Snare.
Hostess.
Mr. Fang, have you enter'd the action?
Fang.
It is enter'd.
Host.
Where's your yeoman? is he a lusty
yeoman? Will he stand to it?
Fang.
Sirrah, where's Snare?
Host.
O Lord, ay, good Mr. Snare.
Snare.
Here, here.
Fang.
Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
Host.
Ay, good Mr. Snare; I have enter'd him and all.
-- 459 --
Snare.
It may chance cost some of us our lives: for he will stab.
Host.
Alas-the-day! take heed of him; he stab'd me
in mine own house, and that most beastly; he cares
not what mischief he doth, if his weapon be out. He
will foin like any devil; he will spare neither man, woman,
nor child.
Fang.
If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.
Host.
No, nor I neither;—I'll be at your elbow.
Fang.
If I but fist him once; if he come but within
my 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 action is enter'd, and my case so
openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his
answer. (9) note
A hundred mark is a long Lone, for a
poor lone woman to bear; and I have borne, and borne,
and borne, 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.
Enter Falstaff, Bardolph, and the boy.
Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nose knave,
Bardolph with him. Do your offices, do your offices:
-- 460 --
Mr. Fang and Mr. Snare, do me, do me, do me your
offices.
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 hony-suckle villain, wilt thou
kill God's officers and the King's? (10) noteO thou hony-seed
rogue! thou art a hony-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? do, do, thou rogue,
do, thou hemp-seed!
Fal.
Away, you scullion, you rampallian, you fustilarian:
I'll tickle your catastrophe.
Enter Chief Justice, attended.
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?
Doth 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 East-cheap, and he is arrested
at my suit.
Ch. Just.
For what sum?
-- 461 --
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;
but I will have some of it out again, or I'll ride thee
o'nights, like the mare.
Fal.
I think, I am as like to ride the mare, if I have
any vantage of ground to get up.
Ch. Just.
How comes this, Sir John? fie, 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.
Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thy self,
and the mony too. Thou did'st 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 good-wife 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 did 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 can'st.
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
-- 462 --
from you, can thrust me from a level consideration.
I know, you have practis'd upon the easie-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 villany you have done her; the one
you may do with sterling mony, and the other with currant
repentance.
Fal.
My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without
reply. You call honourable boldness impudent sawciness:
If a man will court'sie 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 answer in the effect your reputation, and satisfie the
poor woman.
Fal.
Come hither, hostess.
[Aside.
Enter Mr. Gower.
Ch. Just.
Master Gower, what news?
Gower.
The King, my lord, and Henry Prince of Wales
Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells.
Fal.
As I am a gentleman—
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 draw
thy action: come, thou must not be in this humour
-- 463 --
with me; do'st not know me? Come, come, I know,
thou wast set on to this.
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 Host. and Serjeant.
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 Arch-bishop.
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.
My lord,—
Ch. Just.
What's the matter?
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 countreys as
you go.
Fal.
Will you sup with me, master Gower?
-- 464 --
(11) note
Ch. Just.
What foolish master taught you these
manners, Sir John?
Fal.
Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a
fool that taught them me. This is the right fencing
grace, my lord, tap for tap, and so part fair.
Ch. Just.
Now the lord lighten thee, thou art a great
fool!
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
SCENE continues in London.
Enter Prince Henry and Poins.
P. Henry.
Trust me, I am exceeding weary.
Poins.
Is it come to that? I had
thought, weariness durst not have attach'd one of so
high blood.
P. Henry.
It doth me, though it discolours the complexion
of my Greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it
not shew vilely in me to desire small beer?
Poins.
Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied,
as to remember so weak a composition.
P. Henry.
Belike then, my appetite was not princely
got; for, in 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 the peach-colour'd ones;) or to bear the inventory
of thy shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other for
use; but that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than
I, for it is a low ebb of linnen with thee, when thou
keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a great
-- 465 --
while, because the rest of thy low Countreys have made
a shift to eat up thy holland. And God knows, whether
those, that bawl out of the ruins of thy linnen, 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 labour'd so
hard, you should talk so idley? tell me, how many good
young Princes would do so, their fathers lying so sick
as yours at this time is.
P. Henry.
Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?
Poins.
Yes, and let it be an excellent good thing.
P. Henry.
It shall serve among wits of no higher
breeding than thine.
Poins.
Go to; I stand the push of your one thing,
that you'll tell.
P. Henry.
Why, 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.
P. Henry.
By this hand, thou think'st 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?
P. Henry.
What would'st thou think of me, if I should
weep?
Poins.
I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
P. Henry.
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 excites your most worshipful
thought to think so?
Poins.
