Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and
Mine host of the Garter –
What says my bully rook? Speak scholarly and
Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of
Discard, bully Hercules, cashier. Let them wag;
I sit at ten pounds a week.
Thou'rt an emperor – Caesar, Keisar, and Pheazar.
[unclear meaning] vizier, person of great stature
I will entertain Bardolph; he shall draw, he shall tap.
Said I well, bully Hector?
Do so, good mine host.
I have spoke. Let him follow. (To Bardolph) Let me
see thee froth and lime. I am at a word. Follow.
make beer foam up [so that not so much is sold]
Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade.
An old cloak makes a new jerkin; a withered servingman
male upper garment, close-fitting jacket [often made of leather]
See Topics: Clothing
a fresh tapster. Go, adieu.
It is a life that I have desired. I will thrive.
O base Hungarian wight! Wilt thou the spigot wield?
He was gotten in drink. Is not the humour
I am glad I am so acquit of this tinderbox.
His thefts were too open. His filching was like an
unskilful singer – he kept not time.
The good humour is to steal at a minute's rest.
‘ Convey ’, the wise it call. ‘ Steal!’ Foh,
A fico for the phrase!
Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.
Why then, let kibes ensue.
There is no remedy – I must cony-catch, I must
Young ravens must have food.
Which of you know Ford of this town?
I ken the wight. He is of substance good.
My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.
Two yards, and more.
No quips now, Pistol. Indeed, I am in the
waist two yards about. But I am now about no waste –
I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to
Ford's wife. I spy entertainment in her. She discourses,
she carves, she gives the leer of invitation. I can construe
carve (v.) 1
be a generous hostess; or: speak in a charmingly affected way
the action of her familiar style; and the hardest voice
of her behaviour – to be Englished rightly – is ‘ I am
Sir John Falstaff's.’
He hath studied her will, and translated her will –
out of honesty into English.
The anchor is deep. Will that humour pass?
Now, the report goes she has all the rule of
her husband's purse. He hath a legion of angels.
As many devils entertain! And ‘ To her, boy,’ say I.
The humour rises – it is good. Humour me the
I have writ me here a letter to her; and here
another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes
too, examined my parts with most judicious œillades.
[pron: 'iliad, uh'yahd] ] amorous glance, look of love, ogle
part (n.) 1
quality, attribute, gift, accomplishment [of mind or body]
Sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot,
sometimes my portly belly.
Then did the sun on dunghill shine.
I thank thee for that humour.
O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with
such a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did
seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass. Here's
another letter to her. She bears the purse too. She is a
region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheaters
deceiver, sharper, gamester; also: officer who looks after estates forfeited to the crown
to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me. They
shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to
them both. (To Pistol) Go, bear thou this letter to
Mistress Page; (to Nym) and thou this to Mistress Ford.
We will thrive, lads, we will thrive.
Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become –
And by my side wear steel? Then Lucifer take all!
I will run no base humour. Here, take the humour-letter.
I will keep the haviour of reputation.
Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly;
Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence, avaunt! Vanish like hailstones, go!
Trudge, plod away o'th'hoof, seek shelter, pack!
Falstaff will learn the humour of the age,
French thrift, you rogues – myself and skirted page.
Exeunt Falstaff and Robin
Let vultures gripe thy guts! For gourd and fullam holds,
And high and low beguiles the rich and poor.
Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack,
Base Phrygian Turk!
I have operations which be humours of revenge.
Wilt thou revenge?
By welkin and her star!
With wit or steel?
With both the humours, I.
I will discuss the humour of this love to Page.
And I to Ford shall eke unfold
How Falstaff, varlet vile,
His dove will prove, his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile.
My humour shall not cool. I will incense Page to
deal with poison. I will possess him with yellowness, for
the revolt of mine is dangerous. That is my true humour.
Thou art the Mars of malcontents. I second thee. Troop on.