26 The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth Act III
ACT II
SCENE I. London. A street.
Enter Hostess with two
Officers, Fang and Snare, following.
HOSTESS.
Master Fang, have you entered the action?
FANG.
It is entered.
HOSTESS.
Where’s your yeoman? Is ’t a lusty yeoman? Will he stand to
’t?
FANG.
Sirrah, where’s Snare?
HOSTESS.
O Lord, ay! Good Master Snare.
SNARE.
Here, here.
FANG.
Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
HOSTESS.
Yea, good Master Snare, I have entered him and all.
SNARE.
It may chance cost some of our lives, for he will stab.
HOSTESS.
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 for his thrust.
HOSTESS.
No, nor I neither. I’ll be at your elbow.
FANG.
An I but fist him once, an he come but within my vice,—
HOSTESS.
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. He 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 you, 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, Bardolph and
Page.
FALSTAFF.
How now, whose mare’s dead? What’s the matter?
FANG.
Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.
FALSTAFF.
Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph! Cut me off the villain’s head. Throw the
quean in the channel.
HOSTESS.
Throw me in the channel? I’ll throw thee in the channel. Wilt thou, wilt
thou, thou bastardly rogue? Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle villain, wilt
thou kill God’s officers and the King’s? Ah, thou honeyseed rogue,
thou art a honeyseed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller.
FALSTAFF.
Keep them off, Bardolph.
FANG.
A rescue! A rescue!
HOSTESS.
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 hempseed!
PAGE.
Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you fustilarian! I’ll tickle your
catastrophe.
Enter the Lord Chief Justice and his men.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
What is the matter? Keep the peace here, ho!
HOSTESS.
Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech you stand to me.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
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 thou upon him?
HOSTESS.
O my most worshipful lord, an’t please your Grace, I am a poor widow of
Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
For what sum?
HOSTESS.
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.
FALSTAFF.
I think I am as like to ride the mare if I have any vantage of ground to get
up.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
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 to come by her own?
FALSTAFF.
What is the gross sum that I owe thee?
HOSTESS.
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 sea-coal 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 green wound? And didst thou not,
when she was gone downstairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity with such
poor people, saying that ere long they should 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.
FALSTAFF.
My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and down the town that her
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.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
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.
HOSTESS.
Yea, in truth, my lord.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Pray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villany you have
done with her. The one you may do with sterling money, and the other with
current repentance.
FALSTAFF.
My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply. You call honourable
boldness impudent sauciness; if a man will make curtsy 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
employment in the King’s affairs.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
You speak as having power to do wrong; but answer in th’ effect of your
reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.
FALSTAFF.
Come hither, hostess.
Enter Gower.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Now, Master Gower, what news?
GOWER.
The King, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales
Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells.
FALSTAFF.
As I am a gentleman.
HOSTESS.
Faith, you said so before.
FALSTAFF.
As I am a gentleman. Come, no more words of it.
HOSTESS.
By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate and
the tapestry of my dining-chambers.
FALSTAFF.
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 waterwork, is
worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it
be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an ’twere not for thy humours,
there’s not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw the
action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me; dost not know me? Come,
come, I know thou wast set on to this.
HOSTESS.
Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles. I’ faith, I am loath to
pawn my plate, so God save me, la!
FALSTAFF.
Let it alone, I’ll make other shift: you’ll be a fool still.
HOSTESS.
Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you’ll come to
supper. You’ll pay me all together?
FALSTAFF.
Will I live? [To Bardolph.] Go, with her, with her. Hook on, hook on.
HOSTESS.
Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?
FALSTAFF.
No more words, let’s have her.
[Exeunt Hostess, Fang, Snare,
Bardolph and Page.]
CHIEF JUSTICE.
I have heard better news.
FALSTAFF.
What’s the news, my lord?
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Where lay the King tonight?
GOWER.
At Basingstoke, my lord.
FALSTAFF.
I hope, my lord, all’s well. What is the news, my lord?
