Bardolph attending.
Fal.
Come, fill me another glass, Bardolph. Where
are the women?
Bar.
They are gone home, Sir John, that they may get
ready to attend your honour in the evening. They went
away while you was asleep.
Fal.
Come on then, drink; we will empty the flask,
and follow. Here's to our better fortune.
(Drinks.)
Bar.
Ah, Sir John, I am afeard our fortune hath been
at its highest flood. We have seen our best days.
Fal.
So the world goes Bardolph. Up and down! But
is it not hard now? I that have—but that's nothing.
I hate boasting. It is, however, well known what pains
I have taken to make a man of that Hal. Nay, you yourself
are privy to many the good offices I have done him.
Before the younker knew me, he knew nothing. The
sneak-cup could not drink sack; made conscience of going
to church on holidays; and blush'd like a scarlet cloak, at
entering a bawdy-house. Then he made a poor hand at
-- 18 --
cards and dice, and was a mere novice, a very noodle, at
a robbery on the highway. I instructed him in all these
manly exercises. I was content to win his money, to teach
him gaming: to get drunk myself to make him so: to
teach him sabbath-breaking by going ever to the church
with a chimney in it,—the tavern. And then, again, mercy
on this round body of mine! how have I been pox'd to
teach his smock-face whoring! Nay, setting rotten limbs
and dignity aside, have I not even pimp'd for the bashful
rogue? Such a prince of Wales! by my troth I was
asham'd of him. Had it not been for me, the milk-sop
might have been crown'd before he had lost his maiden-head.
Bar.
And that would have been a pity, Sir John, to
be sure.
Fal.
It was I first taught him to way-lay the true-man;
for I knew him when he durst not cry stand to a turkey-cock;
nay, a gander, of the ordinary size of a green-goose,
had it met him on a common, would have made him run
for it: and yet I would have so case-harden'd him, that he
might have robb'd his father's exchequer. But the toast-and-butter
would not learn. I went further yet; and
would not only have embolden'd his actions, but have
taught him the manly arts of conversation. In the stile
military, for instance, or swearing.—
Bar.
Sir John, I believe, there you forget yourself;
the prince wanted no assistance of you in that; for when
he was a crack no higher than this, he would swear ye as
well as a man six foot high.
Fal.
Right, Bardolph, you are right. I remember
me; swearing indeed he knew: for, tho' but a king's
son, he would, as thou say'st, rap out an oath like an
emperor. But then for the quintessence of all elocution,
the use of the hyperbole, vulgarly call'd lying; there I am
a master, yet what a deal of pains it hath cost me to teach
Hal to lie; and all thrown away upon him. He would
never do it roundly. He had no genius that way.
Bar.
You know, Sir John, the prince never could away
with lying. He us'd to say 'twas beneath a gentleman and
a soldier.
-- 19 --
Fal.
Well, well, he will never shine in the recital of
his own exploits as Xenophon, Cæsar, and I have done.
Bar.
Why, Sir John, to be sure, you have done something.
Fal.
Something! the services I have done him and his
father are out of number. Methinks my behaviour, in the
ever memorable action at Shrewsbury, should make him
blush at his ingratitude. Who kill'd Hotspur? Did not
I give him his death's wound in the thigh? Was it not I
who took prisoner that fiery dragon Coleville? and that
even alive! And am I thus requited? Is this the guerdon
of my great atchievements? Hang valour, I'll hack my
sword no more. Thus has it ever been the fate of merit
to be rewarded. Alcibiades and Bellisarius for that!
Bar.
Ay, Sir John, they were tall fellows: they were
sadly us'd indeed: I have heard of them. But that was
in king John's time, I think.
Fal.
They were the Falstaffs of antiquity, Bardolph.
Bar.
Like enough, Sir John: they were before my
time, to be sure; though Pistol told me, t'other day, that
general Bellisarius was his god-father.
Fal.
Pistol is an ignorant braggard; an ass: I have
injur'd my dignity by associating with rascals, not worthy
to wait at my heels. What tell'st thou me of Pistol?
Bar.
Nay, Sir John, I meant no harm. I do think
you deserve to be made a lord of indeed.
Fal.
A lord! I expected to have been made nothing
less than an earl or a duke, I can assure ye. And then,
for my well-known œconomy, to have had the sole management
of the exchequer, at least.
Bar.
