Henry IV Part 2

Select or Print the text

Original text
Act II, Scene I
Enter Hostesse, with two Officers, Fang,
and Snare.

Hostesse.
Mr. Fang, haue you entred the Action?

Fang.
It is enter'd.

Hostesse.
Wher's your Yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman?
Will he stand to it?

Fang.
Sirrah, where's Snare?

Hostesse.
I, I, good M. Snare.

Snare.
Heere, heere.

Fang.
Snare, we must Arrest Sir Iohn Falstaffe.

Host.
I good M. Snare, I haue enter'd him, and
all.

Sn.
It may chance cost some of vs our liues: he wil
stab

Hostesse.
Alas the day: take heed of him: he stabd me
in mine owne house, and that most beastly: he cares
not what mischeefe he doth, if his weapon be out. Hee
will foyne like any diuell, he will spare neither man,
woman, nor childe.

Fang.
If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.

Hostesse.
No, nor I neither: Ile be at your elbow.

Fang.
If I but fist him once: if he come but within my
Vice.

Host.
I am vndone with his going: I warrant he is an
infinitiue thing vpon my score. Good M. Fang
hold him sure: good M. Snare let him not scape,
he comes continuantly to Py-Corner (sauing your
manhoods) to buy a saddle, and hee is indited to dinner
to the Lubbars head in Lombard street, to M.
Smoothes the Silkman. I pra' ye, since my Exion is
enter'd, and my Case so openly known to the world, let
him be brought in to his answer: A 100. Marke is a long
one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I haue borne,
and borne, and borne, and haue bin fub'd off, and
fub'd-off, from this day to that day,
that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty
in such dealing, vnles a woman should be made an Asse
and a Beast, to beare euery Knaues wrong.
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolfe.
Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose
Bardolfe with him. Do your Offices, do your offices:
M. Fang, & M. Snare, do me, do me, do me
your Offices.

Fal.
How now? whose Mare's dead? what's the
matter?

Fang.
Sir Iohn, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly.

Falst.
Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off
the Villaines head: throw the Queane in the Channel.

Host.
Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there.
Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue.
Murder, murder, O thou Hony-suckle villaine, wilt
thou kill Gods officers, and the Kings? O thou
hony-seed Rogue, thou art a honyseed, a Man-queller,
and a woman-queller.

Falst
Keep them off, Bardolfe.

Fang.
A rescu, a rescu.

Host.
Good people bring a rescu. Thou wilt not?
thou wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do
thou Hempseed.

Page.
Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fustillirian:
Ile tucke your Catastrophe.
Enter Ch. Iustice.

Iust.
What's the matter? Keepe the
Peace here, hoa.

Host.
Good my Lord be good to mee. I beseech you
stand to me.

Ch.Iust.
How now sir Iohn? What are you brauling here?
Doth this become your place, your time, and businesse?
You should haue bene well on your way to Yorke.
Stand from him Fellow; wherefore hang'st vpon him?

Host.
Oh my most worshipfull Lord, and't please your
Grace, I am a poore widdow of Eastcheap, and he is
arrested at my suit.

Ch.Iust.
For what summe?

Host.
It is more then for some (my Lord) it is for all: all I
haue, he hath eaten me out of house and home; hee hath
put all my substance into that fat belly of his: but I
will haue some of it out againe, or I will ride thee o' Nights,
like the Mare.

Falst.
I thinke I am as like to ride the Mare, if I haue
any vantage of ground, to get vp.

Ch.Iust.
How comes this, Sir Iohn? Fy, what a
man of good temper would endure this tempest of
exclamation? Are you not asham'd to inforce a poore
Widdowe to so rough a course, to come by her owne?

Falst.
What is the grosse summe that I owe thee?

Host.
Marry (if thou wer't an honest man) thy selfe, &
the mony too. Thou didst sweare to mee vpon a parcell gilt
Goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber at the
round table, by a sea-cole fire, on Wednesday in
Whitson week, when the Prince broke thy head for
lik'ning him to a singing man of Windsor; Thou
didst sweare to me then (as I was washing thy wound)
to marry me, and make mee my Lady thy wife. Canst
yu deny it? Did not goodwife Keech the Butchers
wife come in then, and cal me gossip Quickly? comming
in to borrow a messe of Vinegar: telling vs, she had a good
dish of Prawnes: whereby yu didst desire to eat some:
whereby I told thee they were ill for a greene wound?
And didst not thou (when she was gone downe staires)
desire me to be no more familiar with such poore
people, saying, that ere long they should call me Madam?
And did'st yu not kisse me, and bid mee fetch thee 30.s?
I put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny it if
thou canst?

Fal.
My Lord, this is a poore mad soule: and she sayes
vp & downe the town, that her eldest son is like you.
She hath bin in good case, & the truth is, pouerty
hath distracted her: but for these foolish Officers, I
beseech you, I may haue redresse against them.

Iust.
Sir Iohn, sir Iohn, I am well
acquainted with your maner of wrenching the true
cause, the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the
throng of wordes, that come with such (more then
impudent) sawcines from you, can thrust me from a
leuell consideration, I know you ha'
practis'd vpon the easie-yeelding spirit of this woman.

Host.
Yes in troth my Lord.

Iust.
Prethee peace: pay her the
debt you owe her, and vnpay the villany you haue done
her: the one you may do with sterling mony, &
the other with currant repentance.

Fal.
My Lord, I will not vndergo this sneape without
reply. You call honorable Boldnes, impudent Sawcinesse:
If a man wil curt'sie, and say nothing, he is
vertuous: No, my Lord (your humble duty remẽbred)
I will not be your sutor. I say to you, I desire
deliu'rance from these Officers being vpon hasty
employment in the Kings Affaires.

Iust.
You speake, as hauing power to do
wrong: But answer in the effect of your Reputation, and
satisfie the poore woman.

Falst
Come hither Hostesse.
Enter M. Gower

Ch.Iust.
Now Master Gower; What newes?

Gow.
The King (my Lord) and Henrie Prince of Wales
Are neere at hand: The rest the Paper telles.

Falst.
As I am a Gentleman.

Host.
Nay, you said so before.

Fal.
As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words
of it

Host.
By this Heauenly ground I tread on, I must be
faine to pawne both my Plate, and the Tapistry of my
dyning Chambers.

Fal.
Glasses, glasses, is the onely drinking: and for
thy walles a pretty slight Drollery, or the Storie of the
Prodigall, or the Germane hunting in Waterworke, is
worth a thousand of these Bed-hangings, and these Fly-bitten
Tapistries. Let it be tenne pound (if thou canst.)
Come, if it were not for thy humors, there is not a
better Wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw
thy Action: Come, thou must not bee in this humour with
me, come, I know thou was't
set on to this.

