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Henry IV, Part 2
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by William Shakespeare
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Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine
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with Michael Poston and Rebecca Niles
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Folger Shakespeare Library
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https://shakespeare.folger.edu/shakespeares-works/henry-iv-part-2/
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Created on Jul 31, 2015, from FDT version 0.9.2
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Characters in the Play
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======================
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RUMOR, Presenter of the Induction
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KING HENRY IV, formerly Henry Bolingbroke
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PRINCE HAL, Prince of Wales and heir to the throne, later KING HENRY V
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Younger sons of King Henry IV:
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JOHN OF LANCASTER
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THOMAS OF CLARENCE
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HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
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EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, Henry Percy
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NORTHUMBERLAND'S WIFE
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LADY PERCY, widow of Hotspur
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In rebellion against King Henry IV:
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Richard Scroop, ARCHBISHOP of York
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LORD MOWBRAY
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LORD HASTINGS
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LORD BARDOLPH
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TRAVERS
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MORTON
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SIR JOHN COLEVILE
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Supporters of King Henry IV:
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EARL OF WESTMORELAND
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EARL OF WARWICK
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EARL OF SURREY
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SIR JOHN BLUNT
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GOWER
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HARCOURT
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LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
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SIR JOHN FALSTAFF
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POINS
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BARDOLPH
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PETO
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PISTOL
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FALSTAFF'S PAGE
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HOSTESS of the tavern (also called Mistress Quickly)
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DOLL TEARSHEET
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JUSTICE ROBERT SHALLOW
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JUSTICE SILENCE
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DAVY, servant to Shallow
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Men of Gloucestershire:
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MOULDY
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SHADOW
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WART
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FEEBLE
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BULLCALF
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London officers:
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FANG
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SNARE
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EPILOGUE
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Drawers, Musicians, Beadles, Grooms, Messenger, Soldiers, Lords, Attendants, Page, Porter, Servants, Officers
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INDUCTION
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=========
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[Enter Rumor, painted full of tongues.]
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RUMOR
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Open your ears, for which of you will stop
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The vent of hearing when loud Rumor speaks?
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I, from the orient to the drooping west,
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Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
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The acts commenced on this ball of earth.
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Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,
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The which in every language I pronounce,
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Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
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I speak of peace while covert enmity
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Under the smile of safety wounds the world.
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And who but Rumor, who but only I,
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Make fearful musters and prepared defense
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Whiles the big year, swoll'n with some other grief,
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Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
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And no such matter? Rumor is a pipe
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Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures,
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And of so easy and so plain a stop
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That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
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The still-discordant wav'ring multitude,
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Can play upon it. But what need I thus
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My well-known body to anatomize
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Among my household? Why is Rumor here?
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I run before King Harry's victory,
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Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury
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Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,
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Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
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Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I
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To speak so true at first? My office is
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To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell
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Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword,
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And that the King before the Douglas' rage
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Stooped his anointed head as low as death.
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This have I rumored through the peasant towns
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Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
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And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
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Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
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Lies crafty-sick. The posts come tiring on,
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And not a man of them brings other news
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Than they have learnt of me. From Rumor's
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tongues
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They bring smooth comforts false, worse than
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true wrongs.
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[Rumor exits.]
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ACT 1
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=====
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Scene 1
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=======
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[Enter the Lord Bardolph at one door.]
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LORD BARDOLPH
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Who keeps the gate here, ho?
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[Enter the Porter.]
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Where is the Earl?
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PORTER
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What shall I say you are?
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LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the Earl
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That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
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PORTER
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His Lordship is walked forth into the orchard.
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Please it your Honor knock but at the gate
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And he himself will answer.
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[Enter the Earl Northumberland, his head wrapped in a
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kerchief and supporting himself with a crutch.]
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LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the Earl.
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[Porter exits.]
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now
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Should be the father of some stratagem.
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The times are wild. Contention, like a horse
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Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
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And bears down all before him.
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LORD BARDOLPH Noble earl,
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I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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Good, an God will!
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LORD BARDOLPH As good as heart can wish.
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The King is almost wounded to the death,
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And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
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Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
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Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
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And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
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And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
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Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
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So fought, so followed, and so fairly won,
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Came not till now to dignify the times
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Since Caesar's fortunes.
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NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived?
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Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
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LORD BARDOLPH
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I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
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A gentleman well bred and of good name,
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That freely rendered me these news for true.
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[Enter Travers.]
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent
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On Tuesday last to listen after news.
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LORD BARDOLPH
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My lord, I overrode him on the way,
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And he is furnished with no certainties
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More than he haply may retail from me.
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
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TRAVERS
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My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back
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With joyful tidings and, being better horsed,
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Outrode me. After him came spurring hard
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A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
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That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
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He asked the way to Chester, and of him
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I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
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He told me that rebellion had bad luck
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And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
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With that he gave his able horse the head
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And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
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Against the panting sides of his poor jade
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Up to the rowel-head, and starting so
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He seemed in running to devour the way,
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Staying no longer question.
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NORTHUMBERLAND Ha? Again:
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Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
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Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion
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Had met ill luck?
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LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I'll tell you what:
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If my young lord your son have not the day,
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Upon mine honor, for a silken point
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I'll give my barony. Never talk of it.
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
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Give then such instances of loss?
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LORD BARDOLPH Who, he?
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He was some hilding fellow that had stol'n
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The horse he rode on and, upon my life,
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Spoke at a venture.
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[Enter Morton.]
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Look, here comes more news.
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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Yea, this man's brow, like to a title leaf,
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Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
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So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
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Hath left a witnessed usurpation.--
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Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
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MORTON
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I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
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Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
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To fright our party.
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NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother?
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Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek
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Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
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Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
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So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone,
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Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night
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And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
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But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
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And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.
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This thou wouldst say: "Your son did thus and thus;
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Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas"--
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Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.
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But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,
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Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
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Ending with "Brother, son, and all are dead."
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MORTON
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Douglas is living, and your brother yet,
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But for my lord your son--
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NORTHUMBERLAND Why, he is dead.
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See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
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He that but fears the thing he would not know
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Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes
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That what he feared is chanced. Yet speak,
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Morton.
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Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
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And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
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And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
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MORTON
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You are too great to be by me gainsaid,
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Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.
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I see a strange confession in thine eye.
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Thou shak'st thy head and hold'st it fear or sin
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To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so.
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The tongue offends not that reports his death;
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And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
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Not he which says the dead is not alive.
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Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
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Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
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Sounds ever after as a sullen bell
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Remembered tolling a departing friend.
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LORD BARDOLPH
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I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
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MORTON, [to Northumberland]
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I am sorry I should force you to believe
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That which I would to God I had not seen,
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But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
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Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
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To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down
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The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
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From whence with life he never more sprung up.
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In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
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Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
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Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
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From the best-tempered courage in his troops;
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For from his mettle was his party steeled,
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Which, once in him abated, all the rest
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Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
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And as the thing that's heavy in itself
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Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
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So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
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Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
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That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
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Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
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Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester
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So soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
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The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword
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Had three times slain th' appearance of the King,
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Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
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Of those that turned their backs and in his flight,
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Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
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Is that the King hath won and hath sent out
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A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
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Under the conduct of young Lancaster
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And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
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In poison there is physic, and these news,
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Having been well, that would have made me sick,
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Being sick, have in some measure made me well.
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And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints,
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Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
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Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
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Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,
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Weakened with grief, being now enraged with
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grief,
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Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore, thou
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nice crutch. [He throws down his crutch.]
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A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
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Must glove this hand. And hence, thou sickly
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coif. [He removes his kerchief.]
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Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
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Which princes, fleshed with conquest, aim to hit.
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Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
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The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring
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To frown upon th' enraged Northumberland.
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Let heaven kiss Earth! Now let not Nature's hand
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Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die,
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And let this world no longer be a stage
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To feed contention in a lingering act;
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But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain
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Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
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On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
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And darkness be the burier of the dead.
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LORD BARDOLPH
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This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.
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MORTON
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Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honor.
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The lives of all your loving complices
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Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er
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To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
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You cast th' event of war, my noble lord,
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And summed the accompt of chance before you
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said
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"Let us make head." It was your presurmise
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That in the dole of blows your son might drop.
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You knew he walked o'er perils on an edge,
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More likely to fall in than to get o'er.
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You were advised his flesh was capable
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Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
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Would lift him where most trade of danger
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ranged.
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Yet did you say "Go forth," and none of this,
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Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
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The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n,
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Or what did this bold enterprise bring forth,
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More than that being which was like to be?
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LORD BARDOLPH
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We all that are engaged to this loss
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Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
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That if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one;
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And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
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Choked the respect of likely peril feared;
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And since we are o'erset, venture again.
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Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
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MORTON
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'Tis more than time.--And, my most noble lord,
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I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth:
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The gentle Archbishop of York is up
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With well-appointed powers. He is a man
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Who with a double surety binds his followers.
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My lord your son had only but the corpse,
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But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;
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For that same word "rebellion" did divide
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The action of their bodies from their souls,
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And they did fight with queasiness, constrained,
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As men drink potions, that their weapons only
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Seemed on our side. But, for their spirits and
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souls,
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This word "rebellion," it had froze them up
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As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop
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Turns insurrection to religion.
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Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
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He's followed both with body and with mind,
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And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
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Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret
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stones;
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Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
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Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
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Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;
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And more and less do flock to follow him.
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NORTHUMBERLAND
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I knew of this before, but, to speak truth,
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This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
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Go in with me and counsel every man
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The aptest way for safety and revenge.
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Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed.
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Never so few, and never yet more need.
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[They exit.]
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Scene 2
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=======
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[Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword
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and buckler.]
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FALSTAFF Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my
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water?
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PAGE He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy
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water, but, for the party that owed it, he might have
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more diseases than he knew for.
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FALSTAFF Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me.
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The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is
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not able to invent anything that intends to laughter
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more than I invent, or is invented on me. I am not
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only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in
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other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow
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that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the
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Prince put thee into my service for any other reason
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than to set me off, why then I have no judgment.
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Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be
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worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never
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manned with an agate till now, but I will inset you
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neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and
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send you back again to your master for a jewel. The
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juvenal, the Prince your master, whose chin is not
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yet fledge--I will sooner have a beard grow in the
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palm of my hand than he shall get one off his cheek,
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and yet he will not stick to say his face is a face
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royal. God may finish it when He will. 'Tis not a hair
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amiss yet. He may keep it still at a face royal, for a
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barber shall never earn sixpence out of it, and yet
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he'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his
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father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace,
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but he's almost out of mine, I can assure him. What
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said Master Dommelton about the satin for my
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short cloak and my slops?
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PAGE He said, sir, you should procure him better
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assurance than Bardolph. He would not take his
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band and yours. He liked not the security.
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FALSTAFF Let him be damned like the glutton! Pray
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God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel, a
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rascally yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman in
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hand and then stand upon security! The whoreson
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smoothy-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes
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and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is
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through with them in honest taking up, then they
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must stand upon security. I had as lief they would
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put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with
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"security." I looked he should have sent me two-and-twenty
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yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and
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he sends me "security." Well, he may sleep in
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security, for he hath the horn of abundance, and the
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lightness of his wife shines through it, and yet
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cannot he see though he have his own lantern to
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light him. Where's Bardolph?
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PAGE He's gone in Smithfield to buy your Worship a
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horse.
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FALSTAFF I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a
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horse in Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in
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the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.
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[Enter Lord Chief Justice and Servant.]
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PAGE, [to Falstaff] Sir, here comes the nobleman that
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committed the Prince for striking him about
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Bardolph.
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FALSTAFF Wait close. I will not see him.
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[They begin to exit.]
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CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Servant] What's he that goes there?
