Mouldy, Shadow,
Wart, Feeble, Bull-calf, and Servants, behind.
Shal.
Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your
hand, sir, give me 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 bedfellow?
and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter
Ellen?
Sil.
Alas! a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.
-- 398 --
Shal.
By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin
William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford,
still, is he not?
Sil.
Indeed, sir; to my cost.
Shal.
He must then to the inns of court shortly. I
was once of Clement's-inn; where, I think, they will
talk of mad Shallow yet.
Sil.
You were called lusty Shallow then, cousin.
Shal.
By the mass, I was called any thing; and I
would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too.
There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and
black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will
Squele a Cotswold man; you had not four such swinge-bucklers
in all the inns of court again: and, I may say
to you, we knew where the bona-robas were, and had
the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack
Falstaff, now sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray,
duke of Norfolk6 note.
Sil.
This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon
about soldiers?
Shal.
The same sir John, the very same. I saw him
break Skogan's head7 note at the court gate, when he was a
crack8 note, not thus high: and the very same day did I
fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind
-- 399 --
Gray's-inn. Jesu! Jesu! the mad days that I have
spent! and to see how many of mine old acquaintance
are dead!
Sil.
We shall all follow, cousin.
Shal.
Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure:
death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all
shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford
fair?
Sil.
Truly, cousin, I was not there.
Shal.
Death is certain.—Is old Double of your town
living yet.
Sil.
Dead, sir.
Shal.
Jesu! Jesu! Dead!—he drew a good bow;
—and dead!—he shot a fine shoot:—John of Gaunt
loved him well, and betted much money on his head.
Dead!—he would have clapped in the clout at twelve
score9 note; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and
fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's
heart good to see.—How a score of ewes now?
Sil.
Thereafter as they be; a score of good ewes
may be worth ten pounds.
Shal.
And is old Double dead!
Enter Bardolph, and one with him.
Sil.
Here come two of sir John Falstaff's men, as I
think.
Shal.
Good morrow, honest gentlemen1 note.
Bard.
I beseech you, which is justice Shallow?
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?
Bard.
My captain, sir, commends him to you; my
-- 400 --
captain, sir John Falstaff: a tall gentleman, by heaven,
and a most gallant leader.
Shal.
He greets me well, sir: I knew him a good
backsword man. How doth the good knight? may I
ask, how my lady his wife doth?
Bard.
Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated
than with a wife.
Shal.
It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said
indeed too. Better accommodated!—it is good; yea,
indeed, is it: good phrases are surely, and ever were2 note,
very commendable. Accommodated:—it comes of
accommodo: very good; a good phrase.
Bard.
Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word.
Phrase, call you it? By this good day3 note, 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, by heaven. Accommodated; that
is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or, when
a man is,—being,—whereby,—he may be thought to
be accommodated, which is an excellent thing.
Enter Falstaff.
Shal.
It is very just.—Look, here comes good sir
John.—Give me your good hand, give me your worship's
good hand. By my troth, you like well4 note, and
bear your years very well: welcome, good sir John.
Fal.
I am glad to see you well, good master Robert
Shallow.—Master Sure-card, as I think.
Shal.
No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission
with me.
-- 401 --
Fal.
Good master Silence, it well befits you should
be of the peace.
Sil.
Your good worship is welcome.
Fal.
Fie! this is hot weather.—Gentlemen, have
you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?
Shal.
Marry, have 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: so, so, so, so. Yea,
marry, sir:—Ralph Mouldy!—let them appear as I
call; let them do so, let them do so.—Let me see;
where is Mouldy?
Moul.
Here, an it please you.
Shal.
What think you, sir John? a good limbed
fellow: young, strong, and of good friends.
Fal.
Is thy name Mouldy?
Moul.
Yea, an it please you.
Fal.
'Tis the more time thou wert used.
Shal.
Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! things
that are mouldy lack use: very singular good! — In
faith, well said, sir John; very well said.
Fal.
Prick him.
[To Shallow.
Moul.
