SCENE II.
Enter Chief Justice and Servants.
Page.
Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed
the Prince, for striking him, about Bardolph.
Fal.
Boy, stand before me, I would not be seen.
Ch. Just.
What's he that goes there?
Serv.
Falstaff, an't please your Lordship.
Ch. Just.
He that was in question for the robbery?
Serv.
He, my Lord. But he hath since done good service,
at Shrewsbury: and, as I hear, is now going with
some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.
Ch. Just.
What, to York? call him back again.
Serv.
Sir John Falstaff.
Fal.
Boy, tell him, I am deaf.
Page.
You must speak louder, my master is deaf.
Ch. Just.
I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing
good. Go, pluck him by the elbow. I must speak with
him.
Serv.
Sir John.
Fal.
What! a young knave, and beg! are there no
wars? is there not employment? doth not the King lack
subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? though it be
a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame
to beg, than to be on the worst side, were it worse
than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.
Serv.
You mistake me, Sir.
Fal.
Why, Sir. did I say you were an honest man?
setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had
lied in my throat, if I had said so.
Serv.
I pray you, Sir, then, set your knighthood and
your soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you,
you do lie in your throat, if you say I am any other
than an honest man.
Fal.
I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that
which grows to me? If thou gett'st any leave of me,
-- 8 --
hang me; if thou tak'st leave, thou wer't better be
hang'd: you* note hunt-counter, hence; avaunt.
Serv.
Sir, my Lord would speak with you.
Ch. Just.
Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
Fal.
My good Lord! heav'n give your Lordship good
time of day! I am glad to see your Lordship abroad;
I heard say your Lordship was sick. I hope your Lordship
goes abroad, by advice. Your Lordship, though
not clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age
in you, some relish of the saltness of time; and I most
humbly beseech your Lordship to have a reverend care
of your health.
Ch. Just.
Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition
to Shrewsbury.
Fal.
If it please your Lordship I hear his Majesty is
return'd with some discomfort, from Wales.
Ch. Just.
I talk not of his Majesty: you would not
come when I sent for you?
Fal.
And I hear, moreover, his highness is fall'n into
this same whorson apoplexy.
Ch. Just.
Well, heav'n mend him! I pray let me
speak with you† note.
Fal.
This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy,
an't please your Lordship, a kind of sleeping in the
blood, a whorson tingling.
Ch. Just.
What tell you me of it? be it as it is.
Fal.
It hath its original from much grief; from study
and perturbation of the brain. I have read the cause of
it in Galen. It is a kind of deafness.
Ch. Just.
I think you are fall'n into that disease: for
you hear not what I say to you.
Fal.
Very well, my Lord, very well: rather, an't
please you, it is the disease of not list'ning, the malady
of not marking, that I am troubled with.
-- 9 --
Ch. Just.
To punish you by the heels, would amend
the attention of your ears; and I care not if I be your
physician.
Fal.
I am as poor as Job, my Lord; but not so
patient: your Lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment
to me, in respect of poverty; but how I
should be your patient, to follow your prescriptions, the
wise may make* note some dram of a scruple, or indeed, a
scruple itself.
Ch. Just.
I sent for you, when there were matters
against you for your life, to speak with me.
Fal.
As I was then advis'd by my counsel learned
in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
Ch. Just.
Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in
great infamy.
Fal.
He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live in
less.
Ch. Just.
Your means are very slender, and your
waste great.
Fal.
I would it were otherwise: I would my means
were greater, and my waist slenderer† note.
Ch. Just.
You have mis-led the youthful Prince.
Fal.
The young Prince hath mis-led me. I am the
fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.
Ch. Just.
Well, I am loth to gall a new-heal'd wound;
your day's service at Shrewsbury, hath a little gilded over
your night's exploit on Gads-hill. You may thank the
unquiet time, for your quiet over-posting that action.
Fal.
My Lord?
Ch. Just.
But, since all is well, keep it so: wake not
a sleeping wolf.
Fal.
To wake a wolf, is as bad as to smell a fox.
-- 10 --
Ch. Just.
What? you are as a candle, the better part
burnt out.
Fal.
A wassel candle, my Lord; all tallow.
Ch. Just.
There is not a white hair on your face,
but should have his effect of gravity.