Why, because you have seemed so lewd, and
so much ingraffed to Falstaff.
-- 466 --
P. Henry.
And to thee.
Poins.
Nay, by this light, I am well spoken of, I can
hear it with mine own ears; the worst 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. Look, look, here comes Bardolph.
P. Henry.
And the Boy that I gave Falstaff; he had
him from me christian, and, see, if the fat villain have
not transform'd him ape.
Enter Bardolph and Page.
Bard.
Save your Grace.
P. Henry.
And yours, most noble Bardolph.
(12) noteBard.
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 it such a
matter to get a pottle-pot's maiden-head?
Page.
He call'd me even now, my lord, through a
red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from
the window; at last, I spy'd his eyes, and, methought,
he had made two holes in the ale-wives new petticoat,
and peep'd through.
P. Henry.
Hath not the boy profited?
Bard.
Away, you whorson upright rabbet, away!
Page.
Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away!
P. Henry.
Instruct us, boy, what dream, boy?
Page.
Marry, my lord, Althea dream'd, she was
deliver'd of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her
dream.
P. Henry.
A crowns-worth of good interpretation;
there it is, boy.
[Gives him mony.
Poins.
O that this good blossom could be kept from
cankers! well, there is six pence to preserve thee.
-- 467 --
Bard.
If you do not make him be hang'd among you,
the Gallows shall be wrong'd.
P. Henry.
And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
Bard.
Well, my good lord; he heard of your Grace's
coming to town. There's a letter for you.
P. Henry.
Deliver'd with good respect;—and how
doth the Martlemas, your Master?
Bard.
In bodily health, Sir.
Poins.
Marry, the immortal part needs a physician;
but that moves not him; though that be sick, it dies not.
P. Henry.
I do allow this wen 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 often as he hath occasion to name
himself: even like those that are kin to the King, for
they never prick their finger but they say, there is some
of the King's blood spilt. How comes that? says he,
that takes upon him not to conceive: (13) notethe answer
is as ready as a borrower's cap; I am the King's poor
cousin, Sir.
P. Henry.
Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will
fetch it from Japhet. But, to the letter:—Sir John
Falstaff, knight, to the son of the King, nearest his father,
Harry Prince of Wales, Greeting.
Poins.
Why, this is a certificate.
P. Henry.
Peace.
I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity.(14) note
-- 468 --
Poins.
Sure, he means brevity in breath; short-winded.
P. Henry.
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 may'st,
and so farewel. 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 will steep this letter in sack, and
make him eat it.
P. Henry.
That's to make him eat twenty of his
words. But do you use me thus, Ned? must I marry
your sister?
Poins.
May the wench have no worse fortune! But
I never said so.
P. Henry.
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?
Bard.
Yes, my lord.
P. Henry.
Where sups he? doth the old Boar feed in
the old frank?
Bard.
At the old place, my lord, in East-cheap.
P. Henry.
What company?
Page.
Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.
P. Henry.
Sup any women with him?
Page.
None, my lord, but old Mrs. Quickly, and
Mrs. Dol Tear-sheet.
P. Henry.
What Pagan may that be?
Page.
A proper gentlewoman, Sir, and a kinswoman
of my master's.
P. Henry.
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.
P. Henry.
Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word
to your master that I am yet come to town. There's
for your silence.
Bard.
I have no tongue, Sir.
-- 469 --
Page.
And for mine, Sir, I will govern it.
P. Henry.
Fare ye well: go. This Dol Tear-sheet
should be some road.
Poins.
I warrant you, as common as the way between
St. Albans and London.
P. Henry.
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself
to night in his true colours, and not our selves be seen?
Poins.
Put on two leather jerkins and aprons, and
wait upon him at his table, as drawers.
P. Henry.
From a God to a Bull? (15) note
a heavy declension.
It was Jove's case. From a Prince to a prentice,
a low transformation; that shall be mine: for in
every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly.
Follow me, Ned.
[Exeunt.
Scene 3
SCENE changes to Northumberland's Castle.
Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and Lady Percy.
North.
I pr'ythee, 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.
L. North.
I have giv'n over, I will speak no more:
Do what you will: your wisdom be your guide.
North.
Alas, sweet wife, my Honour is at pawn,
And, but my Going, nothing can redeem it.
L. Percy.
Oh, yet, for heav'ns sake, go not to these wars.
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
-- 470 --
When you were more endear'd to it, than now;
When your own Percy, when my heart-dear Harry,
Threw many a northward Look, to see his father
Bring up his Pow'rs: but he did look in vain!(16) note
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two Honours lost; yours and your son's.
For yours, may heav'nly Glory brighten it!
