SCENE I.
A street in London.
Enter Hostess; Phang, and his boy, with her; and Snare following.
Host.
Master Phang, have you enter'd the action?
Phang.
It is enter'd.
Host.
Where is your yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman?
will a' stand to't?
-- 470 --
Phang.
Sirrah, where's Snare?
Host.
O lord, ay; good master Snare.
Snare.
Here, here.
Phang.
Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff.
Host.
Ay, good master Snare; I have enter'd him
and all.
Snare.
It may chance cost some of us our lives, for
he will stab.
Host.
Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabb'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.
Phang.
If I can close with him, I care not for his
thrust.
Host.
No, nor I neither; I'll be at your elbow.
Phang.
An I but fist him once; 9 notean he come but
within my vice;—
Host.
I am undone by his going; I warrant you,
he's an infinitive thing upon my score:—Good master
Phang, hold him sure;—good master Snare, let him
not scape. He comes continuantly to Pye-corner, (saving
your manhoods) to buy a saddle; and he's indited
to dinner to the 1 notelubbar's head in Lumbart-street,
to master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my
exion is enter'd, and my case so openly known to the
world, let him be brought in to his answer. 2 note
A hundred
-- 471 --
mark is a long loan for a poor lone woman3 note 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 Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Page.
Yonder he comes; and that arrant 4 note
malmsey-nose
knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do
your offices, master Phang, and master Snare; do me,
do me, do me your offices.
Fal.
How now? who's mare's dead? what's the
matter?
Phang.
Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of mistress
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 5 notehoney-suckle
-- 472 --
villain! wilt thou kill God's officers, and the king's?
O thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a honey-seed;
6 notea man-queller, and a woman-queller.
Fal.
Keep them off, Bardolph.
Phang.
A rescue! a rescue!
Host.
Good people, bring a rescue or two.—7 noteThou
wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't thou? do, do, thou
rogue! do, thou hemp-seed!
8 noteFal.
Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you
fustilarian!9 note
I'll tickle your catastrophe1 note
.
Enter the Chief Justice, attended.
Ch. Just.
What's the matter? keep the peace here,
ho!
-- 473 --
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?
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,2 note
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 enforce 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, thyself,
and the money too. Thou didst swear to me upon
-- 474 --
3 note
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
4 notefor likening his father 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 Keech5 note, the
butcher's wife, come in then, and call me gossip
Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar6 note
;
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 thou not,
-- 475 --
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;
7 noteI know, you have practis'd upon the easy-yielding
spirit of this woman, and made her serve
your uses both in purse and person.
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 8 note
this sneap without
-- 476 --
reply. You call honourable boldness, impudent
sawciness: if a man will make curt'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 do 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 9 noteanswer in the effect of your reputation, and satisfy
the poor woman.
Fal.
Come hither, hostess.
[Taking her aside.
Enter a Messenger.
Ch. Just.
Now, 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 heavenly 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 1 note
German hunting in water-work, is
-- 477 --
worth a thousand of 2 note
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 action9Q0731: Come, thou must not be in
this humour with me; do'st not know me? Come,
come, I know thou wast set on to this.
Host.
Pray thee, 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.
3 note
[To the officers.
Host.
Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you at
supper?
Fal.
No more words; let's have her.
[Exeunt Hostess, Bardolph, Officers, &c.
Ch. Just.
I have heard better news.
Fal.
What's the news, my good lord?
Ch. Just.
Where lay the king last night?
-- 478 --
Gower.
4 noteAt Basingstoke, my lord.
Fal.
I hope, my lord, all's well: What's 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 master 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 counties as you go.
Fal.
Will you sup with me, master Gower?
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 II.
Continues in London.
Enter prince Henry, and Poins.
P. Henry.
Trust me, I am exceeding weary.
-- 479 --
Poins.
Is it come to that? I had thought, weariness
durst not have attach'd one of so high blood.
P. Henry.
'Faith, it does 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 linen with thee, when thou keepest not racket
there; as thou hast not done a great while, because
the rest of thy low-countries have made a shift to eat
up thy holland: 5 note
and God knows, whether those
-- 480 --
that bawl out the ruins of thy linen, shall inherit his
kingdom: but the midwives say, the children are
not in the fault; whereupon the world encreases, and
kindreds are mightily strengthen'd.