And instead of that to be banish'd—
Fal.
I know not if I heard the word banish. I was
forbidden indeed to come near the king's person by ten
miles; but I was not at that distance when those injunctions
were laid on me. Quere now (it might pose a casuist
let me tell ye) whether I am thereby injoin'd to march right
out, ten miles an end; whether the negative, not come,
amounts to the positive, go.—I will not understand it so;
and, if that be my Lord-chief-justice's construction, by the
Lord, I will put him to the trouble of carrying of me: I
will be laid up with the gout ere I budge a foot.
-- 20 --
Bar.
Indeed, Sir John, the king did say, banish.
Fal.
Admit it: unless he means to reside for ever in a
place, and be in his own proper person as immoveable as
a church, I hold my life on a damn'd precarious tenure.
He must give me timely notice of his motions, that I may
regulate mine accordingly; otherwise, if he be travelling
my way, we may happen to encounter, and I get myself
hang'd through inadvertency. I do not think it safe,
therefore, to stir out of town, without more explicit orders.
Fill me another glass.
Bar.
The flask is out, Sir John.
Fal.
Out! we have no longer any business here, then.
Pay the drawer, Bardolph, and come along.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Room in the King's Palace.
Enter King Henry and Lord Scroop.
King.
Thou didst observe, in th' east isle of the abbey,
A wench that fainted as we pass'd along,
And drew a crowd of our observers from us.
Scroop.
I did, my liege: methought a fairer damsel
Mine eyes had ne'er beheld; when lo! o'th'sudden,
Her looks were chang'd, the roses left her cheeks,
And down she sunk, as if unpitying death
Had laid his clay-cold hand upon her heart.
King.
Wist you the cause?
Scroop.
I guess no other than the sweltry crowd,
Affecting oft such tender-fashion'd dames,
Oppress'd her gentle spirits: for I mark'd
An elegance and softness in her features,
That spoke the delicacy of her frame.
King.
O Scroop, it is indeed a gentle soul;
She was the earliest fa'vrite of my youth,
I her first love, and many an happy hour,
In all th'endearing intercourse of souls,
We've pass'd together.
Scroop.
My gracious liege,
Your highness young, the damsel in her bloom,
Where could love find itself more fit employment.
-- 21 --
King.
Thou know'st, lord Scroop, our present resolution,
To cast off th'idle follies of our youth:
Hence our command to banish from the court
The lewd companions of those boyish days.
Now this fair wench is sister to Ned Poins,
Whom I have late provided for i'th'North:
And, for I would not see the girl again,
I gave her ghostly father late in charge
To place her in a sisterhood of nuns,
With an allowance of five hundred marks
A year for life. I thought her cloister'd up,
And wonder'd much to see her in the abbey.
Scroop.
She meant, no doubt, to move your highness's pity;
And not unlikely but that shew of grief,
And mock of swooning was a female trick,
An artifice that's common with these giglots.
King.
I judge not so; but, be that as it may,
I will not have my purposes delay'd,
Nor firm resolves capriciously disputed.
Go to her, therefore, thou, my friendly Scroop,
And say, her unexpected disobedience
Awakes our high displeasure.
Scroop.
I will, my liege; yet, by your highness' leave,
Thinks not your majesty she's yet too young,
Too fair, and too enamour'd of the world,
To turn recluse, and hide her in a cloister?
I warrant ye, my liege, a lusty lover
Would find a hearty welcome with her yet.
King.
My lord of Masham, there I hold you wrong her.
She is indeed most loving, kind, and gentle:
And yet I think not more than she is true:
Faithful of heart, sincere as open day,
A vestal's modesty sits on her brow,
And awes ev'n bold licentiousness to silence.
She feels, I fear, too anxiously th'effect
Of that necessity that caus'd our parting.
Scroop.
Where, in the name of wonder, did she learn
Those dainty manners? of her brother Ned?
-- 22 --
Your majesty in truth is much deceiv'd;
Had not yourself so highly done her honour,
Some humbler lover had, perhaps, prevail'd,
And shar'd her favours on as easy terms.
King.
Thou knew'st her not.
Scroop.
My liege, I know the sex,
And judge not women by the things they were.
The kindest of them all were vestals once:
But soon as e'er they've learn'd their mother's game,
All that is left of chastity's grimace,
Mere affectation, prudery, and pride.
