SCENE V.
Enter Chief Justice, and Servants.
Page.
Sir, here comes the Nobleman that committed
the Prince for striking him, about Bardolph.
Fal.
Wait close, I will not see him.
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 not
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 knight-hood and my soldiership aside, I
had lied in my throat, if I had said so.
Serv.
I pray you, Sir, then set your knight-hood
and your soldiership aside, and give me leave to tell
you, you 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
-- 248 --
of me, hang me, if thou tak'st leave, thou wert better
be hang'd. You * notehunt-counter, hence; avaunt.
Serv.
Sir, my lord would speak with you.
Ch. Just.
Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
Fal.
My good lord! God 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 fallen
into this same whorson apoplexy.
Ch. Just.
Well, heav'n mend him! I pray, let me
speak with you.
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 fallen into that disease:
for you hear not what I say to you.
Fal.
5 note
Very well, my lord, very well; rather, an't
-- 249 --
please you, it is the disease of not list'ning, the malady
of not marking, that I am troubled withal.
Ch. Just.
To punish you by the heels, would amend
the attention of your ears; and I care not if I do become
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 some dram of a scruple, or, indeed,
a scruple it self.
Ch. Just.
I sent for you, when there were matters
against you for your life, to come 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 is great.
Fal.
I would it were otherwise; I would, my means
were greater, and my waste slenderer.
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.6 note
Ch. Just.
Well, I'm 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 o'er-posting
that action.
-- 250 --
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.
Ch. Just.
What? you are as a candle, the better part
burnt out.
Fal.
7 noteA wassel candle, my lord; all tallow; but if
I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
Ch. Just.
There is not a white hair on your face, but
should have his effect of gravity.
Fal.
His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.—
Ch. Just.
You follow the young Prince up and down,
like his8 note ill angel.
Fal.
Not so, my lord, your angel is light: but I
hope, he that looks upon me, will take me without
weighing; and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot
go; I cannot* note tell. Virtue is of so little regard in
these9 note coster-mongers' days, that true valour is turned
bear-herd; pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath his
quick wit wasted in giving reckonings; all the other
-- 251 --
gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age
shapes them, are not worth a goose-berry. 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 vaward
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? your chin double? 1 noteyour wit single? and every
part about you blasted with antiquity? and will you
yet call yourself young? fie, fie, fie, 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!
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
-- 252 --
Harry. I hear, you are going with lord John of Lancaster,
against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.
Fal.
Yes, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it; but
look you, pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at
home, that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by
the Lord, 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 yet 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
God, 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.
[Exit.
Fal.
If I do, fillip me with 8 notea three man beetle—
A man can no more separate age and covetousness,
than he can part young limbs and letchery; but the
gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other, and
so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy,—
Page.
Sir?
Fal.
What money is in my purse?
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
-- 253 --
the Earl of Westmoreland, 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. A pox of this gout! or, a gout of
this pox! for the one, or t'other, 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.
[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].