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