For his, it stuck upon him as the Sun
In the grey vault of heav'n: 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, that 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, wond'rous 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,
-- 471 --
Where nothing but the sound of Hot-spur'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 Hot-spur's neck)
Have talk'd of Monmouth's Grave.
North.
Beshrew your heart,
Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me,
With new-lamenting ancient over-sights.
But I must go and meet with danger there;
Or it will seek me in another place,
And find me worse provided.
L. North.
Fly to Scotland,
Till that the Nobles and the armed Commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
L. 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 suffer'd; 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 heav'n,
For recordation to my noble husband.
North.
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.
-- 472 --
Scene 4
SCENE changes to the Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap.
Enter two Drawers.
1 Draw.
What the devil hast thou brought
there? Apple-Johns? thou know'st,
Sir John cannot endure an Apple-John.
2 Draw.
Mass! thou sayest 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, wither'd knights. It anger'd him to the heart;
but he hath forgot That.
1 Draw.
Why then, cover, and set them down; and
see if thou can'st find out Sneak's Noise; Mrs. Tear-sheet
would fain hear some musick. Dispatch! the room
where they supt is too hot, they'll come in strait.
2 Draw.
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.
1 Draw.
Then here will be old Utis: it will be an
excellent stratagem.
2 Draw.
I'll see, if I can find out Sneak.
[Exeunt.
Enter Hostess and Dol.
Host.
I'faith, sweet heart, 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: but, i'faith, you
have drank too much canarys, and that's a marvellous
searching wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere we can
say what's this. How do you now?
Dol.
Better then I was: hem.—
Host.
Why, that was well said: a good heart's worth
gold. Look, here comes Sir John.
-- 473 --
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
When Arthur first in Court—empty the jourden
—and was a worthy King: how now, Mrs.
Dol?
Host.
Sick of a calm: yea, good sooth.
Fal.
So is all her sect; if they be once in a calm,
they are sick.
Dol.
You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you
give me?
Fal.
You make fat rascals, Mrs. Dol.
Dol.
I make them! gluttony and diseases make them,
I make them not.
Fal.
If the cook make the gluttony, you help to make
the diseases, Dol; we catch of you, Dol, we catch of
you; grant That, my poor Vertue, grant That.
Dol.
Ay, marry, our chains and our jewels.
Fal.
Your brooches, pearls and owches: 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—
Dol.
Hang your self, you muddy Conger, hang your
self!
Host.
By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two
never meet, but you fall to some discord; you are both,
in good troth, as rheumatick as two dry toasts, you cannot
one bear with another's confirmities. What the
good-jer? one must bear, and that must be you: you
are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.
[To Dol.
Dol.
Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full
hogshead? there's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux
stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuft
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 no body cares.
-- 474 --
Enter Drawer.
Draw.
Sir, antient Pistol is below, and would speak
with you.
Dol.
Hang him, swaggering rascal, let him not come
hither; it is the foul-mouthd'st rogue in England.
Host.
If he swagger, let him not come here: no, by
my faith: I must live amongst 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.
Fal.
Do'st thou hear, Hostess?—
Host.
Pray you, pacifie your self, Sir John; there
comes no swaggerers here.
Fal.
Do'st thou hear—it is mine Ancient.
Host.
Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me; your Ancient
swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before
master Tisick the deputy the other day; and, as he said
to me—it was no longer ago than Wednesday last—
neighbour Quickly, says he;—master Domb our minister
was by then;—neighbour Quickly, says he,
receive those that are civil; for saith he, you are in an
ill name: (now he 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 come
none here. You would bless you, to hear what he said.
No, I'll no swaggerers.
Fal.
He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater,
i'faith; you may stroak him as gently as a puppey-greyhound;
he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her
feathers turn back in any shew of resistance. Call him
up, drawer.
Host.
(17) noteCheater, call you him? I will bar no honest
-- 475 --
man my house, nor no cheater; but I do not love
swaggering, by my troth; (18) note
I am the worse, when
one says, swagger: feel, masters, how I shake, look you,
I warrant you.
Dol.
So you do, hostess.
Host.
Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, as if it were an
aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, Bardolph and Page.
Pist.
Save you, Sir John.
Fal.
Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge
you with a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine
hostess.
Pist.
I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two
bullets.
Fal.
She is pistol-proof, Sir, you shall hardly offend
her.
Host.
Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets:
I will drink no more than will do me good, for no man's
pleasure, I.
Pist.
Then to you, Mistress Dorothy, I will charge
you.
Dol.
Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion!
what? you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linnen
mate; away, you mouldy rogue, away, I am meat for
your master.
Pist.
I know you, mistress Dorothy.
