ACT II
SCENE I
London. A street.Enter Hostess, FANG and his Boy With her, and SNARE following.
Host.
Master Fang, have you entered the
action?
Fang.
It is entered.
Host.
Where's your yeoman? Is't a lusty
yeoman? will a' stand to't?
Fang.
Sirrah, where 's Snare?
Host.
O Lord, ay! good Master Snare.
Snare.
Here, here.
Fang.
Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
Host.
Yea, good Master Snare; I have entered (11)
him and all.
Snare.
It may chance cost some of us our
lives, for he will stab.
Host.
Alas the day! take heed of him; he
stabbed me in mine own house, and that most
beastly: in good faith, he cares not what mischief
he does, if his weapon be out: he will
foin like any devil; he will spare neither man,
woman, nor child.
Fang.
If I can close with him, I care not (21)
for his thrust.
Host.
No, nor I neither: I'll be at your
elbow.
Fang.
An I but fist him once; an a' come
but within my vice,--
Host.
I am undone by his going; I warrant
you, he's an infinitive thing upon my score.
Good Master Fang, hold him sure: good Master
Snare, let him not 'scape. A' comes continuantly
to Pie-corner--saving your manhoods
--to buy a saddle; and he is indited to dinner
to the Lubber's-head in Lumbert street, to
Master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since
my exion is entered and my case so openly
known to the world, let him be brought in to
his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for
a poor lone woman to bear: and I have borne,
and borne, and borne, and have been fubbed
off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off, from this
day to that day, that it is a shame to be
thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing;
unless a woman should be made an ass
and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong.
Yonder he comes; and that arrant malmsey-
nose knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices,
do your offices: Master Fang and Master
Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices. Enter FALSTAFF, Page, and BARDOLPH.
Fal.
How now! whose mare's dead?
what's the matter?
Fang.
Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of
Mistress Quickly.
Fal.
Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph: cut
me off the villain's head: throw the quean in
the channel.
Host.
Throw me in the channel! I'll throw
thee in the channel. Wilt thou? wilt thou?
thou bastardly rogue! Murder, murder! Ah,
thou honey-suckle villain! wilt thou kill God's
officers and the king's? Ah, thou honey-seed
rogue! thou art a honey-seed, a man-queller,
and a woman-queller. (60)
Fal.
Keep them off, Bardolph.
Fang.
A rescue! a rescue!
Host.
Good people, bring a rescue or two.
Thou wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't ta? do,
do, thou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed!
Fal.
Away, you scullion! you rampallian!
you fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. Enter the LORD CHIEF-JUSTICE, and his men.
Ch. Just.
What is the matter? keep the
peace here, ho!
Host.
Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech (70)
you, stand to me.
Ch. Just.
How now, Sir John! what are you brawling here?
Doth this become your place, your time and business?
You should have been well on your way to York.
Stand from him, fellow: wherefore hang'st upon him?
Host.
O my most worshipful lord, an't please
your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap,
and he is arrested at my suit.
Ch. Just.
For what sum?
Host.
It is more than for some, my lord; it
is for all, all I have. He hath eaten me out of
house and home; he hath put all my substance
into that fat belly of his: but I will have some
of it out again, or I will ride thee o' nights like
the mare.
Fal.
I think I am as like to ride the mare,
if I have any vantage of ground to get up.
Ch. Just.
How comes this, Sir John? Fie!
what man of good temper would endure this
tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed
to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course (90)
to come by her own?
Fal.
What is the gross sum that I owe thee?
Host.
Marry, if thou wert an honest man,
thyself and the money too. Thou didst swear to
me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my
Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a seacoal
fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week,
when the prince broke thy head for liking his
father to a singing-man of Windsor, thou didst
swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound,
to marry me and make me my lady thy wife.
Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech,
the butcher's wife, come in then and call me
gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess
of vinegar; telling us she had a good dish of
prawns; whereby thou didst desire to eat
some; whereby I told thee they were ill for a
green wound? And didst thou not, when she
was gone down stairs, desire me to be no more
so familiarity with such poor people; saying
that ere long they would call me madam?
And didst thou not kiss me and bid me fetch
thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy
book-oath: deny it, if thou canst.
Fal.
My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and
she says up and down the town that the eldest
son is like you: she hath been in good case,
and the truth is, poverty hath distracted her.
But for these foolish officers, I beseech you I
may have redress against them.