King.
You hold them, then, but lightly in esteem:
But general rules admit exceptions, Scroop.
Scroop.
O, yes, my liege, perhaps, in twice ten thousand
One may be found, whose mind's of chaster stuff
Than her frail body: but with all the rest
Body and soul go lovingly together.
King.
Go then, my lord, and in our gentle Nell
Of twice ten thousand think thou seest that one,
Whose mind is yet right chaste. Make known our will,
And in the gentlest terms your kindness may.
Scroop.
I will, my liege.
[Exit King Henry.
SCENE III.
Room continued.
Lord Scroop, solus,
A lucky errand to this peerless beauty!
I mark'd her in the midst of her distress,
And of her snowy neck and heaving breasts
Caught a side-glance, that fir'd my eager heart,
And kindled all the ardours of desire.
That she should turn out Harry's mistress too;
And thence we make no doubt an easy conquest,
Whate'er his princely vanity suggests;
This too is fortunate; nor less his pride,
That churlishly devotes those charms to heav'n,
On which himself has feasted till he's tir'd.
Sure a kind beauty sooner will retreat
Into a lover's arms than to a cloister!
And yet I may not long detain her thence.
-- 23 --
Love's a repast, so cloying at the best
That appetite soon leaves the keenest guest;
To me the banquet of her charms be given,
And, sated once, I'll yield them too to heav'n.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
A Street.
Enter Justice Shallow, Master Slender, and a Lawyer.
Shal.
And so, master Pleadwell, that is your opinion.
—If it be so, my money's gone.
Law.
Indeed, I am of that opinion, justice Shallow.
Shal.
What! how! that my money's gone?
Law.
Nay, I know not that. I say, I am of opinion
you should have taken a bond, or obligation, at the time
of lending it, friend Shallow. A thousand pound on the
bare word of a courtier; and that courtier Sir John Falstaff!
ne'er an alderman in the city of London would
have lent a thousand pence on such security.
Slen.
Oh that ever a country 'squire should have less
wit than a city alderman!
Law.
A thousand pound, Mr. Shallow, is—
Shal.
A thousand pound. I know it is, master Pleadwell,
I know it well. But pray now, is there no method
in the law to recover it? He cannot have spent it yet:
cannot we compel him to restitution? Arrest him—arrest
him, Mr. Pleadwell.
Law.
But, should he deny the debt, how will you
prove it? and who knows, on such an emergency, what
Sir John Falstaff will not do?
Shal.
Nay, he will lye: that's the truth on't.
Slen.
Ay, coz, and that most consumedly too.
Shal.
I can prove his receipt of the money.
Law.
But the conditions, justice Shallow.—What have
you to shew that he is engag'd to return it? and when?
Shal.
Nothing, I was weak enough to lend it him on
his bare word.
Slen.
Nay, cousin Shallow, not so neither. I'll be
sworn he borrow'd it upon his oath. I'll take my Bible
sacrament of that. Didn't I hear Sir John swear?—Yes,
Mr. Pleadwell, I myself, in propria persona, heard Sir
John, alias John Falstaff, knight, viva voce, viva voce,
-- 24 --
Mr. Pleadwell—Go to—I know a little of the law.—I say,
I heard the aforesaid Falstaff swear and protest to my cousin
Shallow (videlicet Robert Shallow of Gloucestershire, esq;
justice of the peace, and of the quorum) upon the honour
of a true knight, to give him a thousand pound again;
and besides that, the comings-in of a better thing, in his
majesty's court at London.
Law.
Ah, Master Slender, these knights have just
honour enough to swear by; but, for any thing further, I
am apprehensive we shall find him one of those honourable
knights, whose word is as good as their oath. But see, if
I mistake not, yonder he comes; this encounter may perhaps
save us the trouble of attending him at home. Let
us speak him fair, and perswade him, if possible, to sign an
obligation for the money. If we can do that, we may
trounce him. Let me alone with him.
Slen.
O would you could Mr. Pleadwell! what would
I give methinks to see him well trounc'd! if it was only
for giving me once a bloody coxcomb.
SCENE V.
Street continued.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
How! Master Shallow consulting with his lawyer!
are ye thereabouts friend Shallow? would you hamper
me with an action? (Aside.) I will pass them by.
[Going.
Shal.
Sir John, Sir John, a word with you if you
please.