Host.
Prethee (Sir Iohn) let it be but twenty Nobles,
I loath to pawne my Plate, in good earnest
la.

Fal.
Let it alone, Ile make other shift: you'l be a
fool still.

Host.
Well, you shall haue it although I pawne my
Gowne. I hope you'l come to Supper: You'l pay me
altogether?

Fal.
Will I liue? Go with her, with
her: hooke-on, hooke-on.

Host.
Will you haue Doll Teare-sheet meet you at
supper?

Fal.
No more words. Let's haue her.

Ch.Iust.
I haue heard bitter newes.

Fal.
What's the newes (my good Lord?)

Ch.Iu.
Where lay the King last night?

Mes.
At Basingstoke my Lord.

Fal.
I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the newes
my Lord?

Ch.Iust.
Come all his Forces backe?

Mes.
No: Fifteene hundred Foot, fiue hundred Horse
Are march'd vp to my Lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland, and the Archbishop.

Fal.
Comes the King backe from Wales, my noble
L?

Ch.Iust.
You shall haue Letters of me presently.
Come, go along with me, good M. Gowre.

Fal.
My Lord.

Ch.Iust.
What's the matter?

Fal.
Master Gowre, shall I entreate you with mee to
dinner?

Gow.
I must waite vpon my good Lord heere. I thanke you,
good Sir Iohn.

Ch.Iust.
Sir Iohn, you loyter heere too long
being you are to take Souldiers vp, in Countries as you go.

Fal.
Will you sup with me, Master Gowre?

Ch.Iust.
What foolish Master taught you
these manners, Sir Iohn?

Fal.
Master Gower, if they become mee not, hee was
a Foole that taught them mee. This is the right Fencing
grace (my Lord) tap for tap, and so part faire.

Ch.Iust.
Now the Lord lighten thee, thou
art a great Foole.
Exeunt
Original text
Act II, Scene II
Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page

Prin.
Trust me, I am exceeding weary.

Poin.
Is it come to that? I had thought wearines durst
not haue attach'd one of so high blood.

Prin.
It doth me: though it discolours
the complexion of my Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth
it not shew vildely in me, to desire small Beere?

Poin.
Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied, as
to remember so weake a Composition.

Prince.
Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely
got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore
Creature, Small Beere. But indeede these humble considerations
make me out of loue with my Greatnesse. What a
disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know
thy face to morrow? Or to take note how many paire of
Silk stockings yu hast? (Viz. these, and those that were
thy peach-colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inuentorie of
thy shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other, for vse.
But that the Tennis-Court-keeper knowes better then I,
for it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st
not Racket there, as thou hast not done a great while,
because the rest of thy Low Countries, haue made a shift
to eate vp thy Holland.

Poin.
How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so hard,
you should talke so idlely? Tell me how many good yong
Princes would do so, their Fathers lying so sicke, as yours
is?

Prin.
Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz?

Poin.
Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing.

Prin.
It shall serue among wittes of no higher
breeding then thine.

Poin.
Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that you'l
tell.

Prin.
Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I
should be sad now my Father is sicke: 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.

Poin.
Very hardly, vpon such a subiect.

Prin.
Thou think'st me as farre in
the Diuels Booke, as thou, and Falstaffe, for obduracie and
persistencie. Let the end try the man. But I tell thee,
my hart bleeds inwardly, that my Father is so sicke: and
keeping such vild company as thou art, hath in reason
taken from me, all ostentation of sorrow.

Poin.
The reason?

Prin.
What would'st thou think of me, if I
shold weep?

Poin.
I would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite.

Prin.
It would be euery mans thought: and
thou art a blessed Fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes:
neuer a mans thought in the world, keepes the Rode-way
better then thine: euery man would thinke me an
Hypocrite indeede. And what accites your most worshipful
thought to thinke so?

Poin.
Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so much
ingraffed to Falstaffe.

Prin.
And to thee.

Pointz.
Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it
with mine owne eares: the worst that they can say of me
is, that I am a second Brother, and that I am a proper
Fellowe of my hands: and those two things I confesse I
canot helpe. Looke, looke, here comes Bardolfe.
Enter Bardolfe.

Prince.
And the Boy that I gaue Falstaffe, he had
him from me Christian, and see if the fat villain
haue not transform'd him Ape.

Bar.
Saue your Grace.

Prin.
And yours, most Noble Bardolfe.

Poin.
Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull
Foole, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now?
what a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it
such a matter to get a Pottle-pots Maiden-head?

Page.
He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red Lattice,
and I could discerne no part of his face from the window:
at last I spy'd his eyes, and me thought he had made
two holes in the Ale-wiues new Petticoat, & peeped
through.

Prin.
Hath not the boy profited?

Bar.
Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away.

Page.
Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away.

Prin.
Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy?

Page.
Marry (my Lord) Althea dream'd, she was deliuer'd
of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him hir dream.

Prince.
A Crownes-worth of good Interpretation:
There it is, Boy.

Poin.
O that this good Blossome could bee kept from Cankers:
Well, there is six pence to preserue thee.

Bard.
If you do not make him be hang'd among
you, the gallowes shall be wrong'd.

Prince.
And how doth thy Master, Bardolph?

Bar.
Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces
comming to Towne. There's a Letter for you.

Poin.
Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the
Martlemas, your Master?

Bard.
In bodily health Sir.

Poin.
Marry, the immortall part needes a Physitian: but
that moues not him: though that bee sicke, it dyes not.

Prince.
I do allow this Wen to bee as familiar
with me, as my dogge: and he holds his place, for looke you
he writes.

Poin.
Letter.
Iohn Falstaffe Knight: (Euery
man must know that, as oft as hee hath occasion to name
himselfe:) Euen like those that are kinne to the King, for
they neuer pricke their finger, but they say, there is som
of the kings blood spilt. How comes that (sayes he)
that takes vpon him not to conceiue? the answer is as
ready as a borrowed cap: I am the Kings poore
Cosin, Sir.

Prince.
Nay, they will be kin to vs, but they wil
fetch it from Iaphet. But to the Letter: --- Sir Iohn Falstaffe,
Knight, to the Sonne of the King, neerest his Father, Harrie
Prince of Wales, greeting.

Poin.
Why this is a Certificate.

Prin.
Peace. I will imitate the honourable
Romaines in breuitie.

