Davy.
Shal.
Nay, you shall see mine orchard; where, in
an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own
graffing, with a dish of carraways, and so forth;—come,
cousin Silence;—and then to bed.
Fal.
'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling,
and a rich.
Shal.
Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars
all, sir John:—marry, good air.—Spread, Davy; spread,
Davy; well said, Davy.
Fal.
This Davy serves you for good uses: he is your
serving-man, and your husband.
Shal.
A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good
varlet, sir John.—By the mass1 note, I have drunk too much
sack at supper:—A good varlet. Now sit down, now
sit down.—Come, cousin.
Sil.
Ah, sirrah! quoth-a,—we shall
Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer,
[Singing.
And praise heaven for the merry year;
When flesh is cheap and females dear,
And lusty lads roam here and there,
So merrily,
And ever among so merrily2 note.
Fal.
There's a merry heart!—Good master Silence,
I'll give you a health for that anon.
-- 448 --
Shal.
Give master Bardolph some wine, Davy.
Davy.
Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon:—most
sweet sir, sit.—Master page, good master page, sit:
proface3 note! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink.
But you must bear: the heart's all4 note.
[Exit.
Shal.
Be merry, master Bardolph;—and my little
soldier there, be merry.
Sil.
Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;
[Singing.
For women are shrews, both short and tall:
'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,
And welcome merry shrove-tide.
Be merry, be merry, &c.
Fal.
I did not think master Silence had been a man
of this mettle.
Sil.
Who I? I have been merry twice and once,
ere now.
Re-enter Davy.
Davy.
There is a dish of leather-coats5 note for you.
[Setting them before Bardolph.
Shal.
Davy,—
Davy.
Your worship.—I'll be with you straight.—A
cup of wine, sir?
Sil.
A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine,
[Singing.
And drink unto the leman mine;
And a merry heart lives long-a.
Fal.
Well said, master Silence.
-- 449 --
Sil.
An 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 a mile to the bottom.
Shal.
Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest
any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart.—Welcome,
my little tiny thief; and welcome, indeed, too.—
I'll drink to master Bardolph, and to all the cavalieros
about London.
Davy.
I hope to see London once ere I die.
Bard.
An I might see you there, Davy,—
Shal.
By the mass, you'll crack a quart together.
Ha! will you not, master Bardolph?
Bard.
Yea, sir, in a pottle pot.
Shal.
By God's leggins 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. [Knocking heard.] Look, who's at door there.
Ho! who knocks?
[Exit Davy.
Fal.
Why, now you have done me right.
[To Silence, who drinks a bumper.
Sil.
Do me right,
[Singing.
And dub me knight:
Samingo6 note.
Is't not so?
Fal.
'Tis so.
-- 450 --
Sil.
Is't so? Why, then say, an old man can do
somewhat.
Re-enter Davy.
Davy.
An't please your worship, there's one Pistol
come from the court with news.
Fal.
From the court? let him come in.—
Enter Pistol.
How now, Pistol?
Pist.
Sir John, God save you, sir.
Fal.
What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
Pist.
Not the ill wind which blows no man to good7 note.
Sweet knight, th' art now one of the greatest men
In the realm.
Sil.
By'r lady, I think he be, but goodman Puff of
Barson8 note.
Pist.
Puff?
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!—
Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend,
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.
Fal.
I pr'ythee now, deliver them like a man of this
world.
Pist.
A foutra for the world, and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa, and golden joys.
Fal.
O base Assyrian knight! what is thy news?
Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Sil.
And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.
[Sings.
Pist.
Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
Shal.
Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.
-- 451 --
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, Bezonian9 note? speak, or die.
Shal.
Under king Harry.
Pist.
Harry the fourth? or fifth?
Shal.
Harry the fourth.
Pist.
A foutra for thine office!—
Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king;
Harry the fifth's the man. I speak the truth:
When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like
The bragging Spaniard1 note
.
Fal.
What! is the old king dead?
Pist.
As nail in door: the things I speak are just.
Fal.
Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse.—Master
Robert Shallow, choose 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.
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.—O,
sweet Pistol!—Away, Bardolph. [Exit Bard.]—Come,
Pistol, utter more to me; and, withal, devise something,
to do thyself good.—Boot, boot, master Shallow:
-- 452 --
I know, the young king is sick 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 woe unto my lord chief justice!
Pist.
Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!
“Where is the life that late I led,” say they2 note;
Why, here it is: welcome these pleasant days! 11Q0645
[Exeunt.
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].