Fal.
No, my Lord, his effect of gravy, gravy, gravy* note
Ch. Just.
You follow the young Prince, up and down,
like his evil angel.
Fal.
My Lord, you that are old, consider not the
capacities of us that are young; you measure the heat
of our livers, with the bitterness of your galls; and we
that are in the† note va-ward of our youth, I must confess
are wags too.
Ch. Just.
Do you set down your name in the scrowl
of youth, that are written down old, with all the characters
of age? have you not a moist eye? a dry hand?
a yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an
increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your wind
short? and every part about you blasted with antiquity?
and will you yet call yourself young? fy, fy, fy, Sir
John.
Fal.
My Lord, I was born about three of the clock,
in the afternoon, with a white head, and something a
round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with hallowing
and singing of anthems. To approve my youth
further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old, in
judgment and understanding; and he that will caper with
me, for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money,
and have at him. For the box o'th' ear that the Prince
gave you, he gave it like a rude Prince, and you took it
like a sensible Lord. I have checkt him for it, and the
young lion repents: marry, not in ashes and sack-cloth,
but in new silk and old sack.
Ch. Just.
Well, heav'n send the Prince a better companion!
-- 11 --
Fal.
Heav'n send the companion a better Prince: I
cannot rid my hands of him.
Ch. Just.
Well, the King hath sever'd you and Prince
Harry. I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster,
against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland* note.
Fal.
Yes, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it;
but look you, pray, all you that kiss my lady Pease
at home, that our armies join not, in a hot day;
for I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean
not to sweat extraordinarily: If it be a hot day, if I
brandish any thing but a bottle, would I might never
spit white again! There is not a dangerous action
can peep out his head, but I am thrust upon it. Well,
I cannot last ever—but it was always the trick of our
English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it
too common. If ye will needs say I am an old man,
you should give me rest: I would to heav'n my name
were not so terrible to the enemy, as it is! I were better
to be eaten to death, with a rust, than to be scour'd to
nothing, with perpetual motion.
Ch. Just.
Well, be honest, be honest, and heav'n
bless your expedition!
Fal.
Will your Lordship lend me a thousand pound, to
furnish me forth?
Ch. Just.
Not a penny, not a penny; you are too
impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend
me to my cousin Westmorland.
[Exeunt Chief Justice, and Servants.
Fal.
If I do, fillip me with a† note three-man-beetle.
A man can no more separate old age and covetousness,
than he can part young limbs and wantonness: but
the gout galls the one, and disease pinches the other;
and so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy.
Page.
Sir.
Fal.
What money is in my purse?
-- 12 --
Page.
Seven groats, and two pence.
Fal.
I can get no remedy against this consumption of
the purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out,
but the disease is incurable. Go, bear this letter to my
Lord of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earl of
Westmorland, and this to old Mrs. Ursula, whom I have
weekly sworn to marry, since I perceived the first white
hair on my chin. About it; you know where to find
me. [Exit Page.] A plague of this gout, for it plays
the rogue with my great toe: it is no matter, if I do
halt, I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall
seem the more reasonable: a good wit will make use of
any thing; I will turn diseases to commodity.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
York.
Enter Archbishop of York* note, Hastings, Thomas Mowbray (Earl Marshal), and Lord Bardolph.
York.
Thus have you heard our cause, and know our means:
Now, my most noble friends, I pray you all,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes.
And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?
Mowb.
I well allow th' occasion of our arms,
But gladly would be better satisfied
How in our means we should advance ourselves,
To look with forehead bold and big enough,
Upon the pow'r and puissance of the king?
Hast.
Our present musters grow upon the file,
To five and twenty thousand men of choice:
And our supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
With an incensed fire of injuries.
Bard.
The question, then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus;
Whether our present five and twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland?
-- 13 --
Hast.
With him we may.
Bard.
Ay, marry, there's the point:
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is, we should not step too far,
Till we had his assistance by the hand.
For in a theme, so bloody-fac'd as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise,
Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted.
York.
'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed
It was young Hotspur's case, at Shrewsbury.
Bard.
It was, my Lord, who lin'd himself with hope,
Eating the air, on promise of supply;
Flatt'ring himself with project of a power,
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts;
And so, with great imagination,
Proper to madmen, led his pow'rs to death,
And, winking, leap'd into destruction.