Ch. Just.
Sir John, Sir John, I am well
acquainted with your manner of wrenching the
true cause the false way. It is not a confident
brow, nor the throng of words that come with
such more than impudent sauciness from you,
can thrust me from a level consideration: you
have, as it appears to me, practised upon the
easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made
her serve your uses both in purse and in
person.
Host.
Yea, in truth, my lord.
Ch. Just.
Pray thee, peace. Pay her the
debt you owe her, and unpay the villany you
have done her: the one you may do with sterling
money, and the other with current
repentance.
Fal.
My lord, I will not undergo this sneap
without reply. You call honourable boldness
impudent sauciness: if a man will make courtesy
and say nothing, he is virtuous: no, my
lord, my humble duty remembered, I will not
be your suitor. I say to you, I do desire deliverance
from these officers, being upon hasty (140)
employment in the king's affairs.
Ch. Just.
You speak as having power to do
wrong: but answer in the effect of your reputation,
and satisfy the poor woman.
Fal.
Come hither, hostess. Enter GOWER.
Ch. Just.
Now, Master Gower, what news?
Gow.
The king, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales
Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells.
Fal.
As I am a gentleman.
Host.
Faith, you said so before.
Fal.
As I am a gentleman. Come, no more (151)
words of it.
Host.
By this heavenly ground I tread on, I
must be fain to pawn both my plate and the
tapestry of my dining-chambers.
Fal.
Glasses, glasses is the only drinking:
and for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or
the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting
in water-work, is worth a thousand of these
bed-hangings and these fly-bitten tapestries.
Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an
'twere not for thy humors, there's not a better
wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and
draw the action. Come, thou must not be in
this humor with me; dost not know me? come,
come, I know thou wast set on to this.
Host.
Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but
twenty nobles: i' faith, I am loath to pawn my
plate, so God save me, la!
Fal.
Let it alone; I'll make other shift: (170)
you'll be a fool still.
Host.
Well, you shall have it, though I
pawn my gown. I hope you'll come to supper.
You'll pay me all together?
Fal.
Will I live? [To Bardolph] Go, with
her, with her; hook on, hook on.
Host.
Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet
you at supper?
Fal.
No more words: let's have her. [Exeunt Hostess, Bardolph, Officers, and Boy.
Ch. Just.
I have heard better news. (180)
Fal.
What's the news, my lord?
Ch. Just.
Where lay the king last night?
Gow.
At Basingstoke, my lord.
Fal.
I hope, my lord, all's well: what is
the news, my lord?
Ch. Just.
Come all his forces back?
Gow.
No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse,
Are march'd up to my lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.
Fal.
Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord? (190)
Ch. Just.
You shall have letters of me presently:
Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.
Fal.
My lord!
Ch. Just.
What's the matter?
Fal.
Master Gower, shall I entreat you with
me to dinner?
Gow.
I must wait upon my lord
here; I thank you, good Sir John.
Ch. Just.
Sir John, you loiter here too long,
being you are to take soldiers up in counties (200)
as you go.
Fal.
Will you sup with me, Master Gower?
Ch. Just.
What foolish master taught you
these manners, Sir John?
Fal.
Master Gower, if they become me not,
he was a fool that taught them me. This is the
right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, and
so part fair.
Ch. Just.
Now the Lord lighten thee! thou
art a great fool. [Exeunt.
SCENE II
London. Another street.Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS.
Prince.
Before God, I am exceeding weary.
Poins.
Is't come to that? I had thought
weariness durst not have attached one of so
high blood.
Prince.
Faith, it does me; though it dis-
colors the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge
it. Doth it not show vilely in me
to desire small beer?
Poins.
Why, a prince should not be so
loosely studied as to remember so weak a
composition.
Prince.
Belike then my appetite was not
princely got; for, by my troth, I do now remember
the poor creature, small beer. But,
indeed, these humble considerations make me
out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace
is it to me to remember thy name! or to know
thy face to-morrow! or to take note how
many pair of silk stockings thou hast, viz.
these, and those that were thy peach-colored
ones! or to bear the inventory of thy shirts,
as, one for superfluity, and another for use!
But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better
than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee
when thou keepest not racket there; as thou
hast not done a great while, because the rest
of thy low countries have made a shift to eat
up thy holland: and God knows, whether
those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall
inherit his kingdom: but the midwives say the
children are not in the fault; whereupon the
world increases, and kindreds are mightily
strengthened.