Fal.
O my good friends Robert Shallow, Esq; and
Master Slender! how fare ye gentlemen both?
Law.
Sir John, Mr. Shallow here has—
Fal.
Ha! what mine old acquaintance Master Wheedlepoint!
how is it with your health, Master Wheedlepoint?
Law.
Pleadwell is my name, Sir John.
Fal.
Right.—I cry you mercy.—Roundabout Pleadwell,
I think. My memory is not so retentive as—
Law.
No offence, Sir John: that is not the case.
Fal.
Marry but it is, Mr. Pleadwell; a treacherous
-- 25 --
memory is my great defect: and a misnomer in law thou
knowest—
Law.
Would be matter of consequence Sir John. But
that is not our business at present. Mr. Shallow here hath
put a case.—
Fal.
Ay, Master Shallow should know something of
the law too. Was not he at Clement's-inn when thou wert
first enter'd there? That must be many years ago, Mr.
Pleadwell.—Let me see. How many years ago must that
be, Master Shallow?—Why you carry your age well,
Mr. Pleadwell.
Shal.
Pretty well, pretty well, Sir John, but that—
Fal.
Nay marry, I say, very well, Master Shallow.
And pray what is become of young Puzzlecause, and Dick
Silvertongue, your fellow students there? they were call'd
to the bar, I suppose. That Dick was a prate-a-pace
rogue; and a devil among the bona robas. He and
Master Shallow here were two with the wenches. Ha,
Master Shallow!
Shal.
No matter, Sir John, at present we would confer
on other business.
Fal.
Nay, gentlemen, if ye are on business, I crave
your pardon, and leave ye. I am not us'd to be impertinent.
Law.
You are not a going, Sir John; it is with you
our business lies.
Fal.
Business with me!
Shal.
Yes, about the thousand pound, Sir John.
Fal.
What mean you, Master Shallow?
Shal.
That you borrow'd of me, Sir John.
Slen.
Yes, Sir John, the thousand pound you borrow'd
of my cousin Shallow, Sir John.
Fal.
Take me with ye, gentlemen, both; let me understand
ye. You presented me, indeed, with a thousand
pound to promote your interest at court, Master Shallow;
and may depend on it, if I can serve you—
Shall.
Fiddle, faddle, Sir John, I expect my money
again: your interest at court is not worth a farthing.
Fal.
I cannot help that; the more is my misfortune,
Mr. Shallow; you see my heart is good.
-- 26 --
Law.
If so, Sir John, you will not refuse to give Mr.
Shallow something to shew for his money, under your
hand.
Fal.
How dost thou know that, Mr. Pleadwell? I must
consult my counsel in this case.
Law.
There is no need, Sir John; I will draw up a little
instrument, to which thou wilt set thy hand immediately.
Fal.
Not while I have a head, Master Pleadwell, I like
not running hand over head in these matters. By latter
Lammas, or saint Falstaff's day, I may perhaps bethink me.
Law.
I know of no saint of thy family in the kalendar,
Sir John.
Fal.
Well, well, there may be saints of a worse. Our
merit hath not stood in the way of promotion; that's all:
and yet there are as many whoremasters there as lawyers,
I believe. But I cannot tarry now to hold farther question
with thee; fatigued as I am, and earnest to reach my
lodgings yonder.
Law.
If thou wilt there sign the instrument, Sir John,
we will attend you thither.
Fal.
Wilt thou? it is a notorious bawdy-house.
Law.
No matter, Sir John.
Fal.
No matter, sayst thou? Is it then no matter for
one of the grave sages of the law to be seen in a public
bawdy-house? Lord, Lord, what will this world come
to! My conscience, however, is more tender: I should
be sorry to give such occasion of scandal.
Law.
Please you, Sir John, to be serious. Let us
rightly understand each other.
Fal.
With all my heart, good Master Pleadwell; then,
to be plain with you, I find you do not know me. You
talk to me of restitution and conditions; did'st thou ever
know Sir John Falstaff make restitution on any conditions?
And dost thou think me so unpractis'd a courtier as
to return the perquisites of my calling, because I am turn'd
out; or to restore the purchase of my good will, because I
am not likely to get in. What take ye me for a younker?
a geck? Go to—you cannot play upon me.—Master
Shallow, rest you content: your money is in good hands;
and, if I do not spend it like a gentleman, never trust me
with a thousand pound again.
