Scena Prima. Enter the King, with a Page.

King.
Goe, call the Earles of Surrey, and of Warwick:
But ere they come, bid them ore-reade these Letters,
And well consider of them: make good speed. Exit.
How many thousand of my poorest Subiects
Are at this howre asleepe? O Sleepe, O gentle Sleepe,
Natures soft Nurse, how haue I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids downe,
And steepe my Sences in Forgetfulnesse?
Why rather (Sleepe) lyest thou in smoakie Cribs,
Vpon vneasie Pallads stretching thee,
And huisht with bussing Night, flyes to thy slumber,
Then in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great?
Vnder the Canopies of costly State,
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest Melodie?
O thou dull God, why lyest thou with the vilde,
In loathsome Beds, and leau'st the Kingly Couch,
A Watch-case, or a common Larum-Bell?
Wilt thou, vpon the high and giddie Mast,
Seale vp the Ship-boyes Eyes, and rock his Braines,
In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge,
And in the visitation of the Windes,
Who take the Ruffian Billowes by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaff'ning Clamors in the slipp'ry Clouds,
That with the hurley, Death it selfe awakes?
Canst thou (O partiall Sleepe) giue thy Repose
To the wet Sea-Boy, in an houre so rude:
And in the calmest, and most stillest Night,
With all appliances, and meanes to boote,
Deny it to a King? Then happy Lowe, lye downe,
Vneasie lyes the Head, that weares a Crowne. Enter Warwicke and Surrey.

War.
Many good-morrowes to your Maiestie.

King.
Is it good-morrow, Lords?

War.
'Tis One a Clock, and past.

King.
Why then good-morrow to you all (my Lords:)
Haue you read o're the Letters that I sent you?

War.
We haue (my Liege.)

King.
Then you perceiue the Body of our Kingdome,
How foule it is: what ranke Diseases grow,
And with what danger, neere the Heart of it?

War.
It is but as a Body, yet distemper'd,
Which to his former strength may be restor'd,
With good aduice, and little Medicine:
My Lord Northumberland will soone be cool'd.

King.
Oh Heauen, that one might read the Book of Fate,
And see the reuolution of the Times
Make Mountaines leuell, and the Continent
(Wearie of solide firmenesse) melt it selfe
Into the Sea: and other Times, to see
The beachie Girdle of the Ocean
Too wide for Neptunes hippes; how Chances mocks
And Changes fill the Cuppe of Alteration
With diuers Liquors. 'Tis not tenne yeeres gone,
Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together; and in two yeeres after,
Were they at Warres. It is but eight yeeres since,
This Percie was the man, neerest my Soule,
Who, like a Brother, toyl'd in my Affaires,
And layd his Loue and Life vnder my foot:
Yea, for my sake, euen to the eyes of Richard
Gaue him defiance. But which of you was by
(You Cousin Neuil, as I may remember)
When Richard, with his Eye, brim-full of Teares,
(Then check'd, and rated by Northumberland)
Did speake these words (now prou'd a Prophecie:)
Northumberland, thou Ladder, by the which

My Cousin Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne:
(Though then, Heauen knowes, I had no such intent,
But that necessitie so bow'd the State,
That I and Greatnesse were compell'd to kisse:)
The Time shall come (thus did hee follow it)
The Time will come, that foule Sinne gathering head,
Shall breake into Corruption: so went on,
Fore-telling this same Times Condition,
And the diuision of our Amitie.

War.
There is a Historie in all mens Liues,
Figuring the nature of the Times deceas'd:
The which obseru'd, a man may prophecie
With a neere ayme, of the maine chance of things,
As yet not come to Life, which in their Seedes
And weake beginnings lye entreasured:
Such things become the Hatch and Brood of Time;
And by the necessarie forme of this,
King Richard might create a perfect guesse,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falsenesse,
Which should not finde a ground to roote vpon,
Vnlesse on you.

King.
Are these things then Necessities?
Then let vs meete them like Necessities;
And that same word, euen now cryes out on vs:
They say, the Bishop and Northumberland
Are fiftie thousand strong.

War.
It cannot be (my Lord:)
Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Eccho,
The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace
To goe to bed, vpon my Life (my Lord)
The Pow'rs that you alreadie haue sent forth,
Shall bring this Prize in very easily.
To comfort you the more, I haue receiu'd
A certaine instance, that Glendour is dead.
Your Maiestie hath beene this fort-night ill,
And these vnseason'd howres perforce must adde
Vnto your Sicknesse.

King.
I will take your counsaile:
And were these inward Warres once out of hand,
Wee would (deare Lords) vnto the Holy-Land. Exeunt.

Scena Secunda. Enter Shallow and Silence: with Mouldie, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, Bull-calfe.

Shal.

