Sil. [Singing.]
A Cup of Wine,
That's brisk and fine,
And drink unto the Leman mine;
And a merry Heart lives long-a.
Fal.
Well said, Master Silence.
Sil.
If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet of the
Night.
Fal.
Health and long Life to you, Master Silence.
Sil.
Fill the Cup, and let it come. I'll pledge you, were't
a mile to the bottom.
Shal.
Honest Bardolph, welcome; if thou want'st any
thing and wilt not call, beshrew thy Heart. Welcome my
little tyny thief, and welcome indeed too: I'll drink to Master
Bardolph, and to all the Cavileroes about London.
Dav.
I hope to see London, once e'er I dye.
Bard.
If I might see you there, Davy.
Shal.
You'll crack a Quart together? Ha, will you not,
Master Bardolph?
Bard.
Yes, Sir, in a pottle Pot.
Shal.
I thank thee; the Knave will stick by thee, I can
assure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred.
Bard.
And I'll stick by him, Sir.
Shal.
Why, there spoke a King: Lack nothing, be merry.
Look, who's at Door there, ho: Who knocks?
Fal.
Why now you have done me right.
Sil. [Singing.]
Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo.
Is't not so?
Fal.
'Tis so.
Sil.
Is't? Why then say an old Man can do somewhat.
Dav.
If it please your Worship there's one Pistol come
from the Court with News.
Fal.
From the Court? Let him come.
Enter Pistol.
How now, Pistol?
Pist.
Sir John, save you, Sir.
Fal.
What Wind blew you hither, Pistol?
Pist.
Not the ill Wind which blows none to good, sweet
Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest Men in the
Realm.
-- 1284 --
Sil.
Indeed, I think he be, but Goodman Puff of Barson.
Pist.
Puff? puff in thy teeth, most recreant Coward base,
Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy Friend; helter skelter
have I rode to thee, and tydings do I bring, and lucky joys,
and golden Times, and happy News of price.
Fal.
I prithee now deliver them, like a Man of this World.
Pist.
A footra for the World, and Worldings base,
I speak of Africa, and Golden Joys.
Fal.
O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy News?
Let King Covitha know the truth thereof.
Sil.
And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and John.
Pist.
Shall dunghil Curs confront the Helicon?
And shall good News be baffl'd?
Then Pistol lay thy head in Fury's lap.
Shal.
Honest Gentleman,
I know not your breeding.
Pist.
Why then lament therefore.
Shal.
Give me pardon, Sir.
If, Sir, you come with News from the Court, I take it,
there is but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal
them. I am Sir, under the King, in some Authority.
Pist.
Under which King?
Bezonian, speak, or dye.
Shal.
Under King Harry,
Pist.
Harry the Fourth? or Fifth?
Shal.
Harry the Fourth.
Pist.
A footra for thine Office.
Sir John, thy tender Lamb-kin now is King,
Harry the Fifth's the Man, I speak the truth.
When Pistol lies, do this, and fig-me, like
The bragging Spaniard.
Fal.
What, is the old King dead?
Pist.
As nail in door,
The things I speak are just.
Fal.
Away Bardolf, saddle my Horse,
Master Robert Shallow, chuse what Office thou wilt
In the Land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee
With Dignities.
Bard.
O joyful day!
I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune.
-- 1285 --
Pist.
What? I do bring good News.
Fal.
Carry Master Silence to Bed: Master Shallow, my
Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortune's Steward.
Get on thy Boots, we'll ride all Night. Oh, sweet Pistol;
away Bardolph: Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and, withal,
devise something to do thy self good. Boot, boot, Master
Shallow, I know the young King issick for me. Let us take
any Man's Horses: The Laws of England are at my Commandment.
Happy are they which have been my Friends;
and wo unto my Lord Chief Justice.
Pist.
Let Vultures vile seize on his Lungs also:
Where is the Life that late I led, say they?
Why here it is, welcome those pleasant Days.
[Exeunt.
Charles Gildon [1709–1710], The works of Mr. William Shakespear; in six [seven] volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe ([Vol. 7] Printed for E. Curll... and E. Sanger [etc.], London) [word count] [S11401].