Poin.
Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short-winded.
I commend me to thee, I commend thee,
and I leaue thee. Bee not too familiar with Pointz, for hee
misuses thy Fauours so much, that he sweares thou art to
marrie 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 vsest him. Iacke Falstaffe with
my Familiars: Iohn with my Brothers and
Sister: & Sir Iohn, with all Europe.
My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make
him eate it.

Prin.
That's to make him eate twenty of his
Words. But do you vse me thus Ned? Must I marry
your Sister?

Poin.
May the Wench haue no worse Fortune. But I neuer
said so.

Prin.
Well, thus we play the Fooles with the
time, & the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and
mocke vs: Is your Master heere in London?

Bard.
Yes my Lord.

Prin.
Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede
in the old Franke?

Bard.
At the old place my Lord, in East-cheape.

Prin.
What Company?

Page.
Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church.

Prin.
Sup any women with him?

Page.
None my Lord, but old Mistris Quickly, and
M. Doll Teare-sheet.

Prin.
What Pagan may that be?

Page.
A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman of my
Masters.

Prin.
Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are
to the Towne-Bull? Shall we steale vpon them (Ned) at
Supper?

Poin.
I am your shadow, my Lord, Ile follow you.

Prin.
Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word
to your Master that I am yet in Towne. There's for
your silence.

Bar.
I haue no tongue, sir.

Page.
And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it.

Prin.
Fare ye well: go.
This Doll Teare-sheet should be some Rode.

Poin.
I warrant you, as common as the way betweene
S. Albans, and London.

Prin.
How might we see Falstaffe bestow
himselfe to night, in his true colours, and not our selues
be seene?

Poin.
Put on two Leather Ierkins, and Aprons, and waite
vpon him at his Table, like Drawers.

Prin.
From a God, to a Bull? A heauie declension:
It was Ioues case. From a Prince, to a Prentice,
a low transformation, that shall be mine: for in euery thing,
the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow
me Ned.
Exeunt
Original text
Act II, Scene III
Enter Northumberland, his Ladie, and
Harrie Percies Ladie

North.
I prethee louing Wife, and gentle Daughter,
Giue an euen way vnto my rough Affaires:
Put not you on the visage of the Times,
And be like them to Percie, troublesome.

Wife.
I haue giuen ouer, I will speak no more,
Do what you will: your Wisedome, be your guide.

North.
Alas (sweet Wife) my Honor is at pawne,
And but my going, nothing can redeeme it.

La.
Oh yet, for heauens sake, go not to these Warrs;
The Time was (Father) when you broke your word,
When you were more endeer'd to it, then now,
When your owne Percy, when my heart-deere-Harry,
Threw many a Northward looke, to see his Father
Bring vp his Powres: but he did long in vaine.
Who then perswaded you to stay at home?
There were two Honors lost; Yours, and your Sonnes.
For Yours, may heauenly glory brighten it:
For His, it stucke vpon him, as the Sunne
In the gray vault of Heauen: and by his Light
Did all the Cheualrie of England moue
To do braue Acts. He was (indeed) the Glasse
Wherein the Noble-Youth did dresse themselues.
He had no Legges, that practic'd not his Gate:
And speaking thicke (which Nature made his blemish)
Became the Accents of the Valiant.
For those that could speake low, and tardily,
Would turne their owne Perfection, to Abuse,
To seeme like him. So that in Speech, in Gate,
In Diet, in Affections of delight,
In Militarie Rules, Humors of Blood,
He was the Marke, and Glasse, Coppy, and Booke,
That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous! him,
O Miracle of Men! Him did you leaue
(Second to none) vn-seconded by you,
To looke vpon the hideous God of Warre,
In dis-aduantage, to abide a field,
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspurs Name
Did seeme defensible: so you left him.
Neuer, O neuer doe his Ghost the wrong,
To hold your Honor more precise and nice
With others, then with him. Let them alone:
The Marshall and the Arch-bishop are strong.
Had my sweet Harry had but halfe their Numbers,
To day might I (hanging on Hotspurs Necke)
Haue talk'd of Monmouth's Graue.

North.
Beshrew your heart,
(Faire Daughter) you doe draw my Spirits from me,
With new lamenting ancient Ouer-sights.
But I must goe, and meet with Danger there,
Or it will seeke me in another place,
And finde me worse prouided.

Wife.
O flye to Scotland,
Till that the Nobles, and the armed Commons,
Haue of their Puissance made a little taste.

Lady.
If they get ground, and vantage of the King,
Then ioyne you with them, like a Ribbe of Steele,
To make Strength stronger. But, for all our loues,
First let them trye themselues. So did your Sonne,
He was so suffer'd; so came I a Widow:
And neuer shall haue length of Life enough,
To raine vpon Remembrance with mine Eyes,
That it may grow, and sprowt, as high as Heauen,
For Recordation to my Noble Husband.

North.
Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my Minde
As with the Tyde, swell'd vp vnto his height,
That makes a still-stand, running neyther way.
Faine would I goe to meet the Arch-bishop,
But many thousand Reasons hold me backe.
I will resolue for Scotland: there am I,
Till Time and Vantage craue my company.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act II, Scene IV
Enter two Drawers.

1.Drawer.
What hast thou brought there? Apple-Iohns?
Thou know'st Sir Iohn cannot endure an
Apple-Iohn.

2.Draw.
Thou say'st true: the Prince once set a
Dish of Apple-Iohns before him, and told him there were
fiue more Sir Iohns: and, putting off his Hat, said, I will
now take my leaue of these sixe drie, round, old-wither'd
Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but hee hath forgot
that.

1.Draw.
Why then couer, and set them downe: and see
if thou canst finde out Sneakes Noyse; Mistris Teare-sheet
would faine haue some Musique.


2.Draw.
Sirrha, heere will be the Prince, and Master Points,
anon: and they will put on two of our Ierkins, and Aprons,
and Sir Iohn must not know of it: Bardolph hath
brought word.

1.Draw.
Then here will be old Vtis: it will be an
excellent stratagem.

2.Draw
Ile see if I can finde out Sneake.
Exit.
Enter Hostesse, and Dol.

Host.
Sweet-heart, me thinkes now you are in an
excellent good temperalitie: your Pulsidge beates as
extraordinarily, as heart would desire; and your Colour
(I warrant you) is as red as any Rose:
But you haue drunke too much Canaries, and
that's a maruellous searching Wine; and it perfumes the
blood, ere wee can say what's this. How doe you now?

Dol.
Better then I was: Hem.