Come-on, come-on, come-on: giue mee your Hand, Sir; giue mee your Hand, Sir: an early stirrer, by the Rood. And how doth my good Cousin Silence?

Sil.

Good-morrow, good Cousin Shallow.

Shal.

And how doth my Cousin, your Bed-fellow? and your fairest Daughter, and mine, my God-Daughter Ellen?

Sil.

Alas, a blacke Ouzell (Cousin Shallow.)

Shal.

By yea and nay, Sir, I dare say my Cousin William is become a good Scholler? hee is at Oxford still, is hee not?

Sil.

Indeede Sir, to my cost.

Shal.

Hee must then to the Innes of Court shortly: I was once of Clements Inne; where (I thinke) they will talke of mad Shallow yet.

Sil.

You were call'd lustie Shallow then (Cousin.)

Shal.

I was call'd any thing: and I would haue done any thing indeede too, and roundly too. There was I, and little Iohn Doit of Staffordshire, and blacke George Bare, and Francis Pick-bone, and Will Squele a Cot-sal-man, you had not foure such Swindge-bucklers in all the Innes of Court againe: And I may say to you, wee knew where the Bona-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at commandement. Then was Iacke Falstaffe (now Sir Iohn) a Boy, and Page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolke.

Sil.

This Sir Iohn (Cousin) that comes hither anon about Souldiers?

Shal.

The same Sir Iohn, the very same: I saw him breake Scoggan's Head at the Court-Gate, when hee was a Crack, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stock-fish, a Fruiterer, behinde Greyes-Inne. Oh the mad dayes that I haue spent! and to see how many of mine olde Acquaintance are dead?

Sil.

Wee shall all follow (Cousin.)

Shal.

Certaine: 'tis certaine: very sure, very sure: Death is certaine to all, all shall dye. How a good Yoke of Bullocks at Stamford Fayre?

Sil.

Truly Cousin, I was not there.

Shal.

Death is certaine. Is old Double of your Towne liuing yet?

Sil.

Dead, Sir.

Shal.

Dead? See, see: hee drew a good Bow: and dead? hee shot a fine shoote. Iohn of Gaunt loued him well, and betted much Money on his head. Dead? hee would haue clapt in the Clowt at Twelue-score, and carryed you a fore-hand Shaft at foureteene, and foureteene and a halfe, that it would haue done a mans heart good to see. How a score of Ewes now?

Sil.

Thereafter as they be: a score of good Ewes may be worth tenne pounds.

Shal.

And is olde Double dead?

Sil.

Heere come two of Sir Iohn Falstaffes Men (as I thinke.)

Shal.

Good-morrow, honest Gentlemen.

Bard.

I beseech you, which is Iustice Shallow?

Shal.

I am Robert Shallow (Sir) a poore Esquire of this Countie, and one of the Kings Iustices of the Peace: What is your good pleasure with me?

Bard.

My Captaine (Sir) commends him to you: my Captaine, Sir Iohn Falstaffe: a tall Gentleman, and a most gallant Leader.

Shal.

Hee greetes me well: (Sir) I knew him a good Back-Sword-man. How doth the good Knight? may I aske, how my Lady his Wife doth?

Bard.

Sir, pardon: a Souldier is better accommodated, then with a Wife.

Shal.

It is well said, Sir; and it is well said, indeede, too: Better accommodated? it is good, yea indeede is it: good phrases are surely, and euery where very commendable. Accommodated, it comes of Accommodo: very good, a good Phrase.

Bard.

Pardon, Sir, I haue heard the word. Phrase call you it? by this Day, I know not the Phrase: but I will maintaine the Word with my Sword, to bee a Souldier-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 thought to be accomodated, which is an excellent thing.

Shal.

It is very iust: Looke, heere comes good Sir Iohn. Giue me your hand, giue me your Worships good hand: Trust me, you looke well: and beare your yeares very well. Welcome, good Sir Iohn.

Fal.

I am glad to see you well, good M. Robert Shallow: Master Sure-card as I thinke?

Shal.

No sir Iohn, it is my Cosin Silence: in Commission with mee.

Fal.

Good M. Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

Sil.

Your good Worship is welcome.

Fal.

Fye, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) haue you prouided me heere halfe a dozen of sufficient men?

Shal

Marry haue we sir: Will you sit?

Fal.

Let me see them, I beseech you.

Shal.

Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see: so, so, so, so: yea marry Sir. Raphe Mouldie: let them appeare as I call: let them do so, let them do so: Let mee see, Where is Mouldie?

Moul.

Heere, if it please you.

Shal.

What thinke you (Sir Iohn) a good limb'd fellow: yong, strong, and of good friends.

Fal.

Is thy name Mouldie?

Moul.

Yea, if it please you.

Fal.

'Tis the more time thou wert vs'd.

Shal.

