Enter Francis and another Drawer
kind of apple with a shrivelled skin [associated with midsummer (St John's) day]
What the devil hast thou brought there – apple-johns?
Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an
Mass, thou sayst true. The prince once set a
dish of apple-johns before him, and told him there were
five more Sir Johns, and, putting off his hat, said ‘ I will
now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered
knights.’ It angered him to the heart. But he hath forgot
Why then, cover, and set them down, and see
if thou canst find out Sneak's noise. Mistress Tearsheet
would fain hear some music.
(preparing to leave)
Dispatch! The room where
they supped is too hot; they'll come in straight.
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
By the mass, here will be old utis. It will be an
clamour, din; or: festivity, jollification
I'll see if I can find out Sneak.
Exeunt Francis and Drawer
Enter Hostess and Doll Tearsheet
I'faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an
excellent good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as
extraordinarily as heart would desire, and your colour,
I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la!
But, i'faith, you have drunk too much canaries, and
that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the
malapropism for ‘perfuse’ [= cause to flow through]
blood ere one can say ‘ What's this?’ How do you now?
Better than I was – hem!
Why, that's well said – a good heart's worth
gold. Lo, here comes Sir John.
Enter Falstaff, singing
When Arthur first in court –
empty the jordan –
And was a worthy king –
how now, Mistress Doll?
Sick of a calm, yea, good faith.
calm (n.) 2
malapropism for ‘qualm’ [feeling of nausea]
So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm
calm (n.) 2
malapropism for ‘qualm’ [feeling of nausea]
they are sick.
A pox damn you, you muddy rascal, is that all the
rascal (n.) 2
young or inferior deer in a herd; one of the common herd
comfort you give me?
You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
I make them? Gluttony and diseases make them;
I make them not.
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.
Yea, Mary's joys, our chains and our jewels –
[unclear meaning] delight, bliss [for Mary, as the mother of Jesus]; or: darling, pet
– 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
Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!
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
goodyear! One must bear, and that (to Doll) must be you;
you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier
Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full
hogshead? There's a whole merchant's venture of
Bourdeaux stuff in him. You have not seen a hulk better
stuffed in the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee,
Jack; thou art going to the wars, and whether I shall
ever see thee again or no there is nobody cares.
enter the Drawer
Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak
Hang him, swaggering rascal. Let him not come
hither. It is the foul-mouthed'st rogue in England.
If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by
my faith! I must live among my neighbours; I'll no
swaggerers. I am in good name and fame with the very
best. Shut the door. There comes no swaggerers here. I
have not lived all this while to have swaggering now.
Shut the door, I pray you.
Dost thou hear, hostess?
Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes
stay quiet; or: malapropism for ‘satisfy’ [= be assured]
no swaggerers here.
Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me; an your
ancient swagger, 'a comes not in my doors. I was before
Master Tisick the debuty t' other day, and, as he said
malapropism for ‘deputy’ [= deputy alderman]
to me – 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last, i'good
faith – ‘ Neighbour Quickly,’ says he – Master Dumb
our minister was by then – ‘ Neighbour Quickly,’ says
he, ‘ receive those that are civil, for,’ said he, ‘ you are in
an ill name ’ – now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon.
‘ For,’ says he, ‘ you are an honest woman, and well
thought on; therefore take heed what guests you receive;
receive,’ says he, ‘ no swaggering companions.’ There
comes none here. You would bless you to hear what he
said. No, I'll no swaggerers.
He's no swaggerer, hostess, a tame cheater,
deceiver, sharper, gamester; also: officer who looks after estates forfeited to the crown
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
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.
So you do, hostess.
Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an
aspen leaf. I cannot abide swaggerers.
Enter Ancient Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page
God save you, Sir John!
Welcome, Ancient Pistol! Here, Pistol, I
charge you with a cup of sack – do you discharge upon
I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two
She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly
Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets. I'll
drink no more than will do me good, for no man's
Then to you, Mistress Dorothy! I will charge
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
I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
Away, you cutpurse rascal, you filthy bung, away!
pickpocket; also: hole-stopper [penis]
By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps
an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale
knife used by pickpockets for cutting purses; bully, cut-throat
rascal, you basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when,
I pray you, sir? God's light, with two points on your
point (n.) 2
(usually plural) tagged lace [especially for attaching hose to the doublet]
God let me not live but I will murder your ruff
No more, Pistol! I would not have you go off
here. Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.
No, good Captain Pistol, not here, sweet
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.
Pray thee go down, good ancient.
Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
Not I; I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I
could tear her! I'll be revenged of her.
Pray thee go down.
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, faitours! Have we not Hiren here?
He brandishes his sword
Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late,
i'faith. I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
These be good humours 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?
fall out, quarrel, come into conflict
By my troth, captain, these are very bitter
Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a
Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have
we not Hiren here?
O' my word, captain, there's none such here.
