Boy.
Sil.
Here I think come two of Sir John Falstaffe's
Men.
Shal.
Good Morrow honest Gentlemen.
Bar.
Pray which is Justice Shallow?
-- 32 --
Shal.
I am Robert Shallow Sir, a poor Esquire of
this County, and one of the King's Justices of the
Peace—What is your good pleasure with me?
Bar.
My Captain Sir commends him to you, my
Captain Sir John Falstaffe, a tall Gentleman, and
a great Leader.
Shal.
He greets me well. I knew him a good
Back-Sword Man, how does the good Knight? may
I ask how the good Lady his Wife does?
Bar.
Pardon me Sir, a Soldier is better accomodated
than with a Wife.
Sal.
It is well said, it is well said indeed; better
accommodated is very significant. Right. Accommodated!
it comes from Accommodo, a very good Phrase.
Bar.
Pardon me Sir, I have heard the Word.
Phrase call you it? By this Day! I know not the
Phrase, but I will maintain the Word with my
Sword, to be a Soldier like Word, and a Word of
exceeding good Command—Accommodated? That
is when a Man is as they say, accommodated, or
when a Man is, being, whereby, he be thought to
be accommodated, which is an excellent thing.
Enter Falstaffe.
Shal.
It is very just—Look here comes good Sir
John himself: give me your Hand, give me your
Worship's good Hand; trust me you look well! and
bear your Years very well; welcome good Sir John.
Fal.
I am glad to see you well good Mr. Robert
Shallow. Mr. Surecard as I take it.
Shal.
No Sir John, it is my Cozen Silence, in
Commission with me.
Fal.
Good Mr. Silence, it well befits you be of the
Peace.
Sil.
Your good Worship is welcome.
-- 33 --
Fal.
Well Gentlemen, have you provided me
half a dozen sufficient Men?
Shal.
Marry have we Sir, will you please to sit?
Fal.
Let me see 'em I beseech you.
Shal.
Where's the Roll? where's the Roll? Let
me see, let me see. So, so, so,—Ralph Mouldy—Let
'em appear as I call? let 'em do so? Let me see
where's Mouldy?
Enter Mouldy.
Moul.
Here if it please you.
Shal.
What think you Sir John? a good limb'd
Fellow, Young, Strong, and of good Friends.
Fal.
Is thy name Mouldy?
Mould.
Yes an't please you.
Fal.
Prick him down.
Moul.
I was well enough before, if you would
have let me alone: my old Dame will be undone
now for one to do her Husbandry, and her Drudgery;
you need not to have prickt me, there are other
Men fitter to go out than I.
Fal.
Go to, Peace Mouldy, you shall go Mouldy.
Sha.
Peace Fellow, Peace, stand aside, know you
where you are? For the other, Sir John. Let me
see—Simon Shadow.
Fal.
I marry let me see him sit under me, he's
like to be a cold Soldier.
Shal.
Where's Shadow?
Enter Shadow.
Shad.
Here Sir.
Fal.
Shadow, whose Son art thou?
Shad.
My Mothers Son, Sir.
Fal.
Thy Mothers Son? like enough, and thy
Fathers Shadow. So the Son of the Female is the
-- 34 --
Shadow of the Male; it is often so indeed, but not
of the Fathers Substance.
Shal.
Do yo like him Sir John?
Fal.
Shadow will serve for Summer, prick him;
for we have a number of Shadows to fill up the Muster
Roll.
Shal.
Thomas Wart.
Enter Wart.
Fal.
Where's he?
War.
Here Sir.
Shal.
Shall I prick him down? Sir John.
Fal.
It were Superfluous, his Apparel hangs by
Geometry, so do his Limbs; no, prick him not.
Shal.
Ha, ha, ha, you can do it Sir you can do it:
I commend your Wit—Francis Feeble.
Enter Feeble.
Feeb.
Here Sir.
Shal.
What is your Trade Feeble?
Feeb.
A Womans Taylor Sir.
Shal.