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|
|
SERVANT Falstaff, an 't please your Lordship.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE He that was in question for the robbery?
|
|
|
|
SERVANT He, my lord; but he hath since done good
|
|
service at Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is now going
|
|
with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE What, to York? Call him back again.
|
|
|
|
SERVANT Sir John Falstaff!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Boy, tell him I am deaf.
|
|
|
|
PAGE You must speak louder. My master is deaf.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE I am sure he is, to the hearing of
|
|
anything good.--Go pluck him by the elbow. I must
|
|
speak with him.
|
|
|
|
SERVANT, [plucking Falstaff's sleeve] Sir John!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What, a young knave and begging? Is there
|
|
not wars? Is there not employment? Doth not the
|
|
King lack subjects? Do not the rebels need soldiers?
|
|
Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is
|
|
worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side,
|
|
were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell
|
|
how to make it.
|
|
|
|
SERVANT You mistake me, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Why sir, did I say you were an honest man?
|
|
Setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I
|
|
had lied in my throat if I had said so.
|
|
|
|
SERVANT I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and
|
|
your soldiership aside, and give me leave to tell you,
|
|
you lie in your throat if you say I am any other than
|
|
an honest man.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that
|
|
which grows to me? If thou gett'st any leave of me,
|
|
hang me; if thou tak'st leave, thou wert better be
|
|
hanged. You hunt counter. Hence! Avaunt!
|
|
|
|
SERVANT Sir, my lord would speak with you.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF My good lord. God give your Lordship good
|
|
time of the day. I am glad to see your Lordship
|
|
abroad. I heard say your Lordship was sick. I hope
|
|
your Lordship goes abroad by advice. Your Lordship,
|
|
though not clean past your youth, have yet
|
|
some smack of an ague in you, some relish of the
|
|
saltness of time in you, and I most humbly beseech
|
|
your Lordship to have a reverend care of your
|
|
health.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Sir John, I sent for you before your
|
|
expedition to Shrewsbury.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF An 't please your Lordship, I hear his Majesty
|
|
is returned with some discomfort from Wales.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE I talk not of his Majesty. You would not
|
|
come when I sent for you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF And I hear, moreover, his Highness is fallen
|
|
into this same whoreson apoplexy.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, God mend him. I pray you let me
|
|
speak with you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of
|
|
lethargy, an 't please your Lordship, a kind of
|
|
sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF It hath it original from much grief, from
|
|
study, and perturbation of the brain. I have read the
|
|
cause of his effects in Galen. It is a kind of deafness.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE I think you are fallen into the disease,
|
|
for you hear not what I say to you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Very well, my lord, very well. Rather, an 't
|
|
please you, it is the disease of not listening, the
|
|
malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE To punish you by the heels would amend
|
|
the attention of your ears, and I care not if I do
|
|
become your physician.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so
|
|
patient. Your Lordship may minister the potion of
|
|
imprisonment to me in respect of poverty, but how
|
|
I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions,
|
|
the wise may make some dram of a scruple,
|
|
or indeed a scruple itself.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE I sent for you, when there were matters
|
|
against you for your life, to come speak with me.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF As I was then advised by my learned counsel
|
|
in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in
|
|
great infamy.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF He that buckles himself in my belt cannot
|
|
live in less.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Your means are very slender, and your
|
|
waste is great.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I would it were otherwise. I would my means
|
|
were greater and my waist slender.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE You have misled the youthful prince.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF The young prince hath misled me. I am the
|
|
fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed
|
|
wound. Your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a
|
|
little gilded over your night's exploit on Gad's Hill.
|
|
You may thank th' unquiet time for your quiet
|
|
o'erposting that action.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF My lord.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE But since all is well, keep it so. Wake not
|
|
a sleeping wolf.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE What, you are as a candle, the better
|
|
part burnt out.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow. If I did
|
|
say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE There is not a white hair in your face but
|
|
should have his effect of gravity.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE You follow the young prince up and
|
|
down like his ill angel.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Not so, my lord. Your ill angel is light, but I
|
|
hope he that looks upon me will take me without
|
|
weighing. And yet in some respects I grant I cannot
|
|
go. I cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these
|
|
costermongers' times that true valor is turned bearherd;
|
|
pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath his
|
|
quick wit wasted in giving reckonings. All the other
|
|
gifts appurtenant to man, as the malice of this age
|
|
shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that
|
|
are old consider not the capacities of us that are
|
|
young. You do measure the heat of our livers with
|
|
the bitterness of your galls, and we that are in the
|
|
vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Do you set down your name in the scroll
|
|
of youth, that are written down old with all the
|
|
characters of age? Have you not a moist eye, a dry
|
|
hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing
|
|
leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken,
|
|
your wind short, your chin double, your wit single,
|
|
and every part about you blasted with antiquity?
|
|
And will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir
|
|
John.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF My lord, I was born about three of the clock
|
|
in the afternoon, with a white head and something
|
|
a round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with
|
|
halloing and singing of anthems. To approve my
|
|
youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old
|
|
in judgment and understanding. And he that will
|
|
caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend
|
|
me the money, and have at him. For the box of the
|
|
ear that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude
|
|
prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have
|
|
checked him for it, and the young lion repents.
|
|
[Aside.] Marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in
|
|
new silk and old sack.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, God send the Prince a better
|
|
companion.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF God send the companion a better prince. I
|
|
cannot rid my hands of him.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, the King hath severed you and
|
|
Prince Harry. I hear you are going with Lord John
|
|
of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of
|
|
Northumberland.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Yea, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But
|
|
look you pray, all you that kiss my Lady Peace at
|
|
home, that our armies join not in a hot day, for, by
|
|
the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I
|
|
mean not to sweat extraordinarily. If it be a hot day
|
|
and I brandish anything but a bottle, I would I
|
|
might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous
|
|
action can peep out his head but I am thrust
|
|
upon it. Well, I cannot last ever. But it was always
|
|
yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a
|
|
good thing, to make it too common. If you will
|
|
needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest.
|
|
I would to God my name were not so terrible to the
|
|
enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten to death
|
|
with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with
|
|
perpetual motion.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, be honest, be honest, and God
|
|
bless your expedition.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Will your Lordship lend me a thousand
|
|
pound to furnish me forth?
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE Not a penny, not a penny. You are too
|
|
impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend
|
|
me to my cousin Westmoreland.
|
|
[Lord Chief Justice and his Servant exit.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A
|
|
man can no more separate age and covetousness
|
|
than he can part young limbs and lechery; but the
|
|
gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other,
|
|
and so both the degrees prevent my curses.--Boy!
|
|
|
|
PAGE Sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What money is in my purse?
|
|
|
|
PAGE Seven groats and two pence.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I can get no remedy against this consumption
|
|
of the purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers
|
|
it out, but the disease is incurable. [Giving
|
|
papers to the Page.] Go bear this letter to my Lord
|
|
of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earl
|
|
of Westmoreland, and this to old Mistress Ursula,
|
|
whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived
|
|
the first white hair of my chin. About it. You
|
|
know where to find me. [Page exits.] A pox of this
|
|
gout! Or a gout of this pox, for the one or the other
|
|
plays the rogue with my great toe. 'Tis no matter if I
|
|
do halt. I have the wars for my color, and my
|
|
pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good wit
|
|
will make use of anything. I will turn diseases to
|
|
commodity.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter th' Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray (Earl
|
|
Marshal), the Lord Hastings, and Lord Bardolph.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Thus have you heard our cause and known our
|
|
means,
|
|
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all
|
|
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes.
|
|
And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
I well allow the occasion of our arms,
|
|
But gladly would be better satisfied
|
|
How in our means we should advance ourselves
|
|
To look with forehead bold and big enough
|
|
Upon the power and puissance of the King.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
Our present musters grow upon the file
|
|
To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice,
|
|
And our supplies live largely in the hope
|
|
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
|
|
With an incensed fire of injuries.
|
|
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH
|
|
The question, then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus:
|
|
Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand
|
|
May hold up head without Northumberland.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
With him we may.
|
|
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Yea, marry, there's the point.
|
|
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
|
|
My judgment is we should not step too far
|
|
Till we had his assistance by the hand.
|
|
For in a theme so bloody-faced as this,
|
|
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
|
|
Of aids incertain should not be admitted.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph, for indeed
|
|
It was young Hotspur's cause at Shrewsbury.
|
|
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH
|
|
It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope,
|
|
Eating the air and promise of supply,
|
|
Flatt'ring himself in project of a power
|
|
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts,
|
|
And so, with great imagination
|
|
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death
|
|
And, winking, leapt into destruction.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt
|
|
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
|
|
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH
|
|
Yes, if this present quality of war --
|
|
Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot--
|
|
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
|
|
We see th' appearing buds, which to prove fruit
|
|
Hope gives not so much warrant as despair
|
|
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
|
|
We first survey the plot, then draw the model,
|
|
And when we see the figure of the house,
|
|
Then must we rate the cost of the erection,
|
|
Which if we find outweighs ability,
|
|
What do we then but draw anew the model
|
|
In fewer offices, or at least desist
|
|
To build at all? Much more in this great work,
|
|
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
|
|
And set another up, should we survey
|
|
The plot of situation and the model,
|
|
Consent upon a sure foundation,
|
|
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
|
|
How able such a work to undergo,
|
|
To weigh against his opposite. Or else
|
|
We fortify in paper and in figures,
|
|
Using the names of men instead of men,
|
|
Like one that draws the model of an house
|
|
Beyond his power to build it, who, half through,
|
|
Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost
|
|
A naked subject to the weeping clouds
|
|
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
|
|
Should be stillborn and that we now possessed
|
|
The utmost man of expectation,
|
|
I think we are a body strong enough,
|
|
Even as we are, to equal with the King.
|
|
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH
|
|
What, is the King but five-and-twenty thousand?
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
To us no more, nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph,
|
|
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
|
|
Are in three heads: one power against the French,
|
|
And one against Glendower; perforce a third
|
|
Must take up us. So is the unfirm king
|
|
In three divided, and his coffers sound
|
|
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
That he should draw his several strengths together
|
|
And come against us in full puissance
|
|
Need not to be dreaded.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS If he should do so,
|
|
He leaves his back unarmed, the French and Welsh
|
|
Baying him at the heels. Never fear that.
|
|
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH
|
|
Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland;
|
|
Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth;
|
|
But who is substituted against the French
|
|
I have no certain notice.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP Let us on,
|
|
And publish the occasion of our arms.
|
|
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice.
|
|
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited.
|
|
An habitation giddy and unsure
|
|
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
|
|
O thou fond many, with what loud applause
|
|
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke
|
|
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be.
|
|
And being now trimmed in thine own desires,
|
|
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him
|
|
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.
|
|
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
|
|
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard,
|
|
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up
|
|
And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these
|
|
times?
|
|
They that, when Richard lived, would have him die
|
|
Are now become enamored on his grave.
|
|
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head
|
|
When through proud London he came sighing on
|
|
After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke,
|
|
Criest now "O earth, yield us that king again,
|
|
And take thou this!" O thoughts of men accursed!
|
|
Past and to come seems best; things present,
|
|
worst.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
We are time's subjects, and time bids begone.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 2
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Hostess Quickly of the tavern with two Officers,
|
|
Fang and Snare, who lags behind.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
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, [calling] Sirrah! Where's Snare?
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS O Lord, ay, good Master Snare.
|
|
|
|
SNARE, [catching up to them] 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 us 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
|
|
view--
|
|
|
|
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 Sir John Falstaff and Bardolph, and the 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. [They draw.]
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
OFFICERS A rescue, a rescue!
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Good people, bring a rescue or two.--Thou
|
|
wot, wot thou? Thou wot, wot ta? Do, do, thou
|
|
rogue. Do, thou hempseed.
|
|
|
|
PAGE Away, you scullion, you rampallian, you fustilarian!
|
|
I'll tickle your catastrophe.
|
|
|
|
[Enter 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 I
|
|
have. He hath eaten me out of house and home. He
|
|
hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his.
|
|
[To Falstaff.] 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 a 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, practiced
|
|
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 villainy 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 honorable 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.
|
|
[He speaks aside to the Hostess.]
|
|
|
|
[Enter a Messenger, Master 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.
|
|
[He gives the Chief Justice a paper to read.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to the Hostess] 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 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.
|
|
|
|
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? [Aside 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.
|
|
[Hostess, Fang, Snare, Bardolph, Page,
|
|
and others exit.]
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower] I have heard better news.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to Chief Justice] What's the news, my good
|
|
lord?
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower] Where lay the King
|
|
tonight?
|
|
|
|
GOWER At Basingstoke, my lord.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to Chief Justice] I hope, my lord, all's
|
|
well. What is the news, my lord?
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower] Come all his forces back?
|
|
|
|
GOWER
|
|
No. Fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse
|
|
Are marched up to my Lord of Lancaster
|
|
Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to Chief Justice]
|
|
Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord?
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower]
|
|
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.
|
|
[They separate and exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter the Prince 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 discolors 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--with 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 the 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 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, [to Bardolph] 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, [to Page] Away, you whoreson upright rabbit,
|
|
away!
|
|
|
|
PAGE Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away!