What the goodyear, do you think I would deny her?
For God's sake, be quiet.
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!
(He lays down his sword)
substitute for an indelicate word, here probably ‘vagina’
Come we to full points here? And are etceteras nothings?
Pistol, I would be quiet.
Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! We have
seen the seven stars!
For God's sake, thrust him downstairs; I cannot
endure such a fustian rascal.
Thrust him downstairs? Know we not
small strong riding horse [from Galloway, Scotland]; prostitute
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat
shilling. Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a
shall be nothing here.
Come, get you downstairs.
What! Shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
(He snatches up his sword)
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwind the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!
Here's goodly stuff toward!
Give me my rapier, boy.
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee do not draw.
Get you downstairs.
Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping
house afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights! So!
(Falstaff thrusts at Pistol)
Murder, I warrant now! Alas, alas, put up your naked
weapons, put up your naked weapons.
(Exit Bardolph, driving Pistol out)
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah,
you whoreson little valiant villain, you!
Are you not hurt i'th' groin? Methought 'a made
a shrewd thrust at your belly.
Have you turned him out o' doors?
Yea, sir, the rascal's drunk. You have hurt
him sir, i'th' shoulder.
A rascal, to brave me!
Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape,
how thou sweatest! 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!
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a
Do, an thou darest for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll
canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
toss about [as if in a canvas sheet], beat, thrash
The music is come, sir.
Let them play. Play, sirs!
Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! The
rogue fled from me like quicksilver.
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, the Prince and Poins disguised as
Peace, good Doll, do not speak like a death's-head;
do not bid me remember mine end.
Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of?
A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have
made a good pantler; 'a would ha' chipped bread well.
They say Poins has a good wit.
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.
Why does the Prince love him so, then?
Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a
plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and
drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the
[game of bravado] snap-dragons: small burning objects floating on liquor, which have to be avoided while drinking; or: edible objects floating on burning liquor, to be seized and eaten
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 'a has that show a weak mind and an able
body, for the which the Prince admits him. For the
Prince himself is such another – the weight of a hair
will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.
Would not this nave of a wheel have his
ears cut off?
Let's beat him before his whore.
Look, whe'er the withered elder hath not
his poll clawed like a parrot.
Is it not strange that desire should so many years
Kiss me, Doll.
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction!
What says th' almanac to that?
And look whether the fiery trigon his man be not
lisping to his master's old tables, his note-book, his
Thou dost give me flattering busses.
By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
I am old, I am old.
I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young
boy of them all.
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive
money a-Thursday; shalt have a cap tomorrow. A
merry song! Come, it grows late; we'll to bed. Thou'lt
forget me when I am gone.
By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping an thou
sayst so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till
thy return. Well, hearken a'th' end.
Some sack, Francis.
PRINCE HENRY and POINS
Ha! A bastard son of the King's? And art not
thou Poins his brother?
Why, thou globe of sinful continents,
what a life dost thou lead!
A better than thou – I am a gentleman; thou
art a drawer.
Very true, sir, and I come to draw you
out by the ears.
O, the Lord preserve thy grace! By my troth,
welcome to London! Now the Lord bless that sweet
face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?
Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty,
by this light – flesh and corrupt blood (laying his hand
upon Doll), thou art welcome.
How! You fat fool, I scorn you.
My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge
and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.
You whoreson candle-mine you, how
vilely did you speak of me now, before this honest,
virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
God's blessing of your good heart, and so she
is, by my troth!
Didst thou hear me?
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.
No, no, no, not so; I did not think thou wast
I shall drive you then to confess the
wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle you.
No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour, no abuse.
Not? To dispraise me, and call me
pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what?
No abuse, Hal.
No abuse, Ned, i'th' world, honest Ned, none.
I dispraised him before the wicked that the wicked
might not fall in love with (turning to Prince Henry) 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,
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?
Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
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 binds
For the women?
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.
No, I warrant you.
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.
All victuallers do so. What's a joint of mutton
or two in a whole Lent?
You, gentlewoman –
What says your grace?
His grace says that which his flesh rebels
Peto knocks at door
Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door
Peto, how now, what news?
The King your father is at Westminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
Come from the north; and as I came along
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,
So idly to profane the precious time
When tempest of commotion, like the south
south wind [believed to bring storms, and plague-carrying mists]
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
Exeunt Prince and Poins
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the
night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked.
More knocking at the door?
How now, what's the matter?
You must away to court, sir, presently.
A dozen captains stay at door for you.
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.
I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready to burst –
well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
Exit with Bardolph, Peto, Page, and musicians
Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these
twenty-nine years, come peascod-time, but an honester
and truer-hearted man – well, fare thee well.
(at the door)
What's the matter?
Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
O, run, Doll, run! Run, good Doll! Come! –
She comes blubbered. – Yea, will you come, Doll?