Shall I prick him, Sir?
Fal.
You may; wilt thou make as many holes
in an Enemies Battail, as thou hast done in a Womans
Petticoat?
Feeb.
I will do my endeavour Sir, you can have
no more.
Fal.
Well said good Womans Taylor, well said
couragious Feeble, thou wilt be as valiant as the
wrathful Dove, or most magnanimous Mouse. Prick
down the Womans Taylor. Well Mr. Shallow, deep
Mr. Shallow.
Feeb.
I would Wart might have gone too, Sir.
Fal.
I would thou wert a Man's Taylor, that thou
might'st mend him, and make him fit to go. I cannot
make him a Private Soldier, who is leader of
-- 35 --
so many Thousand. Let that suffice most forcible
Feeble.
Feeb.
It shall suffice.
Fal.
I am beholding to you. Who is the next?
Shal.
Peter Bullcalfe of the Green. Enter Bullcalfe
Fal.
Ay marry: Let us see Bulcalfe.
Bul.
Here Sir.
Fal.
Trust me a lusty Fellow, come prick me
Bulcalfe till he roar again.
Bul.
O good my Lord Captain!
Fal.
What! dost thou roar before thou art prickt?
Bul.
Oh Sir I am a diseas'd Man.
Fal.
What Disease hast thou?
Bul.
A whorson Cold Sir, a Cough Sir, which I
caught with Ringing in the Kings affairs upon his
Coronation Day.
Fal.
Come we will have away thy Cold; and I
will take such order that thy Friends shall Ring
for thee. Is here all?
Shal.
There are two more called than your Number.
You should have but Four here; and so I pray
you Sir, let me have your good Company to Dinner.
Fal.
I'll drink a Glass with you, but I cannot stay
Dinner. I am glad to see you in good troth Mr.
Shallow.
Shal.
O Sir John, do you remember since we lay
all Night in the Windmil in St. George's Field?
Fal.
No more of that good Mr. Shallow, no more
of that.
Shal.
It was a merry Night, and is Joan Nightworke
alive?
Fal.
She lives Mr. Shallow.
Shal.
She never could endure me.
Fal.
Never.
Shal.
I could Anger her to the Heart. No, no,
she could never endure me. She was then a Bonaroba,
does she hold her own well?
-- 36 --
Fal.
Old, old, Mr. Shallow.
Shal.
Nay, she must be old, she cannot chuse but
be old; she had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork,
before I came to Clements Inn.
Fal.
That's Fifty Five Years ago.
Shal.
Ah Cozen Silence! that thou had'st seen
what this Knight and I have seen. Ah Sir John!
said I well.
Fal.
We have heard the Chimes at Midnight
Mr. Shallow.
Shal.
That we have i'faith Sir John; our Watchword
was Hem Boys, come let's to Dinner. O the
Days that we have seen?
[Exeunt Falstaffe, Shallow and Silence.
Bul.
Good Mr. Corporal Bardolfe, stand my
Friend, here are four Harry Ten Shillings in French
Crowns for you; in very truth Sir, I'd as lief be
hang'd as go, and yet for my own part I do not
care; but rather because I am unwilling, and for
my own part have a desire to stay with my Friends,
else Sir I did not care for my own part so much.
Bar.
Go too. Stand aside.
Moul.
And good Mr. Corporal Captain for my old
Dame's sake stand my Friend, she has no body to
do any thing about her when I am gone, and she is
old, and cannot help her self. You shall have
Twenty Shillings Sir.
Bar.
Stand aside too.
Feeb.
I care not, a Man can dye but once; we
owe a Death, I will never bear a base Mind. If it
be my Destiny, so; if it be not, so; no Man's too
good to serve his King; and let it go which way it
will, he that dyes this Year is quit for the next.
Bar.
Well said, thou art a brave Fellow.
Feeb.
Nay, I will never bear no base Mind.
-- 37 --
Enter Falstaffe, Shallow and Silence.
Fal.
Come Sir, which Men shall I have?
Shal.
