SCENE II.
A street in London.
Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his page bearing his sword and buckler.
Fal.
Sirrah, you giant! 1 note
what says the doctor to my water?
-- 453 --
Page.
He said, sir, the water itself was a good
healthy water: but, for the party that owed it, he
might have more diseases than he knew for.
Fal.
Men of all sorts take a pride to gird2 note
at me:
The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is
not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter,
more than I invent, or is invented on me: I am not
only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other
men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow, that
hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince
put thee into my service for any other reason than to set
me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whorson
3 notemandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap,
than to wait at my heels. 4 note
I was never mann'd with
-- 454 --
an agate 'till now: but I will neither set you in gold
nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again
to your master, for a jewel; 5 note
the juvenal, the prince
your master, whose chin is not yet fledg'd. I will
sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand,
than he shall get one on his cheek; yet he will not
stick to say, his face is a face-royal. Heaven may
finish it when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet: 6 note
he
may keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber shall
never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he will be crowing,
as if he had writ man ever since his father was a
batchelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is
almost out of mine, I can assure him.—What said
master Dombledon7 note about the sattin for my short
cloak, and slops?
-- 455 --
Page.
He said, sir, you should procure him better
assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his bond
and yours; he lik'd not the security.
Fal.
Let him be damn'd like the glutton! may his
tongue be hotter!—A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally
yea-forsooth knave! 8 note
to bear a gentleman in hand,
and then stand upon security!—The whoreson smooth-pates
do now wear nothing but high shoes, and
bunches of keys at their girdles; and 9 note
if a man is thorough
with them in honest taking up, then they must
stand upon—security. I had as lief they would put
ratsbane in my mouth, as offer to stop it with security.
I look'd he should have sent me two and twenty yards
of sattin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me security.
Well, he may sleep in security; for he hath
the horn of abundance, and 1 note
the lightness of his wife
-- 456 --
shines through it: and yet cannot he see, though
he have his own lanthorn to light him.—Where's
Bardolph?
Page.
He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship
a horse.
Fal.
2 note
I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a
horse in Smithfield: if I could get me but a wife in
the stews, I were mann'd, hors'd, and wiv'd.
-- 457 --
Enter the Lord Chief Justice,3 note 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! Is there
not wars? is there not employment? Doth not the
king lack subjects? do not the rebels want 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
-- 458 --
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 get'st any leave of
me, hang me; if thou tak'st leave, thou wert better
be hang'd: You 4 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!—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 whoreson apoplexy.
Ch. Just.
Well, heaven 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 whoreson tingling.
Ch. Just.
What tell you me of it? be it as it is.
-- 459 --
Fal.
It hath its original from much grief; from
study, and perturbation of the brain: I have read the
cause of his effects in Galen; it is a kind of deafness.
Ch. Just.
I think, you are fallen into the disease;
for you hear not what I say to you.
5 note
Fal.
Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an't
please you, it is the disease of not listening, 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 itself.
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 advised by my learned counsel
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.
-- 460 --
Fal.
I would it were otherwise; I would my means
were greater, and my waist 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 6 note
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 o'er-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.
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.
8 note
You follow the young prince up and
down, like his ill angel.
-- 461 --
Fal.
Not so, my lord; your ill 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, 9 noteI cannot tell: Virtue is of so little
regard 1 note
in these coster-monger times, that true valour
is turn'd bear-herd: Pregnancy2 note is made a tapster,
and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings:
all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice
of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry.
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
-- 462 --
short? your chin double? 3 note
your wit single? and every
part about you blasted with antiquity?4 note
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'the ear
that the prince gave you,—he gave it like a rude
prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have
check'd 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, heaven send the prince a better
companion!
Fal.
Heaven 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.
-- 463 --
Fal.
Yea; 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,
an I brandish any thing but my bottle, 5 note
I 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: 6 noteBut it was always
yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good
thing, to make it too common. If you 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 heaven
bless your expedition!
Fal.
Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound,
to furnish me forth?
Ch. Just.
Not a penny, not a penny; 7 note
you are too
impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: Commend
me to my cousin Westmoreland.
[Exit.
-- 464 --
Fal.
If I do, fillip me with 8 notea three-man beetle.9Q0728—
A man can no more separate age and covetousness,
than he can part young limbs and lechery: but the
gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and
so both the degrees prevent9 note 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 the
earl of Westmoreland; and this to old mistress Ursula,
whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceiv'd
the first white hair on my chin: About it; you know
where to find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout!
or, a gout of this pox! for the one, or the 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 commodity1 note
.
[Exit.
-- 465 --
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
