ACT 1
Scene 2
...yet more need.
Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.
Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my
water?
...he knew for.
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?
...not the security.
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?
...Worship a horse.
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.
...him about Bardolph.
Wait close. I will not see him.
They begin to exit.
...Sir John Falstaff!
Boy, tell him I am deaf.
...speak with him.
SERVANT, plucking Falstaff’s sleeve
...Sir John!
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.
...mistake me, sir.
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.
...an honest man.
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!
...word with you.
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.
...expedition to Shrewsbury.
An ’t please your Lordship, I hear his Majesty
is returned with some discomfort from Wales.
...sent for you.
And I hear, moreover, his Highness is fallen
into this same whoreson apoplexy.
...speak with you.
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.
...as it is.
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.
...say to you.
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.
...become your physician.
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.
...speak with me.
As I was then advised by my learned counsel
in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.
...in great infamy.
He that buckles himself in my belt cannot
live in less.
...waste is great.
I would it were otherwise. I would my means
were greater and my waist slender.
...the youthful prince.
The young prince hath misled me. I am the
fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.
...o’erposting that action.
My lord.
...a sleeping wolf.
To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox.
...part burnt out.
A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow. If I did
say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
...effect of gravity.
His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
...his ill angel.
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.
...fie, Sir John.
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.
...a better companion.
God send the companion a better prince. I
cannot rid my hands of him.
...Earl of Northumberland.
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.
...bless your expedition.
Will your Lordship lend me a thousand
pound to furnish me forth?
...my cousin Westmoreland.
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!
... Sir.
What money is in my purse?
...and two pence.
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. 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.
ACT 2
Scene 1
...me your offices.
Enter Sir John Falstaff and Bardolph, and the Page.
How now, whose mare’s dead? What’s the
matter?
...of Mistress Quickly.
Away, varlets!—Draw, Bardolph. Cut me off
the villain’s head. Throw the quean in the
channel.
They draw.
...and a woman-queller.
Keep them off, Bardolph.
...like the mare.
I think I am as like to ride the mare if I have
any vantage of ground to get up.
...by her own?
What is the gross sum that I owe thee?
...if thou canst.
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.
...with current repentance.
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.
...the poor woman.
Come hither, hostess.
He speaks aside to the Hostess.
...paper to read.
to the Hostess
As I am a gentleman!
...said so before.
As I am a gentleman. Come. No more words
of it.
...my dining chambers.
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.
...save me, la.
Let it alone. I’ll make other shift. You’ll be a
fool still.
...me all together?
Will I live? Aside to Bardolph.
Go with her,
with her. Hook on, hook on.
...you at supper?
No more words. Let’s have her.
...heard better news.
to Chief Justice
What’s the news, my good
lord?
...Basingstoke, my lord.
to Chief Justice
I hope, my lord, all’s
well. What is the news, my lord?
...and the Archbishop.
to Chief Justice
Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord?
...good Master Gower.
My lord!
...What’s the matter?
Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to
dinner?
...as you go.
Will you sup with me, Master Gower?
...manners, Sir John?
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.
...a great fool.
They separate and exit.
Scene 4
...comes Sir John.
Enter Sir John Falstaff.
singing
When Arthur first in court—
To Will.
Empty the jordan.
And was a worthy king—
How now, Mistress Doll?
...yea, good faith.
So is all her sect. An they be once in a calm,
they are sick.
...you give me?
You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
...make them not.
If the cook help to make the gluttony, you
help to make the diseases, Doll. We catch of you,
Doll, we catch of you. Grant that, my poor virtue,
grant that.
...and our jewels.
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—
...I pray you.
Dost thou hear, hostess?
...no swaggerers here.
Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
...I’ll no swaggerers.
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.
...you, Sir John.
Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I
charge you with a cup of sack. Do you discharge
upon mine hostess.
...with two bullets.
She is pistol-proof. Sir, you shall not hardly
offend her.
...ruff for this.
