ACT 1
Scene 2
...will, my liege.
Enter Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falstaff.
Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
...of the day.
Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we
that take purses go by the moon and the seven
stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that wand’ring
knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou
art king, as God save thy Grace—Majesty, I should
say, for grace thou wilt have none—
... What, none?
No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to
be prologue to an egg and butter.
...Come, roundly, roundly.
Marry then, sweet wag, when thou art king,
let not us that are squires of the night’s body be
called thieves of the day’s beauty. Let us be Diana’s
foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the
moon, and let men say we be men of good government,
being governed, as the sea is, by our noble
and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance
we steal.
...of the gallows.
By the Lord, thou sayst true, lad. And is not
my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?
...robe of durance?
How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy
quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to
do with a buff jerkin?
...of the tavern?
Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning
many a time and oft.
...pay thy part?
No, I’ll give thee thy due. Thou hast paid all
there.
...used my credit.
Yea, and so used it that were it not here
apparent that thou art heir apparent—But I prithee,
sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in
England when thou art king? And resolution thus
fubbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic
the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a
thief.
...No, thou shalt.
Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave
judge.
...a rare hangman.
Well, Hal, well, and in some sort it jumps
with my humor as well as waiting in the court, I
can tell you.
...obtaining of suits?
Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman
hath no lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as
melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear.
...a lover’s lute.
Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
...melancholy of Moorditch?
Thou hast the most unsavory similes, and
art indeed the most comparative, rascaliest, sweet
young prince. But, Hal, I prithee trouble me no
more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew
where a commodity of good names were to be
bought. An old lord of the council rated me the
other day in the street about you, sir, but I marked
him not, and yet he talked very wisely, but I
regarded him not, and yet he talked wisely, and in
the street, too.
...man regards it.
O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art
indeed able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done
much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it.
Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing, and now
am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than
one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I
will give it over. By the Lord, an I do not, I am a
villain. I’ll be damned for never a king’s son in
Christendom.
...purse tomorrow, Jack?
Zounds, where thou wilt, lad. I’ll make one.
An I do not, call me villain and baffle me.
...praying to purse-taking.
Why, Hal, ’tis my vocation, Hal. ’Tis no sin
for a man to labor in his vocation.
Enter Poins.
Poins!—Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a
match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what
hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the
most omnipotent villain that ever cried “Stand!” to
a true man.
...and be hanged.
Hear you, Yedward, if I tarry at home and
go not, I’ll hang you for going.
...You will, chops?
Hal, wilt thou make one?
...by my faith.
There’s neither honesty, manhood, nor
good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam’st not of
the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten
shillings.
...be a madcap.
Why, that’s well said.
...tarry at home.
By the Lord, I’ll be a traitor then when thou
art king.
...he shall go.
Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion,
and him the ears of profiting, that what thou
speakest may move, and what he hears may be
believed, that the true prince may, for recreation
sake, prove a false thief, for the poor abuses of the
time want countenance. Farewell. You shall find me
in Eastcheap.
...Farewell, Allhallown summer.
Falstaff exits.
ACT 2
Scene 2
...velvet. Stand close.
Enter Falstaff.
Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!
...dost thou keep!
Where’s Poins, Hal?
...go seek him.
I am accursed to rob in that thief’s company.
The rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I
know not where. If I travel but four foot by the
square further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I
doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I
’scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn
his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty
years, and yet I am bewitched with the
rogue’s company. If the rascal have not given me
medicines to make me love him, I’ll be hanged. It
could not be else: I have drunk medicines.—Poins!
Hal! A plague upon you both.—Bardolph! Peto!—
I’ll starve ere I’ll rob a foot further. An ’twere not as
good a deed as drink to turn true man and to leave
these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever
chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground
is threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the
stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague
upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
(They whistle, within.)
Whew! A plague upon you
all!
Enter the Prince, Poins, Peto, and Bardolph.
Give me my horse, you rogues. Give me my horse
and be hanged!
...tread of travelers.
Have you any levers to lift me up again being
down? ’Sblood, I’ll not bear my own flesh so
far afoot again for all the coin in thy father’s Exchequer.
What a plague mean you to colt me
thus?
...thou art uncolted.
I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my
horse, good king’s son.
