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.