Dol.
Away, you cut-purse rascal, you filthy bung,
-- 476 --
away: by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy
chaps, if you play the sawcy cuttle with me. Away, you
bottle-ale rascal, you basket-hilt stale jugler, you. Since
when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two points on your
shoulder? much.
Pist.
I will murther your ruff for this.
Fal.
No more, Pistol; I wou'd not have you go off
here: discharge your self of our company, Pistol.
Host.
No, good captain Pistol: not here, sweet captain.
Dol.
Captain! thou abominable damn'd cheater, art
thou not asham'd to be call'd captain? if Captains
were of my mind, they would truncheon you out of
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 dry'd cakes. A captain! these villains will
make the word captain as odious as the word occupy;
which was an excellent good word, before it was ill
sorted: therefore captains had need look to it.
Bard.
Pray thee, go down, good Ancient.
Fal.
Hark thee hither, mistress Dol.
Pist.
Not I: I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I
could tear her: I'll be reveng'd on her.
Page.
Pray thee, go down.
Pist.
I'll see her damn'd first: to Pluto's damned
lake, to the infernal deep, where Erebus and tortures
vile also. Hold hook and line, say I: down! down,
dogs; down, fates: have we not Hiren here?
Host.
Good captain Peesel, be quiet, it is very late: I
beseech you now, aggravate your choler.
Pist.
These be good humours, indeed. Shall pack-horses(19) note
-- 477 --
And hollow-pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Cæsars, and with Cannibals,
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar:
Shall we fall foul for toys?
Host.
By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
Bard.
Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a
brawl anon.
Pist.
Die men, like dogs; give crowns like pins:
(20) note
have We not Hiren here?
Host.
O' my word, captain, there's none such here.
What the good-jer? do you think, I would deny her?
I pray, be quiet.
Pist.
Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis; come,
-- 478 --
give me some sack. Si fortuna me tormente, sperato me
contente.
Fear we broad sides? no, let the fiend give fire:
Give me some sack: and, sweet-heart, lye thou there:
Come we to full points here; and are & cætera's nothing?
Fal.
Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pist.
(21) note
Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: what! we
have seen the seven stars.
Dol.
Thrust him down stairs, I cannot endure such
a fustian rascal.
Pist.
Thrust him down stairs? know we not galloway
nags?
Fal.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat
shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he
shall be nothing here.
Bard.
Come, get you down stairs.
Pist.
What shall we have incision? shall we embrew?
then Death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful
days: why, then let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
untwine the sisters three: come, Atropos, I say.
[Drawing his sword.
-- 479 --
Host.
Here's goodly stuff toward.
Fal.
Give me my rapier, boy.
Dol.
I pr'ythee, Jack, I pr'ythee, do not draw.
Fal.
Get you down stairs.
[Drawing, and driving Pistol out.
Host.
Here's a goodly tumult; I'll forswear keeping
house, before I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So;
murther, I warrant now. Alas, alas, put up your naked
weapons, put up your naked weapons.
Dol.
I pr'ythee, Jack, be quiet, the rascal is gone:
ah, you whorson, little valiant villain, you!
Host.
Are you not hurt i'th' groin? methought, he
made a shrewd thrust at your belly.
Fal.
Have you turn'd him out of doors?
Bard.
Yes, Sir, the rascal's drunk: you have hurt
him, Sir, in the shoulder.
Fal.
A rascal, to brave me!—
Dol.
Ah, you sweet little rogue, you: alas, poor ape,
how thou sweat'st? come, let me wipe thy face—
come on, you whorson chops—ah, rogue! I love thee—
thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of
Agamemnon; and ten times better than the nine Worthies:
a villain!
Fal.
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
Dol.
Do, if thou dar'st for thy heart: if thou do'st,
I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
Enter Musick.
Page.
The musick is come, Sir.
Fal.
Let them play; play, Sirs. Sit on my knee,
Dol. A rascal, bragging slave! the rogue fled from
me like quick-silver.
Dol.
I'faith, and thou followd'st him like a church:
thou whorson little tydie Bartholomew Boar-pig, when
wilt thou leave fighting on days, and foyning on
nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
-- 480 --
Enter Prince Henry and Poins disguis'd.
Fal.
Peace, good Dol, do not speak like a death's-head:
do not bid me remember mine end.
Dol.
Sirrah, what humour is the Prince of?
Fal.
A good shallow young fellow: he would have
made a good Pantler, he would have chipp'd bread well.
Dol.
They say, Poins hath a good wit.
Fal.
He a good wit? hang him, baboon!—his wit is
as thick as Tewksbury mustard: there is no more conceit
in him, than is in a mallet.