No more, Pistol. I would not have you go off
here. Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.
...down, good ancient.
Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
...are etceteras nothings?
Pistol, I would be quiet.
...not Galloway nags?
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat
shilling. Nay, an he do nothing but speak
nothing, he shall be nothing here.
...goodly stuff toward!
Give me my rapier, boy.
...do not draw.
to Pistol
Get you downstairs.
They fight.
... Enter Bardolph.
Have you turned him out o’ doors?
...i’ th’ shoulder.
A rascal to brave me!
...Worthies. Ah, villain!
Ah, rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a
blanket.
...is come, sir.
Let them play.—Play, sirs.—Sit on my knee,
Doll. A rascal bragging slave! The rogue fled from
me like quicksilver.
...and Poins disguised.
Peace, good Doll. Do not speak like a death’s-head;
do not bid me remember mine end.
...the Prince of?
A good shallow young fellow, he would have
made a good pantler; he would ’a chipped bread
well.
...a good wit.
He a good wit? Hang him, baboon. His wit’s
as thick as Tewkesbury mustard. There’s no more
conceit in him than is in a mallet.
...him so then?
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.
...years outlive performance?
Kiss me, Doll.
...his counsel keeper.
to Doll
Thou dost give me flattering busses.
...most constant heart.
I am old, I am old.
...of them all.
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.
...a’ th’ end.
Some sack, Francis.
...forwardAnon, anon, sir.
Ha? A bastard son of the King’s?—And art
not thou Poins his brother?
...dost thou lead?
A better than thou. I am a gentleman. Thou
art a drawer.
...come from Wales?
to Prince
Thou whoreson mad compound
of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood,
thou art welcome.
...by my troth.
to Prince
Didst thou hear me?
...try my patience.
No, no, no, not so. I did not think thou wast
within hearing.
...to handle you.
No abuse, Hal, o’ mine honor, no abuse.
...know not what?
No abuse, Hal.
... No abuse?
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.
...dead elm, answer.
The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable,
and his face is Lucifer’s privy kitchen,
where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For
the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the
devil blinds him too.
...For the women?
For one of them, she’s in hell already and
burns poor souls. For th’ other, I owe her money,
and whether she be damned for that I know not.
...I warrant you.
No, I think thou art not. I think thou art quit
for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon
thee for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house
contrary to the law, for the which I think thou wilt
howl.
...says your Grace?
His grace says that which his flesh rebels
against.
...good night.
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the
night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked.
More knocking at the
door?
(Bardolph returns.)
How now, what’s the
matter?
...door for you.
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.
...care of thyself.
Farewell, farewell.
He exits with Bardolph, Page, and Musicians.
ACT 3
Scene 2
...an excellent thing.
Enter Falstaff.
...good Sir John.
I am glad to see you well, good Master
Robert Shallow.—Master Sure-card, as I think?
...commission with me.
Good Master Silence, it well befits you
should be of the peace.
...Worship is welcome.
Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you
provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?
...Will you sit?
They sit at a table.
Let me see them, I beseech you.
...of good friends.
Is thy name Mouldy?
...’t please you.
’Tis the more time thou wert used.
...very well said.
Prick him.
...out than I.
Go to. Peace, Mouldy. You shall go. Mouldy,
it is time you were spent.
...me see.—Simon Shadow!
Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under.
He’s like to be a cold soldier.
...coming forwardHere, sir.
Shadow, whose son art thou?
...mother’s son, sir.
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.
...him, Sir John?
Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him,
for we have a number of shadows to fill up the
muster book.
... Thomas Wart!
Where’s he?
...coming forwardHere, sir.
Is thy name Wart?
... Yea, sir.
Thou art a very ragged wart.
...down, Sir John?
It were superfluous, for his apparel is built
upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon
pins. Prick him no more.
...prick him, sir?
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?
...have no more.
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.
...have gone, sir.
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.
...shall suffice, sir.