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Instruct us, boy. What dream, boy?
|
|
|
|
PAGE Marry, my lord, Althea 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. [He gives the Page money.]
|
|
|
|
POINS O, that this good blossom could be kept from
|
|
cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
|
|
[He gives the Page money.]
|
|
|
|
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 good lord. He heard of your
|
|
Grace's coming to town. There's a letter for you.
|
|
[He gives the Prince a paper.]
|
|
|
|
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. [He shows the letter to Poins.]
|
|
|
|
POINS [reads the superscription] 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 Japheth. But to the letter: [Reads.] 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!
|
|
[Reads.] I will imitate the honorable Romans in
|
|
brevity.
|
|
|
|
POINS He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE [reads] 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 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.
|
|
[To Bardolph.] 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. [He gives money.]
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH I have no tongue, sir.
|
|
|
|
PAGE And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Fare you well. Go. [Bardolph and Page exit.]
|
|
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 colors, 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.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Northumberland, his wife, and the wife to
|
|
Harry 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 honor 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 endeared 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 honors 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 gray 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 practiced 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,
|
|
In military rules, humors of blood,
|
|
He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
|
|
That fashioned 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 honor 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 talked 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 suffered. 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 swelled 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.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 4
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Francis and another Drawer.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS What the devil hast thou brought there--
|
|
applejohns? Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure
|
|
an applejohn.
|
|
|
|
SECOND DRAWER Mass, thou sayst 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.
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS 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.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Will.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
WILL 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.
|
|
|
|
SECOND DRAWER By the Mass, here will be old utis. It
|
|
will be an excellent stratagem.
|
|
|
|
FRANCIS I'll see if I can find out Sneak.
|
|
[He exits with the Second Drawer.]
|
|
|
|
[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
|
|
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?
|
|
|
|
DOLL Better than I was. Hem.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Why, that's well said. A good heart's worth
|
|
gold. Lo, here comes Sir John.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Sir John Falstaff.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [singing]
|
|
When Arthur first in court--
|
|
[To Will.] Empty the jordan. [Will exits.]
|
|
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 [to Doll]
|
|
that must be you. You are the weaker vessel, 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
|
|
Bordeaux 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 Drawer.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
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 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, hostess?
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Pray you pacify yourself, Sir John. There
|
|
comes no swaggerers here.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Tilly-vally, Sir John, ne'er tell me. And 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 Dumb, our minister, was by then--
|
|
"Neighbor 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. [Drawer exits.]
|
|
|
|
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 Ancient 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 cutpurse 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, [to Pistol] Pray thee go down, good ancient.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL, [to Bardolph] 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, Fates! Have we not
|
|
Hiren here? [He draws his sword.]
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Good Captain Peesell, be quiet. 'Tis very late,
|
|
i' faith. I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL These be good humors indeed. Shall pack-horses
|
|
and hollow pampered jades of Asia, which
|
|
cannot go but thirty mile a day, compare with
|
|
Caesars and with cannibals and Troyant 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 Begone, 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, [taking up his sword] What, shall we have
|
|
incision? Shall we imbrue? 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, [to Pistol] Get you downstairs. [They fight.]
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
[Bardolph and Pistol exit.]
|
|
|
|
DOLL I pray thee, Jack, be quiet. The rascal's gone. Ah,
|
|
you whoreson little valiant villain, you.
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS, [to Falstaff] 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 Ah, 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 Musicians and Francis.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
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 followed'st 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 them Prince and Poins disguised.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Peace, good Doll. Do not speak like a death's-head;
|
|
do not bid me remember mine end.
|
|
|
|
DOLL Sirrah, what humor's the Prince of?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF A good shallow young fellow, he would have
|
|
made a good pantler; he would 'a 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 Tewkesbury 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, [aside to Poins] 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, [aside to Poins] 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 notebook,
|
|
his counsel keeper.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to Doll] 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 thou have a kirtle of? I shall
|
|
receive money o' Thursday; thou 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
|
|
sayst so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till
|
|
thy return. Well, harken a' th' end.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Some sack, Francis.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, POINS, [coming forward] Anon, anon, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Ha? A bastard son of the King's?--And art
|
|
not thou 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 good Grace! By my
|
|
troth, welcome to London. Now the Lord bless that
|
|
sweet face of thine. O Jesu, are you come from
|
|
Wales?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to Prince] 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, [to Falstaff] 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, [to Prince] 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 wilfull
|
|
abuse, and then I know how to handle you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF No abuse, Hal.
|
|
|
|
POINS No abuse?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF No abuse, Ned, i' th' world, honest Ned,
|
|
none. I dispraised him before the wicked, [(to
|
|
Prince)] 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 blinds 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 vitlars do so. What's a joint of mutton or
|
|
two in a whole Lent?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [to Doll] 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. [Francis exits.]
|
|
|
|
[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 vapor, doth begin to melt
|
|
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.--
|
|
Give me my sword and cloak.--Falstaff, good
|
|
night. [Prince, Peto, and Poins exit.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the
|
|
night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked.
|
|
|
|
[(Knocking. Bardolph exits.)] More knocking at the
|
|
door? [(Bardolph returns.)] How now, what's the
|
|
matter?
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH
|
|
You must away to court, sir, presently.
|
|
A dozen captains stay at door for you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to 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.
|
|
[He exits with Bardolph, Page, and Musicians.]
|
|
|
|
HOSTESS Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these
|
|
twenty-nine years, come peasecod 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?
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 3
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter the King in his nightgown with a Page.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
|
|
But, ere they come, bid them o'erread these letters
|
|
And well consider of them. Make good speed.
|
|
[Page exits.]
|
|
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
|
|
Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,
|
|
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
|
|
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
|
|
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
|
|
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
|
|
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
|
|
And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
|
|
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
|
|
Under the canopies of costly state,
|
|
And lulled with sound of sweetest melody?
|
|
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
|
|
In loathsome beds and leavest the kingly couch
|
|
A watch-case or a common 'larum bell?
|
|
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
|
|
Seal up the shipboy's eyes and rock his brains
|
|
In cradle of the rude imperious surge
|
|
And in the visitation of the winds,
|
|
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
|
|
Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them
|
|
With deafing clamor in the slippery clouds
|
|
That with the hurly death itself awakes?
|
|
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
|
|
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,
|
|
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
|
|
With all appliances and means to boot,
|
|
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down.
|
|
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Warwick, Surrey and Sir John Blunt.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Many good morrows to your Majesty.
|
|
|
|
KING Is it good morrow, lords?
|
|
|
|
WARWICK 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.
|
|
Have you read o'er the letter that I sent you?
|
|
|
|
WARWICK We have, my liege.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Then you perceive the body of our kingdom
|
|
How foul it is, what rank diseases grow,
|
|
And with what danger near the heart of it.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
It is but as a body yet distempered,
|
|
Which to his former strength may be restored
|
|
With good advice and little medicine.
|
|
My Lord Northumberland will soon be cooled.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
O God, that one might read the book of fate
|
|
And see the revolution of the times
|
|
Make mountains level, and the continent,
|
|
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
|
|
Into the sea, and other times to see
|
|
The beachy girdle of the ocean
|
|
Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chance's mocks
|
|
And changes fill the cup of alteration
|
|
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
|
|
The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,
|
|
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
|
|
Would shut the book and sit him down and die.
|
|
'Tis not ten years gone
|
|
Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends,
|
|
Did feast together, and in two years after
|
|
Were they at wars. It is but eight years since
|
|
This Percy was the man nearest my soul,
|
|
Who like a brother toiled in my affairs
|
|
And laid his love and life under my foot,
|
|
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard
|
|
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by--
|
|
[To Warwick.] You, cousin Nevil, as I may
|
|
remember--
|
|
When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears,
|
|
Then checked and rated by Northumberland,
|
|
Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy?
|
|
"Northumberland, thou ladder by the which
|
|
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne"--
|
|
Though then, God knows, I had no such intent,
|
|
But that necessity so bowed the state
|
|
That I and greatness were compelled to kiss--
|
|
"The time shall come," thus did he follow it,
|
|
"The time will come that foul sin, gathering head,
|
|
Shall break into corruption"--so went on,
|
|
Foretelling this same time's condition
|
|
And the division of our amity.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
There is a history in all men's lives
|
|
Figuring the natures of the times deceased,
|
|
The which observed, a man may prophesy,
|
|
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
|
|
As yet not come to life, who in their seeds
|
|
And weak beginning lie intreasured.
|
|
Such things become the hatch and brood of time,
|
|
And by the necessary form of this,
|
|
King Richard might create a perfect guess
|
|
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
|
|
Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness,
|
|
Which should not find a ground to root upon
|
|
Unless on you.
|
|
|
|
KING Are these things then necessities?
|
|
Then let us meet them like necessities.
|
|
And that same word even now cries out on us.
|
|
They say the Bishop and Northumberland
|
|
Are fifty thousand strong.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK It cannot be, my lord.
|
|
Rumor doth double, like the voice and echo,
|
|
The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace
|
|
To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord,
|
|
The powers that you already have sent forth
|
|
Shall bring this prize in very easily.
|
|
To comfort you the more, I have received
|
|
A certain instance that Glendower is dead.
|
|
Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill,
|
|
And these unseasoned hours perforce must add
|
|
Unto your sickness.
|
|
|
|
KING I will take your counsel.
|
|
And were these inward wars once out of hand,
|
|
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Justice Shallow and Justice Silence.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Come on, come on, come on. Give me your
|
|
hand, sir, give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by
|
|
the rood. And how doth my good cousin Silence?
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW And how doth my cousin your bedfellow?
|
|
And your fairest daughter and mine, my goddaughter
|
|
Ellen?
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin
|
|
William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford
|
|
still, is he not?
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Indeed, sir, to my cost.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW He must then to the Inns o' Court shortly. I
|
|
was once of Clement's Inn, where I think they will
|
|
talk of mad Shallow yet.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE You were called "Lusty Shallow" then,
|
|
cousin.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW By the Mass, I was called anything, and I
|
|
would have done anything indeed too, 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 o'
|
|
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
|
|
Norfolk.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon
|
|
about soldiers?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW The same Sir John, the very same. I see him
|
|
break Scoggin's head at the court gate, when he
|
|
was a crack not thus high; and the very same day did
|
|
I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer,
|
|
behind Grey's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I
|
|
have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance
|
|
are dead.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE We shall all follow, cousin.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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?
|
|
|
|
SILENCE By my troth, cousin, I was not there.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Death is certain. Is old Dooble of your town
|
|
living yet?
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Dead, sir.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Jesu, Jesu, dead! He drew a good bow, and
|
|
dead? He shot a fine shoot. John o' Gaunt loved him
|
|
well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! He
|
|
would have clapped i' th' clout at twelve score, 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?
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Thereafter as they be, a score of good ewes
|
|
may be worth ten pounds.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW And is old Dooble dead?
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I
|
|
think.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Bardolph and one with him.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Good morrow, honest gentlemen.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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?
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH My captain, sir, commends him to you, my
|
|
captain, Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by
|
|
heaven, and a most gallant leader.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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?