Dol.
Why doth the Prince love him so then?
Fal.
Because their legs are both of a bigness: and
he 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 joint
stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his
boot very smooth like unto the sign of the leg, and
breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such
other gambol faculties he hath, that shew a weak mind
and an able body, for the which the Prince admits him:
for the Prince himself is such another: the weight of
an hair will turn the scales between their Averdupois.
P. Henry.
Would not this Nave of a wheel have his
ears cut off?
Poins.
Let us beat him before his whore.
P. Henry.
Look, if the wither'd Elder hath not his
poll claw'd like a Parrot.
Poins.
Is it not strange, that desire should so many
years out-live performance?
Fal.
Kiss me, Dol.
P. Henry.
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction!
what says the almanack 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?
Fal.
Thou dost give me flattering busses.
Dol.
By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant
heart.
Fal.
I am old, I am old.
-- 481 --
Dol.
I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy
young boy of them all.
Fal.
What stuff wilt thou have a kirtle of? I shall
receive mony on Thursday: Thou shalt have a cap to
morrow. A merry song, come: it grows late, we will
to bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone.
Dol.
By my troth, thou wilt set me a weeping if thou
say'st so: prove, that ever I dress my self handsom till
thy return—Well, hearken the end.
Fal.
Some sack, Francis.
P. Henry. Poins.
Anon, anon, Sir.
Fal.
Ha! a bastard son of the King's! and art not
thou Poins his brother?
P. Henry.
Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what
a life dost thou lead?
Fal.
A better than thou: I am a gentleman, thou art
a drawer.
P. Henry.
Very true, Sir; and I come to draw you
out by the ears.
Host.
Oh, the lord preserve thy good Grace! Welcome
to London.—Now heav'n bless that sweet face of
thine: what, are you come from Wales?
Fal.
Thou whorson-mad compound of majesty, by
this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
[Leaning his hand upon Dol.
Dol.
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.
P. Henry.
You whorson candle-myne, you, how vilely
did you speak of me even now, before this honest,
virtuous, civil gentlewoman?
Host.
'Blessing on your good heart, and so she is, by
my troth.
Fal.
Didst thou hear me?
P. Henry.
Yes; and you knew me, as you did when
you ran away by Gads-hill; you knew, I was at your
back, and spoke it on purpose to try my patience.
Fal.
No, no, no; not so; I did not think, thou wast
within hearing.
-- 482 --
P. Henry.
I shall drive you then to confess the wilful
abuse, and then I know how to handle you.
Fal.
No abuse, Hal, on my honour, no abuse.
P. Henry.
Not to dispraise me, and call me pantler,
and bread-chipper, and I know not what?
Fal.
No abuse, Hal.
Poins.
No abuse!
Fal.
No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none.
I disprais'd him before the wicked, that the wicked
might not fall in love with him; 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, boys, none.
P. Henry.
See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardise
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 the boy of the
wicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his
nose, of the wicked?
Poins.
Answer, thou dead Elm, answer.
Fal.
The fiend hath prickt down Bardolph irrecoverable,
and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he
doth nothing but roast mault-worms: for the boy,
there is a good angel about him, but the devil out-bids
him too.
P. Henry.
For the women?
Fal.
For one of them, she is in hell already, and
burns poor souls: for the other, I owe her money; and
whether she be damn'd for that, I know not.
Host.
No, I warrant you.
Fal.
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.
Host.
All victuallers do so: what is a joint of mutton
or two in a whole Lent?
P. Henry.
You, gentlewoman,—
Dol.
What says your Grace?
Fal.
His Grace says That, which his flesh rebels against.
-- 483 --
Host.
Who knocks so loud at door? look to the door
there, Francis.
Enter Peto.
P. Henry.
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.
P. Henry.
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 and Poins.
Fal.
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night,
and we must hence, and leave it unpickt. More knocking
at the door? how now? what's the matter?
Bard.
You must away to Court, Sir, presently: a
dozen captains stay at door for you.
Fal.
Pay the musicians, Sirrah: farewel, Hostess;
farewel, Dol. 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. Farewel, good
wenches; if I be not sent away post, I will see you again,
ere I go.
Dol.
I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready to
burst—well; sweet Jack, have a care of thy self.
Fal.
Farewel, farewel.
[Exit.
Host.
Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these
twenty nine years, come pescod-time; but an honester
and truer-hearted man—well, fare thee well.
Bard.
Mrs. Tear-sheet,—
Host.
What's the matter?
Bard.
Bid Mistress Tear-sheet come to my master.
Host.
O run, Dol, run; run, good Dol.
[Exeunt.
-- 484 --
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