I was pricked well enough before, an you
could 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 pricked me; there are other
men fitter to go out than I.
Fal.
Go to; peace, Mouldy! you shall go. Mouldy,
it is time you were spent.
Moul.
Spent!
Shal.
Peace, fellow, peace! stand aside: know you
where you are?—For the other, sir John:—let me see.
—Simon Shadow!
Fal.
Yea marry, let me have him to sit under: he's
like to be a cold soldier.
Shal.
Where's Shadow.
Shad.
Here, sir.
-- 402 --
Fal.
Shadow, whose son art thou?
Shad.
My mother's son, sir.
Fal.
Thy mother's son! like enough; and thy
father's shadow: so the son of the female is the shadow
of the male. It is often so, indeed; but not of the
father's substance5 note.
Shal.
Do you like him, sir John?
Fal.
Shadow will serve for summer, prick him; for we
have a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book.
Shal.
Thomas Wart!
Fal.
Where's he?
Wart.
Here, sir.
Fal.
Is thy name Wart?
Wart.
Yea, sir.
Fal.
Thou art a very ragged wart.
Shal.
Shall I prick him, sir John?
Fal.
It were superfluous; for his apparel is built
upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins:
prick him no more.
Shal.
Ha, ha, ha!—you can do it, sir; you can do
it: I commend you well.—Francis Feeble!
Fee.
Here, sir.
Fal.
What trade art thou, Feeble?
Fee.
A woman's tailor, sir.
Shal.
Shall I prick him, sir?
Fal.
You may; but if he had been a man's tailor, he
would have pricked you.—Wilt thou make as many
holes in an enemy's battle, as thou hast done in a
woman's petticoat?
Fee.
I will do my good will, sir: you can have no more.
Fal.
Well said, good woman's tailor! well said,
courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the
wrathful dove, or most magnanimous mouse.—Prick
the woman's tailor. Well, master Shallow, deep
master Shallow.
-- 403 --
Fee.
I would Wart might have gone, sir.
Fal.
I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou
might'st mend him, and make him fit to go. I cannot
put him to a private soldier, that is the leader of so
many thousands: let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.
Fee.
It shall suffice, sir.
Fal.
I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.—Who is
next?
Shal.
Peter Bull-calf of the green!
Fal.
Yea, marry, let us see Bull-calf.
Bull.
Here, sir.
Fal.
'Fore God, a likely fellow!—Come, prick me
Bull-calf till he roar again.
Bull.
O lord! good my lord captain,—
Fal.
What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?
Bull.
O Lord! sir, I am a diseased man.
Fal.
What disease hast thou?
Bull.
A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which I
caught with ringing in the king's affairs upon his coronation
day, sir.
Fal.
Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown.
We will have away thy cold; and I will take such
order, that thy friends shall ring for thee.—Is here
all?
Shal.
Here is two more called than your number;
you must have but four here, sir:—and so, I pray you,
go in with me to dinner.
Fal.
Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot
tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth,
master Shallow.
Shal.
O, sir John, do you remember since we lay all
night in the windmill in Saint George's fields?
Fal.
No more of that, good master Shallow; no
more of that.
Shal.
Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane Night-work
alive?
Fal.
She lives, master Shallow.
-- 404 --
Shal.
She never could away with me6 note.
Fal.
Never, never: she would always say, she could
not abide Master Shallow.
Shal.
By the mass, I could anger her to the heart.
She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own
well.
Fal.
Old, old, master Shallow.
Shal.
Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but
be old; certain she's old, and had Robin Night-work
by old Night-work, before I came to Clement's-inn.
Sil.
That's fifty-five year ago.
Shal.
Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that
that this knight and I have seen!—Ha, sir John, said
I well?
Fal.
We have heard the chimes at midnight, master
Shallow.
Shal.
That we have, that we have, that we have;
in faith, sir John, we have. Our watch-word was,
“Hem, boys!”—Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to
dinner.—O, the days that we have seen! — Come,
come.
[Exeunt Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence.
Bull.
