Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 180

by William Shakespeare


  Doll Tearsheet

  How, you fat fool! I scorn you.

  Poins

  My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.

  Prince Henry

  You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!

  Mistress Quickly

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

  Falstaff

  Didst thou hear me?

  Prince Henry

  Yea, and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by Gad’s-hill: you knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to try my patience.

  Falstaff

  No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing.

  Prince Henry

  I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle you.

  Falstaff

  No abuse, Hal, o’ mine honour, no abuse.

  Prince Henry

  Not to dispraise me, and call me pantier and bread-chipper and I know not what?

  Falstaff

  No abuse, Hal.

  Poins

  No abuse?

  Falstaff

  No abuse, Ned, i’ the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him; in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal: none, Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none.

  Prince Henry

  See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? is she of the wicked? is thine hostess here of the wicked? or is thy boy of the wicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

  Poins

  Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

  Falstaff

  The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer’s privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him; but the devil outbids him too.

  Prince Henry

  For the women?

  Falstaff

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

  Mistress Quickly

  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.

  Mistress Quickly

  All victuallers do so; what’s a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

  Prince Henry

  You, gentlewoman,-

  Doll Tearsheet

  What says your grace?

  Falstaff

  His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

  Knocking within

  Mistress Quickly

  Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.

  Enter Peto

  Prince Henry

  Peto, how now! what news?

  Peto

  The king your father is at Westminster:

  And there are twenty weak and wearied posts

  Come from the north: and, as I came along,

  I met and overtook a dozen captains,

  Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,

  And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

  Prince Henry

  By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,

  So idly to profane the precious time,

  When tempest of commotion, like the south

  Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt

  And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

  Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.

  Exeunt Prince Henry, Poins, Peto and Bardolph

  Falstaff

  Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked.

  Knocking within

  More knocking at the door!

  Re-enter Bardolph

  How now! what’s the matter?

  Bardolph

  You must away to court, sir, presently;

  A dozen captains stay at door for you.

  Falstaff

  [To the 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 Tearsheet

  I cannot speak; if my heart be not read to burst,— well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.

  Falstaff

  Farewell, farewell.

  Exeunt Falstaff and Bardolph

  Mistress Quickly

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

  Bardolph

  [Within] Mistress Tearsheet!

  Mistress Quickly

  What’s the matter?

  Bardolph

  [Within] Good Mistress Tearsheet, come to my master.

  Mistress Quickly

  O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come.

  She comes blubbered

  Yea, will you come, Doll?

  Exeunt

  ACT III

  SCENE I. WESTMINSTER. THE PALACE.

  Enter King Henry IV in his nightgown, with a Page

  King Henry IV

  Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;

  But, ere they come, bid them o’er-read these letters,

  And well consider of them; make good speed.

  Exit Page

  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 hush’d with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,

  Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,

  Under the canopies of costly state,

  And lull’d 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 ship-boy’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 deafening clamour 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 and Surrey

  Warwick

  Many good morrows to your majesty!

  King Henry IV

  Is it good morrow, lords?

  Warwick

  ’Tis one o’clock, and past.

  King Henry IV

  Why, then, good morrow to you all, my lords.

  Have you read o’er the letters that I sent you?

  Warwick

  We have, my liege.

  King Henry IV

  Then you perceive the body of our kingdom

  How foul it is; what rank diseases grow

  A
nd with what danger, near the heart of it.

  Warwick

  It is but as a body yet distemper’d;

  Which to his former strength may be restored

  With good advice and little medicine:

  My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool’d.

  King Henry IV

  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 chances mock,

  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 toil’d 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 —

  You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember —

  To Warwick

  When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears,

  Then cheque’d 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 bow’d the state

  That I and greatness were compell’d 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 nature 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, which in their seeds

  And weak beginnings 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 Henry IV

  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;

  Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,

  The numbers of the fear’d. 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 unseason’d hours perforce must add

  Unto your sickness.

  King Henry IV

  I will take your counsel:

  And were these inward wars once out of hand,

  We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II. GLOUCESTERSHIRE. BEFORE SHALLOW’S HOUSE.

  Enter Shallow and Silence, meeting; Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, Bullcalf, a Servant or two with them

  Shallow

  Come on, come on, come on, sir; 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 god-daughter Ellen?

  Silence

  Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!

  Shallow

  By yea and nay, 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

  A’ 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 any thing; and I would have done any thing 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 Skogan’s head at the court-gate, when a’ was a crack not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray’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.

  Shadow

  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, I was not there.

  Shallow

  Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?

  Silence

  Dead, sir.

  Shallow

  Jesu, Jesu, dead! a’ drew a good bow; and dead! a’ shot a fine shoot: John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! a’ would have clapped i’ the 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 Double dead?

  Silence

  Here come two of Sir John Falstaff’s men, as I think.

  Enter Bardolph and one with him

  Bardolph

  Good morrow, honest gentlemen: 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 th e 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 co
mes of ‘accommodo’ very good; a good phrase.

  Bardolph

  Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase call you it? by this good day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like 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 a’ may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

  Shallow

  It is very just.

  Enter Falstaff

  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 Surecard, 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?

  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: yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy! Let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy?

  Mouldy

  Here, an’t 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.

  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 the 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.

 

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