Host.
Why that was well said: A good heart's worth
Gold. Looke, here comes Sir Iohn.
Enter Falstaffe.

Falst.
When Arthur first in Court ---
(emptie the Iordan)
and was a worthy King:
How now Mistris Dol?

Host.
Sick of a Calme: yea, good-sooth.

Falst.
So is all her Sect: if they be once in a Calme,
they are sick.

Dol.
You muddie Rascall, is that all the
comfort you giue me?

Falst.
You make fat Rascalls, Mistris Dol.

Dol.
I make them? Gluttonie and Diseases make them,
I make them not.

Falst.
If the Cooke make the Gluttonie, you
helpe to make the Diseases (Dol) we catch of you (Dol)
we catch of you: Grant that, my poore Vertue, grant that.

Dol.
I marry, our Chaynes, and our Iewels.

Falst.
Your Brooches, Pearles, and Owches: For to
serue brauely, is to come halting off: you know, to come
off the Breach, with his Pike bent brauely, and to
Surgerie brauely; to venture vpon the charg'd-Chambers
brauely.

Host.
Why this is the olde fashion: you two
neuer meete, but you fall to some discord: you are both
(in good troth) as Rheumatike as two drie Tostes, you cannot
one beare with anothers Confirmities. What the
good-yere? One must beare, and that must bee you:
you are the weaker Vessell; as they say, the emptier
Vessell.

Dol.
Can a weake emptie Vessell beare such a huge full
Hogs-head? There's a whole Marchants Venture of
Burdeux-Stuffe in him: you haue not seene a Hulke better
stufft in the Hold. Come, Ile be friends with thee
Iacke: Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I shall
euer see thee againe, or no, there is no body cares.
Enter Drawer.

Drawer.
Sir, Ancient Pistoll is below, and would speake
with you.

Dol.
Hang him, swaggering Rascall, let him not come
hither: it is the foule-mouth'dst Rogue in England.

Host.
If hee swagger, let him not come here:
I must liue amongst my Neighbors, Ile no
Swaggerers: I am in good name, and fame, with the very
best: shut the doore, there comes no Swaggerers heere: I
haue not liu'd all this while, to haue swaggering now:
shut the doore, I pray you.

Falst.
Do'st thou heare, Hostesse?

Host.
'Pray you pacifie your selfe (Sir Iohn) there comes
no Swaggerers heere.

Falst.
Do'st thou heare? it is mine Ancient.

Host.
Tilly-fally (Sir Iohn) neuer tell me, your
ancient Swaggerer comes not in my doores. I was before
Master Tisick the Deputie, the other day: and as hee said
to me, it was no longer agoe then Wednesday last:
Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee;) Master Dombe,
our Minister, was by then: Neighbour Quickly (sayes
hee) receiue those that are Ciuill; for (sayth hee) you are in
an ill Name: now hee said so, I can tell whereupon:
for (sayes hee) you are an honest Woman, and well
thought on; therefore take heede what Guests you receiue:
Receiue (sayes hee) no swaggering Companions. There
comes none heere. You would blesse you to heare what hee
said. No, Ile no Swaggerers.

Falst.
Hee's no Swaggerer (Hostesse:) a tame Cheater, hee:
you may stroake him as gently, as a Puppie Grey-hound:
hee will not swagger with a Barbarie Henne, if her
feathers turne backe in any shew of resistance. Call him
vp (Drawer.)

Host.
Cheater, call you him? I will barre no honest man
my house, nor no Cheater: but I doe not loue swaggering;
I am the worse when one sayes, swagger:
Feele Masters, how I shake: looke you, I warrant you.

Dol.
So you doe, Hostesse.

Host.
Doe I? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an
Aspen Leafe: I cannot abide Swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy.

Pist.
'Saue you, Sir Iohn.

Falst.
Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I
charge you with a Cup of Sacke: doe you discharge vpon
mine Hostesse.

Pist.
I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two
Bullets.

Falst.
She is Pistoll-proofe (Sir) you shall hardly
offend her.

Host.
Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I will
drinke no more then will doe me good, for no mans
pleasure, I.

Pist.
Then to you (Mistris Dorothie) I will charge
you.

Dol.
Charge me? I scorne you (scuruie Companion) what?
you poore, base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-Mate:
away you mouldie Rogue, away; I am meat for your
Master.

Pist.
I know you, Mistris Dorothie.

Dol.
Away you Cut-purse Rascall, you filthy Bung, away:
By this Wine, Ile thrust my Knife in your mouldie Chappes,
if you play the sawcie Cuttle with me. Away you Bottle-Ale
Rascall, you Basket-hilt stale Iugler, you. Since when,
I pray you, Sir? what, with two Points on your
shoulder? much.

Pist.
I will murther your Ruffe,
for this.

Host.
No, good Captaine Pistol: not heere, sweete
Captaine.

Dol.
Captaine? thou abhominable damn'd Cheater, art
thou not asham'd to be call'd Captaine? If Captaines
were of my minde, they would trunchion you out, for
taking their Names vpon you, before you haue earn'd
them. You a Captaine? you slaue, for what? for tearing
a poore Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-house? Hee a Captaine?
hang him Rogue, hee liues vpon mouldie stew'd-Pruines,
and dry'de Cakes. A Captaine? These Villaines
will make the word Captaine odious:
Therefore Captaines had neede looke to it.

Bard.
'Pray thee goe downe, good Ancient.

Falst.
Hearke thee hither, Mistris Dol.

Pist.
Not I: I tell thee what, Corporall Bardolph, I
could teare her: Ile be reueng'd on her.

Page.
'Pray thee goe downe.

Pist.
Ile see her damn'd first: to Pluto's damn'd
Lake, to the Infernall Deepe, where Erebus
and Tortures vilde also. Hold Hooke and Line, say I: Downe:
downe Dogges, downe Fates: haue wee not Hiren here?

Host.
Good Captaine Peesel be quiet, it is very late:
I beseeke you now, aggrauate your Choler.

Pist.
These be good Humors indeede. Shall Pack-Horses,
and hollow-pamper'd Iades of Asia,
which cannot goe but thirtie miles a day,
compare with Caesar, and with Caniballs,
and Troian Greekes? nay, rather damne them with
King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roare:
shall wee fall foule for Toyes?

Host.
By my troth Captaine, these are very bitter
words.

Bard.
Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a
Brawle anon.

Pist.
Die men, like Dogges; giue Crownes like Pinnes: Haue
we not Hiren here?

Host.
On my word (Captaine) there's none such here.
What the good-yere, doe you thinke I would denye her?
I pray be quiet.