Poins.
How ill it follows, after you have
labored so hard, you should talk so idly! Tell
me, how many good young princes would do
so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this
time is?
Prince.
Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?
Poins.
Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent
good thing.
Prince.
It shall serve among wits of no
higher breeding than thine.
Poins.
Go to; I stand the push of your one (41)
thing that you will tell.
Prince.
Marry, I tell thee, it is not meet
that I should be sad, now my father is sick:
albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases me,
for fault of a better, to call my friend, I could
be sad, and sad indeed too.
Poins.
Very hardly upon such a subject.
Prince.
By this hand, thou thinkest me as
far in the devil's book as thou and Falstaff for
obduracy and persistency: let the end try the
man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly
that my father is so sick: and keeping
such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken
from me all ostentation of sorrow.
Poins.
The reason?
Prince.
What wouldst thou think of me, if
I should weep?
Poins.
I would think thee a most princely (59)
hypocrite.
Prince.
It would be every man's thought;
and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every
man thinks: never a man's thought in the
world keeps the road-way better than thine: every
man would think me an hypocrite indeed.
And what accites your most worshipful thought
to think so?
Poins.
Why, because you have been so
lewd and so much engraffed to Falstaff.
Prince.
And to thee.
Poins.
By this light, I am well spoke on;
I can hear it with mine own ears: the worst
that they can say of me is that I am a second
brother and that I am a proper fellow of my
hands; and those two things, I confess, I cannot
help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph. Enter BARDOLPH and Page.
Prince.
And the boy that I gave Falstaff:
a' had him from me Christian; and look, if
the fat villain have not transformed him ape.
Bard.
God save your grace!
Prince.
And yours, most noble Bardolph!
Bard.
Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful
fool, must you be blushing? wherefore blush
you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are
you become! Is 't such a matter to get a
pottle-pot's maidenhead?
Page.
A' calls me e'en now, my lord,
through a red lattice, and I could discern no
part of his face from the window; at last I
spied his eyes, and methought he had made
two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat and
so peeped through. (90)
Prince.
Has not the boy profited?
Bard.
Away, you whoreson upright rabbit,
away!
Page.
Away, you rascally Althæa's dream,
away!
Prince.
Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
Page.
Marry, my lord, Althæa dreamed
she was delivered of a fire-brand; and therefore
I call him her dream.
Prince.
A crown's worth of good interpretation: (100)
there 'tis, boy.
Poins.
O, that this good blossom could be
kept from cankers! Well, there is sixpence
to preserve thee.
Bard.
An you do not make him hanged
among you, the gallows shall have wrong.
Prince.
And how doth thy master,
Bardolph?
Bard.
Well, my Lord. He heard of your
grace's coming to town: there's a letter for you.
Poins.
Delivered with good respect. And (110)
how doth the martlemas, your master?
Bard.
In bodily health, sir.
Poins.
Marry, the immortal part needs a
physician; but that moves not him: though
that be sick, it dies not.
Prince.
I do allow this wen to be as familiar
with me as my dog; and he holds his
place; for look you how he writes.
Poins.
[Reads]
'John Falstaff, knight,'-
every man must know that, as oft as he has
occasion to name himself: even like those that
are kin to the king; for they never prick their
finger but they say, 'There's some of the
king's blood spilt.' How comes that?' says
he, that takes upon him not to conceive. The
answer is as ready as a borrower's cap, 'I am
the king's poor cousin, sir.'
Prince.
Nay, they will be kin to us, or
they will fetch it from Japhet. But to the letter.
Poins.
[Reads]
'Sir John Falstaff, knight,
to the son of the king, nearest his father, Harry
Prince of Wales, greeting.' Why, this is a
certificate.
Prince.
Peace!
Poins.
[Reads]
' I will imitate the honorable
Romans in brevity:' he sure means brevity
in breath, short-winded. 'I commend me to
thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be
not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses
thy favors so much, that he swears thou art
to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times (141)
as thou mayest; and so, farewell.
'Thine, by yea and no, which is as much
as to say, as thou usest him, JACK
FALSTAFF with my familiars, JOHN
with my brothers and sisters, and SIR
JOHN with all Europe.'
My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and
make him eat it.
Prince.
That's to make him eat twenty of
his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? (151)
must I marry your sister?
Poins.
God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so.
Prince.
Well, thus we play the fools with
the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the
clouds and mock us. Is your master here in
London?
Bard.
Yea, my lord.
Prince.
Where sups he? doth the old boar (160)
feed in the old frank?
Bard.
At the old place, my lord, in East
cheap.
Prince.
What company?
Page.
Ephesians, my lord, of the old
church.
Prince.
Sup any women with him?
Page.
None, my lord, but old Mistress
Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.
Prince.
What pagan may that be?
Page.
A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a (170)
kinswoman of my master's.
Prince.
Even such kin as the parish heifers
are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon
them, Ned, at supper?
Poins.
I am your shadow, my lord; I'll
follow you.
Prince.
Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no
word to your master that I am yet come to
town: there's for your silence. (179)
Bard.
I have no tongue, sir.
Page.
And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
Prince.
Fare you well; go. [Exeunt Bardolph and Page.]
This Doll Tearsheet should
be some road.
Poins.
I warrant you, as common as the
way between Saint Alban's and London.
Prince.
How might we see Falstaff bestow
himself to-night in his true colours, and not
ourselves be seen?
Poins.
Put on two leathern jerkins and
aprons, and wait upon him at his table as (191)
drawers.
Prince.
From a God to a bull? a heavy
descension! it was Jove's case. From a prince
to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall
be mine; for in every thing the purpose must
weigh the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt.
SCENE III
Warkworth. Before the castle.Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY.
North.
I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs:
Put not you on the visage of the times
And be like them to Percy troublesome.
Lady N.
I have given over, I will speak no more:
Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.
North.
Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn;
And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
Lady P.
O yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars! (10)
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now;
When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look to see his father
Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain.
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours lost, yours and your son's.
For yours, the God of heaven brighten it!
For his, it stuck upon him as the sun
In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light (20)
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts: he was indeed the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves:
He had no legs that practised not his gait;
And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant;
For those that could speak low and tardily
Would turn their own perfection to abuse,
To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait,
In diet, in affections of delight, (30)
In military rules, humors of blood,
He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him!
O miracle of men! him did you leave,
Second to none, unseconded by you,
To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage; to abide a field
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
Did seem defensible: so you left him.
Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong (40)
To hold your honour more precise and nice
With others than with him! let them alone:
The marshal and the archbishop are strong:
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.
North.
Beshrew your heart,
Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me
With new lamenting ancient oversights.
But I must go and meet with danger there,
Or it will seek me in another place
And find me worse provided.
Lady N.
O, fly to Scotland,
Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
Lady P.
If they get ground and vantage of the king,
Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves,
First let them try themselves. So did your son;
He was so suffer'd: so came I a widow;
And never shall have length of life enough
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, (61)
For recordation to my noble husband.
North.
Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind
As with the tide swell'd up unto his height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way:
Fain would I go to meet the archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back.
I will resolve for Scotland: there am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV
London. The Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap.Enter two Drawers.
First Draw.
What the devil hast thou
brought there? apple-johns? thou knowest
Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.
Sec. Draw.
Mass, thou sayest true. The
prince once set a dish of apple-johns before
him, and told him there were five more Sir
Johns, and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now
take my leave of these six dry, round, old,
withered knights.' It angered him to the (10)
heart: but he hath forgot that.
First Draw.
Why, then, cover, and set them
down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak's
noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear
some music. Dispatch: the room where they
supped is too hot; they'll come in straight.
Sec. Draw.
Sirrah, here will be the prince
and Master Poins anon; and they will put on
two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John
must not know of it: Bardolph hath brought (20)
word.
First Draw.
By the mass, here be old
Utis: it will be an excellent stratagem.
Sec. Draw.
I'll see if I can find out Sneak. [Exit. Enter Hostess and DOLL TEARSHEET.
Host.
I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now
you are in an excellent good temperality: your
pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart
would desire; and your color, I warrant you,
is as red as any rose, in good truth, la! But,
i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries;
and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it
perfumes the blood ere one can say 'What's
this?' How do you now?
Dol.
Better than I was: hem!
Host.
Why, that 's well said; a good heart's
worth gold. Lo, here comes Sir John. Enter FALSTAFF.
Fal.
[Singing]
'When Arthur first in court'
--Empty the jordan. [Exit First Drawer.] --
[Singing] 'And was a worthy king.' How
now, Mistress Doll! (40)
Host.
Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.
Fal.
So is all her sect; and they be once in
a calm, they are sick.
Dol.
You muddy rascal, is that all the
comfort you give me?
Fal.
You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
Dol.
I make them! gluttony and diseases
make them: I make them not.
Fal.
If the cook help to make the gluttony,
you help to make the diseases, Doll: we catch
of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my (51)
poor virtue, grant that.
Dol.
Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.
Fal.
'Your brooches, pearls, and ouches:'
for to serve bravely is to come halting off, you
know: to come off the breach with his pike
bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to ven-
ture upon the charged chambers bravely,--
Dol.
Hang yourself, you muddy conger, (59)
hang yourself!
Host.
By my troth, this is the old fashion;
you two never meet but you fall to some discord:
you are both, i' good truth, as rheumatic
as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear
with another's confirmities. What the good-year!
one must bear, and that must be you:
you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the
emptier vessel.
Dol.
Can a weak empty vessel bear such a
huge full hogshead? there's a whole merchant's
venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him;
you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the
hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack:
thou art going to the wars; and whether I
shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody
cares. Re-enter First Drawer.
First Draw.
Sir, Ancient Pistol's below,
and would speak with you.
Dol.
Hang him, swaggering rascal! let
him not come hither: it is the foul-mouthed'st
rogue in England.
Host.
If he swagger, let him not come
here: no, by my faith; I must live among my
neighbors: I 'll no swaggerers: I am in good
name and fame with the very best: shut the
door; there comes no swaggerers here: I have
not lived all this while, to have swaggering
now: shut the door, I pray you.
Fal.
Dost thou hear, hostess?
Host.
Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John:
there comes no swaggerers here.
Fal.
Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient.
Host.
Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me:
your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors.
I was before Master Tisick, the debuty t'other
day; and, as he said to me, 'twas no longer
ago than Wednesday last. 'I' good faith,
neighbor Quickly,' says he; Master Dunbe,
our minister, was by then; 'neighbor Quickly,'
says he, 'receive those that are civil; for'
said he, 'you are in an ill name:' now a' said
so, I can tell whereupon: 'for,' says he, 'you
are an honest woman, and well thought on;
therefore take heed what guests you receive:
receive,' says he, 'no swaggering companions.'
There comes none here: you would
bless you to hear what he said: no, I'll no
swaggerers.
Fal.
He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame
cheater, i' faith; you may stroke him as
gently as a puppy greyhound: he'll not swagger
with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn
back in any show of resistance. Call him up,
drawer. [Exit First Drawer.
Host.
Cheater, call you him? I will bar
no honest man my house, nor no cheater: but
I do not love swaggering, by my troth; I am
the worse, when one says swagger: feel, masters,
how I shake; look you, I warrant you.
Dol.
So you do, hostess.
Host.
Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an
'twere an aspen leaf: I cannot abide
swaggerers. Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and Page. (119)
Pist.
God save you, Sir John!
Fal.
Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol,
I charge you with a cup of sack: do you discharge
upon mine hostess.
Pist.
I will discharge upon her, Sir John,
with two bullets.
Fal.
She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall
hardly offend her.
Host.
Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no
bullets: I'll drink no more than will do me
good, for no man's pleasure, I.
Pist.
Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I (131)
will charge you.
Dol.
Charge me! I scorn you, companion.
What! you poor, base, rascally, cheating,
lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy
rogue, away! I am meat for your master.
Pist.
I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
Dol.
Away, you cut-purse rascal! you
filthy bung, away! by this wine, I 'll thrust
my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play
the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale
rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
Since when, I pray you, sir? God's light, with
two points on your shoulder? much!
Pist.
God let me not live, but I will murder
your ruff for this.
Fal.
No more, Pistol; I would not have
you go off here: discharge yourself of our
company, Pistol.
Host.
No, Good Captain Pistol; not here, (150)
sweet captain.
Dol.
Captain! thou abominable damned
cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called
captain? An captains were of my mind, they
would truncheon you out, for taking their
names upon you before you have earned them.
You a captain! you slave, for what? for
tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house?
He a captain! hang him, rogue! he lives
upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes.
A captain! God's light, these villains will
make the word as odious as the word 'occupy;'
which was an excellent good word before
it was ill sorted: therefore captains had
need look to't.
Bard.
Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Fal.
Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
Pist.