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Sir, pardon. A soldier is better accommodated
|
|
than with a wife.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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
|
|
were, very commendable. "Accommodated." It
|
|
comes of accommodo. Very good, a good phrase.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Pardon, sir, I have heard the word--
|
|
"phrase" call you it? By this day, I know not the
|
|
phrase, but I will maintain the word with my sword
|
|
to be a soldierlike 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.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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 well and
|
|
bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir John.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I am glad to see you well, good Master
|
|
Robert Shallow.--Master Sure-card, as I think?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW No, Sir John. It is my cousin Silence, in
|
|
commission with me.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Good Master Silence, it well befits you
|
|
should be of the peace.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Your good Worship is welcome.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you
|
|
provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?
|
|
[They sit at a table.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Let me see them, I beseech you.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Where's
|
|
the roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so,
|
|
so, so, so. So, so. Yea, marry, sir.--Rafe Mouldy!--
|
|
Let them appear as I call, let them do so, let them
|
|
do so.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Mouldy, followed by Shadow, Wart, Feeble,
|
|
and Bullcalf.]
|
|
|
|
Let me see, where is Mouldy?
|
|
|
|
MOULDY, [coming forward] Here, an it please you.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW What think you, Sir John? A good-limbed
|
|
fellow, young, strong, and of good friends.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Is thy name Mouldy?
|
|
|
|
MOULDY Yea, an 't please you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 'Tis the more time thou wert used.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Prick him.
|
|
[Shallow marks the scroll.]
|
|
|
|
MOULDY 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Go to. Peace, Mouldy. You shall go. Mouldy,
|
|
it is time you were spent.
|
|
|
|
MOULDY Spent?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Peace, fellow, peace. Stand aside. Know you
|
|
where you are?--For th' other, Sir John. Let me
|
|
see.--Simon Shadow!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under.
|
|
He's like to be a cold soldier.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Where's Shadow?
|
|
|
|
SHADOW, [coming forward] Here, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Shadow, whose son art thou?
|
|
|
|
SHADOW My mother's son, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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 much
|
|
of the father's substance.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Do you like him, Sir John?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him,
|
|
for we have a number of shadows to fill up the
|
|
muster book.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Thomas Wart!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Where's he?
|
|
|
|
WART, [coming forward] Here, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Is thy name Wart?
|
|
|
|
WART Yea, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Thou art a very ragged wart.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Shall I prick him down, Sir John?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF It were superfluous, for his apparel is built
|
|
upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon
|
|
pins. Prick him no more.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Ha, ha, ha. You can do it, sir, you can do it. I
|
|
commend you well.--Francis Feeble!
|
|
|
|
FEEBLE, [coming forward] Here, sir.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW What trade art thou, Feeble?
|
|
|
|
FEEBLE A woman's tailor, sir.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Shall I prick him, sir?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF You may, but if he had been a man's tailor,
|
|
he'd ha' pricked you.--Wilt thou make as many
|
|
holes in an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a
|
|
woman's petticoat?
|
|
|
|
FEEBLE I will do my good will, sir. You can have no
|
|
more.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
|
FEEBLE I would Wart might have gone, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou
|
|
mightst 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.
|
|
|
|
FEEBLE It shall suffice, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.--Who
|
|
is the next?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Peter Bullcalf o' th' green.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.
|
|
|
|
BULLCALF, [coming forward] Here, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Fore God, a likely fellow. Come, prick me
|
|
Bullcalf till he roar again.
|
|
|
|
BULLCALF O Lord, good my lord captain--
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What, dost thou roar before thou art
|
|
pricked?
|
|
|
|
BULLCALF O Lord, sir, I am a diseased man.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What disease hast thou?
|
|
|
|
BULLCALF A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I
|
|
caught with ringing in the King's affairs upon his
|
|
coronation day, sir.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot
|
|
tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth,
|
|
Master Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay
|
|
all night in the windmill in Saint George's Field?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF No more of that, good Master Shallow, no
|
|
more of that.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork
|
|
alive?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF She lives, Master Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW She never could away with me.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Never, never. She would always say she could
|
|
not abide Master Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW By the Mass, I could anger her to th' heart.
|
|
She was then a bona roba. Doth she hold her own
|
|
well?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Old, old, Master Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Nay, she must be old. She cannot choose but
|
|
be old. Certain, she's old, and had Robin Nightwork
|
|
by old Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE That's fifty-five year ago.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that
|
|
that this knight and I have seen!--Ha, Sir John, said
|
|
I well?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master
|
|
Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW That we have, that we have, that we have. In
|
|
faith, Sir John, we have. Our watchword was "Hem,
|
|
boys." Come, let's to dinner, come, let's to dinner.
|
|
Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come.
|
|
[Shallow, Silence, and Falstaff rise and exit.]
|
|
|
|
BULLCALF Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my
|
|
friend, and here's four Harry ten-shillings in
|
|
French crowns for you. [He gives Bardolph money.]
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Go to. Stand aside.
|
|
|
|
MOULDY And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my
|
|
old dame's sake, stand my friend. She has nobody to
|
|
do anything about her when I am gone, and she is
|
|
old and cannot help herself. You shall have forty,
|
|
sir. [He gives money.]
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Go to. Stand aside.
|
|
|
|
FEEBLE 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 's prince, and let it go
|
|
which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for
|
|
the next.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Well said. Th' art a good fellow.
|
|
|
|
FEEBLE Faith, I'll bear no base mind.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Falstaff and the Justices.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Come, sir, which men shall I have?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Four of which you please.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH, [aside to Falstaff] Sir, a word with you. I
|
|
have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Go to, well.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Do you choose for me.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and
|
|
Shadow.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Mouldy and Bullcalf! For you, Mouldy, stay
|
|
at home till you are past service.--And for your
|
|
part, Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it. I will
|
|
none of you. [Mouldy and Bullcalf exit.]
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong.
|
|
They are your likeliest men, and I would have you
|
|
served with the best.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to
|
|
choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thews, 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 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 caliver into Wart's
|
|
hand, Bardolph.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH, [giving Wart a musket] Hold, Wart. Traverse.
|
|
Thas, thas, thas.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to Wart] Come, manage me your caliver: so,
|
|
very well, go to, very good, exceeding good. O, give
|
|
me always a little, lean, old, chopped, bald shot.
|
|
Well said, i' faith, Wart. Th' art a good scab. Hold,
|
|
there's a tester for thee. [He gives Wart money.]
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW 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
|
|
show--there was a little quiver fellow, and he
|
|
would manage you his piece thus. [Shallow performs
|
|
with the musket.] 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 ne'er see such a fellow.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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 tonight.--
|
|
Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Sir John, the Lord bless you. God prosper
|
|
your affairs. God send us peace. At your return, visit
|
|
our house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed.
|
|
Peradventure I will with you to the court.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Fore God, would you would, Master
|
|
Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Go to. I have spoke at a word. God keep you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.
|
|
[Shallow and Silence exit.]
|
|
On, Bardolph. Lead the men away.
|
|
[All but Falstaff exit.]
|
|
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 Street, 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 invincible. He was the very
|
|
genius of famine, yet lecherous as a monkey,
|
|
and the whores called him "mandrake." He came
|
|
ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung
|
|
those tunes to the overscutched huswives that he
|
|
heard the carmen whistle, and swore they were his
|
|
fancies or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's
|
|
dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly
|
|
of John o' Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother
|
|
to him, and I'll be sworn he ne'er saw him but
|
|
once in the tilt-yard, and then he burst his head
|
|
for crowding among the Marshal's men. I saw it
|
|
and told John o' Gaunt he beat his own name, for
|
|
you might have thrust him 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
|
|
beefs. Well, I'll be acquainted with him if I return,
|
|
and 't shall go hard but I'll 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.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 4
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter the Archbishop of York, Mowbray, Lord
|
|
Bardolph, Hastings, and their officers within the Forest
|
|
of Gaultree.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP What is this forest called?
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
'Tis Gaultree Forest, an 't shall please your Grace.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth
|
|
To know the numbers of our enemies.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
We have sent forth already.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP 'Tis well done.
|
|
My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
|
|
I must acquaint you that I have received
|
|
New-dated letters from Northumberland,
|
|
Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus:
|
|
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers
|
|
As might hold sortance with his quality,
|
|
The which he could not levy; whereupon
|
|
He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes,
|
|
To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers
|
|
That your attempts may overlive the hazard
|
|
And fearful meeting of their opposite.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground
|
|
And dash themselves to pieces.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Messenger.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS Now, what news?
|
|
|
|
MESSENGER
|
|
West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,
|
|
In goodly form comes on the enemy,
|
|
And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number
|
|
Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
The just proportion that we gave them out.
|
|
Let us sway on and face them in the field.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Westmoreland.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
What well-appointed leader fronts us here?
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Health and fair greeting from our general,
|
|
The Prince Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace,
|
|
What doth concern your coming.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND Then, my lord,
|
|
Unto your Grace do I in chief address
|
|
The substance of my speech. If that rebellion
|
|
Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
|
|
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage,
|
|
And countenanced by boys and beggary--
|
|
I say, if damned commotion so appeared
|
|
In his true, native, and most proper shape,
|
|
You, reverend father, and these noble lords
|
|
Had not been here to dress the ugly form
|
|
Of base and bloody insurrection
|
|
With your fair honors. You, Lord Archbishop,
|
|
Whose see is by a civil peace maintained,
|
|
Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched,
|
|
Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored,
|
|
Whose white investments figure innocence,
|
|
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,
|
|
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself
|
|
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace,
|
|
Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war,
|
|
Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
|
|
Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine
|
|
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Wherefore do I this? So the question stands.
|
|
Briefly, to this end: we are all diseased
|
|
And with our surfeiting and wanton hours
|
|
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
|
|
And we must bleed for it; of which disease
|
|
Our late King Richard, being infected, died.
|
|
But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland,
|
|
I take not on me here as a physician,
|
|
Nor do I as an enemy to peace
|
|
Troop in the throngs of military men,
|
|
But rather show awhile like fearful war
|
|
To diet rank minds sick of happiness
|
|
And purge th' obstructions which begin to stop
|
|
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
|
|
I have in equal balance justly weighed
|
|
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we
|
|
suffer,
|
|
And find our griefs heavier than our offenses.
|
|
We see which way the stream of time doth run
|
|
And are enforced from our most quiet there
|
|
By the rough torrent of occasion,
|
|
And have the summary of all our griefs,
|
|
When time shall serve, to show in articles;
|
|
Which long ere this we offered to the King
|
|
And might by no suit gain our audience.
|
|
When we are wronged and would unfold our griefs,
|
|
We are denied access unto his person
|
|
Even by those men that most have done us wrong.
|
|
The dangers of the days but newly gone,
|
|
Whose memory is written on the earth
|
|
With yet-appearing blood, and the examples
|
|
Of every minute's instance, present now,
|
|
Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms,
|
|
Not to break peace or any branch of it,
|
|
But to establish here a peace indeed,
|
|
Concurring both in name and quality.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Whenever yet was your appeal denied?
|
|
Wherein have you been galled by the King?
|
|
What peer hath been suborned to grate on you,
|
|
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
|
|
Of forged rebellion with a seal divine
|
|
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
My brother general, the commonwealth,
|
|
To brother born an household cruelty,
|
|
I make my quarrel in particular.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
There is no need of any such redress,
|
|
Or if there were, it not belongs to you.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
Why not to him in part, and to us all
|
|
That feel the bruises of the days before
|
|
And suffer the condition of these times
|
|
To lay a heavy and unequal hand
|
|
Upon our honors?
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND O, my good Lord Mowbray,
|
|
Construe the times to their necessities,
|
|
And you shall say indeed it is the time,
|
|
And not the King, that doth you injuries.
|
|
Yet for your part, it not appears to me
|
|
Either from the King or in the present time
|
|
That you should have an inch of any ground
|
|
To build a grief on. Were you not restored
|
|
To all the Duke of Norfolk's seigniories,
|
|
Your noble and right well remembered father's?
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
What thing, in honor, had my father lost
|
|
That need to be revived and breathed in me?
|
|
The King that loved him, as the state stood then,
|
|
Was force perforce compelled to banish him,
|
|
And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he,
|
|
Being mounted and both roused in their seats,
|
|
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,
|
|
Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down,
|
|
Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel,
|
|
And the loud trumpet blowing them together,
|
|
Then, then, when there was nothing could have
|
|
stayed
|
|
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,
|
|
O, when the King did throw his warder down--
|
|
His own life hung upon the staff he threw--
|
|
Then threw he down himself and all their lives
|
|
That by indictment and by dint of sword
|
|
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what.
|
|
The Earl of Hereford was reputed then
|
|
In England the most valiant gentleman.
|
|
Who knows on whom fortune would then have
|
|
smiled?
|
|
But if your father had been victor there,
|
|
He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry;
|
|
For all the country in a general voice
|
|
Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and
|
|
love
|
|
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on
|
|
And blessed and graced, indeed more than the
|
|
King.
|
|
But this is mere digression from my purpose.
|
|
Here come I from our princely general
|
|
To know your griefs, to tell you from his Grace
|
|
That he will give you audience; and wherein
|
|
It shall appear that your demands are just,
|
|
You shall enjoy them, everything set off
|
|
That might so much as think you enemies.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
But he hath forced us to compel this offer,
|
|
And it proceeds from policy, not love.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Mowbray, you overween to take it so.
|
|
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear.
|
|
For, lo, within a ken our army lies,
|
|
Upon mine honor, all too confident
|
|
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
|
|
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
|
|
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
|
|
Our armor all as strong, our cause the best.
|
|
Then reason will our hearts should be as good.
|
|
Say you not then our offer is compelled.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
That argues but the shame of your offense.
|
|
A rotten case abides no handling.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
Hath the Prince John a full commission,
|
|
In very ample virtue of his father,
|
|
To hear and absolutely to determine
|
|
Of what conditions we shall stand upon?