...be your ostler?
Hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent
garters! If I be ta’en, I’ll peach for this. An I have
not ballads made on you all and sung to filthy
tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison—when a jest
is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it.
...Gadshill. Stand.
So I do, against my will.
...the King’s Exchequer.
You lie, you rogue. ’Tis going to the King’s
Tavern.
...make us all.
To be hanged.
...eight or ten.
Zounds, will they not rob us?
...Sir John Paunch?
Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather,
but yet no coward, Hal.
...and stand fast.
Now cannot I strike him, if I should be
hanged.
...by. Stand close.
Now, my masters, happy man be his dole,
say I. Every man to his business.
They step aside.
...ease our legs.
THIEVES, advancing
Stand!
...Jesus bless us!
Strike! Down with them! Cut the villains’
throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars, bacon-fed
knaves, they hate us youth. Down with them!
Fleece them!
...and ours forever!
Hang, you gorbellied knaves! Are you undone?
No, you fat chuffs. I would your store were
here. On, bacons, on! What, you knaves, young men
must live. You are grandjurors, are you? We’ll jure
you, faith.
Here they rob them and bind them. They all exit.
...They step aside.
Enter the Thieves again.
Come, my masters, let us share, and then to
horse before day. An the Prince and Poins be not
two arrant cowards, there’s no equity stirring.
There’s no more valor in that Poins than in a wild
duck.
As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them.
...Your money! Villains!
They all run away, and Falstaff, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.
Scene 4
...call in Tallow.
Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Peto, Bardolph; and Francis, with wine.
...hast thou been?
A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance
too! Marry and amen!—Give me a cup of
sack, boy.—Ere I lead this life long, I’ll sew netherstocks
and mend them, and foot them too. A plague
of all cowards!—Give me a cup of sack, rogue!—Is
there no virtue extant?
He drinketh.
...behold that compound.
to Francis
You rogue, here’s lime in this
sack too.—There is nothing but roguery to be
found in villainous man, yet a coward is worse than
a cup of sack with lime in it. A villainous coward! Go
thy ways, old Jack. Die when thou wilt. If manhood,
good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the
Earth, then am I a shotten herring. There lives not
three good men unhanged in England, and one of
them is fat and grows old, God help the while. A bad
world, I say. I would I were a weaver. I could sing
psalms, or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say
still.
...what mutter you?
A king’s son! If I do not beat thee out of thy
kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy
subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I’ll
never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of
Wales!
...what’s the matter?
Are not you a coward? Answer me to that—
and Poins there?
...I’ll stab thee.
I call thee coward? I’ll see thee damned ere
I call thee coward, but I would give a thousand
pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are
straight enough in the shoulders you care not who
sees your back. Call you that backing of your
friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them
that will face me.—Give me a cup of sack.—I am a
rogue if I drunk today.
...thou drunk’st last.
All is one for that. (He drinketh.)
A plague of
all cowards, still say I.
...What’s the matter?
What’s the matter? There be four of us here
have ta’en a thousand pound this day morning.
...where is it?
Where is it? Taken from us it is. A hundred
upon poor four of us.
...a hundred, man?
I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword
with a dozen of them two hours together. I have
’scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through
the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler
cut through and through, my sword hacked like
a handsaw. Ecce signum! I never dealt better since
I was a man. All would not do. A plague of
all cowards! Let them speak. Pointing to Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto.
If they speak more or
less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of
darkness.
...upon some dozen.
Sixteen at least, my lord.
...were not bound.
You rogue, they were bound, every man of
them, or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
...set upon us.
And unbound the rest, and then come in the
other.
...with them all?
All? I know not what you call all, but if I
fought not with fifty of them I am a bunch of
radish. If there were not two- or three-and-fifty
upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged
creature.
...some of them.
Nay, that’s past praying for. I have peppered
two of them. Two I am sure I have paid, two rogues
in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my
old ward. Here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four
rogues in buckram let drive at me.
...two even now.
Four, Hal, I told thee four.
...he said four.
These four came all afront, and mainly
thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all
their seven points in my target, thus.
...four even now.
In buckram?
...in buckram suits.
Seven by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
...have more anon.
Dost thou hear me, Hal?
...thee too, Jack.
Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These
nine in buckram that I told thee of—
...two more already.
Their points being broken—
...fell their hose.
Began to give me ground, but I followed me
close, came in foot and hand, and, with a thought,
seven of the eleven I paid.
...out of two!
But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten
knaves in Kendal green came at my back,
and let drive at me, for it was so dark, Hal, that thou
couldst not see thy hand.
...obscene, greasy tallow-catch—
What, art thou mad? Art thou mad? Is not
the truth the truth?
...Jack, your reason.
What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were
at the strappado or all the racks in the world, I
would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a
reason on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful
as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon
compulsion, I.
...hill of flesh—
’Sblood, you starveling, you elfskin, you
dried neat’s tongue, you bull’s pizzle, you stockfish!
O, for breath to utter what is like thee! You tailor’s
yard, you sheath, you bowcase, you vile standing
tuck—
...hast thou now?
By the Lord, I knew you as well as he that
made you. Why, hear you, my masters, was it for
me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the
true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as
Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not
touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter.
I was now a coward on instinct. I shall think
the better of myself, and thee, during my life—
I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince.
But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the
money.—Hostess, clap to the doors.—Watch tonight,
pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts
of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to
you. What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play
extempore?
...thy running away.
Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me.
...to my mother.
What manner of man is he?
...An old man.
What doth Gravity out of his bed at midnight?
Shall I give him his answer?
...Prithee do, Jack.
Faith, and I’ll send him packing.
He exits.
...rightly taken, halter.
Enter Falstaff.
...thine own knee?
My own knee? When I was about thy years,
Hal, I was not an eagle’s talon in the waist. I could
have crept into any alderman’s thumb-ring. A
plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a
bladder. There’s villainous news abroad. Here was
Sir John Bracy from your father. You must to the
court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the
north, Percy, and he of Wales that gave Amamon the
bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore
the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a
Welsh hook—what a plague call you him?
... Owen Glendower.
Owen, Owen, the same, and his son-in-law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that
sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs a-horseback
up a hill perpendicular—
...a sparrow flying.
You have hit it.
...never the sparrow.
Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him. He
will not run.
...so for running?
A-horseback, you cuckoo, but afoot he will
not budge a foot.
...Jack, upon instinct.
I grant you, upon instinct. Well, he is there
too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps
more. Worcester is stolen away tonight. Thy father’s
beard is turned white with the news. You may buy
land now as cheap as stinking mackerel.
...by the hundreds.
By the Mass, thou sayest true. It is like we
shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal,
art not thou horrible afeard? Thou being heir
apparent, could the world pick thee out three such
enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit
Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not
horribly afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it?
...of thy instinct.
Well, thou wilt be horribly chid tomorrow
when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me,
practice an answer.
...of my life.
Shall I? Content. He sits down.
This chair
shall be my state, this dagger my scepter, and this
cushion my crown.
...pitiful bald crown.
Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of
thee, now shalt thou be moved.—Give me a cup of
sack to make my eyes look red, that it may be
thought I have wept, for I must speak in passion,
and I will do it in King Cambyses’ vein.
...is my leg.
And here is my speech. As King.
Stand
aside, nobility.
...sport, i’ faith!
as King
Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
...holds his countenance!
as King
For God’s sake, lords, convey my tristful queen,
For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.
...ever I see.
Peace, good pint-pot. Peace, good tickle-brain.—
As King.
Harry, I do not only marvel
where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou
art accompanied. For though the camomile, the
more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, so youth,
the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That
thou art my son I have partly thy mother’s word,
partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villainous
trick of thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy
nether lip that doth warrant me. If then thou be
son to me, here lies the point: why, being son to
me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of
heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries? A
question not to be asked. Shall the son of England
prove a thief and take purses? A question to be
asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast
often heard of, and it is known to many in our land
by the name of pitch. This pitch, as ancient writers
do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou
keepest. For, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in
drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion;
not in words only, but in woes also. And yet there is
a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy
company, but I know not his name.
...like your Majesty?
as King
A goodly portly man, i’ faith, and a
corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a
most noble carriage, and, as I think, his age some
fifty, or, by ’r Lady, inclining to threescore; and now
I remember me, his name is Falstaff. If that man
should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me, for, Harry,
I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be
known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then
peremptorily I speak it: there is virtue in that
Falstaff; him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me
now, thou naughty varlet, tell me where hast thou
been this month?