Four of which you please.
Bar.
Sir a Word with you. I have Three Pound
to free Mouldy and Bulcalfe.
Fal.
Go too. 'Tis well.
Shal.
Come Sir John, which four will you have?
Fal.
Do you chuse for me.
Shal.
Marry then, Mouldy, Bulcalfe, Feeble and
Shadow.
Feeb.
Yes, yes, I'll go.
Fal.
Mouldy and Bulcalfe; for you Mouldy stay
at home till you are past Service; and for your
part Bulcalfe grow till you come to't. I'll ha' none
of you.
Shal.
Sir John, Sir John, do not your self wrong,
they are your likely'st Men; and I would have
you serv'd with the best.
Fal.
Will you tell me Mr. Shallow how to chuse
a Man? care I for the Limbs, the Stature, Bulk,
and big resemblance of a Man; give me the Spirit,
Mr. Shallow—where's Wart?
Wart.
Here, Sir,
Fal.
You see what a ragged Appearance he has, he
shall Charge and Discharge ye, with the motion of
a Pewterers Hammer, come off and on, swifter than
the Gibbets on a Brewers Bucket; and this same
half-fac'd Fellow Shadow, give me this Man, he presents
no Mark to the Enemy; the Foe may as well
aim at the edge of a Pen-knife; and for a retreat
how swiftly will this Feeble the Womans Taylor run
off. O give me the Spare-man—put me a Musket
into Feeble's Hand, Bardolfe.
Bar.
Here Feeble, Shoulder, Traverse thus.
Fal.
So; very well, go on, very good, exceeding
good. [Feeble exercises] O give me always a little
-- 38 --
lean chopt fac'd Fellow—well done Wart, there's
a Tester for thee.
Shal.
He does not do it right. I remember when
I was at Clements Inn, there was a little quiver
Fellow, and he would manage you his Piece thus;
and he would about, and about, and come in, and
come in ran-tan-tan! then Bounce would he say,
and away again would he go, and again would he
come. I shall never see such a Fellow.
Fal.
These Fellows will do well—Farewel good
Mr. Shallow. Farewel Gentlemen both, I thank
you; I must a dozen Miles to Night. Bardolfe
give the Men Coats.
Shal.
Sir John, Give me your Hand; Heav'n
bless you and prosper your affairs, send us Peace:
when you return; pray visit my House, and let
our old Acquaintance be renew'd; peradventure
I'll to Court with you.
Fal.
Would you would, Mr. Shallow.
Shal.
Go too, I have said it. Fare-you-wel, Good
Sir John.
Exit Shallow and Silence.
Fal.
Farewel good Gentlemen. As I return I will
fetch off these Justices; I see the bottom of Justice
Shallow. How subject we old Men are to the Vice
of Lying? he has done nothing but prate of the
Feats of his Youth, and every third Word a Lye,
duer paid to the Hearer, than the Turks Tribute.
I remember him at Clements Inn, like a Man made
after Supper of a Cheese-paring. When he was
naked he was for all the World like a Forked Radish,
with a Head fantastically carved upon it with
a Knife. He was the very Genius of Famine,
came ever in the very rear of the Fashion; and
now he is become an Esquire, and talks as familiarly
of John of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn Brother
to him, and I'll be sworn he never saw him
but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he broke his
-- 39 --
Head for crouding amongst the Marshal's Men; I
saw it, and now he has Land and Beeves. If I return
I'll see him; and it shall go hard but I'll
make him a Philosophers two Stones to me. If
the young Gudgeon be a Bait for the old Pike, I see
no reason in the Law of Nature but I may snap at
him.
Exeunt Omnes.
Thomas Betterton [1721], The sequel of Henry the Fourth: With the Humours of Sir John Falstaffe, and Justice Shallow. As it is Acted by His Majesty's Company of Comedians, at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. Alter'd from Shakespear, by the late Mr. Betterton (Printed for W. Chetwood... and T. Jauncy [etc.], London) [word count] [S35500].