Ha, ha, ha, most excellent. Things that are mouldie, lacke vse: very singular good. Well saide Sir Iohn, very well said.

Fal.

Pricke him.

Moul.

I was prickt well enough before, if you could haue let me alone: my old Dame will be vndone now, for one to doe her Husbandry, and her Drudgery; you need not to haue prickt me, there are other men fitter to goe out, then I.

Fal.

Go too: peace Mouldie, you shall goe. Mouldie, it is time you were spent.

Moul.

Spent?

Shallow.

Peace, fellow, peace: stand aside: Know you where you are? For the other sir Iohn: Let me see: Simon Shadow.

Fal.

I marry, let me haue him to sit vnder: he's like to be a cold souldier.

Shal.

Where's Shadow?

Shad.

Heere sir.

Fal.

Shadow, whose sonne art thou?

Shad.

My Mothers sonne, Sir.

Falst.

Thy Mothers sonne: like enough, and thy Fathers shadow: so the sonne of the Female, is the shadow of the Male: it is often so indeede, but not of the Fathers substance.

Shal.

Do you like him, sir Iohn?

Falst.

Shadow will serue for Summer: pricke him: For wee haue a number of shadowes to fill vppe the Muster-Booke.

Shal.

Thomas Wart?

Falst.

Where's he?

Wart.

Heere sir.

Falst.

Is thy name Wart?

Wart.

Yea sir.

Fal.

Thou art a very ragged Wart.

Shal.

Shall I pricke him downe, Sir Iohn?

Falst.

It were superfluous: for his apparrel is built vpon his backe, and the whole frame stands vpon pins: prick him no more.

Shal.

Ha, ha, ha, you can do it sir: you can doe it: I commend you well.

Francis Feeble.

Feeble.

Heere sir.

Shal.

What Trade art thou Feeble?

Feeble.

A Womans Taylor sir.

Shal.

Shall I pricke him, sir?

Fal.

You may: But if he had beene a mans Taylor, he would haue prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemies Battaile, as thou hast done in a Womans petticote?

Feeble.

I will doe my good will sir, you can haue no more.

Falst.

Well said, good Womans Tailour: Well sayde Couragious Feeble: thou wilt bee as valiant as the wrathfull Doue, or most magnanimous Mouse. Pricke the womans Taylour well Master Shallow, deepe Maister Shallow.

Feeble.

I would Wart might haue gone sir.

Fal.

I would thou wert a mans Tailor, that y^u might'st mend him, and make him fit to goe. I cannot put him to a priuate souldier, that is the Leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most Forcible Feeble.

Feeble.

It shall suffice.

Falst.

I am bound to thee, reuerend Feeble. Who is the next?

Shal.

Peter Bulcalfe of the Greene.

Falst.

Yea marry, let vs see Bulcalfe.

Bul.

Heere sir.

Fal.

Trust me, a likely Fellow. Come, pricke me Bulcalfe till he roare againe.

Bul.

Oh, good my Lord Captaine.

Fal.

What? do'st thou roare before th'art prickt.

Bul.

Oh sir, I am a diseased man.

Fal.

What disease hast thou?

Bul.

A whorson cold sir, a cough sir, which I caught with Ringing in the Kings affayres, vpon his Coronation day, sir.

Fal.

Come, thou shalt go to the Warres in a Gowne: we will haue away thy Cold, and I will take such order, that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is heere all?

Shal.

There is two more called then your number: you must haue but foure heere sir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner.

Fal.

Come, I will goe drinke with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you in good troth, Master Shallow.

Shal.

O sir Iohn, doe you remember since wee lay all night in the Winde-mill, in S. Georges Field.

Falstaffe.

No more of that good Master Shallow: No more of that.

Shal.

Ha? it was a merry night. And is Iane Night-worke aliue?

Fal.

She liues, M. Shallow.

Shal.

She neuer could away with me.

Fal.

Neuer, neuer: she would alwayes say shee could not abide M. Shallow.

Shal.

I could anger her to the heart: shee was then a Bona-Roba. Doth she hold her owne well.

Fal.

Old, old, M. Shallow.

Shal.

Nay, she must be old, she cannot choose but be

old: certaine shee's old: and had Robin Night-worke, by old Night-worke, before I came to Clements Inne.

Sil.

That's fiftie fiue yeeres agoe.

Shal.

Hah, Cousin Silence, that thou hadst seene that, that this Knight and I haue seene: hah, Sir Iohn, said I well?

Falst.

Wee haue heard the Chymes at mid-night, Master Shallow.

Shal.

That wee haue, that wee haue; in faith, Sir Iohn, wee haue: our watch-word was, Hem-Boyes. Come, let's to Dinner; come, let's to Dinner: Oh the dayes that wee haue seene. Come, come.

Bul.

Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and heere is foure Harry tenne shillings in French Crownes for you: in very truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd sir, as goe: and yet, for mine owne part, sir, I do not care; but rather, because I am vnwilling, and for mine owne part, haue a desire to stay with my friends: else, sir, I did not care, for mine owne part, so much.

Bard.

Go-too: stand aside.

Mould.

And good Master Corporall Captaine, for my old Dames sake, stand my friend: shee hath no body to doe any thing about her, when I am gone: and she is old, and cannot helpe her selfe: you shall haue fortie, sir.

Bard.

Go-too: stand aside.

Feeble.

I care not, a man can die but once: wee owe a death. I will neuer beare a base minde: if it be my destinie, so: if it be not, so: no man is too good to serue his Prince: and let it goe which way it will, he that dies this yeere, is quit for the next.

Bard.

Well said, thou art a good fellow.

Feeble.

Nay, I will beare no base minde.

Falst.

Come sir, which men shall I haue?

Shal.

Foure of which you please.

Bard.

Sir, a word with you: I haue three pound, to free Mouldie and Bull-calfe.

Falst.

Go-too: well.

Shal.

Come, sir Iohn, which foure will you haue?

Falst.

Doe you chuse for me.

Shal.

Marry then, Mouldie, Bull-calfe, Feeble, and Shadow.

Falst.

Mouldie, and Bull-calfe: for you Mouldie, stay at home, till you are past seruice: and for your part, Bull-calfe, grow till you come vnto it: I will none of you.

Shal.

Sir Iohn, Sir Iohn, doe not your selfe wrong, they are your likelyest men, and I would haue you seru'd with the best.

Falst.

Will you tell me (Master Shallow) how to chuse a man? Care I for the Limbe, the Thewes, the stature, bulke, and bigge assemblance of a man? giue mee the spirit (Master Shallow.) Where's Wart? you see what a ragged appearance it is: hee shall charge you, and discharge you, with the motion of a Pewterers Hammer: come off, and on, swifter then hee that gibbets on the Brewers Bucket. And this same halfe-fac'd fellow, Shadow, giue me this man: hee presents no marke to the Enemie, the foe-man may with as great ayme leuell at the edge of a Pen-knife: and for a Retrait, how swiftly will this Feeble, the Womans Taylor, runne off. O, giue me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a Calyuer into Warts hand, Bardolph.

Bard.

Hold Wart, Trauerse: thus, thus, thus.

Falst.

Come, manage me your Calyuer: so: very well, go-too, very good, exceeding good. O, giue me alwayes a little, leane, old, chopt, bald Shot. Well said Wart, thou art a good Scab: hold, there is a Tester for thee.

Shal.

Hee is not his Crafts-master, hee doth not doe it right. I remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay at Clements Inne, I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthurs Show: there was a little quiuer fellow, and hee would manage you his Peece thus: and hee would about, and about, and come you in, and come you in: Rah, tah, tah, would hee say, Bownce would hee say, and away againe would hee goe, and againe would he come: I shall neuer see such a fellow.

Falst.

These fellowes will doe well, Master Shallow. Farewell Master Silence, I will not vse many wordes with you: fare you well, Gentlemen both: I thanke you: I must a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, giue the Souldiers Coates.

Shal.

Sir Iohn, Heauen blesse you, and prosper your Affaires, and send vs Peace. As you returne, visit my house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peraduenture I will with you to the Court.

Falst.

I would you would, Master Shallow.

Shal.

Go-too: I haue spoke at a word. Fare you well.

Falst.

Fare you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph, leade the men away. As I returne, I will fetch off these Iustices: I doe see the bottome of Iustice Shallow. How subiect wee old men are to this vice of Lying? This same staru'd Iustice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildenesse of his Youth, and the Feates hee hath done about Turnball-street, and euery third word a Lye, duer pay'd to the hearer, then the Turkes Tribute. I doe remember him at Clements Inne, like a man made after Supper, of a Cheese-paring. When hee was naked, hee was, for all the world, like a forked Radish, with a Head fantastically caru'd vpon it with a Knife. Hee was so forlorne, that his Dimensions (to any thicke sight) were inuincible. Hee was the very Genius of Famine: hee came euer in the rere-ward of the Fashion: And now is this Vices Dagger become a Squire, and talkes as familiarly of Iohn of Gaunt, as if hee had beene sworne Brother to him: and Ile be sworne hee neuer saw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his Head, for crowding among the Marshals men. I saw it, and told Iohn of Gaunt, hee beat his owne Name, for you might haue truss'd him and all his Apparrell into an Eele-skinne: the Case of a Treble Hoeboy was a Mansion for him: a Court: and now hath hee Land, and Beeues. Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I returne: and it shall goe hard, but I will make him a Philosophers two Stones to me. If the young Dace be a Bayt for the old Pike, I see no reason, in the Law of Nature, but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.