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Come all his forces back?
GOWER.
No, fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse
Are march’d up to my Lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.
FALSTAFF.
Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord?
CHIEF JUSTICE.
You shall have letters of me presently.
Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.
FALSTAFF.
My lord!
CHIEF JUSTICE.
What’s the matter?
FALSTAFF.
Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?
GOWER.
I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir John.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in
counties as you go.
FALSTAFF.
Will you sup with me, Master Gower?
CHIEF JUSTICE.
What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John?
FALSTAFF.
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.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
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 discolours 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 tomorrow! or to take note how many pair of silk
stockings thou hast—viz. these, and those that were thy peach-coloured
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 of 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 laboured 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 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 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
roadway 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. He had him from me Christian, and look
if the fat villain have not transformed him ape.
BARDOLPH.
God save your Grace!
PRINCE.
And yours, most noble Bardolph!
POINS.
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.
He 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.
PRINCE.
Has not the boy profited?
BARDOLPH.
Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away!
PAGE.
Away, you rascally Althaea’s dream, away!
PRINCE.
Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
PAGE.
Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand; and therefore
I call him her dream.
PRINCE.
A crown’s worth of good interpretation. There ’tis, boy.
POINS.
O, that this blossom could be kept from cankers! Well, there is sixpence to
preserve thee.
BARDOLPH.
An you do not make him be hanged among you, the gallows shall have wrong.
PRINCE.
And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
BARDOLPH.
Well, my lord. He heard of your Grace’s coming to town. There’s a
letter for you.
POINS.
Delivered with good respect. And how doth the martlemas, your master?
BARDOLPH.
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: “Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the King, nearest his
father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting.”
POINS.
Why, this is a certificate.
PRINCE.
Peace! “I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity.”
POINS.
He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded.
PRINCE.
“I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too
familiar with Poins, for he misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou
art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst, 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.”
POINS.
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?
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?
BARDOLPH.
Yea, my lord.
PRINCE.
Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank?
BARDOLPH.
At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.
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 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.
BARDOLPH.
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 Albans and London.
PRINCE.
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight 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
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
everything the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Warkworth. Before the castle.
Enter Northumberland, Lady
Northumberland and Lady Percy.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
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 NORTHUMBERLAND.
I have given over, I will speak no more.
Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn,
And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
LADY PERCY.
O yet, for God’s sake, go not to these wars!
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
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 practis’d not his gait;
And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant;
For those who 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,
In military rules, humours 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
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,
Today might I, hanging on Hotspur’s neck,
Have talk’d of Monmouth’s grave.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
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 NORTHUMBERLAND.
O, fly to Scotland,
Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
LADY PERCY.
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
For recordation to my noble husband.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
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 DRAWER.
What the devil hast thou brought there—applejohns? Thou knowest Sir John
cannot endure an applejohn.
SECOND DRAWER.
Mass, thou sayest true. The Prince once set a dish of applejohns 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 heart. But he hath forgot that.
FIRST DRAWER.
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.
SECOND DRAWER.
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 word.
FIRST DRAWER.
By the mass, here will be old utis. It will be an excellent stratagem.
SECOND DRAWER.
I’ll see if I can find out Sneak.
[Exit.]
Enter Hostess and
Doll Tearsheet.
HOSTESS.
I’ faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent good
temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire, and
your colour, 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?
DOLL.
Better than I was. Hem!
HOSTESS.
Why, that’s well said. A good heart’s worth gold. Lo, here comes
Sir John.
Enter Falstaff.
FALSTAFF.
[Singing.] “When Arthur first in court”—Empty the jordan.
[Exit First Drawer.]—[Singing.] “And was a worthy king.”
How now, Mistress Doll!
HOSTESS.
Sick of a calm, yea, good faith.
FALSTAFF.
So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick.
DOLL.
A pox damn you, you muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?
FALSTAFF.
You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
DOLL.