Pist.
Then feed, and be fat (my faire Calipolis.)
Come, giue me some Sack,
Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contente.
Feare wee broad-sides? No, let the Fiend giue fire:
Giue me some Sack: and Sweet-heart lye thou there:

Come wee to full Points here, and are et cetera's no-thing?

Fal.
Pistol, I would be quiet.

Pist.
Sweet Knight, I kisse thy Neaffe: what? wee haue
seene the seuen Starres.

Dol.
Thrust him downe stayres, I cannot
endure such a Fustian Rascall.

Pist.
Thrust him downe stayres? know we not
Galloway Nagges?

Fal.
Quoit him downe (Bardolph) like a shoue-groat
shilling: nay, if hee doe nothing but speake nothing, hee
shall be nothing here.

Bard.
Come, get you downe stayres.

Pist.
What? shall wee haue Incision? shall wee embrew?
then Death rocke me asleepe, abridge my dolefull dayes:
why then let grieuous, gastly, gaping Wounds,
vntwin'd the Sisters three: Come Atropos, I say.

Host.
Here's good stuffe toward.

Fal.
Giue me my Rapier, Boy.

Dol.
I prethee Iack, I prethee doe not draw.

Fal.
Get you downe stayres.

Host.
Here's a goodly tumult: Ile forsweare keeping
house, before Ile be in these tirrits, and frights. So:

Murther I warrant now. Alas, alas, put vp your naked
Weapons, put vp your naked Weapons.

Dol.
I prethee Iack be quiet, the Rascall is gone: ah,
you whorson little valiant Villaine, you.

Host.
Are you not hurt i'th' Groyne? me thought hee
made a shrewd Thrust at your Belly.

Fal.
Haue you turn'd him out of doores?

Bard.
Yes Sir: the Rascall's drunke: you haue hurt
him (Sir) in the shoulder.

Fal.
A Rascall to braue me.

Dol.
Ah, you sweet little Rogue, you: alas, poore Ape,
how thou sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy Face: Come
on, you whorson Chops: Ah Rogue, I loue thee:
Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth fiue of
Agamemnon, and tenne times better then the nine
Worthies: ah Villaine.

Fal.
A rascally Slaue, I will tosse the Rogue in a
Blanket.

Dol.
Doe, if thou dar'st for thy heart: if thou doo'st, Ile
canuas thee betweene a paire of Sheetes.
Enter Musique.

Page.
The Musique is come, Sir.

Fal.
Let them play: play Sirs.

Sit on my Knee, Dol. A Rascall, bragging Slaue: the
Rogue fled from me like Quick-siluer.

Dol.
And thou followd'st him like a Church:
thou whorson little tydie Bartholmew Bore-pigge, when
wilt thou leaue fighting on dayes, and foyning on nights,
and begin to patch vp thine old Body for Heauen?
Enter the Prince and Poines disguis'd.

Fal.
Peace (good Dol) doe not speake like a Deaths-head:
doe not bid me remember mine end.

Dol.
Sirrha, what humor is the Prince of?

Fal.
A good shallow young fellow: hee would haue
made a good Pantler, hee would haue chipp'd Bread well.

Dol.
They say Poines hath a good Wit.

Fal.
Hee a good Wit? hang him Baboone, his Wit is
as thicke as Tewksburie Mustard: there is no more conceit
in him, then is in a Mallet.

Dol.
Why doth the Prince loue him so then?

Fal.
Because their Legges are both of a bignesse: and hee
playes at Quoits well, and eates Conger and Fennell, and
drinkes off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and rides the
wilde-Mare with the Boyes, and iumpes vpon Ioyn'd-stooles,
and sweares with a good grace, and weares his Boot very
smooth, like vnto the Signe of the Legge; and breedes no bate
with telling of discreete stories: and such other Gamboll
Faculties hee hath, that shew a weake Minde, and an able
Body, for the which the Prince admits him; for the
Prince himselfe is such another: the weight of an hayre
will turne the Scales betweene their Haber-de-pois.

Prince.
Would not this Naue of a Wheele haue his
Eares cut off?

Poin.
Let vs beat him before his Whore.

Prince.
Looke, if the wither'd Elder hath not
his Poll claw'd like a Parrot.

Poin.
Is it not strange, that Desire should so many yeeres
out-liue performance?

Fal.
Kisse me Dol.

Prince.
Saturne and Venus this yeere in Coniunction?
What sayes the Almanack to that?

Poin.
And looke whether the fierie Trigon, his Man, be not
lisping to his Masters old Tables, his Note-Booke, his
Councell-keeper?

Fal.
Thou do'st giue me flatt'ring Busses.

Dol.
Nay truely, I kisse thee with a most constant heart.

Fal.
I am olde, I am olde.

Dol.
I loue thee better, then I loue ere a scuruie young
Boy of them all.

Fal.
What Stuffe wilt thou haue a Kirtle of? I shall receiue
Money on Thursday: thou shalt haue a Cappe to morrow. A
merrie Song, come: it growes late, wee will to Bed. Thou wilt
forget me, when I am gone.

Dol.
Thou wilt set me a weeping, if thou
say'st so: proue that euer I dresse my selfe handsome, till
thy returne: well, hearken the end.

Fal.
Some Sack, Francis.

Prin. Poin.

Anon, anon,
Sir.

Fal.
Ha? a Bastard Sonne of the Kings? And art not
thou Poines, his Brother?

Prince.
Why thou Globe of sinfull Continents,
what a life do'st thou lead?

Fal.
A better then thou: I am a Gentleman, thou
art a Drawer.

Prince.
Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you
out by the Eares.

Host.
Oh, the Lord preserue thy good Grace:
Welcome to London. Now Heauen blesse that sweete
Face of thine: what, are you come from Wales?

Fal.
Thou whorson mad Compound of Maiestie:
by this light Flesh, and corrupt Blood,
thou art welcome.

Dol.
How? you fat Foole, I scorne you.

Poin.
My Lord, hee will driue you out of your reuenge,
and turne all to a merryment, if you take not the heat.

Prince.
You whorson Candle-myne you, how
vildly did you speake of me euen now, before this honest,
vertuous, ciuill Gentlewoman?

Host.
'Blessing on your good heart, and so shee
is by my troth.

Fal.
Didst thou heare me?

Prince.
Yes: and you knew me, as you did when
you ranne away by Gads-hill: you knew I was at your
back, and spoke it on purpose, to trie my patience.

Fal.
No, no, no: not so: I did not thinke, thou wast
within hearing.