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
That is intended in the General's name.
|
|
I muse you make so slight a question.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP, [giving Westmoreland a paper]
|
|
Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule,
|
|
For this contains our general grievances.
|
|
Each several article herein redressed,
|
|
All members of our cause, both here and hence
|
|
That are insinewed to this action,
|
|
Acquitted by a true substantial form
|
|
And present execution of our wills
|
|
To us and to our purposes confined,
|
|
We come within our awful banks again
|
|
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
This will I show the General. Please you, lords,
|
|
In sight of both our battles we may meet,
|
|
And either end in peace, which God so frame,
|
|
Or to the place of difference call the swords
|
|
Which must decide it.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP My lord, we will do so.
|
|
[Westmoreland exits.]
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
There is a thing within my bosom tells me
|
|
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
Fear you not that. If we can make our peace
|
|
Upon such large terms and so absolute
|
|
As our conditions shall consist upon,
|
|
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
Yea, but our valuation shall be such
|
|
That every slight and false-derived cause,
|
|
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason,
|
|
Shall to the King taste of this action,
|
|
That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love,
|
|
We shall be winnowed with so rough a wind
|
|
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
|
|
And good from bad find no partition.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
No, no, my lord. Note this: the King is weary
|
|
Of dainty and such picking grievances,
|
|
For he hath found to end one doubt by death
|
|
Revives two greater in the heirs of life;
|
|
And therefore will he wipe his tables clean
|
|
And keep no telltale to his memory
|
|
That may repeat and history his loss
|
|
To new remembrance. For full well he knows
|
|
He cannot so precisely weed this land
|
|
As his misdoubts present occasion;
|
|
His foes are so enrooted with his friends
|
|
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
|
|
He doth unfasten so and shake a friend;
|
|
So that this land, like an offensive wife
|
|
That hath enraged him on to offer strokes,
|
|
As he is striking holds his infant up
|
|
And hangs resolved correction in the arm
|
|
That was upreared to execution.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS
|
|
Besides, the King hath wasted all his rods
|
|
On late offenders, that he now doth lack
|
|
The very instruments of chastisement,
|
|
So that his power, like to a fangless lion,
|
|
May offer but not hold.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP 'Tis very true,
|
|
And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal,
|
|
If we do now make our atonement well,
|
|
Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
|
|
Grow stronger for the breaking.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY Be it so.
|
|
Here is returned my Lord of Westmoreland.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Westmoreland.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND, [to the Archbishop]
|
|
The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your Lordship
|
|
To meet his Grace just distance 'tween our armies.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Prince John and his army.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY, [to the Archbishop]
|
|
Your Grace of York, in God's name then set
|
|
forward.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Before, and greet his Grace.--My lord, we come.
|
|
[All move forward.]
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
You are well encountered here, my cousin
|
|
Mowbray.--
|
|
Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop,--
|
|
And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all.--
|
|
My Lord of York, it better showed with you
|
|
When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
|
|
Encircled you to hear with reverence
|
|
Your exposition on the holy text
|
|
Than now to see you here, an iron man talking,
|
|
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
|
|
Turning the word to sword, and life to death.
|
|
That man that sits within a monarch's heart
|
|
And ripens in the sunshine of his favor,
|
|
Would he abuse the countenance of the King,
|
|
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach
|
|
In shadow of such greatness! With you, Lord
|
|
Bishop,
|
|
It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken
|
|
How deep you were within the books of God,
|
|
To us the speaker in His parliament,
|
|
To us th' imagined voice of God Himself,
|
|
The very opener and intelligencer
|
|
Between the grace, the sanctities, of heaven,
|
|
And our dull workings? O, who shall believe
|
|
But you misuse the reverence of your place,
|
|
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven
|
|
As a false favorite doth his prince's name,
|
|
In deeds dishonorable? You have ta'en up,
|
|
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
|
|
The subjects of His substitute, my father,
|
|
And both against the peace of heaven and him
|
|
Have here up-swarmed them.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP Good my Lord of
|
|
Lancaster,
|
|
I am not here against your father's peace,
|
|
But, as I told my Lord of Westmoreland,
|
|
The time misordered doth, in common sense,
|
|
Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form
|
|
To hold our safety up. I sent your Grace
|
|
The parcels and particulars of our grief,
|
|
The which hath been with scorn shoved from the
|
|
court,
|
|
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born,
|
|
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed asleep
|
|
With grant of our most just and right desires,
|
|
And true obedience, of this madness cured,
|
|
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
|
|
To the last man.
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS And though we here fall down,
|
|
We have supplies to second our attempt;
|
|
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them,
|
|
And so success of mischief shall be born,
|
|
And heir from heir shall hold his quarrel up
|
|
Whiles England shall have generation.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow
|
|
To sound the bottom of the after-times.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Pleaseth your Grace to answer them directly
|
|
How far forth you do like their articles.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
I like them all, and do allow them well,
|
|
And swear here by the honor of my blood
|
|
My father's purposes have been mistook,
|
|
And some about him have too lavishly
|
|
Wrested his meaning and authority.
|
|
[To the Archbishop.] My lord, these griefs shall be
|
|
with speed redressed;
|
|
Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you,
|
|
Discharge your powers unto their several counties,
|
|
As we will ours, and here, between the armies,
|
|
Let's drink together friendly and embrace,
|
|
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home
|
|
Of our restored love and amity.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
I take your princely word for these redresses.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
I give it you, and will maintain my word,
|
|
And thereupon I drink unto your Grace.
|
|
[The Leaders of both armies begin to drink together.]
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS, [to an Officer]
|
|
Go, captain, and deliver to the army
|
|
This news of peace. Let them have pay, and part.
|
|
I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain.
|
|
[Officer exits.]
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP, [toasting Westmoreland]
|
|
To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND, [returning the toast]
|
|
I pledge your Grace, and if you knew what pains
|
|
I have bestowed to breed this present peace,
|
|
You would drink freely. But my love to you
|
|
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
I do not doubt you.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND I am glad of it.--
|
|
Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
You wish me health in very happy season,
|
|
For I am on the sudden something ill.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Against ill chances men are ever merry,
|
|
But heaviness foreruns the good event.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow
|
|
Serves to say thus: "Some good thing comes
|
|
tomorrow."
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
So much the worse if your own rule be true.
|
|
[Shout within.]
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
The word of peace is rendered. Hark how they
|
|
shout.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
This had been cheerful after victory.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
A peace is of the nature of a conquest,
|
|
For then both parties nobly are subdued,
|
|
And neither party loser.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER, [to Westmoreland] Go, my lord,
|
|
And let our army be discharged too.
|
|
[Westmoreland exits.]
|
|
[To the Archbishop.] And, good my lord, so please
|
|
you, let our trains
|
|
March by us, that we may peruse the men
|
|
We should have coped withal.
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP Go, good Lord
|
|
Hastings,
|
|
And ere they be dismissed, let them march by.
|
|
[Hastings exits.]
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
I trust, lords, we shall lie tonight together.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Westmoreland.]
|
|
|
|
Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
The leaders, having charge from you to stand,
|
|
Will not go off until they hear you speak.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER They know their duties.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Hastings.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
HASTINGS, [to the Archbishop]
|
|
My lord, our army is dispersed already.
|
|
Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their
|
|
courses
|
|
East, west, north, south, or, like a school broke up,
|
|
Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place.
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Good tidings, my Lord Hastings, for the which
|
|
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason.--
|
|
And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray,
|
|
Of capital treason I attach you both.
|
|
|
|
MOWBRAY
|
|
Is this proceeding just and honorable?
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND Is your assembly so?
|
|
|
|
ARCHBISHOP
|
|
Will you thus break your faith?
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER I pawned thee none.
|
|
I promised you redress of these same grievances
|
|
Whereof you did complain, which, by mine honor,
|
|
I will perform with a most Christian care.
|
|
But for you rebels, look to taste the due
|
|
Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours.
|
|
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
|
|
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.--
|
|
Strike up our drums; pursue the scattered stray.
|
|
God, and not we, hath safely fought today.--
|
|
Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
|
|
Treason's true bed and yielder-up of breath.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Alarum. Excursions. Enter Falstaff and Colevile.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What's your name, sir? Of what condition are
|
|
you, and of what place, I pray?
|
|
|
|
COLEVILE I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of
|
|
the Dale.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Well then, Colevile is your name, a knight is
|
|
your degree, and your place the Dale. Colevile shall
|
|
be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the
|
|
dungeon your place, a place deep enough so shall
|
|
you be still Colevile of the Dale.
|
|
|
|
COLEVILE Are not you Sir John Falstaff?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do
|
|
you yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat,
|
|
they are the drops of thy lovers and they weep for
|
|
thy death. Therefore rouse up fear and trembling,
|
|
and do observance to my mercy.
|
|
|
|
COLEVILE I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that
|
|
thought yield me.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I have a whole school of tongues in this belly
|
|
of mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any
|
|
other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any
|
|
indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in
|
|
Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes
|
|
me. Here comes our general.
|
|
|
|
[Enter John, Westmoreland, and the rest.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
The heat is past. Follow no further now.
|
|
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.
|
|
[Westmoreland exits. Retreat is sounded.]
|
|
Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
|
|
When everything is ended, then you come.
|
|
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
|
|
One time or other break some gallows' back.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be
|
|
thus. I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the
|
|
reward of valor. Do you think me a swallow, an
|
|
arrow, or a bullet? Have I in my poor and old
|
|
motion the expedition of thought? I have speeded
|
|
hither with the very extremest inch of possibility. I
|
|
have foundered ninescore and odd posts, and here,
|
|
travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate
|
|
valor taken Sir John Colevile of the Dale, a most
|
|
furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of
|
|
that? He saw me and yielded, that I may justly say,
|
|
with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, "There, cousin,
|
|
I came, saw, and overcame."
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER It was more of his courtesy than
|
|
your deserving.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him.
|
|
And I beseech your Grace let it be booked with the
|
|
rest of this day's deeds, or, by the Lord, I will have it
|
|
in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture
|
|
on the top on 't, Colevile kissing my foot; to the
|
|
which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show
|
|
like gilt twopences to me, and I in the clear sky of
|
|
fame o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth
|
|
the cinders of the element (which show like pins'
|
|
heads to her), believe not the word of the noble.
|
|
Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER Thine's too heavy to mount.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Let it shine, then.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER Thine's too thick to shine.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Let it do something, my good lord, that may
|
|
do me good, and call it what you will.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER Is thy name Colevile?
|
|
|
|
COLEVILE It is, my lord.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER A famous rebel art thou,
|
|
Colevile.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF And a famous true subject took him.
|
|
|
|
COLEVILE
|
|
I am, my lord, but as my betters are
|
|
That led me hither. Had they been ruled by me,
|
|
You should have won them dearer than you have.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I know not how they sold themselves, but
|
|
thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis,
|
|
and I thank thee for thee.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Westmoreland.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER Now, have you left pursuit?
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Retreat is made and execution stayed.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
Send Colevile with his confederates
|
|
To York, to present execution.--
|
|
Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
|
|
[Blunt exits with Colevile.]
|
|
And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords.
|
|
I hear the King my father is sore sick.
|
|
Our news shall go before us to his Majesty,
|
|
[To Westmoreland.] Which, cousin, you shall bear
|
|
to comfort him,
|
|
And we with sober speed will follow you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go
|
|
through Gloucestershire, and, when you come to
|
|
court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good
|
|
report.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition,
|
|
Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
|
|
[All but Falstaff exit.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I would you had but the wit; 'twere better
|
|
than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young
|
|
sober-blooded boy doth not love me, nor a man
|
|
cannot make him laugh. But that's no marvel; he
|
|
drinks no wine. There's never none of these demure
|
|
boys come to any proof, for thin drink doth so
|
|
overcool their blood, and making many fish meals,
|
|
that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness, and
|
|
then, when they marry, they get wenches. They are
|
|
generally fools and cowards, which some of us
|
|
should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris
|
|
sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me
|
|
into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and
|
|
dull and crudy vapors which environ it, makes it
|
|
apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery,
|
|
and delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to the
|
|
voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes
|
|
excellent wit. The second property of your excellent
|
|
sherris is the warming of the blood, which,
|
|
before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale,
|
|
which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice.
|
|
But the sherris warms it and makes it course from
|
|
the inwards to the parts' extremes. It illumineth the
|
|
face, which as a beacon gives warning to all the rest
|
|
of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the
|
|
vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me
|
|
all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puffed
|
|
up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage, and
|
|
this valor comes of sherris. So that skill in the
|
|
weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it
|
|
a-work; and learning a mere hoard of gold kept
|
|
by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in
|
|
act and use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is
|
|
valiant, for the cold blood he did naturally inherit
|
|
of his father he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare
|
|
land, manured, husbanded, and tilled with excellent
|
|
endeavor of drinking good and good store
|
|
of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant.
|
|
If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle
|
|
I would teach them should be to forswear
|
|
thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Bardolph.]
|
|
|
|
How now, Bardolph?
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH The army is discharged all and gone.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire,
|
|
and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow,
|
|
Esquire. I have him already temp'ring between my
|
|
finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with
|
|
him. Come away.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter the King in a chair, Warwick, Thomas Duke of
|
|
Clarence, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, and
|
|
Attendants.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Now, lords, if God doth give successful end
|
|
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
|
|
We will our youth lead on to higher fields
|
|
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
|
|
Our navy is addressed, our power collected,
|
|
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
|
|
And everything lies level to our wish.
|
|
Only we want a little personal strength;
|
|
And pause us till these rebels now afoot
|
|
Come underneath the yoke of government.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Both which we doubt not but your Majesty
|
|
Shall soon enjoy.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, where is the
|
|
Prince your brother?
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
And how accompanied?
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER I do not know, my lord.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
No, my good lord, he is in presence here.
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE, [coming forward] What would
|
|
my lord and father?
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
|
|
How chance thou art not with the Prince thy
|
|
brother?
|
|
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas.
|
|
Thou hast a better place in his affection
|
|
Than all thy brothers. Cherish it, my boy,
|
|
And noble offices thou mayst effect
|
|
Of mediation, after I am dead,
|
|
Between his greatness and thy other brethren.
|
|
Therefore omit him not, blunt not his love,
|
|
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
|
|
By seeming cold or careless of his will.
|
|
For he is gracious if he be observed;
|
|
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
|
|
Open as day for melting charity;
|
|
Yet notwithstanding, being incensed he is flint,
|
|
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
|
|
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
|
|
His temper therefore must be well observed.
|
|
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
|
|
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth;
|
|
But, being moody, give him time and scope
|
|
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
|
|
Confound themselves with working. Learn this,
|
|
Thomas,
|
|
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
|
|
A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
|
|
That the united vessel of their blood,
|
|
Mingled with venom of suggestion
|
|
(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in),
|
|
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
|
|
As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
I shall observe him with all care and love.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
He is not there today; he dines in London.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
With Poins and other his continual followers.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds,
|
|
And he, the noble image of my youth,
|
|
Is overspread with them; therefore my grief
|
|
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.
|
|
The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape,
|
|
In forms imaginary, th' unguided days
|
|
And rotten times that you shall look upon
|
|
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
|
|
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
|
|
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
|
|
When means and lavish manners meet together,
|
|
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
|
|
Towards fronting peril and opposed decay!
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite.
|
|
The Prince but studies his companions
|
|
Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the
|
|
language,
|
|
'Tis needful that the most immodest word
|
|
Be looked upon and learned; which, once attained,
|
|
Your Highness knows, comes to no further use
|
|
But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,
|
|
The Prince will, in the perfectness of time,
|
|
Cast off his followers, and their memory
|
|
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
|
|
By which his Grace must mete the lives of others,
|
|
Turning past evils to advantages.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
|
|
In the dead carrion.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Westmoreland.]
|
|
|
|
Who's here? Westmoreland?
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
Health to my sovereign, and new happiness
|
|
Added to that that I am to deliver.
|
|
Prince John your son doth kiss your Grace's hand.
|
|
Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all
|
|
Are brought to the correction of your law.
|
|
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed,
|
|
But peace puts forth her olive everywhere.
|
|
The manner how this action hath been borne
|
|
Here at more leisure may your Highness read
|
|
With every course in his particular.
|
|
[He gives the King a paper.]
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
|
|
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
|
|
The lifting up of day.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Harcourt.]
|
|
|
|
Look, here's more news.
|
|
|
|
HARCOURT
|
|
From enemies heavens keep your Majesty,
|
|
And when they stand against you, may they fall
|
|
As those that I am come to tell you of.
|
|
The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph,
|
|
With a great power of English and of Scots,
|
|
Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown.
|
|
The manner and true order of the fight
|
|
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
|
|
[He gives the King papers.]
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
And wherefore should these good news make me
|
|
sick?
|
|
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
|
|
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
|
|
She either gives a stomach and no food--
|
|
Such are the poor, in health--or else a feast
|
|
And takes away the stomach--such are the rich,
|
|
That have abundance and enjoy it not.
|
|
I should rejoice now at this happy news,
|
|
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy.
|
|
O, me! Come near me, now I am much ill.
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
Comfort, your Majesty.
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE O, my royal father!
|
|
|
|
WESTMORELAND
|
|
My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Be patient, princes. You do know these fits
|
|
Are with his Highness very ordinary.
|
|
Stand from him, give him air. He'll straight be
|
|
well.
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs.
|
|
Th' incessant care and labor of his mind
|
|
Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
|
|
So thin that life looks through and will break out.
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
The people fear me, for they do observe
|
|
Unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature.
|
|
The seasons change their manners, as the year
|
|
Had found some months asleep and leapt them
|
|
over.
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between,
|
|
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
|
|
Say it did so a little time before
|
|
That our great-grandsire, Edward, sicked and died.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Speak lower, princes, for the King recovers.
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
This apoplexy will certain be his end.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
I pray you take me up and bear me hence
|
|
Into some other chamber. Softly, pray.
|
|
[The King is carried to a bed on another
|
|
part of the stage.]
|
|
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends,
|
|
Unless some dull and favorable hand
|
|
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK, [to an Attendant]
|
|
Call for the music in the other room.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
|
|
[The crown is placed on the bed.]
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE, [aside to the others]
|
|
His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Less noise, less noise.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Prince Harry.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
PRINCE Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE, [weeping]
|
|
I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
How now, rain within doors, and none abroad?
|
|
How doth the King?
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER Exceeding ill.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
He altered much upon the hearing it.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without
|
|
physic.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Not so much noise, my lords.--Sweet prince, speak
|
|
low.
|
|
The King your father is disposed to sleep.
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
Let us withdraw into the other room.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Will 't please your Grace to go along with us?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
No, I will sit and watch here by the King.
|
|
[All but Prince and King exit.]
|
|
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
|
|
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
|
|
O polished perturbation, golden care,
|
|
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
|
|
To many a watchful night! Sleep with it now;
|
|
Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet
|
|
As he whose brow with homely biggen bound
|
|
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty,
|
|
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
|
|
Like a rich armor worn in heat of day,
|
|
That scald'st with safety. By his gates of breath
|
|
There lies a downy feather which stirs not;
|
|
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
|
|
Perforce must move. My gracious lord, my father,
|
|
This sleep is sound indeed. This is a sleep
|
|
That from this golden rigol hath divorced
|
|
So many English kings. Thy due from me
|
|
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
|
|
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
|
|
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.
|
|
My due from thee is this imperial crown,
|
|
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
|
|
Derives itself to me. [He puts on the crown.] Lo,
|
|
where it sits,
|
|
Which God shall guard. And, put the world's whole
|
|
strength
|
|
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
|
|
This lineal honor from me. This from thee
|
|
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
|
|
[He exits with the crown.]
|
|
|
|
KING, [rising up in his bed] Warwick! Gloucester!
|
|
Clarence!
|
|
|
|
[Enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence, and others.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE Doth the King call?
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace?
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
We left the Prince my brother here, my liege,
|
|
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
The Prince of Wales? Where is he? Let me see him.
|
|
He is not here.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
This door is open. He is gone this way.
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
He came not through the chamber where we
|
|
stayed.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
The Prince hath ta'en it hence. Go seek him out.
|
|
Is he so hasty that he doth suppose my sleep my
|
|
death?
|
|
Find him, my Lord of Warwick. Chide him hither.
|
|
[Warwick exits.]
|
|
This part of his conjoins with my disease
|
|
And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you
|
|
are,
|
|
How quickly nature falls into revolt
|
|
When gold becomes her object!
|
|
For this the foolish overcareful fathers
|
|
Have broke their sleep with thoughts,
|
|
Their brains with care, their bones with industry.
|
|
For this they have engrossed and piled up
|
|
The cankered heaps of strange-achieved gold.
|
|
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
|
|
Their sons with arts and martial exercises--
|
|
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
|
|
The virtuous sweets,
|
|
Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with
|
|
honey,
|
|
We bring it to the hive and, like the bees,
|
|
Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste
|
|
Yields his engrossments to the ending father.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Warwick.]
|
|
|
|
Now where is he that will not stay so long
|
|
Till his friend sickness hath determined me?
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
My lord, I found the Prince in the next room,
|
|
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,
|
|
With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow
|
|
That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood,
|
|
Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife
|
|
With gentle eyedrops. He is coming hither.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
But wherefore did he take away the crown?
|
|
|
|
[Enter Prince Harry with the crown.]
|
|
|
|
Lo where he comes.--Come hither to me, Harry.--
|
|
Depart the chamber. Leave us here alone.
|
|
[Gloucester, Clarence, Warwick, and others exit.]
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
I never thought to hear you speak again.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
|
|
I stay too long by thee; I weary thee.
|
|
Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair
|
|
That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honors
|
|
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth,
|
|
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm
|
|
thee.
|
|
Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity
|
|
Is held from falling with so weak a wind
|
|
That it will quickly drop. My day is dim.
|
|
Thou hast stol'n that which after some few hours
|
|
Were thine without offense, and at my death
|
|
Thou hast sealed up my expectation.
|
|
Thy life did manifest thou loved'st me not,
|
|
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
|
|
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
|
|
Whom thou hast whetted on thy stony heart
|
|
To stab at half an hour of my life.
|
|
What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
|
|
Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself,
|
|
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
|
|
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
|
|
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
|
|
Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head;
|
|
Only compound me with forgotten dust.
|
|
Give that which gave thee life unto the worms.
|
|
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees,
|
|
For now a time is come to mock at form.
|
|
Harry the Fifth is crowned. Up, vanity,
|
|
Down, royal state, all you sage councillors,
|
|
hence,
|
|
And to the English court assemble now,
|
|
From every region, apes of idleness.
|
|
Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum.
|
|
Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
|
|
Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit
|
|
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
|
|
Be happy, he will trouble you no more.
|
|
England shall double gild his treble guilt.
|
|
England shall give him office, honor, might,
|
|
For the fifth Harry from curbed license plucks
|
|
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
|
|
Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.
|
|
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
|
|
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
|
|
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
|
|
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
|
|
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE, [placing the crown on the pillow]
|
|
O pardon me, my liege! But for my tears,
|
|
The moist impediments unto my speech,
|
|
I had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke
|
|
Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard
|
|
The course of it so far. There is your crown,
|
|
And He that wears the crown immortally
|
|
Long guard it yours. [He kneels.] If I affect it
|
|
more
|
|
Than as your honor and as your renown,
|
|
Let me no more from this obedience rise,
|
|
Which my most inward true and duteous spirit
|
|
Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending.
|
|
God witness with me, when I here came in
|
|
And found no course of breath within your Majesty,
|
|
How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,
|
|
O, let me in my present wildness die
|
|
And never live to show th' incredulous world
|
|
The noble change that I have purposed.
|
|
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
|
|
And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,
|
|
I spake unto this crown as having sense,
|
|
And thus upbraided it: "The care on thee
|
|
depending
|
|
Hath fed upon the body of my father;
|
|
Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold.
|
|
Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
|
|
Preserving life in med'cine potable;
|
|
But thou, most fine, most honored, most renowned,
|
|
Hast eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal liege,
|
|
Accusing it, I put it on my head
|
|
To try with it, as with an enemy
|
|
That had before my face murdered my father,
|
|
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
|
|
But if it did infect my blood with joy
|
|
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride,
|
|
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
|
|
Did with the least affection of a welcome
|
|
Give entertainment to the might of it,
|
|
Let God forever keep it from my head
|
|
And make me as the poorest vassal is
|
|
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.
|
|
|
|
KING O my son,
|
|
God put it in thy mind to take it hence
|
|
That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,
|
|
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
|
|
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed
|
|
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
|
|
That ever I shall breathe.
|
|
[The Prince rises from his knees and sits
|
|
near the bed.]
|
|
God knows, my son,
|
|
By what bypaths and indirect crook'd ways
|
|
I met this crown, and I myself know well
|
|
How troublesome it sat upon my head.
|
|
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
|
|
Better opinion, better confirmation,
|
|
For all the soil of the achievement goes
|
|
With me into the earth. It seemed in me
|
|
But as an honor snatched with boist'rous hand,
|
|
And I had many living to upbraid
|
|
My gain of it by their assistances,
|
|
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
|
|
Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears
|
|
Thou seest with peril I have answered,
|
|
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
|
|
Acting that argument. And now my death
|
|
Changes the mood, for what in me was purchased
|
|
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort.
|
|
So thou the garland wear'st successively.
|
|
Yet though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
|
|
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green,
|
|
And all my friends, which thou must make thy
|
|
friends,
|
|
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out,
|
|
By whose fell working I was first advanced
|
|
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
|
|
To be again displaced; which to avoid,
|
|
I cut them off and had a purpose now
|
|
To lead out many to the Holy Land,
|
|
Lest rest and lying still might make them look
|
|
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
|
|
Be it thy course to busy giddy minds
|
|
With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne
|
|
out,
|
|
May waste the memory of the former days.
|
|
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so
|
|
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
|
|
How I came by the crown, O God forgive,
|
|
And grant it may with thee in true peace live.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE My gracious liege,
|
|
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me.
|
|
Then plain and right must my possession be,
|
|
Which I with more than with a common pain
|
|
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
|
|
|
|
[Enter John of Lancaster and others.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John,
|
|
But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
|
|
From this bare withered trunk. Upon thy sight
|
|
My worldly business makes a period.
|
|
Where is my Lord of Warwick?
|
|
|
|
PRINCE My Lord of Warwick.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Warwick.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Doth any name particular belong
|
|
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
'Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord.
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
Laud be to God! Even there my life must end.
|
|
It hath been prophesied to me many years,
|
|
I should not die but in Jerusalem,
|
|
Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land.
|
|
But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie.
|
|
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
ACT 5
|
|
=====
|
|
|
|
Scene 1
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away
|
|
tonight.--What, Davy, I say!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW I will not excuse you. You shall not be
|
|
excused. Excuses shall not be admitted. There is no
|
|
excuse shall serve. You shall not be excused.--
|
|
Why, Davy!
|
|
|
|
[Enter Davy.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DAVY Here, sir.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy, let
|
|
me see, Davy, let me see. Yea, marry, William cook,
|
|
bid him come hither.--Sir John, you shall not be
|
|
excused.
|
|
|
|
DAVY Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served.
|
|
And again, sir: shall we sow the hade land with
|
|
wheat?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook,
|
|
are there no young pigeons?
|
|
|
|
DAVY Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing
|
|
and plow irons. [He gives Shallow a paper.]
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Let it be cast and paid.--Sir John, you shall
|
|
not be excused.
|
|
|
|
DAVY Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be
|
|
had. And, sir, do you mean to stop any of William's
|
|
wages about the sack he lost the other day at
|
|
Hinckley Fair?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW He shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a
|
|
couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and
|
|
any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook.
|
|
[Shallow and Davy walk aside.]
|
|
|
|
DAVY Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Yea, Davy, I will use him well. A friend i' th'
|
|
court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men
|
|
well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves and will
|
|
backbite.
|
|
|
|
DAVY No worse than they are back-bitten, sir, for they
|
|
have marvelous foul linen.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Well-conceited, Davy. About thy business,
|
|
Davy.
|
|
|
|
DAVY I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor
|
|
of Woncot against Clement Perkes o' th' hill.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW There is many complaints, Davy, against that
|
|
Visor. That Visor is an arrant knave, on my
|
|
knowledge.
|
|
|
|
DAVY I grant your Worship that he is a knave, sir, but
|
|
yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some
|
|
countenance at his friend's request. An honest
|
|
man, sir, is able to speak for himself when a knave is
|
|
not. I have served your Worship truly, sir, this eight
|
|
years; an I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear
|
|
out a knave against an honest man, I have but a
|
|
very little credit with your Worship. The knave is
|
|
mine honest friend, sir; therefore I beseech you let
|
|
him be countenanced.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Go to, I say, he shall have no wrong. Look
|
|
about, Davy. [Davy exits.] Where are you, Sir John?
|
|
Come, come, come, off with your boots.--Give me
|
|
your hand, Master Bardolph.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH I am glad to see your Worship.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master
|
|
Bardolph, [(to Page)] and welcome, my tall
|
|
fellow.--Come, Sir John.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.
|
|
[Shallow exits.] Bardolph, look to our horses. [Bardolph
|
|
and Page exit.] If I were sawed into quantities,
|
|
I should make four dozen of such bearded hermits'
|
|
staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to
|
|
see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits
|
|
and his. They, by observing of him, do bear
|
|
themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing
|
|
with them, is turned into a justice-like servingman.
|
|
Their spirits are so married in conjunction with the
|
|
participation of society that they flock together in
|
|
consent like so many wild geese. If I had a suit to
|
|
Master Shallow, I would humor his men with the
|
|
imputation of being near their master; if to his men,
|
|
I would curry with Master Shallow that no man
|
|
could better command his servants. It is certain
|
|
that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is
|
|
caught, as men take diseases, one of another. Therefore
|
|
let men take heed of their company. I will
|
|
devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep
|
|
Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out
|
|
of six fashions, which is four terms, or two actions,
|
|
and he shall laugh without intervallums. O, it is
|
|
much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest with a
|
|
sad brow will do with a fellow that never had the
|
|
ache in his shoulders. O, you shall see him laugh till
|
|
his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW, [within] Sir John.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I come, Master Shallow, I come, Master
|
|
Shallow.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 2
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Warwick and Lord Chief Justice.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
How now, my Lord Chief Justice, whither away?
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE How doth the King?
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Exceeding well. His cares are now all ended.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
I hope, not dead.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK He's walked the way of nature,
|
|
And to our purposes he lives no more.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
I would his Majesty had called me with him.
|
|
The service that I truly did his life
|
|
Hath left me open to all injuries.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Indeed, I think the young king loves you not.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
I know he doth not, and do arm myself
|
|
To welcome the condition of the time,
|
|
Which cannot look more hideously upon me
|
|
Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.
|
|
|
|
[Enter John, Thomas, and Humphrey.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry.
|
|
O, that the living Harry had the temper
|
|
Of he the worst of these three gentlemen!
|
|
How many nobles then should hold their places
|
|
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort!
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
O God, I fear all will be overturned.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER, THOMAS OF CLARENCE Good morrow, cousin.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
|
|
|
|
WARWICK
|
|
We do remember, but our argument
|
|
Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
Peace be with us, lest we be heavier.
|
|
|
|
HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER
|
|
O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed,
|
|
And I dare swear you borrow not that face
|
|
Of seeming sorrow; it is sure your own.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER, [to the Chief Justice]
|
|
Though no man be assured what grace to find,
|
|
You stand in coldest expectation.
|
|
I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise.
|
|
|
|
THOMAS OF CLARENCE
|
|
Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair,
|
|
Which swims against your stream of quality.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
Sweet princes, what I did I did in honor,
|
|
Led by th' impartial conduct of my soul;
|
|
And never shall you see that I will beg
|
|
A ragged and forestalled remission.
|
|
If truth and upright innocency fail me,
|
|
I'll to the king my master that is dead
|
|
And tell him who hath sent me after him.
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Prince, as Henry V, and Blunt.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
WARWICK Here comes the Prince.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
Good morrow, and God save your Majesty.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
This new and gorgeous garment majesty
|
|
Sits not so easy on me as you think.--
|
|
Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear.
|
|
This is the English, not the Turkish court;
|
|
Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
|
|
But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers,
|
|
For, by my faith, it very well becomes you.
|
|
Sorrow so royally in you appears
|
|
That I will deeply put the fashion on
|
|
And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad.
|
|
But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
|
|
Than a joint burden laid upon us all.
|
|
For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured,
|
|
I'll be your father and your brother too.
|
|
Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares.
|
|
Yet weep that Harry's dead, and so will I,
|
|
But Harry lives that shall convert those tears
|
|
By number into hours of happiness.
|
|
|
|
BROTHERS
|
|
We hope no otherwise from your Majesty.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
You all look strangely on me. [To the Chief Justice.]
|
|
And you most.
|
|
You are, I think, assured I love you not.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
I am assured, if I be measured rightly,
|
|
Your Majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
No? How might a prince of my great hopes forget
|
|
So great indignities you laid upon me?
|
|
What, rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
|
|
Th' immediate heir of England? Was this easy?
|
|
May this be washed in Lethe and forgotten?
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
I then did use the person of your father;
|
|
The image of his power lay then in me.
|
|
And in th' administration of his law,
|
|
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
|
|
Your Highness pleased to forget my place,
|
|
The majesty and power of law and justice,
|
|
The image of the King whom I presented,
|
|
And struck me in my very seat of judgment,
|
|
Whereon, as an offender to your father,
|
|
I gave bold way to my authority
|
|
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
|
|
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
|
|
To have a son set your decrees at nought?
|
|
To pluck down justice from your awful bench?
|
|
To trip the course of law and blunt the sword
|
|
That guards the peace and safety of your person?
|
|
Nay more, to spurn at your most royal image
|
|
And mock your workings in a second body?
|
|
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours;
|
|
Be now the father and propose a son,
|
|
Hear your own dignity so much profaned,
|
|
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
|
|
Behold yourself so by a son disdained,
|
|
And then imagine me taking your part
|
|
And in your power soft silencing your son.
|
|
After this cold considerance, sentence me,
|
|
And, as you are a king, speak in your state
|
|
What I have done that misbecame my place,
|
|
My person, or my liege's sovereignty.
|
|
|
|
PRINCE
|
|
You are right, justice, and you weigh this well.
|
|
Therefore still bear the balance and the sword.
|
|
And I do wish your honors may increase
|
|
Till you do live to see a son of mine
|
|
Offend you and obey you as I did.
|
|
So shall I live to speak my father's words:
|
|
"Happy am I that have a man so bold
|
|
That dares do justice on my proper son;
|
|
And not less happy, having such a son
|
|
That would deliver up his greatness so
|
|
Into the hands of justice." You did commit me,
|
|
For which I do commit into your hand
|
|
Th' unstained sword that you have used to bear,
|
|
With this remembrance: that you use the same
|
|
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit
|
|
As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand.
|
|
[They clasp hands.]
|
|
You shall be as a father to my youth,
|
|
My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear,
|
|
And I will stoop and humble my intents
|
|
To your well-practiced wise directions.--
|
|
And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you:
|
|
My father is gone wild into his grave,
|
|
For in his tomb lie my affections,
|
|
And with his spirits sadly I survive
|
|
To mock the expectation of the world,
|
|
To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out
|
|
Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
|
|
After my seeming. The tide of blood in me
|
|
Hath proudly flowed in vanity till now.
|
|
Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea,
|
|
Where it shall mingle with the state of floods
|
|
And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
|
|
Now call we our high court of parliament,
|
|
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel
|
|
That the great body of our state may go
|
|
In equal rank with the best-governed nation;
|
|
That war, or peace, or both at once, may be
|
|
As things acquainted and familiar to us,
|
|
[To the Chief Justice.] In which you, father, shall
|
|
have foremost hand.
|
|
Our coronation done, we will accite,
|
|
As I before remembered, all our state.
|
|
And, God consigning to my good intents,
|
|
No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say
|
|
God shorten Harry's happy life one day.
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
Scene 3
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy,
|
|
Bardolph, and Page.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an
|
|
arbor, we will eat a last year's pippin of mine own
|
|
graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth.--
|
|
Come, cousin Silence.--And then to bed.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling,
|
|
and a rich.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Barren, barren, barren, beggars all, beggars
|
|
all, Sir John. Marry, good air.--Spread, Davy,
|
|
spread, Davy. Well said, Davy.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF This Davy serves you for good uses. He is
|
|
your servingman and your husband.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good
|
|
varlet, Sir John. By the Mass, I have drunk too
|
|
much sack at supper. A good varlet. Now sit down,
|
|
now sit down.--Come, cousin.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Ah, sirrah, quoth he, we shall
|
|
[Sings.] Do nothing but eat and make good cheer,
|
|
And praise God for the merry year,
|
|
When flesh is cheap and females dear,
|
|
And lusty lads roam here and there
|
|
So merrily,
|
|
And ever among so merrily.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF There's a merry heart!--Good Master Silence,
|
|
I'll give you a health for that anon.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.
|
|
|
|
DAVY, [to the guests] Sweet sir, sit. I'll be with you
|
|
anon. Most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master
|
|
page, sit. Proface. What you want in meat, we'll
|
|
have in drink, but you must bear. The heart's all.
|
|
[He exits.]