Poins.
How ill it follows, after you have labour'd
so hard, you should talk so idly? Tell me, how many
good young princes would do so, their fathers being
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 will 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 6 note
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.
-- 481 --
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 roadway
better than thine: every man would think me
an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most
worshipful thought, to think so?
Poins.
Why, because you have been so lewd,
and so much engraffed to Falstaff.
P. Henry.
And to thee.
Poins.
Nay, by this light, I am well spoken of, I
can hear it with my own ears: the worst that they
can say of me is, that I am a second brother, and that
I am a 7 noteproper 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!
8 noteBard. [to the page.]
Come, you virtuous ass,9Q0732 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
-- 482 --
from the window: at last, I spy'd his eyes; and, methought,
he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new
petticoat,9Q0733 and peep'd through.
P. Henry.
Hath not the boy profited?
Bard.
Away, you whoreson upright rabbet, away!
Page.
Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away!
P. Henry.
Instruct us, boy: What dream, boy?
Page.
Marry, my lord, 9 noteAlthea dream'd she was
deliver'd of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her
dream.
P. Henry.
A crown's-worth of good interpretation.
—There it is, boy.
[Gives him money.
Poins.
O, that this good blossom could be kept from
cankers!—Well, there is six-pence to preserve thee.
Bard.
An you do not make him be hang'd among
you, the gallows shall have wrong.
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 1 note
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 2 notethis wen to be as familiar
-- 483 --
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 oft 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: 3 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:—
Poins.
Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the king,
nearest his father, Harry prince of Wales, greeting.—Why,
this is a certificate.
4 noteP. Henry.
Peace!
Poins.
5 noteI will imitate the honourable Roman in brevity:
—sure he means brevity in breath; short-winded.
—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
-- 484 --
say, as thou usest him) Jack Falstaff, with my familiars;
John, with my brothers and sisters; and sir John, with all
Europe.
My lord I will steep this letter in sack, and make
him eat it.
P. Henry.
6 note
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 fool 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 7 notefrank?
Bard.
At the old place, my lord; in East-cheap.
P. Henry.
What company?
Page.
8 note
Ephesians, my lord; of the old church.
-- 485 --
P. Henry.
Sup any women with him?
Page.
None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly,
and mistress Doll Tear-sheet9 note
.
P. Henry.
1 note
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.
Page.
And for mine, sir,—I will govern it.
P. Henry.
Fare ye well; go.—This Doll Tear-sheet
should be some road.
Poins.
I warrant you, as common as the way between
saint Alban's and London.
P. Henry.
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself
to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be
seen?
Poins.
2 notePut on two leather jerkins, and aprons, and
wait upon him at his table as drawers.
-- 486 --
P. Henry.
From a god to a bull? 3 note
a heavy descension!
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 III.
Warkworth Castle.
Enter Northumberland, lady Northumberland, and lady Percy.
North.
I pray thee, 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 given 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 heaven's sake, go not to these wars!
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
-- 487 --
When you were more endear'd to it than now;
When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,9Q0735
Threw many a northward look, to see his father
Bring up his powers; 4 note
but he did long in vain.
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours lost; yours, and your son's.
For yours,—may heavenly glory brighten it!
For his,—it stuck upon him, as the sun5 note
In the grey vault of heaven: 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.
6 noteHe 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,—O wondrous 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,
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
Did seem defensible9Q0736:—so you left him:
Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong,
-- 488 --
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 Hotspur'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 oversights.
But I must go, and meet with danger there;
Or it will seek me in another place,
And find me worse provided.
L. North.
O, 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,
7 note
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
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 its height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
-- 489 --
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.
SCENE IV.
London.
The Boar's-head tavern in East-cheap.
Enter two Drawers.
1 Draw.
What the devil hast thou brought there?
apple-Johns? thou know'st, sir John cannot endure
an apple-John8 note
.
2 Draw.
Mass, thou say'st 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 9 note
Sneak's noise; mistress
-- 490 --
Tear-sheet would fain hear some music. 1 noteDispatch:
—The room where they supp'd, is too hot; they'll
come in straight.
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 2 note
here will be old utis: It will be
an excellent stratagem.
2 Draw.
I'll see, if I can find out Sneak.
[Exit.
-- 491 --
Enter Hostess and Doll Tearsheet.
Host.
Sweet heart, methinks now you are in an excellent
good temperality: your pulsidge beats3 note
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 canaries; 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 than I was. Hem.
Host.
Why, that was well said; A good heart's
worth gold. Look, here comes sir John.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
When Arthur first in court4 note—Empty the jordan.—
and was a worthy king: How now, mistress Doll?
[Exit Drawer.
-- 492 --
Host.
5 noteSick of a calm: yea, good sooth.
Fal.
6 note
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.
7 note
You make fat rascals, mistress Doll.
Dol.
I make them! gluttony and diseases make
them; I make them not.
Fal.
If the cook help to make the gluttony, you
help to make the diseases, Doll: we catch of you,
Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue,
grant that.
Dol.
Ay, marry; our chains, and our jewels.
-- 493 --
Fal.
8 note
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 9 note
the charg'd chambers
bravely:—
-- 494 --
Dol.
Hang yourself,9Q0737 you muddy conger, hang
yourself!
Host.
Why, this is the old fashion; you two
never meet, but you fall to some discord: you are
both, in good troth, as 1 note
rheumatic 2 noteas two dry
toasts; you cannot one bear with another's confirmities.
What the good-jere! one must bear, and that
must be you: you are the weaker vessel, as they say,
the emptier vessel.
[To Doll.
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
stuff'd 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 nobody cares.
Re-enter Drawer.
Draw.
Sir, 3 noteancient Pistol's below, and would
speak with you.
Dol.
Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not
-- 495 --
come hither: it is the foul-mouth'dst 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.
Dost thou hear, hostess?—
Host.
Pray you, pacify yourself, sir John; there
comes no swaggerers here.
Fal.
Dost 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 Dumb,
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
comes none here;—you would bless you to hear what
he said:—no, I'll no swaggerers.
Fal.
He's no swaggerer, hostess; 4 note
a tame cheater,
he; you may stroak him as gently as a puppy-greyhound:
-- 496 --
he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if
her feathers turn back in any shew of resistance.—
Call him up, drawer.
Host.
Cheater, call you him? 5 noteI will bar no honest
man my house, nor no cheater: But I do not love
swaggering by my troth; 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, an 'twere 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.
Fa.
She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly offend
her.
Host.
Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets:
-- 497 --
I'll drink no more than will do me good, for no
man's pleasure, I6 note
.
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-linen
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 bung7 note,
away! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your
mouldy chaps, 8 notean you play the saucy cuttle with me.
-- 498 --
Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale
jugler, you!—Since when, I pray you, sir?—9 note
What,
with two 1 notepoints on your shoulder? much!
Pist.
I will murder your ruff for this.
Fal.
2 noteNo more, Pistol; I would not have you go
off here: discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.
Host.
No, good captain Pistol; not here, sweet
captain.
Dol.
Captain! thou abominable damn'd cheater3 note
,
art thou not asham'd to be call'd—captain? If captains
-- 499 --
were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for
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! 4 note
He lives upon mouldy
stew'd prunes, and dry'd cakes. A captain! these villains
will make the word captain 5 note
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 Doll.
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
-- 500 --
lake, to the infernal deep, where Erebus and tortures
vile also. 6 noteHold hook and line, say I. Down! down,
dogs! down, 7 note
faitors! 8 note
Have we not Hiren here?
-- 501 --
Host.
Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is very late:
I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
Pist.
These be good humours, indeed! Shall pack-horses,
And 9 note
hollow-pamper'd jades of Asia,
-- 502 --
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Cæsars, and with 1 note
Cannibals,
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.9Q0740
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 dogs2 note
; give crowns like pins;
3 note
Have we not Hiren here?
-- 503 --
Host.
