Poins.

Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?

Fal.

A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and amen!—Give me a cup of sack, boy.—Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether-stocks^{3 note}, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!—Give me a cup of sack, rogue.—Is there no virtue extant?

P. Hen.

Did'st thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the

sweet tale of the sons^{4 note}

Fal.

You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous

man^{5 note}

P. Hen.

How now, wool-sack, what mutter you?

Fal.

A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath^{7 note}

P. Hen.

Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter.

Fal.

Are you not a coward? answer me to that? and Poins there?

Poins.

'Zounds^{8 note}, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

Fal.

I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me.—Give me a cup of sack:— I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.

P. Hen.

O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last.

Fal.

All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I.

P. Hen.

What's the matter?

Fal.

What's the matter? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.

P. Hen.

Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Fal.

Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four us.

P. Hen.

What, a hundred, man?

Fal.

I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scap'd by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet: four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and through^{9 note}

P. Hen.

Speak, sirs; how was it?

Gads.

We four set upon some dozen.—

Fal.

Sixteen, at least, my lord.

Gads.

And bound them.

Peto.

No, no, they were not bound.

Fal.

You rogue, they were bound, every man of them: or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew^{1 note}

Gads.

As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us,—

Fal.

And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.

P. Hen.

What fought ye with them all?

Fal.

All? I know not what ye call, all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature.

Poins.

Pray God, you have not murdered some of them.

Fal.

Nay, that's past praying for: for I have peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid^{2 note}

P. Hen.

What four? thou saidst but two even now.

Fal.

Four, Hal; I told thee four.

Poins.

Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal.

These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took their seven points in my target, thus.

P. Hen.

Seven? why, there were but four even now.

Fal.

In buckram^{3 note}.

Poins.

Ay, four, in buckram suits^{4 note}

.

Fal.

Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.

P. Hen.

Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall have more anon.

Fal.

Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. Hen.

Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal.
Do so, for it is worth the listening to.
These nine in buckram, that I told thee of,—

P. Hen.

So, two more already.

Fal.

Their points being broken,—

Poins.

Down fell their hose^{5 note}

Fal.

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.

P. Hen.

O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal.

But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal^{6 note}

P. Hen.

These lies are like the father that begets

them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-pated fool; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-keech^{7 note}

Fal.

What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth?

P. Hen.

Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand^{8 note}

? come, tell us your reason; What sayest thou to this?

Poins.

Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.

Fal.

What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado^{9 note}, or all the racks in the world, I

would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.

P. Hen.

I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh;—

Fal.

Away, you starveling, you elf-skin^{1 note}

P. Hen.

Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.

Poins.

Mark, Jack.

P. Hen.

We two saw you four set on four; you bound them^{2 note}, and were masters of their wealth.—

Mark now, how plain a tale shall put you down.— Then did we two set on you four: and, with a word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house:—and, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done; and then say, it was in fight? What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?

Poins.

Come, let's hear, Jack; What trick hast thou now?

Fal.

By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it for me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true prince^{3 note}


. Instinct is a great matter^{4 note}

Fal.

What manner of man is he?

Host.

An old man.

Fal.

What doth gravity out of his bed at mid-night? —Shall I give him his answer?

P. Hen.

Pr'ythee, do, Jack.

Fal.

'Faith, and I'll send him packing.

P. Hen.

Now, sirs; by'r lady, you fought fair;— so did you, Peto;—so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true prince; no,—fye!

Bard.

'Faith, I ran when I saw others run.

P. Hen.

Tell me now in earnest, How came Falstaff's sword so hacked?

Peto.

Why, he hacked it with his dagger; and said, he would swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight; and persuaded us to do the like.

Bard.

Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass^{5 note}, to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and to swear it was the blood of true men^{6 note}. I did that I did not this seven year before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices.

P. Hen.

O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner^{7 note}

Bard.

Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.

P. Hen.

No, if rightly taken, halter^{1 note}

Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombast^{2 note}

Fal.

My own knee? when I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring^{3 note}

A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: here was sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook^{4 note}

Poins.

O, Glendower.

Fal.

Owen, Owen; the same;—and his son-in-law, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o' horseback up a hill perpendicular.

P. Hen.

He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol^{5 note}

Fal.

You have hit it.

P. Hen.

So did he never the sparrow.

Fal.

Well, that rascal hath good metal in him; he will not run.

P. Hen.

Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running?

Fal.

O' horseback, ye cuckoo! but, afoot, he will not budge a foot.

P. Hen.

Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fal.

I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps^{6 note}

P. Hen.

Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds.

Fal.

By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like, we shall have good trading that way.—But, tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it?

P. Hen.

Not a whit, i' faith; I lack some of thy instinct.

Fal.

Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, when thou comest to thy father: if thou love me, practise an answer.

P. Hen.

Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life^{9 note}

Fal.

Shall I? content:—This chair shall be my state^{1 note}

P. Hen.

Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden scepter for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown^{3 note}

Fal.

Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved.—Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be

thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in king Cambyses'^{4 note}

P. Hen.

Well, here is my leg^{5 note}.

Fal.

And here is my speech:—Stand aside, nobility.

Host.

This is excellent sport, i' faith.

Fal.

Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.

Host.

O, the father, how he holds his countenance!

Fal.
For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen^{6 note},
For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes^{7 note}

Host.

O rare! he doth it as like one of these harlotry players^{8 note}, as I ever see.

Fal.

Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain^{9 note}

P. Hen.

Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father.

Fal.

Depose me? if thou dost if half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbet-sucker^{6 note}

P. Hen.

Well, here I am set.

Fal.

And here I stand:—judge, my masters.

P. Hen.

Now, Harry? whence come you?

Fal.

My noble lord, from Eastcheap.

P. Hen.

The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.

Fal.

'Sblood, my lord, they are false:—nay, I'll tickle thee for a young prince, i' faith.

P. Hen.

Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man^{7 note}

is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch^{8 note} of beastliness,

that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack^{9 note}, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox^{1 note}

P. Hen.

That villainous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.

Fal.

My lord, the man I know.

P. Hen.

I know thou dost.

Fal.

But to say, I know more harm in him than in myself, were to say more than I know. That he is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do witness it: but that he is (saving your reverence,) a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault^{5 note}

old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know, is damned: if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet 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 not him thy Harry's company: banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.

P. Hen.

I do, I will.