Good master corporate Bardolph, stand my
friend, and here is four Harry ten shillings in French
crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be
hanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own part, sir, I
do not care; but rather, because I am unwilling, and,
for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my
friends: else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so
much.
Bard.
Go to; stand aside.
Moul.
And good master corporal captain, for my old
dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do
any thing about her, when I am gone; and she is old,
and cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir.
-- 405 --
Bard.
Go to; stand aside.
Fee.
By my troth, I care not; a man can die but
once;—we owe God a death. I'll ne'er bear a base
mind:—an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so. No
man's too good to serve his prince; and let it go
which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the
next.
Bard.
Well said; thou art a good fellow.
Fee.
'Faith, I'll bear no base mind.
Re-enter Falstaff, and Justices.
Fal.
Come, sir, which men shall I have?
Shal.
Four, of which you please.
Bard.
Sir, a word with you.—I have three pound to
free Mouldy and Bull-calf.
Fal.
Go to; well.
Shal.
Come, sir John, which four will you have?
Fal.
Do you choose for me.
Shal.
Marry then,—Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, and
Shadow.
Fal.
Mouldy, and Bull-calf.—For you, Mouldy, stay
at home till you are past service:—and, for your part,
Bull-calf, grow till you come unto it: I will none of
you.
Shal.
Sir John, sir John, do not yourself wrong.
They are your likeliest men, and I would have you
served with the best.
Fal.
Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to
choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the
stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man? Give
me the spirit, master Shallow.—Here's Wart;—you
see what a ragged appearance it is: he shall charge
you, and discharge you, with the motion of a pewterer's
hammer; come off, and on, swifter than he that gibbets-on
the brewer's bucket. And this same half-faced
fellow, Shadow,—give me this man: he presents no
mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great
-- 406 --
aim level at the edge of a penknife. And, for a retreat,
—how swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run
off? O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great
ones.—Put me a caliver7 note into Wart's hand, Bardolph.
Bard.
Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus.
Fal.
Come, manage me your caliver. So:—very
well:—go to:—very good:—exceeding good.—O, give
me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot.—Well
said, i'faith, Wart: thou'rt a good scab; hold, there's a
tester for thee.
Shal.
He is not his craft's master, he doth not do it
right. I remember at Mile-end green, (when I lay at
Clement's inn,) I was then sir Dagonet in Arthur's
show8 note, there was a little quiver fellow, and he would
manage you his piece thus: and he would about, and
about, and come you in, and come you in: “rah, tah,
tah,” would he say; “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, master Shallow.—
God keep you, master Silence: I will not use many
words with you.—Fare you well, gentlemen both: I
thank you: I must a dozen mile to-night.—Bardolph,
give the soldiers coats.
Shal.
Sir John, the Lord bless you, and God prosper
your affairs, and send us peace! At your return, visit
our house9 note. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradventure,
I will with you to the court.
Fal.
'Fore God, I would you would.
-- 407 --
Shal.
Go to; I have spoke at a word. Fare you
well.
[Exeunt Shallow and Silence.
Fal.
Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On, Bardolph;
lead the men away1 note. [Exeunt Bardolph, Recruits,
&c.] As I return, I will fetch off these justices:
I do see the bottom of justice Shallow. Lord,
lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate
to me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he
hath done about Turnbull-street2 note; and every third word
a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute.
I do remember him at Clement's-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
so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight were
invincible3 note: he was the very genius of famine; [yet
lecherous as a monkey, and the whores called him—
mandrake.] He came ever in the rear-ward of the
fashion; [and sung those tunes to the over-scutched
huswives4 note that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware
—they were his fancies, or his good-nights5 note.] And
now is this Vice's dagger become a squire6 note; and talks
-- 408 --
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 burst his head7 note,
for crowding among the marshal's men. I saw it; and
told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name8 note; for you
might have thrust him9 note, and all his apparel, into an
eel-skin: the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion
for him, a court; and now has he land and beeves.
Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I return; and
it shall go hard, but I will make him a philosopher's
two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait 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.
[Exit.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