Prince.
I shall driue you then to confesse the
wilfull abuse, and then I know how to handle you.

Fal.
No abuse (Hall) on mine Honor, no abuse.

Prince.
Not to disprayse me? and call me
Pantler, and Bread-chopper, and I know not what?

Fal.
No abuse (Hal.)

Poin.
No abuse?

Fal.
No abuse (Ned) in the World: honest Ned none.
I disprays'd him before the Wicked, that the Wicked
might not fall in loue with him:
In which doing, I haue done the part of a carefull Friend,
and a true Subiect, and thy Father is to giue me thankes
for it. No abuse (Hal:) none (Ned) none; no Boyes,
none.

Prince.
See now whether pure Feare, and entire
Cowardise, doth not make thee wrong this vertuous
Gentle-woman, to close with vs? Is shee of the Wicked? Is
thine Hostesse heere, of the Wicked? Or is the Boy of the
Wicked? Or honest Bardolph (whose Zeale burnes in his
Nose) of the Wicked?

Poin.
Answere thou dead Elme, answere.

Fal.
The Fiend hath prickt downe Bardolph
irrecouerable, and his Face is Lucifers Priuy-Kitchin,
where hee doth nothing but rost Mault-Wormes: for the
Boy, there is a good Angell about him, but the Deuill out-bids
him too.

Prince.
For the Women?

Fal.
For one of them, shee is in Hell alreadie, and
burnes poore Soules: for the other, I owe her Money; and
whether shee bee damn'd for that, I know not.

Host.
No, I warrant you.

Fal.
No, I thinke thou art not: I thinke thou art quit
for that. Marry, there is another Indictment vpon thee,
for suffering flesh to bee eaten in thy house, contrary to
the Law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle.

Host.
All Victuallers doe so: What is a Ioynt of Mutton,
or two, in a whole Lent?

Prince.
You, Gentlewoman.

Dol.
What sayes your Grace?

Falst.
His Grace sayes that, which his flesh rebells
against.

Host.
Who knocks so lowd at doore? Looke to the doore
there, Francis?
Enter Peto.

Prince.
Peto, how now? what newes?

Peto.
The King, your Father, is at Westminster,
And there are twentie weake and wearied Postes,
Come from the North: and as I came along,
I met, and ouer-tooke a dozen Captaines,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes,
And asking euery one for Sir Iohn Falstaffe.

Prince.
By Heauen (Poines) I feele me much to blame,
So idly to prophane the precious time,
When Tempest of Commotion, like the South,
Borne with black Vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads.
Giue me my Sword, and Cloake: Falstaffe, good night.
Exit.

Falst.
Now comes in the sweetest Morsell of the
night, and wee must hence, and leaue it vnpickt.
More knocking at the doore?
How now? what's the matter?

Bard.
You must away to Court, Sir, presently,
A dozen Captaines stay at doore for you.

Falst.

Pay the Musitians, Sirrha: farewell
Hostesse, farewell Dol. You see (my good Wenches) how
men of Merit are sought after: the vndeseruer may sleepe,
when the man of Action is call'd on. Farewell good
Wenches: if I be not sent away poste, I will see you againe,
ere I goe.

Dol.
I cannot speake: if my heart bee not readie to burst---
Well (sweete Iacke) haue a care of thy selfe.

Falst
Farewell, farewell.
Exit.

Host.
Well, fare thee well: I haue knowne thee these
twentie nine yeeres, come Pescod-time: but an honester,
and truer-hearted man--- Well, fare thee well.

Bard.
Mistris Teare-sheet.

Host.
What's the matter?

Bard.
Bid Mistris Teare-sheet come to my Master.

Host.
Oh runne Dol, runne: runne, good Dol.
Exeunt.
Modern text
Act II, Scene I
Enter the Hostess of the tavern with two officers, Fang
and Snare

HOSTESS
Master Fang, have you entered the action?

FANG
It is entered.

HOSTESS
Where's your yeoman? Is't a lusty yeoman?
Will 'a stand to't?

FANG
Sirrah – where's Snare?

HOSTESS
O Lord, ay! Good Master Snare.

SNARE
(from behind 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, most beastly, in good faith. 'A 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 'a come but within my
vice –

HOSTESS
I am undone by his going, I warrant you, he's an
infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang,
hold him sure; good Master Snare, let him not 'scape.
'A comes continuantly to Pie Corner – saving your
manhoods – to buy a saddle, and he is indited to dinner
to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert Street to Master
Smooth's the silkman. I pray 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.
Enter Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Page
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.

FALSTAFF
How now! whose mare's dead? What's the
matter?

FANG
I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.

FALSTAFF
Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph! Cut me off
the villain's head! Throw the quean in the channel!

HOSTESS
Throw me in the channel? I'll throw thee in
the channel! Wilt thou, wilt thou, thou bastardly rogue?
Murder! Murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle villain, wilt
thou kill God's officers and the King's? Ah, thou
honeyseed rogue! Thou art a honeyseed, a man-queller
– and a woman-queller.

FALSTAFF
Keep them off, Bardolph!

FANG
A rescue! A rescue!

HOSTESS
Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou 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 the Lord Chief Justice and his men

LORD 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.

LORD 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 hangest 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.

LORD 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 – but I
will have some of it out again, or I will ride thee a-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.

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
How comes this, Sir John? 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.

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Sir John, Sir John, I am well
acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true
cause the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the
throng of words that come with such more than
impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from a
level consideration. You have, as it appears to me,
practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman,
and made her serve your uses both in purse and in
person.

HOSTESS
Yea, in truth, my lord.

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 honourable boldness impudent sauciness;
if a man will make curtsy and say nothing, he is
virtuous. No, my lord, my humble duty remembered,
I will not be your suitor. I say to you I do desire
deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty
employment in the King's affairs.

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
You speak as having power to do
wrong; but answer in the effect of your reputation, and
satisfy the poor woman.

FALSTAFF
Come hither, hostess.
He takes her aside
Enter Gower

LORD 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 him a letter

FALSTAFF
As I am a gentleman!

HOSTESS
Faith, you said so before.

FALSTAFF
As I am a gentleman! Come, no more words
of it.

HOSTESS
By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be
fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my
dining-chambers.

FALSTAFF
Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking; and for
thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the
Prodigal, or the German hunting, in waterwork, is
worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these fly-bitten
tapestries. Let it be ten pound if thou canst.
Come, an 'twere not for thy humours, there's not a
better wench in England! Go, wash thy face, and draw
the action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with
me; dost not know me? Come, come, I know thou wast
set on to this.