...play my father.
rising
Depose me? If thou dost it half so
gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter,
hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a
poulter’s hare.
...I am set.
And here I stand.—Judge, my masters.
...whence come you?
as Prince
My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
...thee are grievous.
as Prince
’Sblood, my lord, they are false.
—Nay, I’ll tickle you for a young prince, i’ faith.
...but in nothing?
as Prince
I would your Grace would take
me with you. Whom means your Grace?
...old white-bearded Satan.
as Prince
My lord, the man I know.
...know thou dost.
as Prince
But to say I know more harm in
him than in myself were to say more than I know.
That he is old, the more the pity; his white hairs do
witness it. But that he is, saving your reverence, a
whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar
be a fault, God help the wicked. If to be old and
merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is
damned. If to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh’s
lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord,
banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins, but for
sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack
Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more
valiant being as he is old Jack Falstaff, banish not
him thy Harry’s company, banish not him thy
Harry’s company. Banish plump Jack, and banish
all the world.
...at the door.
Out, you rogue.—Play out the play. I have
much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff.
...let them in?
Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece
of gold a counterfeit. Thou art essentially made
without seeming so.
...coward without instinct.
I deny your major. If you will deny the
Sheriff, so; if not, let him enter. If I become not a
cart as well as another man, a plague on my
bringing up. I hope I shall as soon be strangled with
a halter as another.
...and good conscience.
Both which I have had, but their date is out;
and therefore I’ll hide me.
He hides.
...Search his pockets.
(He searcheth his pocket, and findeth certain papers.)
...good my lord.
They exit.
ACT 3
Scene 3
...while men delay.
Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.
Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since
this last action? Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle?
Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady’s
loose gown. I am withered like an old applejohn.
Well, I’ll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in
some liking. I shall be out of heart shortly, and then
I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not
forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I
am a peppercorn, a brewer’s horse. The inside of a
church! Company, villainous company, hath been
the spoil of me.
...cannot live long.
Why, there is it. Come, sing me a bawdy
song, make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a
gentleman need to be, virtuous enough: swore
little; diced not above seven times—a week; went to
a bawdy house not above once in a quarter—of an
hour; paid money that I borrowed—three or four
times; lived well and in good compass; and now I
live out of all order, out of all compass.
...compass, Sir John.
Do thou amend thy face, and I’ll amend my
life. Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern
in the poop, but ’tis in the nose of thee. Thou art the
Knight of the Burning Lamp.
...you no harm.
No, I’ll be sworn, I make as good use of it as
many a man doth of a death’s-head or a memento
mori. I never see thy face but I think upon hellfire
and Dives that lived in purple, for there he is in his
robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given
to virtue, I would swear by thy face. My oath should
be “By this fire, that’s God’s angel.” But thou art
altogether given over, and wert indeed, but for the
light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When
thou ran’st up Gad’s Hill in the night to catch my
horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis
fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there’s no purchase in
money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting
bonfire-light. Thou hast saved me a thousand
marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the
night betwixt tavern and tavern, but the sack that
thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights as
good cheap at the dearest chandler’s in Europe. I
have maintained that salamander of yours with fire
any time this two-and-thirty years, God reward me
for it.
...in your belly!
Godamercy, so should I be sure to be
heartburned!
Enter Hostess.
How now, Dame Partlet the hen, have you enquired
yet who picked my pocket?
...my house before.
You lie, hostess. Bardolph was shaved and
lost many a hair, and I’ll be sworn my pocket was
picked. Go to, you are a woman, go.
...own house before.
Go to, I know you well enough.
...to your back.
Dowlas, filthy dowlas. I have given them
away to bakers’ wives; they have made bolters of
them.
...you, four-and-twenty pound.
pointing to Bardolph
He had his part of it.
Let him pay.
...He hath nothing.
How, poor? Look upon his face. What call
you rich? Let them coin his nose. Let them coin his
cheeks. I’ll not pay a denier. What, will you make a
younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine
inn but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a
seal ring of my grandfather’s worth forty mark.
...ring was copper.
How? The Prince is a jack, a sneak-up.
