time
you were spent.
MOULDY. Spent!
SHALLOW. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; know you where you
are?
For th' other, Sir John--let me see. Simon Shadow!
FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's like
to be
a cold soldier.
SHALLOW. Where's Shadow?
SHADOW. Here, sir.
FALSTAFF. Shadow, whose son art thou?
SHADOW. My mother's son, sir.
FALSTAFF. Thy mother's son! Like enough; and thy father's
shadow.
So the son of the female is the shadow of the male. It is
often
so indeed; but much of the father's substance!
SHALLOW. Do you like him, Sir John?
FALSTAFF. Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him; for we have
a
number of shadows fill up the muster-book.
SHALLOW. Thomas Wart!
FALSTAFF. Where's he?
WART. Here, sir.
FALSTAFF. Is thy name Wart?
WART. Yea, sir.
FALSTAFF. Thou art a very ragged wart.
SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, Sir John?
FALSTAFF. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon
his
back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no
more.
SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! You can do it, sir; you can do it. I
commend
you well. Francis Feeble!
FEEBLE. Here, sir.
FALSTAFF. What trade art thou, Feeble?
FEEBLE. A woman's tailor, sir.
SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, sir?
FALSTAFF. You may; but if he had been a man's tailor, he'd ha'
prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's
battle as
thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?
FEEBLE. I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.
FALSTAFF. Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, courageous
Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most
magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor--well, Master
Shallow, deep, Master Shallow.
FEEBLE. I would Wart might have gone, sir.
FALSTAFF. I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst
mend
him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private
soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that
suffice, most forcible Feeble.
FEEBLE. It shall suffice, sir.
FALSTAFF. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?
SHALLOW. Peter Bullcalf o' th' green!
FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.
BULLCALF. Here, sir.
FALSTAFF. Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf
till
he roar again.
BULLCALF. O Lord! good my lord captain-
FALSTAFF. What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd?
BULLCALF. O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man.
FALSTAFF. What disease hast thou?
BULLCALF. A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught
with
ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir.
FALSTAFF. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will
have
away thy cold; and I will take such order that thy friends
shall
ring for thee. Is here all?
SHALLOW. Here is two more call'd than your number. You must
have
but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to
dinner.
FALSTAFF. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry
dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in
the
windmill in Saint George's Field?
FALSTAFF. No more of that, Master Shallow, no more of that.
SHALLOW. Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive?
FALSTAFF. She lives, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW. She never could away with me.
FALSTAFF. Never, never; she would always say she could not
abide
Master Shallow.
SHALLOW. By the mass, I could anger her to th' heart. She was
then
a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?
FALSTAFF. Old, old, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old;
certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork, by old Nightwork,
before I came to Clement's Inn.
SILENCE. That's fifty-five year ago.
SHALLOW. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that
this
knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?
FALSTAFF. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW. That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith,
Sir
John, we have. Our watchword was 'Hem, boys!' Come, let's to
dinner; come, let's to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have
seen!
Come, come.
Exeunt FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES
BULLCALF. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and
here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In
very
truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd, sir, as go. And yet, for
mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am
unwilling and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with
my
friends; else, sir, I did not care for mine own part so much.
BARDOLPH. Go to; stand aside.
MOULDY. And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame's
sake,
stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when
I
am gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself. You shall
have
forty, sir.
BARDOLPH. Go to; stand aside.
FEEBLE. By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe
God
a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An't be my destiny, so;
an't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's Prince; and,
let
it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for
the
next.
BARDOLPH. Well said; th'art a good fellow.
FEEBLE. Faith, I'll bear no base mind.
Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES
FALSTAFF. Come, sir, which men shall I have?
SHALLOW. Four of which you please.
BARDOLPH. Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to free
Mouldy
and Bullcalf.
FALSTAFF. Go to; well.
SHALLOW. Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
FALSTAFF. Do you choose for me.
SHALLOW. Marry, then--Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.
FALSTAFF. Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home
till
you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow you
come
unto it. I will none of you.
SHALLOW. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are
your
likeliest men, and I would have you serv'd with the best.
FALSTAFF. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a
man?
Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big
assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit, Master Shallow.
Here's
Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is. 'A shall charge
you
and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer,
come
off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's
bucket.
And this same half-fac'd fellow, Shadow--give me this man. He
presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great
aim
level at the edge of a penknife. And, for a retreat--how
swiftly
will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give me the
spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a caliver into
Wart's hand, Bardolph.
BARDOLPH. Hold, Wart. Traverse--thus, thus, thus.
FALSTAFF. Come, manage me your caliver. So--very well. Go to;
very
good; exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old,
chopt, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; th'art a good
scab.
Hold, there's a tester for thee.
SHALLOW. He is not his craft's master, he doth not do it right.
I
remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn--I
was
then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show--there was a little quiver
fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus; and 'a would
about and about, and come you in and come you in. 'Rah, tah,
tah!' would 'a say; 'Bounce!' would 'a say; and away again
would
'a go, and again would 'a come. I shall ne'er see such a
fellow.
FALSTAFF. These fellows will do well. Master Shallow, God keep
you!
Master Silence, I will not use many words with you: Fare you