HOSTESS
Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles;
i'faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me,
la!

FALSTAFF
Let it alone; I'll make other shift – you'll be a
fool still.

HOSTESS
Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my
gown. I hope you'll come to supper. You'll pay me all
together?

FALSTAFF
Will I live? (To Bardolph) Go, with her, with
her! Hook on, hook on!

HOSTESS
Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at
supper?

FALSTAFF
No more words; let's have her.
Exeunt Hostess, Fang, Snare, Bardolph, and Page

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
I have heard better news.

FALSTAFF
What's the news, my lord?

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Where lay the King tonight?

GOWER
At Basingstoke, my lord.

FALSTAFF
I hope, my lord, all's well. What is the news,
my lord?

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
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
Comes the King back from Wales, my noble
lord?

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
You shall have letters of me presently.
Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.

FALSTAFF
My lord!

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.

LORD 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?

LORD 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.

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
Now the Lord lighten thee, thou
art a great fool.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene II
Enter Prince Henry and Poins

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
Faith, it does me, though it discolours
the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth
it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?

POINS
Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as
to remember so weak a composition.

PRINCE HENRY
Belike then my appetite was not princely
got, for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor
creature small beer. But indeed, these humble considerations
make me out of love with my greatness. What a
disgrace is it to me to remember thy name! Or to know
thy face tomorrow! Or to take note how many pair of
silk stockings thou hast – viz. these, and those that were
thy peach-coloured once! Or to bear the inventory of
thy shirts, as, one for superfluity, and another for use!
But that the tennis-court keeper knows better than I,
for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest
not racket there – as thou hast not done a great while,
because the rest of thy low countries have made a shift
to eat up thy holland. And God knows whether those
that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit His
kingdom – but the midwives say the children are not in
the fault. Whereupon the world increases, and kindreds
are mightily strengthened.

POINS
How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard,
you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good young
princes would do so, their fathers being so sick as yours
at this time is?

PRINCE HENRY
Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?

POINS
Yes, faith, and let it be an excellent good thing.

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
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 HENRY
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 HENRY
What wouldst thou think of me if I
should weep?

POINS
I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
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 the Page

PRINCE HENRY
And the boy that I gave Falstaff – 'a had
him from me Christian, and look if the fat villain have
not transformed him ape.

BARDOLPH
God save your grace!

PRINCE HENRY
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
'A 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 petticoat, and so peeped
through.

PRINCE HENRY
Has not the boy profited?

BARDOLPH
Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away!

PAGE
Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away!

PRINCE HENRY
Instruct us, boy! What dream, boy?

PAGE
Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered
of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream.

PRINCE HENRY
A crown's-worth of good interpretation!
There 'tis, boy.

POINS
O that this blossom could be kept from cankers!
Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.

BARDOLPH
An you do not make him be hanged among
you, the gallows shall have wrong.

PRINCE HENRY
And how doth thy master, Bardolph?

BARDOLPH
Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's
coming to town. There's a letter for you.

POINS
Delivered with good respect. And how doth the
martlemas your master?

BARDOLPH
In bodily health, sir.

POINS
Marry, the immortal part needs a physician, but
that moves not him. Though that be sick, it dies not.

PRINCE HENRY
I do allow this wen to be as familiar
with me as my dog, and he holds his place, for look you
how he writes –

POINS
(reading the letter)
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 HENRY
Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will
fetch it from Japhet. But to the letter: Sir John Falstaff,
knight, to the son of the King nearest his father, Harry
Prince of Wales, greeting.

POINS
Why, this is a certificate!

PRINCE HENRY
Peace! I will imitate the honourable
Romans in brevity.

POINS
He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded.

PRINCE HENRY
I commend me to thee, I commend thee,
and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins, for he
misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou art to
marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst,
and so farewell.
Thine by yea and no – which is as much as to
say, as thou usest him – Jack Falstaff with
my familiars, John with my brothers and
sisters, and Sir John with all Europe.

POINS
My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make
him eat it.

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
Well, thus we play the fools with the
time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and
mock us. – Is your master here in London?

BARDOLPH
Yea, my lord.

PRINCE HENRY
Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed
in the old frank?

BARDOLPH
At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.

PRINCE HENRY
What company?

PAGE
Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.

PRINCE HENRY
Sup any women with him?

PAGE
None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly, and
Mistress Doll Tearsheet.

PRINCE HENRY
What pagan may that be?

PAGE
A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my
master's.

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word
to your master that I am yet come to town. There's for
your silence.

BARDOLPH
I have no tongue, sir.

PAGE
And for mine, sir, I will govern it.

PRINCE HENRY
Fare you well; go.
Exeunt Bardolph and Page
This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.

POINS
I warrant you, as common as the way between
Saint Albans and London.

PRINCE HENRY
How might we see Falstaff bestow
himself tonight in his true colours, and not ourselves
be seen?

POINS
Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait
upon him at his table as drawers.

PRINCE HENRY
From a God to a bull? A heavy descension!
It was Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice?
A low transformation, that shall be mine; for in everything
the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow
me, Ned.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene III
Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and
Lady Percy

NORTHUMBERLAND
I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs;
Put not you on the visage of the times
And be like them to Percy troublesome.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND
I have given over; I will speak no more.
Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.

NORTHUMBERLAND
Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn,
And but my going, nothing can redeem it.

LADY PERCY
O, yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars!
The time was, father, that you broke your word
When you were more 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 honours lost, yours and your son's.
For yours, the God of heaven brighten it!
For his, it stuck upon him as the sun
In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
He had no legs that practised 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, humours 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 honour more precise and nice
With others than with him! Let them alone.
The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong;
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
Today might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have 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.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene IV
Enter Francis and another Drawer

FRANCIS
What the devil hast thou brought there – apple-johns?
Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an
apple-john.

DRAWER
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
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.

DRAWER
(preparing to leave)
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.

FRANCIS
By the mass, here will be old utis. It will be an
excellent stratagem.

DRAWER
I'll see if I can find out Sneak.
Exeunt Francis and 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 colour,
I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la!
But, i'faith, you have drunk too much canaries, and
that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the
blood ere one can say ‘ What's this?’ How do you now?

DOLL
Better than I was – hem!

HOSTESS
Why, that's well said – a good heart's worth
gold. Lo, here comes Sir John.
Enter Falstaff, singing

FALSTAFF
When Arthur first in court –
empty the jordan –
Exit Will
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, Mary's joys, 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
goodyear! One must bear, and that (to Doll) 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
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

DRAWER
Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak
with you.