Not I: I tell thee what, Corporal
Bardolph, I could tear her: I 'll be revenged
of her.
Page.
Pray thee, go down.
Pist.
I 'll see her damned first; to Pluto's
damned lake, by this hand, to the infernal
deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold
hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs!
down, faitors! Have we not Hiren here ?
Host.
Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis
very late, i' faith: I beseek you now, aggravate
your choler.
Pist.
These be good humors, indeed! Shall pack-horses
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty mile a-day,
Compare with Cæsars, and with Cannibals, (181)
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?
Host.
By my troth, captain, these are very
bitter words.
Bard.
Be gone, good ancient: this will
grow to a brawl anon.
Pist.
Die men like dogs! give crowns like (189)
pinsl Have we not Hiren here?
Host.
O' my word, captain, there's none
such here. What the good-year! do you think
I would deny her? For God's sake, be quiet.
Pist.
Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
Come, give's some sack.
'Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento.'
Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire:
Give me some sack: and, sweetheart, lie thou there. [Laying down his sword.
Come we to fill points here; and are etceteras nothing ?
Fal.
Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pist.
Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: what! (201)
we have seen the seven stars.
Dol.
For God's sake, thrust him down
stairs: I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.
Pist.
Thrust him down stairs! know we
not Galloway nags?
Fal.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a
shove-groat shilling: nay, an a' do nothing
but speak nothing, a' shall be nothing here. (209)
Bard.
Come, get you down stairs.
Pist.
What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue? [Snatching up his sword.
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three! Come Atropos, I say!
Host.
Here's goodly stuff toward!
Fal.
Give me my rapier, boy.
Dol.
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not
draw.
Fal.
Get you down stairs. [Drawing, and driving Pistol out.
Host.
Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear
keeping house, afore I'll be in these
tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant
now. Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons,
put up your naked weapons. [Exeunt Pistol and Bardolph.
Dol.
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the
rascal's gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant
villain, you!
Host.
Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought
a' made a shrewd thrust at your belly. Re-enter BARDOLPH.
Fal.
Have you turned him out o' doors?
Bard.
Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you (231)
have hurt him, sir, i' the shoulder.
Fal.
A rascal! to brave me!
Dol.
Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! alas,
poor ape, how thou sweatestl come, let me
wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops:
ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee: thou art as
valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of
Agamemnon, and ten times better than the
Nine Worthies: ah, villain!
Fal.
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue (241)
in a blanket.
Dol.
Do, an thou darest for thy heart: an
thou dost, I 'll canvass thee between a pair of
sheets. Enter Music.
Page.
The music is come, sir.
Fal.
Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my
knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue
fled from me like quicksilver.
Dol.
I' faith, and thou followedst him like
a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew
boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting
o' days and foining o' nights, and begin to
patch up thine old body for heaven? Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS, disguised
Fal.
Peace, good Doll do not speak like
a death's-head; do not bid me remember mine
end.
Dol.
Sirrah, what humour's the prince of?
Fal.
A good shallow young fellow: a'
would have made a good pantler, a' would
ha' chipped bread well. (260)
Dol.
They say Poins has a good wit.
Fal.
He a good wit? hang him, baboon!
his wit's as thick as Tewksbury mustard;
there's no more conceit in him than is in a
mallet.
Dol.
Why does the prince love him so,
then ?
Fal.
Because their legs are both of a bigness,
and a' plays at quoits well, and eats
conger and fennel, and drinks off candles'
ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild-mare
with the boys, and jumps upon joined-stools,
and swears with a good grace, and wears his
boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the
leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet
stories; and such other gambol faculties a'
has, that show a weak mind and an able body,
for the which the prince admits him: for the
prince himself is such another; the weight of
a hair will turn the scales between their (280)
avoirdupois.
Prince.
Would not this nave of a wheel (279)
have his ears cut off?
Poins.
Let's beat him before his whore.
Prince.
Look, whether the withered elder
hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.
Poins.
Is it not strange that desire should
so many years outlive performance?
Fal.
Kiss me, Doll.
Prince.
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction!
what says the almanac to that?
Poins.
And, look, whether the fiery Trigon,
his man, be not lisping to his master's old (290)
tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.
Fal.
Thou dost give me flattering busses.
Dol.
By my troth, I kiss thee with a most
constant heart.
Fal.
I am old, I am old.
Dol.