I make them? Gluttony and diseases make them; I make them not.
FALSTAFF.
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 poor virtue, grant that.
DOLL.
Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.
FALSTAFF.
“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 venture upon the charged chambers
bravely—
DOLL.
Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!
HOSTESS.
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 as they say, the
emptier vessel.
DOLL.
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.
Enter First Drawer.
FIRST DRAWER.
Sir, Ancient Pistol’s below, and would speak with you.
DOLL.
Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither: it is the
foul-mouthed’st rogue in England.
HOSTESS.
If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith, I must live among my
neighbours. 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.
FALSTAFF.
Dost thou hear, hostess?
HOSTESS.
Pray ye pacify yourself, Sir John. There comes no swaggerers here.
FALSTAFF.
Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
HOSTESS.
Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne’er tell me. And our 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,—“Neighbour Quickly,” says he—Master Dumb, our minister, was
by then—“Neighbour Quickly,” says he, “receive those that are civil,
for,” said he “you are in an ill name.” Now he 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.
FALSTAFF.
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.]
HOSTESS.
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.
DOLL.
So you do, hostess.
HOSTESS.
Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an ’twere an aspen leaf. I cannot abide
swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, Bardolph and
Page.
PISTOL.
God save you, Sir John!
FALSTAFF.
Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack. Do you
discharge upon mine hostess.
PISTOL.
I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
FALSTAFF.
She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly offend her.
HOSTESS.
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.
PISTOL.
Then to you, Mistress Dorothy! I will charge you.
DOLL.
Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally,
cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your
master.
PISTOL.
I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
DOLL.
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!
PISTOL.
God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this.
FALSTAFF.
No more, Pistol! I would not have you go off here. Discharge yourself of our
company, Pistol.
HOSTESS.
No, good Captain Pistol, not here, sweet captain.
DOLL.
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.
BARDOLPH.
Pray thee go down, good ancient.
FALSTAFF.
Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
PISTOL.
Not I. I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her. I’ll be
revenged of her.
PAGE.
Pray thee go down.
PISTOL.
I’ll see her damned first to Pluto’s damned lake, by this hand, to
th’ infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and
line, say I. Down, down, dogs! Down, faitors! Have we not Hiren here?
HOSTESS.
Good Captain Peesel, be quiet, ’tis very late, i’ faith. I beseek
you now, aggravate your choler.
PISTOL.
These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses
And hollow pamper’d jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty mile a day,
Compare with Caesars and with Cannibals,
And Trojant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?
HOSTESS.
By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
BARDOLPH.
Be gone, good ancient. This will grow to a brawl anon.
PISTOL.
Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren here?
HOSTESS.
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.
PISTOL.
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 full points here? And are etceteras nothings?
FALSTAFF.
Pistol, I would be quiet.
PISTOL.
Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the seven stars.
DOLL.
For God’s sake, thrust him downstairs. I cannot endure such a fustian
rascal.
PISTOL.
Thrust him downstairs? Know we not Galloway nags?
FALSTAFF.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. Nay, an he do nothing
but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.
BARDOLPH.
Come, get you downstairs.
PISTOL.
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
Untwind the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!
HOSTESS.
Here’s goodly stuff toward!
FALSTAFF.
Give me my rapier, boy.
DOLL.
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
FALSTAFF.
Get you downstairs.
[Drawing, and driving Pistol out.]
HOSTESS.
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 Bardolph and
Pistol.]
DOLL.
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet. The rascal’s gone. Ah, you whoreson little
valiant villain, you!
HOSTESS.
Are you not hurt i’ th’ groin? Methought he made a shrewd
thrust at your belly.
Enter Bardolph.
FALSTAFF.
Have you turned him out o’ doors?
BARDOLPH.
Yea, sir. The rascal’s drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i’ th’
shoulder.
FALSTAFF.
A rascal, to brave me!
DOLL.
Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou sweat’st! 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!
FALSTAFF.