’Sblood, an he were here, I would cudgel him like a
dog if he would say so. Falstaff meets him playing upon his truncheon like a fife.
How now, lad, is the wind in that door, i’ faith? Must
we all march?
...lord, hear me.
Prithee, let her alone, and list to me.
...say’st thou, Jack?
The other night I fell asleep here, behind the
arras, and had my pocket picked. This house is
turned bawdy house; they pick pockets.
...thou lose, Jack?
Wilt thou believe me, Hal, three or four
bonds of forty pound apiece, and a seal ring of my
grandfather’s.
...in me else.
There’s no more faith in thee than in a
stewed prune, nor no more truth in thee than in a
drawn fox, and for womanhood, Maid Marian may
be the deputy’s wife of the ward to thee. Go, you
thing, go.
...thing, what thing?
What thing? Why, a thing to thank God on.
...call me so.
Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a
beast to say otherwise.
...thou knave, thou?
What beast? Why, an otter.
...Why an otter?
Why, she’s neither fish nor flesh; a man
knows not where to have her.
...a thousand pound?
A thousand pound, Hal? A million. Thy love is
worth a million; thou owest me thy love.
...would cudgel you.
Did I, Bardolph?
...you said so.
Yea, if he said my ring was copper.
...thy word now?
Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but
man, I dare, but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I
fear the roaring of the lion’s whelp.
...as the lion?
The King himself is to be feared as the lion.
Dost thou think I’ll fear thee as I fear thy father?
Nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break.
...thou not ashamed?
Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou knowest in the
state of innocency Adam fell, and what should poor
Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy? Thou seest I
have more flesh than another man and therefore
more frailty. You confess, then, you picked my
pocket.
...by the story.
Hostess, I forgive thee. Go make ready
breakfast, love thy husband, look to thy servants,
cherish thy guests. Thou shalt find me tractable
to any honest reason. Thou seest I am pacified still.
Nay, prithee, begone. Now, Hal, to
the news at court. For the robbery, lad, how is that
answered?
...paid back again.
O, I do not like that paying back. ’Tis a double
labor.
...may do anything.
Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou
dost, and do it with unwashed hands too.
...charge of foot.
I would it had been of horse. Where shall I
find one that can steal well? O, for a fine thief of
the age of two-and-twenty or thereabouts! I am heinously
unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these
rebels. They offend none but the virtuous. I laud
them; I praise them.
...must lower lie.
Rare words, brave world!—Hostess, my breakfast, come.—
O, I could wish this tavern were my drum.
He exits.
ACT 4
Scene 2
...one half year.
Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.
Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry. Fill
me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall march
through. We’ll to Sutton Coldfield tonight.
...me money, captain?
Lay out, lay out.
...makes an angel.
An if it do, take it for thy labor. An if it make
twenty, take them all. I’ll answer the coinage. Bid
my lieutenant Peto meet me at town’s end.
...will, captain. Farewell.
If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a
soused gurnet. I have misused the King’s press
damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred
and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I
press me none but good householders, yeomen’s
sons, inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as
had been asked twice on the banns—such a commodity
of warm slaves as had as lief hear the devil
as a drum, such as fear the report of a caliver worse
than a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me
none but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their
bellies no bigger than pins’ heads, and they have
bought out their services, and now my whole
charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants,
gentlemen of companies—slaves as ragged as Lazarus
in the painted cloth, where the glutton’s dogs
licked his sores; and such as indeed were never
soldiers, but discarded, unjust servingmen, younger
sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and
ostlers tradefallen, the cankers of a calm world and
a long peace, ten times more dishonorable-ragged
than an old feazed ancient; and such have I to fill up
the rooms of them as have bought out their services,
that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty
tattered prodigals lately come from swine-keeping,
from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me
on the way and told me I had unloaded all the
gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath
seen such scarecrows. I’ll not march through Coventry
with them, that’s flat. Nay, and the villains
march wide betwixt the legs as if they had gyves on,
for indeed I had the most of them out of prison.
There’s not a shirt and a half in all my company,
and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together
and thrown over the shoulders like a herald’s coat
without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth,
stolen from my host at Saint Albans or the red-nose
innkeeper of Daventry. But that’s all one; they’ll find
linen enough on every hedge.
...How now, quilt?
What, Hal, how now, mad wag? What a devil
dost thou in Warwickshire?—My good Lord of
Westmoreland, I cry you mercy. I thought your
Honor had already been at Shrewsbury.
...away all night.
Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to
steal cream.
...that come after?
Mine, Hal, mine.
...such pitiful rascals.
Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder,
food for powder. They’ll fill a pit as well as
better. Tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
...bare, too beggarly.
Faith, for their poverty, I know not where
they had that, and for their bareness, I am sure they
never learned that of me.
...in the field.
What, is the King encamped?
...stay too long.
Well,
To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast
Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.
He exits.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...farewell, Sir Michael.
Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaff.
...comes it then?
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
...cause is just.
Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and
bestride me, so; ’tis a point of friendship.
...prayers, and farewell.
I would ’twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.
...God a death.
’Tis not due yet. I would be loath to pay Him
before His day. What need I be so forward with
Him that calls not on me? Well, ’tis no matter.
Honor pricks me on. Yea, but how if honor prick me
off when I come on? How then? Can honor set to a
leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a
wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then?
No. What is honor? A word. What is in that word
“honor”? What is that “honor”? Air. A trim reckoning.
Who hath it? He that died o’ Wednesday. Doth
he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. ’Tis insensible,
then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the
living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore,
I’ll none of it. Honor is a mere scutcheon. And
so ends my catechism.
He exits.
Scene 3
...for the day.
Alarm. Enter Falstaff alone.
Though I could ’scape shot-free at London,
I fear the shot here. Here’s no scoring but upon
the pate.—Soft, who are you? Sir Walter Blunt.
There’s honor for you. Here’s no vanity. I am as hot
as molten lead, and as heavy too. God keep lead out
of me; I need no more weight than mine own
bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are
peppered. There’s not three of my hundred and fifty
left alive, and they are for the town’s end, to beg
during life. But who comes here?
...me thy sword.
O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe
awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms
as I have done this day. I have paid Percy; I have
made him sure.
...me thy sword.
Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou
gett’st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou
wilt.
...in the case?
Ay, Hal, ’tis hot, ’tis hot. There’s that will
sack a city.
The Prince draws it out, and finds it to be a bottle of sack.
...and dally now?
He throws the bottle at him and exits.
Well, if Percy be alive, I’ll pierce him. If he do
come in my way, so; if he do not, if I come in his
willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not
such grinning honor as Sir Walter hath. Give me
life, which, if I can save, so: if not, honor comes
unlooked for, and there’s an end.
He exits. Blunt’s body is carried off.
Scene 4
...thy vanities.They fight.
Enter Falstaff.
Well said, Hal! To it, Hal! Nay, you shall find
no boys’ play here, I can tell you.
He fighteth with Falstaff, who falls down as if he were dead. Douglas exits. The Prince killeth Percy.
...noble Percy lie.
Falstaff riseth up.
Emboweled? If thou embowel me today, I’ll
give you leave to powder me and eat me too
tomorrow. ’Sblood, ’twas time to counterfeit, or
that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot
too. Counterfeit? I lie. I am no counterfeit. To die is
to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counterfeit of a
man who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit
dying when a man thereby liveth is to be no
counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life
indeed. The better part of valor is discretion, in the
which better part I have saved my life. Zounds, I am
afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead.
How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? By my
faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit.
Therefore I’ll make him sure, yea, and I’ll swear
I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I?
Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me.
Therefore, sirrah, stabbing him
with a new wound
in your thigh, come you along with me.
He takes up Hotspur on his back.
...what thou seem’st.
No, that’s certain. I am not a double man.
But if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a jack. There
is Percy. If your father will do me any honor, so; if
not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be
either earl or duke, I can assure you.
...saw thee dead.
Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is
given to lying. I grant you, I was down and out of
breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant
and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I
may be believed, so; if not, let them that should
reward valor bear the sin upon their own heads. I’ll
take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in
the thigh. If the man were alive and would deny
it, zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my
sword.
...who are dead.
I’ll follow, as they say, for reward. He that
rewards me, God reward him. If I do grow great,
I’ll grow less, for I’ll purge and leave sack and live
cleanly as a nobleman should do.
He exits carrying Hotspur’s body.