-- 27 --
Shal.
Oh! that I ever did trust such a caitiff!
Law.
But, pray, were these the conditions, Mr. Shallow?
Was you to be repaid by a place at court?
Slen.
To be sure. Why what do you think, Mr.
Pleadwell, cousin Shallow was fool enough to lend a thousand
pound for nothing? Why, I, myself, was to be made
a great man too; and that into the bargain.
Shal.
Cousin Slender, speak in your turn, I pray you.
Law.
Were these terms specified?
Fal.
Not indeed on parchment, signatum et sigillatum,
Mr. Pleadwell. A courtier's promise is not, indeed, very
good in law. But I can tell ye the posts I should have
procur'd for these noble 'squires: and by'r lady, thou wilt
say they would have been well occupied. Having a little
pique or so at my Lord-chief-justice, and Mr. Shallow,
here, thinking himself qualified, I promis'd him my interest
for his worship's removal from the quorum to his
lordship's place on the bench. Was it not so, Mr. Shallow?
Shal.
Don't belye me, Sir John, don't cheat me of
my money, and laugh at me too. Robert Shallow esquire
will not put up with that.
Fal.
Then for Mr. Slender here, I purpos'd, for his
address and elocution, to have got him appointed orator to
the house of parliament; or otherwise, in consideration of
his figure and magnanimity, to have made him a staff
officer, or captain of horse, at the least.
Slen.
Nay, Sir John, you did not tell me what; but
I expected some notable place, I'll assure ye: for I look
upon myself, plain 'squire as I stand here, to be somebody.
Shal.
Coz, coz, you are an ass, coz.
Slen.
Why, why, I didn't lend him any money; I.
Law.
Justice Shallow, this is a very simple affair. I am
sorry it is not in my power to serve you in it. Sir John,
if you had either honour or honesty, you would restore the
money; but, as you make pretensions to neither, I leave
you.
[Exit Lawyer.
-- 28 --
SCENE VI.
Street continued.
Falstaff, Shallow, and Slender.
Fal.
Well, my masters, you hear the counsel learned
in the law. Will you to supper with me? You shall
see I am no niggard. If you will lodge with me in Eastcheap,
you shall see the thousand pound fairly spent in sack:
you shall share with me to the utmost farthing. But for
dry restitution, I have not been accustom'd to it of many
years. You would not have me a changeling at this time
of day, I hope, Master Shallow.
Shal.
Changeling! no, Sir John, thou art no changeling;
but, depend on it, I will not put up this wrong.
Robert Shallow, esq; will neither eat nor drink with thee.
I will have further advice, and, if the law will not help me,
I will take other methods. I will have my money; depend
on't I will have my money.
[Exit Shallow.
Slen.
Ay, ay, we shall find means to get the money;
never fear.
[Exit Slender.
SCENE VII.
Street continued.
Falstaff, solus.
Nay, I fear it not—at least before I shall have found
means to spend it: and then, get it who may; it concerns
not me. We shall see, however, whose business will be
done first. Mine will go merrily forward. Ah! shallow
Master Shallow! But who could have thought the snipe
would have went to counsel, to get himself laugh'd at?
Then to see how demurely Sir Slyboots angled for me, as
if I had been a gudgeon! How cunningly the rascally barrador
would have hook'd me on his instrument! But I was
even with the methodical knave.—My friend Shallow will
never bring it to bear an action at law; and if he should,
as I have the cash, I am on the right side of the hedge.
Indeed, were I to go to law for a mint of money, I would
chuse to have it all in my possession. There is nothing
like it. Possession is the very life's blood of a bad cause:
on the strength of which in mine, I will home to supper.
[Exit.
-- 29 --
SCENE VIII.
A Tavern in Eastcheap.
Enter Bardolph, Mrs. Quickly, and Dol Tearsheet.
Bar.
He will be here incontinently, hostess: I only
stept before to let you know he was a coming.
Quick.
But is it veritably true, Bardolph, that Sir
John has got a thousand pound by him?
Dol.
Ay, is that true, Bardolph?
Bar.
True, upon honour; he had it of justice Shallow
of Gloucestershire; and it lies now in master Gingle-cash,
the banker's hands. But Sir John will be here momentably.
Is ev'ry thing ready?
Quick.
