Falstaff meets him playing on his Truncheon like a Fife.
Fal.
How now, lad? is the wind in that door?
must we all march?
Bard.
Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.6 note
Host.
My Lord, I pray you, hear me.
P. Henry.
What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? how
-- 191 --
does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest
man.
Host.
Good my lord, hear me.
Fal.
Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Henry.
What say'st thou, Jack?
Fal.
The other night I fell asleep here behind the
arras, and had my pocket pickt. This house is turn'd
bawdy-house, they pick pockets.
P. Henry.
What didst thou lose, Jack?
Fal.
Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four
bonds of forty pounds a piece, and a seal-ring of my
grandfather's.
P. Henry.
A trifle, some eight-penny matter.
Host.
So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard
your grace say so; and, my lord, he speaks most vilely
of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and said, he
would cudgel you.
P. Henry.
What! he did not?
Host.
There's neither faith, truth, nor woman-hood
in me else.
Fal.
There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd
prune;7 note no more truth in thee than in a drawn Fox6Q0149;
and for woman-hood, 8 noteMaid Marian may be the deputy's
wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.
Host.
Say, what thing? what thing?
Fal.
What thing? why, a thing to thank God on.
Host.
I am nothing to thank God on, I would thou
should'st know it. I am an honest man's wife; and,
-- 192 --
setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call
me so.
Fal.
Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast
to say otherwise.
Host.
Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
Fal.
What beast? why, an Otter.
P. Henry.
An Otter, Sir John, why an Otter?
Fal.
Why? she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows
not where to have her.
Host.
Thou art an unjust man in saying so: thou,
or any man knows where to have me; thou knave,
thou!
P. Henry.
Thou say'st true, hostess, and he slanders
thee most grossly.
Host.
So he doth you, my lord, and said this other
day, you ow'd him a thousand pound.
P. Henry.
Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Fal.
A thousand pound, Hal? a million; thy love
is worth a million, thou ow'st me thy love.
Host.
Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and said,
he would cudgel you.
Fal.
Did I, Bardolph?
Bard.
Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
Fal.
Yea, if he said, my ring was copper.
P. Henry.
I say, 'tis copper. Dar'st thou be as
good as thy word now?
Fal.
Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but a
man, I dare; but as thou art a Prince, I fear thee, as
I fear the roaring of the Lion's whelp.
P. Henry.
And why not as the Lion?
Fal.
The King himself is to be fear'd as the Lion;
dost thou think, I'll fear thee, as I fear thy father?
nay, if I do, let my Girdle break!
P. Henry.
O, if it should, how would thy guts fall
about thy knees! But, Sirrah, there's no room for faith,
truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is all
fill'd up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest
woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whorson,
-- 193 --
impudent, 9 noteimboss'd rascal, if there were any thing in
thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, Memorandums of
bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy
to make thee long-winded; if thy pocket were
enrich'd with any other injuries but these, I am a
villain. And yet 1 noteyou will stand to it, you will not
pocket up wrongs. Art thou not asham'd?
Fal.
Dost thou hear, Hal? thou know'st in the state
of innocency, Adam fell: and what should poor Jack
Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest, I have
more flesh than another man, and therefore more
frailty.—You confess then, you pickt my pocket?
P. Henry.
It appears so by the story.
Fal.
Hostess, I forgive thee; go make ready Breakfast.
Love thy husband, look to thy servants, and cherish
thy guests; thou shalt find me tractable to any
honest reason. Thou seest, I am pacify'd still.—Nay,
I pr'ythee, be gone.
[Exit Hostess.
Now, Hal, to the news at Court? For the robbery,
lad, how is that answer'd?
P. Henry.
O my sweet beef, I must still be good
angel to thee. The money is paid back again.
Fal.
O, I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double
labour.
P. Henry.
I am good friends with my father, and
may do any thing.
Fal.
Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou
do'st, and do it with unwash'd hands too.
Bard.
Do, my Lord.
P. Henry.
I have procur'd thee, Jack, a Charge of
foot.
Fal.
I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I
-- 194 --
find one, that can steal well? O, for a fine thief, of
two and twenty, or thereabout; I am heinously unprovided.
Well, God be thank'd for these rebels,
they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I
praise them.
P. Henry.
Bardolph,—
Bard.
My Lord?
P. Henry.
Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster,
to my brother John. This to my Lord of
Westmorland; go.—2 notePeto, to horse; for thou and I
have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time. Jack, meet
me to-morrow in the Temple-Hall at two o'clock in
the afternoon, there shalt thou know thy charge, and
there receive mony and order for their furniture.
The Land is burning, Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.
Fal.
Rare words! brave world!—Hostess, my breakfast, come.
Oh, I could wish, this tavern were my drum!
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