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
DOLL.
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.
FALSTAFF.
Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! The
rogue fled from me like quicksilver.
DOLL.
I’ faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou whoreson little
tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting a-days and foining
a-nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
Enter, behind, Prince Henry and
Poins, disguised as drawers.
FALSTAFF.
Peace, good Doll, do not speak like a death’s-head; do not bid me
remember mine end.
DOLL.
Sirrah, what humour ’s the Prince of?
FALSTAFF.
A good shallow young fellow; he would have made a good pantler; he
would ha’ chipped bread well.
DOLL.
They say Poins has a good wit.
FALSTAFF.
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.
DOLL.
Why does the Prince love him so, then?
FALSTAFF.
Because their legs are both of a bigness, and he 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
joint 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 he 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
avoirdupois.
PRINCE.
Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?
POINS.
Let’s beat him before his whore.
PRINCE.
Look whe’er the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.
POINS.
Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?
FALSTAFF.
Kiss me, Doll.
PRINCE.
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th’ almanac to that?
POINS.
And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his
master’s old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.
FALSTAFF.
Thou dost give me flattering busses.
DOLL.
By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
FALSTAFF.
I am old, I am old.
DOLL.
I love thee better than I love e’er a scurvy young boy of them all.
FALSTAFF.
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money o’ Thursday;
shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song! Come, it grows late, we’ll to
bed. Thou’lt forget me when I am gone.
DOLL.
By my troth, thou’lt set me a-weeping an thou sayest so. Prove that ever
I dress myself handsome till thy return. Well, hearken a’ th’ end.
FALSTAFF.
Some sack, Francis.
PRINCE & POINS.
Anon, anon, sir.
[Coming forward.]
FALSTAFF.
Ha! A bastard son of the King’s? And art thou not Poins his brother?
PRINCE.
Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!
FALSTAFF.
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.
HOSTESS.
O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome to London. Now, the Lord
bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?
FALSTAFF.
Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood,
thou art welcome.
DOLL.
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 before
this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
HOSTESS.
God’s blessing of your good heart! and so she is, by my troth.
FALSTAFF.
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.
FALSTAFF.
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.
FALSTAFF.
No abuse, Hal, o’ mine honour, no abuse.
PRINCE.
Not to dispraise me, and call me pantler and bread-chipper and I know not what?
FALSTAFF.
No abuse, Hal.
POINS.
No abuse?
FALSTAFF.
No abuse, Ned, i’ th’ world, honest Ned, none. I dispraised him
before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with thee; 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.
FALSTAFF.
The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable, 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?
FALSTAFF.
For one of them, she’s in hell already, and burns poor souls. For
th’ other, I owe her money, and whether she be damned for that I know
not.
HOSTESS.
No, I warrant you.
FALSTAFF.
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.
HOSTESS.
All victuallers do so. What’s a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?
PRINCE.
You, gentlewoman.
DOLL.
What says your Grace?
FALSTAFF.
His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.
[Peto knocks at door.]
HOSTESS.
Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th’ 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,
Bareheaded, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking everyone for Sir John Falstaff.
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 vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
[Exeunt Prince, Poins, Peto and
Bardolph.]
FALSTAFF.
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it
unpicked.
[Knocking within.] More knocking at the door?
Enter Bardolph.
How now, what’s the matter?
BARDOLPH.
You must away to court, sir, presently.
A dozen captains stay at door for you.
FALSTAFF.
[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.
DOLL.
I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready to burst—well, sweet Jack, have
a care of thyself.
FALSTAFF.
Farewell, farewell.
[Exeunt Falstaff and
Bardolph.]
HOSTESS.
Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come
peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man—well, fare thee well.
BARDOLPH.
[Within.] Mistress Tearsheet!
HOSTESS.
What’s the matter?
BARDOLPH.
[Within.] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
HOSTESS.
O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll; come. She comes blubbered. Yea, will you
come, Doll?
[Exeunt.]