DOLL
Hang him, swaggering rascal. Let him not come
hither. It is the foul-mouthed'st rogue in England.

HOSTESS
If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by
my faith! I must live among my neighbours; I'll no
swaggerers. I am in good name and fame with the very
best. Shut the door. There comes no swaggerers here. I
have not lived all this while to have swaggering now.
Shut the door, I pray you.

FALSTAFF
Dost thou hear, hostess?

HOSTESS
Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes
no swaggerers here.

FALSTAFF
Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.

HOSTESS
Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me; an your
ancient swagger, 'a comes not in my doors. I was before
Master Tisick the debuty t' other day, and, as he said
to me – 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last, i'good
faith – ‘ Neighbour Quickly,’ says he – Master Dumb
our minister was by then – ‘ Neighbour Quickly,’ says
he, ‘ receive those that are civil, for,’ said he, ‘ you are in
an ill name ’ – now '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.

FALSTAFF
He's no swaggerer, hostess, a tame cheater,
i'faith. You may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound.
He'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her
feathers turn back in any show of resistance. Call him
up, drawer.
Exit Drawer

HOSTESS
Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man
my house, nor no cheater, but I do not love swaggering;
by my troth, I am the worse when one says ‘ swagger.’
Feel, masters, how I shake, look you, I warrant you.

DOLL
So you do, hostess.

HOSTESS
Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an
aspen leaf. I cannot abide swaggerers.
Enter Ancient Pistol, Bardolph, and the 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
Pray thee go down, good ancient.

FALSTAFF
Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.

PISTOL
Not I; I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I
could tear her! I'll be revenged of her.

PAGE
Pray thee go down.

PISTOL
I'll see her damned first! To Pluto's damned
lake, by this hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and
tortures vile also! Hold hook and line, say I! Down
down, dogs! Down, faitours! Have we not Hiren here?
He brandishes his sword

HOSTESS
Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late,
i'faith. I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.

PISTOL
These be good humours indeed! Shall packhorses,
And hollow 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
Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a
brawl anon.

PISTOL
Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have
we not Hiren here?

HOSTESS
O' my word, captain, there's none such here.
What the goodyear, 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!
(He lays 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 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a
shall be nothing here.

BARDOLPH
Come, get you downstairs.

PISTOL
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!

HOSTESS
Here's goodly stuff toward!

FALSTAFF
Give me my rapier, boy.

DOLL
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee do not draw.

FALSTAFF
(drawing)
Get you downstairs.

HOSTESS
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)

DOLL
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah,
you whoreson little valiant villain, you!

HOSTESS
Are you not hurt i'th' groin? Methought 'a 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 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!

FALSTAFF
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a
blanket.

DOLL
Do, an thou darest for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll
canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
Enter musicians

PAGE
The music is come, sir.

FALSTAFF
Let them play. Play, sirs!
(Music)
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, the Prince and Poins disguised as
drawers

FALSTAFF
Peace, good Doll, do not speak like a death's-head;
do not bid me remember mine end.

DOLL
Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of?

FALSTAFF
A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have
made a good pantler; 'a would ha' chipped bread well.

DOLL
They say Poins has a good wit.

FALSTAFF
He a good wit? Hang him, baboon! His wit's
as thick as 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 'a
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 '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.

PRINCE HENRY
Would not this nave of a wheel have his
ears cut off?

POINS
Let's beat him before his whore.

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction!
What says th' almanac to that?

POINS
And look whether the fiery trigon his man be not
lisping to his master's old tables, his note-book, his
counsel-keeper.

FALSTAFF
Thou dost give me flattering busses.

DOLL
By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.

FALSTAFF
I am old, I am old.

DOLL
I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young
boy of them all.

FALSTAFF
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive
money 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.

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, hearken a'th' end.

FALSTAFF
Some sack, Francis.

PRINCE HENRY and POINS
(coming forward)
Anon, anon,
sir.

FALSTAFF
Ha! A bastard son of the King's? And art not
thou Poins his brother?

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
Very true, sir, and I come to draw you
out by the ears.

HOSTESS
O, the Lord preserve thy grace! By my troth,
welcome to London! Now the Lord bless that sweet
face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?

FALSTAFF
Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty,
by this light – flesh and corrupt blood (laying his hand
upon Doll), 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 HENRY
You whoreson candle-mine you, how
vilely did you speak of me now, before this honest,
virtuous, civil gentlewoman!

HOSTESS
God's blessing of your good heart, and so she
is, by my troth!

FALSTAFF
Didst thou hear me?

PRINCE HENRY
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 HENRY
I shall drive you then to confess the
wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle you.

FALSTAFF
No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour, no abuse.

PRINCE HENRY
Not? To dispraise me, and call me
pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what?

FALSTAFF
No abuse, Hal.

POINS
No abuse?

FALSTAFF
No abuse, Ned, i'th' world, honest Ned, none.
I dispraised him before the wicked that the wicked
might not fall in love with (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,
none.

PRINCE HENRY
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 maltworms. For the
boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil binds
him too.

PRINCE HENRY
For the women?

FALSTAFF
For one of them, she's in hell already, and
burns poor souls. For th' other, I owe her money, and
whether she be damned for that I know not.

HOSTESS
No, I warrant you.

FALSTAFF
No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit
for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee,
for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to
the law, for the which I think thou wilt howl.

HOSTESS
All victuallers do so. What's a joint of mutton
or two in a whole Lent?

PRINCE HENRY
You, gentlewoman –

DOLL
What says your grace?

FALSTAFF
His grace says that which his flesh rebels
against.
Peto knocks at door

HOSTESS
Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door
there, Francis.
Enter Peto

PRINCE HENRY
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,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

PRINCE HENRY
By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,
So idly to profane the precious time
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
Exeunt Prince and Poins

FALSTAFF
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the
night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked.
Knocking within
Exit Bardolph
More knocking at the door?
Enter Bardolph
How now, what's the matter?

BARDOLPH
You must away to court, sir, presently.
A dozen captains stay at door for you.

FALSTAFF
(to 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.
Exit with Bardolph, Peto, Page, and musicians

HOSTESS
Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these
twenty-nine years, come peascod-time, but an honester
and truer-hearted man – well, fare thee well.

BARDOLPH
(at the door)
Mistress Tearsheet!

HOSTESS
What's the matter?

BARDOLPH
Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.

HOSTESS
O, run, Doll, run! Run, good Doll! Come! –
She comes blubbered. – Yea, will you come, Doll?
Exeunt
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2020 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL