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].