Hast.
But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt,
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
Bard.
Yes, if this present quality of war,
Impede the instant act; a cause on foot
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
We see th' appearing buds; which to prove fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair,
That frosts will bite them.
Hast.
Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
Should be still-born; and that we now possest
The utmost man of expectation:
I think we are a body strong enough,
Ev'n as we are, to equal with the King.
Bard.
What! is the King but five and twenty thousand?
Hast.
To us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph.
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
Are in three heads; one pow'r against the French;
And one against Glendower; perforce a third
Must take up us: so is the unfirm King
In three divided; and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
York.
That he should draw his sev'ral strengths together,
-- 14 --
And come against us in full puissance,
Need not be dreaded.
Hast.
If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh
Baying him at his heels. Never fear that.
Bard.
Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
Hast.
The duke of Lancaster and Westmorland:
Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth.
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I have no certain notice.
York.
Let us on,* note
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited.
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many! with what loud applause,
Didst thou beat heav'n with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou would'st have him be!
And now, being trimm'd up in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.† note
What trust in these times?
They, that when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave:
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came sighing on
After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke,
Cry'st now, O Earth, yield us that King again,
And take thou this! O thoughts of men accurs'd!
Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Street in London.
Enter Hostess, with two officers, Fang and Snare.
Host.
Mr. Fang, have you enter'd the action?
Fang.
It is enter'd.
-- 15 --
Host.
Where's your yeoman? is he a lusty yeoman?
Will he stand to it?
Fang.
Sirrah, Snare.
Snare.
Here, here.
Fang.
Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
Host.
Ay, good Mr. Snare, I have enter'd him and all.
Snare.
It may chance cost some of us our lives: he
will stab.
Host.
Alas-the-day! take heed of him; he cares not
what mischief he doth, if his weapon be out. He
will spare neither man, woman, nor child.
Fang.
If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.
* note Host.
No, nor I neither; I'll be at your elbow.
Fang.
If I but fist him once; if he come but within
my† note vice.
Host.
I am undone by his going; I warrant you he is
an infinitive thing upon my score. Good Mr. Fang, hold
him sure; good Mr. Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes
continually to Pie-corner, saving your manhoods, to buy
a saddle; and he is indited to dinner to the Lubbar's-head,
in Lombard-street, to Mr. Smooth's the Silkman. I
pray ye, since my exion‡ note is enter'd, and my case so
openly known to the world, let him be brought in to
his answer. A hundred mark is a long loan for a poor
lone woman to bear; and I have born, and born, and
born: and have been fub'd off, and fub'd off, from this
day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on.
There is no honesty in such dealing, unless a woman
should be made an ass and a beast, to bear every knave's
wrong. Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nose
knave&verbar2; note, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do
your offices: Mr. Fang, and Mr. Snare, do me, do me,
do me your offices.
-- 16 --
Enter Falstaff, Bardolph, and Boy.
Fal.
How now? whose mare's dead? what's the
matter?
Fang.
Sir John, I arrest you, at the suit of Mrs.
Quickly.
Fal.
Away, varlets; draw, Bardolph: cut me off the
villain's head: throw the quean in the kennel.
Host.
Throw me in the kennel? I'll throw thee in the
kennel. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue.
Murder, murder! O thou honey-suckle* note villain, wilt
thou kill Heav'n's officers and the King's? O thou
honey-seed rogue, thou art a honey-seed, a man-queller,
and a woman-queller.
Fal.
Keep them off, Bardolph.
Fang.
A rescue, a rescue!
Host.
Good people, bring a rescue or two; thou
wo't, wo't thou; thou wo't, wo't thou, rogue; do, thou
hempseed.
Fal.
Away, you scullion, you rampallian† note, you fustilarian:
I'll tickle your catastrophe.
SCENE V.
Enter Chief Justice, and Servants.
Ch. Just.
What's the matter? keep the peace here,
hoa.
Host.
Good my Lord, be good to me. I beseech you,
stand to me.
Ch. Just.
How now, Sir John? what, are you
brawling here?
Does this become your place, your time, and business?
You should have been well on your way to York.
Stand from him, fellow, wherefore hang'st thou on him?
Host.