In a minute we are all clear. Run, good Dol,
and receive the knight at the door. Francis! what,
Francis!
Fran. (without)
Anon, anon, Sir.
Quick.
Light up candles in the passage. A bottle of
sherris, Francis, quick, you sleeping knave.—Always upon
a snail's gallop! O that ever woman should be plagued
with such creeping varlets!
Dol.
O, here is Sir John, himself.
SCENE IX.
Tavern continued.
Enter Sir John Falstaff.
Quick.
Jaded to death, I warrant!—An easy chair,
good Bardolph. Please you to depose yourself, Sir John.
Fal.
Soh! now have I taken up my sitting again, in
my old quarters. A glass of sherris, Francis!
Dol.
And how do you find yourself, my sweet knight?
Fal.
Tolerably thirsty. (Drinks) I can drink; and
that is all the bodily functions I am capable of. I am as
stiff, ev'ry part about me, as a walking taylor or Don
Diego on a sign-post.
Dol.
Nay, Sir John, if that be the case, it is not over
with you yet. Give me a buss.
Fal.
Go, Dol, you are riggish—get you gone you
water-wag-tail, you; I am not merrily dispos'd.
Dol.
But, will you give me a new kirtle at Bartlemew
fair?
-- 30 --
Fal.
I will, Dol.—Nay, I cannot bear you on my knee.
Dol.
Why, how came you so terribly maul'd, my
leman?
Fal.
Did not I tell ye?
Quick.
No indeed, Sir John, your honour spoke of
fatigue; but did not descend to particles. Your honour
fell asleep, you know.
Fal.
Well then, I will tell ye now. Give me first a
glass of sherris. (Drinks) You must know that, after the
king (hang him for a sheep-stealing cur) gave me that
rebuff I told you of; he stalk'd magisterially away, and left
me to the mercy of the multitude: when, as I stood parleying
with mine antient; mine arms a-kembo thus; a
knot of elbowing earls bore me down before them, with
the impetuosity of a torrent. Lo! there was I, jamm'd
fast in the midst of a vile groupe of mechanics, as if we
had grown together in a body corporate: and in this
jeopardy was I carried along; sometimes bolster'd up on all
sides, at the confluence of several turnings, like a Maypole;
and at others, wire-drawn between two stone-walls,
as if they meant to make chitterlings of me: now this fair
round belly taking the form of a christmas pie, and by and
by press'd as flat as a pancake. It is a miracle I did not
burst in the midst of them. Had it not been for the sufficiency
of my buf doublet, I should have certainly bursted.
Dol.
If you had, Sir John, you would have went off
with a report like a bladder.
Fal.
A bladder, ye jade, a demi-culverin at least. I
should have died an hero: my exit would have made some
noise in the world.
Quick.
Heav'n forbid, Sir John, you should ever die
a virulent death I say.
Dol.
I hope, indeed, sweet knight, you will never be
press'd to death. That must be an odd end, and yet methinks
I could bear much.
Fal.
I'll be sworn thou could'st, Dol: but thou art a
woman, and made to bear.
Quick.
Yes, in good sooth, poor woman is made to
bear ev'ry thing. She must suffer all a man's ill humours;
let 'em lie never so heavy upon her: and, by my truly
some men are nothing else. But, to be sure, Sir John,
-- 31 --
you was us'd most unhumanly. Would no body take pity
upon you?
Fal.
Pity! the most remorseless rascals! they made no
more of me than if I had been a lump of dough, they were
kneeding to make dumplings of: and to expostulate with
the villains would have been preaching to the winds.
Dol.
Why did not you exert your courage, Sir John?
draw upon them?
Fal.
Draw, sayst thou? I could not come at my rapier,
to be master of a kingdom. And as for good words,—in
return for the few I gave them, they let fly their jests so
thick at me, and pepper'd me so plaguely with small wit,
that I was dumbfounded.
Dol.
I thought you would never have been overmatch'd
that way, Sir John.
Fal.
Yet so it was, Doll. They were holiday-wits,
and came loaden with choke-pears: but, indeed, I was
overpower'd by numbers. Two to one, Doll, you know—
They pelted me from all quarters. Will you hear: I will
give you a spice of their sarcasms; a sample of the gibing
pellets they threw at me. As I was thus stemming the tide
and crying out for the lord's sake, a dried eel's-skin of a
fishmonger ask'd me how I could complain of the crowd.