I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.—Who
is the next?
...o’ th’ green.
Yea, marry, let’s see Bullcalf.
...coming forwardHere, sir.
Fore God, a likely fellow. Come, prick me
Bullcalf till he roar again.
...my lord captain—
What, dost thou roar before thou art
pricked?
...a diseased man.
What disease hast thou?
...coronation day, sir.
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?
...me to dinner.
Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot
tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth,
Master Shallow.
...Saint George’s Field?
No more of that, good Master Shallow, no
more of that.
...Jane Nightwork alive?
She lives, Master Shallow.
...away with me.
Never, never. She would always say she could
not abide Master Shallow.
...her own well?
Old, old, Master Shallow.
...said I well?
We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master
Shallow.
...seen! Come, come.
Shallow, Silence, and Falstaff rise and exit.
...no base mind.
Enter Falstaff and the Justices.
Come, sir, which men shall I have?
...Mouldy and Bullcalf.
Go to, well.
...will you have?
Do you choose for me.
...Feeble, and Shadow.
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.
...with the best.
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.
...Thas, thas, thas.
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.
...such a fellow.
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.
...to the court.
Fore God, would you would, Master
Shallow.
...God keep you.
Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.
On, Bardolph. Lead the men away.
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 2
...yielder-up of breath.
Enter Falstaff and Colevile.
What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are
you, and of what place, I pray?
...of the Dale.
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.
...Sir John 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.
...thought yield me.
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.
...some gallows’ back.
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.”
...than your deserving.
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.
...heavy to mount.
Let it shine, then.
...thick to shine.
Let it do something, my good lord, that may
do me good, and call it what you will.
...art thou, Colevile.
And a famous true subject took him.
...than you have.
I know not how they sold themselves, but
thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis,
and I thank thee for thee.
...will follow you.
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.
...than you deserve.
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?
...all and gone.
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.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...shall Harry die.
Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph.
...Davy, I say!
You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.
...fellow.—Come, Sir John.
I’ll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.
Bardolph, look to our horses.
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.
... Sir John.
I come, Master Shallow, I come, Master
Shallow.
He exits.
Scene 3
...life one day.
Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy, Bardolph, and Page.
...then to bed.
Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling,
and a rich.
...Well said, Davy.
This Davy serves you for good uses. He is
your servingman and your husband.
...among so merrily.
There’s a merry heart!—Good Master Silence,
I’ll give you a health for that anon.
...merry, be merry.
I did not think Master Silence had been a
man of this mettle.
...heart lives long-a.
Well said, Master Silence.
...o’ th’ night.
Health and long life to you, Master Silence.
...ho. Who knocks?
Why, now you have done me right.
...’t not so?
’Tis so.
...court with news.
From the court? Let him come in.
Enter Pistol.
How now, Pistol?
...God save you.
What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
...news of price.
I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of
this world.
...and golden joys.
O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
...makes a fig.
What, is the old king dead?
...speak are just.
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.
...bring good news!
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!
...these pleasant days.
They exit.
Scene 5
...coronation. Dispatch, dispatch.
After them enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page.
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.
...lungs, good knight!
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.
...It doth so.
It shows my earnestness of affection—
...It doth so.
My devotion—
...doth, it doth.
As it were, to ride day and night, and not to
deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience
to shift me—
...is best, certain.
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.
...nought but truth.
I will deliver her.
...and his train.
God save thy Grace, King Hal, my royal Hal.
...imp of fame!
God save thee, my sweet boy!
...you speak?
to the King
My king, my Jove, I speak to thee, my heart!
...word.— Set on.
Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
...home with me.
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.
...of my thousand.
Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that
you heard was but a color.
...in, Sir John.
Fear no colors. Go with me to dinner.—
Come, lieutenant Pistol.—Come, Bardolph.—I
shall be sent for soon at night.
...along with him.
My lord, my lord —
...spero me contenta.
All but John of Lancaster and Chief Justice exit.