O my most worshipful Lord, an't please your
Grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested
at my suit.
-- 17 --
Ch. Just.
For what sum?
Host.
It is more than for some, my Lord, it is for all,
all I have; he hath eaten me out of house and home;
he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his.
Ch. Just.
How comes this, Sir John? fy, what man
of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation?
are you not asham'd, to inforce a poor widow to
so rough a course to come by her own?
Fal.
What is the gross sum that I owe thee?
Host.
* noteMarry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and
the money, too. Thou didst swear to me on a parcel-gilt-goblet,
sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round
table, by a sea-coal fire, on Wednesday in Whitsun-week,
when the Prince broke thy head for likening him to a
singing-man of Windsor; thou didst swear to me then, as
I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me
my Lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife
Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me
gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar;
telling us she had a good dish of prawns, whereby thou
didst desire to eat some; whereby I told thee, they were ill
for a green wound: And didst not thou, when she was
gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity
with such poor people, saying that ere long they
should call me Madam? And didst thou not kiss me, and
bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to
thy book-oath; deny it if thou canst.
Fal.
My Lord, this is a poor mad soul; and she says,
up and down the town, that her eldest son is like you.
She hath been in good case; and the truth is, poverty
hath distracted her; but for these foolish officers, I beseech
you, I may have redress against them.
Ch. Just.
Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted
with your manner of wrenching the true cause, the false
way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of
words, that come with such more than impudent sawciness
from you, can thrust me from a level consideration.
-- 18 --
I know you have practis'd upon the easy-yielding spirit
of this woman—
Host.
Yes, in troth, my Lord.
Ch. Just.
Pr'ythee, peace; pay her the debt you owe
her, and unpay the villainy you have done her: the one
you may do with sterling money, and the other with
current repentance.
Fal.
My Lord, I will not undergo this rebuke, without
reply. You call honourable boldness impudent
sawciness: If a man will court'sy, and say nothing, he
is virtuous. No, my Lord, my humble duty remember'd,
I will not be your suitor; I say to you, I desire
deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment
in the King's affairs.
Ch. Just.
You speak, as having power to do wrong:
but clear your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.
Fal.
Come hither, Hostess.
[They go aside.
SCENE VI.
Enter Mr. Gower.
Ch. Just.
Master Gower, what news?
Gower.
The King, my Lord, and Henry Prince of
Wales, are at hand: the rest the paper tells.
Fal.
As I am a gentleman—
[To Hostess.
Host.
Nay, you said so before.
Fal.
As I am a gentleman—come, no more words of
it.
Host.
By this heav'nly ground I tread on, I must be
fain to pawn both my plate, and the tapestry of my dining-chambers.
Fal.
Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking; and for thy
walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal,
or the German hunting, in water-work, is worth a thousand
of these bed-hangings, and these fly-bitten tapestries:
let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, if it
were not for thy humours, there is not a better wench
in England. Go, wash thy face, and withdraw thy action:
come, thou must not be in this humour with me; come,
I know thou wast set on to this.
-- 19 --
Host.
Pr'ythee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles;
I am loth to pawn my plate, in good earnest, la.
Fal.
Let it alone, I'll make other shift; you'll be a
fool still.
Host.
Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown.
I hope you'll come to supper: you'll pay me all together.
Fal.
Will I live? go with her, with her; hook on,
hook on.
Host.
Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you, at
supper?
Fal.
No more words. Let's have her.
[Exeunt Hostess, Serjeant, &c.
Ch. Just.
I have heard better news.
Fal.
What's the news, my good Lord?
Ch. Just.
Where lay the King, last night?
Gower.
At Basingstoke, my Lord.
Fal.
I hope, my Lord, all's well. What is the news,
my Lord?
Ch. Just.
Come all his forces back?
Gower.
No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse,
Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.
Fal.
Comes the King back from Wales, my noble
Lord?
Ch. Just.
You shall have letters of me, presently.
Come, go along with me, good Mr. Gower.
Fal.
Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to
dinner?
Gower.
I must wait upon my good Lord here,
I thank you, good Sir John.
Ch. Just.
Sir John, you loiter here too long, being
you are to take soldiers up in the countries, as you go.
Fal.
I fly, master Gower!
[Exeunt.* note
-- 20 --
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