I love thee better than I love e'er a
scurvy young boy of them all.
Fal.
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I
shall receive money o' Thursday: shalt have a
cap to-morrow. A merry song, come: it grows
late; we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me when I
am gone.
Dol.
By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping,
an thou sayest so: prove that ever I dress
myself handsome till thy return: well, harken
at the end.
Fal.
Some sack, Francis.
Prince. Poins.
Anon, anon, sir. [Coming forward.
Fal.
Ha! a bastard son of the king's? And art not thou Poins his brother?
Prince.
Why, thou globe of sinful continents, (310)
what a life dost thou lead!
Fal.
A better than thou: I am a gentleman;
thou art a drawer.
Prince.
Very true, sir; and I come to draw
you out by the ears.
Host.
O, the Lord preserve thy good grace!
by my troth, welcome to London. Now, the
Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu,
are you come from Wales?
Fal.
Thou whoreson mad compound of
majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, (321)
thou art welcome.
Dol.
How, you fat fool! I scorn you.
Poins.
My lord, he will drive you out of
your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if
you take not the heat.
Prince.
You whoreson candle-mine, you,
how vilely did you speak of me even now be-
fore this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
Host.
God's blessing of your good heart! (330)
and so she is, by my troth.
Fal.
Didst thou hear me?
Prince.
Yea, and you knew me, as you did
when you ran away by Gad's-hill: you knew I
was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to
try my patience.
Fal.
No, no, no; not so; I did not think
thou wast within hearing.
Prince.
I shall drive you then to confess the
wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle
you.
Fal.
No abuse, Hal, o' mine honor; no
abuse.
Prince.
Not to dispraise me, and call me
pantler and bread-chipper and I know not
what?
Fal.
No abuse, Hal.
Poins.
No abuse?
Fal.
No abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest
Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked,
that the wicked might not fall in love with
him; in which doing, I have done the part of
a careful friend and a true subject, and thy
father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse,
Hal: none, Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none.
Prince.
See now, whether pure fear and
entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong
this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us?
is she of the wicked? is thine hostess here of
the wicked? or is thy boy of the wicked? or
honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose,
of the wicked?
Poins.
Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
Fal.
The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph
irrevocable; and his face is Lucifer's
privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but
roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a
good angel about him; but the devil outbids
him too.
Prince.
For the women?
Fal.
For one of them, she is in hell already,
and burns poor souls. For the other, I owe
her money; and whether she be damned for
that, I know not. (369)
Host.
No, I warrant you.
Fal.
No, I think thou art not; I think thou
art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment
upon thee, for suffering flesh to be
eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for
the which I think thou wilt howl.
Host.
All victuallers do so: what's a joint
of mutton or two in a whole Lent?
Prince.
You, gentlewoman,--
Dol.
What says your grace?
Fal.
His grace says that which his flesh
rebels against. [Knocking within.
Host.
Who knocks so loud at door? Look
to the door there, Francis. Enter PETO.
Prince.
Peto, how now! what news?
Peto.
The king your father is at Westminster:
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
Come from the north: and, as I came along,
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff. (390)
Prince.
By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,
So idly to profane the precious time,
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Borne with black vapor, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night. [Exeunt Prince Henry, Poins, Peto and Bardolph,
Fal.
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of
the night, and we must hence and leave it un
picked. [Knocking within.] More knocking
at the door! Re-enter BARDOLPH. (400)
How now! what's the matter?
Bard.
You must away to court, sir, presently;
A dozen captains stay at door for you.
Fal.
[To the Page]
Pay the musicians,
sirrah. Farewell, hostess; farewell, Doll. You
see, my good wenches, how men of merit are
sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when
the man of action is called on. Farewell, good
wenches: if I be not sent away post, I will
see you again ere I go.
Dol.
I cannot speak; if my heart be not
ready to burst,--well, sweet Jack, have a care
of thyself.
Fal.
Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt Falstaff and Bardolph.
Host.
Well, fare thee well: I have known
thee these twenty nine years, come peascodtime;
but an honester and truer-hearted man,
--well, fare thee well.
Bard.
[Within]
Mistress Tearsheet!
Host.
What's the matter?
Bard.
[Within]
Good Mistress Tearsheet (419)
come to my master.
Host.
O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll:
come. [She comes blubbered.] Yea, will you
come, Doll? [Exeunt.