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Be merry, Master Bardolph.--And, my little
|
|
soldier there, be merry.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE [sings]
|
|
Be merry, be merry, my wife has all,
|
|
For women are shrews, both short and tall.
|
|
'Tis merry in hall when beards wags all,
|
|
And welcome merry Shrovetide.
|
|
Be merry, be merry.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I did not think Master Silence had been a
|
|
man of this mettle.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere
|
|
now.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Davy.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DAVY, [to the guests] There's a dish of leather-coats for
|
|
you.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Davy!
|
|
|
|
DAVY Your Worship, I'll be with you straight.--A cup
|
|
of wine, sir.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE [sings]
|
|
A cup of wine that's brisk and fine,
|
|
And drink unto thee, leman mine,
|
|
And a merry heart lives long-a.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Well said, Master Silence.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE And we shall be merry; now comes in the
|
|
sweet o' th' night.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Health and long life to you, Master Silence.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE [sings]
|
|
Fill the cup, and let it come,
|
|
I'll pledge you a mile to th' bottom.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Honest Bardolph, welcome. If thou want'st
|
|
anything 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
|
|
cabileros about London.
|
|
|
|
DAVY I hope to see London once ere I die.
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH An I might see you there, Davy!
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW By the Mass, you'll crack a quart together,
|
|
ha, will you not, Master Bardolph?
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW By God's liggens, I thank thee. The knave
|
|
will stick by thee, I can assure thee that. He will not
|
|
out, he. 'Tis true bred!
|
|
|
|
BARDOLPH And I'll stick by him, sir.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing, be
|
|
merry. [(One knocks at door.)] Look who's at door
|
|
there, ho. Who knocks? [Davy exits.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Why, now you have done me right.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE [sings]
|
|
Do me right,
|
|
And dub me knight,
|
|
Samingo.
|
|
Is 't not so?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 'Tis so.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE Is 't so? Why then, say an old man can do
|
|
somewhat.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Davy.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
DAVY An 't please your Worship, there's one Pistol
|
|
come from the court with news.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF From the court? Let him come in.
|
|
|
|
[Enter Pistol.]
|
|
|
|
How now, Pistol?
|
|
|
|
PISTOL Sir John, God save you.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
|
|
|
|
PISTOL Not the ill wind which blows no man to good.
|
|
Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men
|
|
in this realm.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE By 'r Lady, I think he be, but Goodman Puff of
|
|
Barson.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL 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.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of
|
|
this world.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL
|
|
A foutre for the world and worldlings base!
|
|
I speak of Africa and golden joys.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF
|
|
O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
|
|
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
|
|
|
|
SILENCE [sings]
|
|
And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL
|
|
Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons,
|
|
And shall good news be baffled?
|
|
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Honest gentleman, I know not your
|
|
breeding.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL Why then, lament therefor.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with
|
|
news from the court, I take it there's but two ways,
|
|
either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, sir,
|
|
under the King in some authority.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL
|
|
Under which king, besonian? Speak or die.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW
|
|
Under King Harry.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL Harry the Fourth, or Fifth?
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW
|
|
Harry the Fourth.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL A foutre 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 Spaniard. [Pistol makes a fig.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF What, is the old king dead?
|
|
|
|
PISTOL
|
|
As nail in door. The things I speak are just.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF 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.
|
|
|
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BARDOLPH O joyful day! I would not take a knight-hood
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|
for my fortune.
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PISTOL What, I do bring good news!
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FALSTAFF Carry Master Silence to bed.--Master Shallow,
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|
my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt. I am
|
|
Fortune's steward. Get on thy boots. We'll ride all
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|
night.--O sweet Pistol!--Away, Bardolph!--Come,
|
|
Pistol, utter more to me, and withal devise something
|
|
to do thyself good.--Boot, boot, Master Shallow.
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|
I know the young king is sick for me. Let us
|
|
take any man's horses. The laws of England are at
|
|
my commandment. Blessed are they that have been
|
|
my friends, and woe to my Lord Chief Justice!
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|
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|
PISTOL
|
|
Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!
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|
"Where is the life that late I led?" say they.
|
|
Why, here it is. Welcome these pleasant days.
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|
[They exit.]
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|
Scene 4
|
|
=======
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|
[Enter Hostess Quickly, Doll Tearsheet, and Beadles.]
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|
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|
|
HOSTESS No, thou arrant knave. I would to God that I
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|
might die, that I might have thee hanged. Thou hast
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|
drawn my shoulder out of joint.
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|
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|
BEADLE The Constables have delivered her over to me,
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|
and she shall have whipping cheer enough, I
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|
warrant her. There hath been a man or two lately
|
|
killed about her.
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|
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|
DOLL Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, I'll tell
|
|
thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal: an the
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|
child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert better
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|
thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced
|
|
villain.
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|
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|
HOSTESS O the Lord, that Sir John were come! I would
|
|
make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God
|
|
the fruit of her womb might miscarry.
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|
|
|
BEADLE If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions
|
|
again; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you
|
|
both go with me, for the man is dead that you and
|
|
Pistol beat amongst you.
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|
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|
DOLL I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will
|
|
have you as soundly swinged for this, you bluebottle
|
|
rogue, you filthy famished correctioner. If you be
|
|
not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles.
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|
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|
BEADLE Come, come, you she-knight-errant, come.
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|
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|
HOSTESS O God, that right should thus overcome
|
|
might! Well, of sufferance comes ease.
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|
DOLL Come, you rogue, come, bring me to a justice.
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|
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|
HOSTESS Ay, come, you starved bloodhound.
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|
DOLL Goodman Death, Goodman Bones!
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|
HOSTESS Thou atomy, thou!
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|
DOLL Come, you thin thing, come, you rascal.
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|
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|
BEADLE Very well.
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|
[They exit.]
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|
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|
Scene 5
|
|
=======
|
|
[Enter two Grooms.]
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|
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|
|
FIRST GROOM More rushes, more rushes.
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|
SECOND GROOM The trumpets have sounded twice.
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|
|
FIRST GROOM 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come
|
|
from the coronation. Dispatch, dispatch.
|
|
[Grooms exit.]
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|
|
|
[Trumpets sound, and the King and his train pass over
|
|
the stage. After them enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol,
|
|
Bardolph, and the Page.]
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|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow. I
|
|
will make the King do you grace. I will leer upon
|
|
him as he comes by, and do but mark the countenance
|
|
that he will give me.
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|
|
|
PISTOL God bless thy lungs, good knight!
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|
|
|
FALSTAFF Come here, Pistol, stand behind me.--O, if I
|
|
had had time to have made new liveries, I would
|
|
have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of
|
|
you. But 'tis no matter. This poor show doth better.
|
|
This doth infer the zeal I had to see him.
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|
|
|
SHALLOW It doth so.
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|
|
|
FALSTAFF It shows my earnestness of affection--
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|
SHALLOW It doth so.
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|
|
|
FALSTAFF My devotion--
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|
|
|
SHALLOW It doth, it doth, it doth.
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|
|
|
FALSTAFF As it were, to ride day and night, and not to
|
|
deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience
|
|
to shift me--
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|
|
|
SHALLOW It is best, certain.
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|
|
|
FALSTAFF But to stand stained with travel and sweating
|
|
with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else,
|
|
putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were
|
|
nothing else to be done but to see him.
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|
|
|
PISTOL 'Tis semper idem, for obsque hoc nihil est; 'tis
|
|
all in every part.
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|
|
|
SHALLOW 'Tis so indeed.
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|
|
|
PISTOL My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, and
|
|
make thee rage. Thy Doll and Helen of thy noble
|
|
thoughts is in base durance and contagious prison,
|
|
haled thither by most mechanical and dirty hand.
|
|
Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's
|
|
snake, for Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.
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|
|
|
FALSTAFF I will deliver her.
|
|
[Shouts within. The trumpets sound.]
|
|
|
|
PISTOL
|
|
There roared the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds.
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|
|
|
[Enter the King and his train.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF
|
|
God save thy Grace, King Hal, my royal Hal.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL
|
|
The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal
|
|
imp of fame!
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF God save thee, my sweet boy!
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Falstaff]
|
|
Have you your wits? Know you what 'tis you
|
|
speak?
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF, [to the King]
|
|
My king, my Jove, I speak to thee, my heart!
|
|
|
|
KING
|
|
I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers.
|
|
How ill white hairs becomes a fool and jester.
|
|
I have long dreamt of such a kind of man,
|
|
So surfeit-swelled, so old, and so profane;
|
|
But being awaked, I do despise my dream.
|
|
Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;
|
|
Leave gormandizing. Know the grave doth gape
|
|
For thee thrice wider than for other men.
|
|
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest.
|
|
Presume not that I am the thing I was,
|
|
For God doth know--so shall the world perceive--
|
|
That I have turned away my former self.
|
|
So will I those that kept me company.
|
|
When thou dost hear I am as I have been,
|
|
Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,
|
|
The tutor and the feeder of my riots.
|
|
Till then I banish thee, on pain of death,
|
|
As I have done the rest of my misleaders,
|
|
Not to come near our person by ten mile.
|
|
For competence of life I will allow you,
|
|
That lack of means enforce you not to evils.
|
|
And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,
|
|
We will, according to your strengths and qualities,
|
|
Give you advancement. [To the Lord Chief Justice.]
|
|
Be it your charge, my lord,
|
|
To see performed the tenor of my word.--
|
|
Set on.
|
|
[King and his train exit.]
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW Yea, marry, Sir John, which I beseech you to
|
|
let me have home with me.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not
|
|
you grieve at this. I shall be sent for in private to
|
|
him. Look you, he must seem thus to the world.
|
|
Fear not your advancements. I will be the man yet
|
|
that shall make you great.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW I cannot well perceive how, unless you
|
|
should give me your doublet and stuff me out with
|
|
straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five
|
|
hundred of my thousand.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that
|
|
you heard was but a color.
|
|
|
|
SHALLOW A color that I fear you will die in, Sir John.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF Fear no colors. Go with me to dinner.--
|
|
Come, lieutenant Pistol.--Come, Bardolph.--I
|
|
shall be sent for soon at night.
|
|
|
|
[Enter the Lord Chief Justice and Prince John, with
|
|
Officers.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet.
|
|
Take all his company along with him.
|
|
|
|
FALSTAFF My lord, my lord --
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE
|
|
I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon.--
|
|
Take them away.
|
|
|
|
PISTOL Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta.
|
|
[All but John of Lancaster and
|
|
Chief Justice exit.]
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
I like this fair proceeding of the King's.
|
|
He hath intent his wonted followers
|
|
Shall all be very well provided for,
|
|
But all are banished till their conversations
|
|
Appear more wise and modest to the world.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE And so they are.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
The King hath called his parliament, my lord.
|
|
|
|
CHIEF JUSTICE He hath.
|
|
|
|
JOHN OF LANCASTER
|
|
I will lay odds that, ere this year expire,
|
|
We bear our civil swords and native fire
|
|
As far as France. I heard a bird so sing,
|
|
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the King.
|
|
Come, will you hence?
|
|
[They exit.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
EPILOGUE
|
|
========
|
|
|
|
First my fear, then my curtsy, last my speech. My
|
|
fear is your displeasure, my curtsy my duty, and my
|
|
speech, to beg your pardons. If you look for a good
|
|
speech now, you undo me, for what I have to say is
|
|
of mine own making, and what indeed I should say
|
|
will, I doubt, prove mine own marring.
|
|
But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it
|
|
known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in
|
|
the end of a displeasing play to pray your patience
|
|
for it and to promise you a better. I meant indeed to
|
|
pay you with this, which, if like an ill venture it
|
|
come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle
|
|
creditors, lose. Here I promised you I would be,
|
|
and here I commit my body to your mercies. Bate
|
|
me some, and I will pay you some, and, as most
|
|
debtors do, promise you infinitely. And so I kneel
|
|
down before you, but, indeed, to pray for the
|
|
Queen.
|
|
If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me,
|
|
will you command me to use my legs? And yet that
|
|
were but light payment, to dance out of your debt.
|
|
But a good conscience will make any possible
|
|
satisfaction, and so would I. All the gentlewomen
|
|
here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen will not,
|
|
then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen,
|
|
which was never seen before in such an
|
|
assembly.
|
|
One word more, I beseech you: if you be not too
|
|
much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will
|
|
continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make
|
|
you merry with fair Katherine of France, where, for
|
|
anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless
|
|
already he be killed with your hard opinions; for
|
|
Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man.
|
|
My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid
|
|
you good night. |