O' my word, captain, there's none such here.
What the good-jere! do you think, I would deny her?
I pray, be quiet.
Pist.
Then, 4 note
Feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis:
Come, give's some sack.
5 note
—Si fortuna me tormenta, sperato me contenta.—
-- 504 --
Fear we broad-sides? no, let the fiend give fire:
Give me some sack;—and, sweet-heart, lye thou there.
[Laying down his sword.
6 noteCome we to full points here; and are et cetera's nothing?
Fal.
Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pist.
7 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 8 noteGalloway
nags?
-- 505 --
Fal.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, 9 note
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 imbrew?
—Then death
Rock me asleep1 note
, abridge my doleful days!
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, I say!
[Snatching up his sword.
Host.
Here's goodly stuff toward!
Fal.
Give me my rapier, boy.
Dol.
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, 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 pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal is gone.
Ah, you whorson little valiant villain, you!
Host.
Are you not hurt i'the groin? methought, he
made a shrewd thrust at your belly.
[Re-enter Bard.
Fal.
Have you turn'd him out of doors?
-- 506 --
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: Ah, villain!9Q0742
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,
Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from
me like quicksilver.
Dol.
I'faith, and thou follow'd'st him like a church.
Thou whorson 2 note
little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when
wilt thou leave fighting o' days, and foining o' nights,
and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
Enter, behind, prince Henry and Poins, disguised like drawers.
Fal.
Peace, good Doll! do not speak 3 note
like a death's
head; do not bid me remember mine end.
-- 507 --
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 4 noteTewksbury mustard; there is no more
conceit in him, than is in a mallet5 note.
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 6 note
eats conger and fennel;
-- 508 --
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 leg7 note;
and breeds no bate with telling of 8 note
discreet stories:
and such other gambol faculties he hath, that shew a
-- 509 --
weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince
admits him: for the prince himself is such another;
the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their
averdupois.
P. Henry.
Would not this 9 note
nave of a wheel have
his ears cut off?
Poins.
Let's 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, Doll.
P. Henry.
1 noteSaturn and Venus this year in conjunction!
what says the almanack to that?
Poins.
And, look, whether the fiery Trigon2 note
, his
man, be not 3 note
lisping to his master's old tables9Q0744; his
note-book, his counsel-keeper.
-- 510 --
Fal.
Thou dost give me flattering busses.
Dol.
Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a most constant
heart.
Fal.
I am old, I am old.
Dol.
I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy
young boy of them all.
Fal.
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of4 note
? I shall
receive money on thursday: thou shalt have a cap
to-morrow. A merry song, come: it grows late,
we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me, when I am
gone.
Dol.
By my troth, thou'lt set me a weeping, an
thou say'st so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome
'till thy return.—Well, hearken the end.
Fal.
Some sack, Francis.
-- 511 --
P. Henry. Poins.
Anon, anon, sir.
Fal.
5 noteHa! 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.
O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! welcome
to London.—Now heaven bless that sweet face
of thine! what, are you come from Wales?
Fal.
Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty,—
by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
[Leaning his hand upon Doll.
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 whoreson 6 notecandle-mine, you, how
vilely did you speak of me even now, before this honest,
virtuous, civil gentlewoman?
Host.
'Blessing o' 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.
P. Henry.
I shall drive you then to confess the wilful
abuse; and then I know how to handle you.
-- 512 --
Fal.
No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no abuse.
P. Henry.
No! 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
cowardice, 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 prick'd down Bardolph irrecoverable;
and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen,
where he doth nothing but roast malt-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, 7 noteand
burns, poor soul! 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.
-- 513 --
Host.
All victuallers8 note
do so: What's 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.
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 unpick'd. More
-- 514 --
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 [To the Page].—Farewel,
hostess;—farewel, Doll.—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 thyself.
Fal.
Farewel, Farewel.
[Exeunt Fal. and Bard.
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. [within]
Mistress Tear-sheet,—
Host.
What's the matter?
Bard.
Bid mistress Tear-sheet come to my master.
Host.
9 noteO run, Doll, run; run, good Doll.
[Exeunt.
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].