“Is a porpoise ill at ease, said he, amidst a glut of sprats
and herrings?” I had not time to answer the smelt, before
a barber-surgeon, the very model of the skeleton in
his glass-case, offered to tap me for the dropsy; and to
make us all elbow-room by letting out a puncheon of
canary, at my girdle. Right, cries a third, at the word
canary, “I'll be hang'd if any thing be in the doublet of
that fat rogue but hog's-skins of Spanish wine;” and
incontinently they roar'd out, on all sides, “Tap him,
there,—tap him, master surgeon.”—'Sblood; I was
forc'd to draw in my horns, and be silent; lest the villains,
being thirsty, should force the shaver to operation. The
knave, indeed, was five weavers off, and so could not
well come at me; I might otherwise have been drunk up
alive.
Dol.
Indeed, my witty knight, you was match'd.
Fal.
Wasn't I, Dol?
-- 32 --
Dol.
And pray how cam'st thou off at last, Sir John?
Fal.
By mere providence: for, after the barbarous rascals
had squeez'd the breath out of my body, they buffetted
me because I could not roar out, God save the king. At
length, I know not how, they threw me down in the cloisters,
where, falling cross-wise and the way being narrow,
I fairly block'd up the passage: upon which (for they could
not straddle over me) they took another way (a plague go
with them!) for fear of losing the show. And thus I was
left to take in wind, and gather myself up at leisure.
Dol.
And did the mangy villains so play upon thy sack-but?
so maul this poor round-belly? a parcel of sapless
twigs! dry elms, fit only for fuel! I would I had the
burning of them.
Fal.
Wouldst thou fire them, Dol? Ha! art thou touch-wood
still, Dol?
Dol.
Nay, Sir John, not so.
Quick.
No, I'll be sworn, Sir John, to my carnal
knowledge, if there be truth or faith in medicine. But Sir
John, what would your honour please to have for supper?
Fal.
Another glass of sherris—fill me out, Bardolph.
I cannot eat. I have lost my appetite by the way. Put
an egg into a quart of mull'd sack, and give it me when I
am a-bed. I will to sleep.
Dol.
Would you have your bed prepar'd, strait, Sir
John?
Fal.
Ay, on the instant, good Dol. Hostess! go thou
and see to the brewage of my sack.
[Exeunt Dol and Mrs. Quickly.
SCENE X.
Tavern continued.
Enter Peto, leading in Pistol, groaning and hanging his head.
Fal.
Heigh; heigh; whose other mare's dead?
Pistol.
Come Clotho, Atropos, and sisters three!
Wind up my web; for Pistol's flash is out.
Fal.
What is the matter, Peto?
Peto.
Matter, Sir John! The mob at Westminster
have almost murder'd poor Pistol, here. I thought I
never should have been able to get him home alive.
-- 33 --
Fal.
And how so?
Peto.
Why, Sir John, being got upon a cobler's bulk
to see what was become of your honour, a raw-bon'd
swaggering serjeant, that was coming by, whipt hold of
him by the leg, and threw him on the people's heads;
where, being no room for him to come to the ground,
they shoulder'd him about from post to pillar, as they
would have done a hedge-hog, or a dead rabbit that had
been thrown among them. I faith, I thought they would
have kill'd him.
Fal.
How! was that Pistol? I saw the bustle at a
distance, but took the cause of it for some huge boar cat,
the porters and 'prentices had got, to make sport withal.
By the Lord, Pistol, I have a fellow-feeling for thy misfortunes.
But art thou hurt? where art thou wounded?
Pistol.
Ah, luckless knight! is merit thus repaid?
Doth fortune play the jilt with men of mould?
Then Pistol lay thy head in Parco's lap.
Fal.
Good ancient, let me advise thee to hie to bed,
and lay thy head on a pillow.—Peto, see to him.—I too
will follow.—Bardolph!
Light me to bed—let Dol bring up the sack,
Empty the jorden, and tuck up my back.
[Exeunt.
End of the Second Act.
William Kenrick [1760], Falstaff's Wedding: a comedy. Being a Sequel to the Second Part of the Play of King Henry the Fourth. Written in Imitation of Shakespeare, By Mr. Kenrick (Printed for J. Wilkie... [and] F. Blyth [etc.], London) [word count] [S34600].
