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_ ACT II SCENE IV
London. The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap.
[Enter FRANCIS and another DRAWER.]
FRANCIS.
What the devil hast thou brought there-apple-johns?
Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.
SECOND DRAWER.
Mass, thou say'st true. The Prince once set a dish
of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more
Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now take my
leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.' It ang'red
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.
[Enter third DRAWER]
THIRD DRAWER.
Dispatch! The room where they supp'd is too hot;
they'll come in straight.
FRANCIS.
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.
THIRD DRAWER.
By the mass, here will be old uds; it will be an
excellent stratagem.
SECOND DRAWER.
I'll see if I can find out Sneak.
[Exeunt second and third DRAWERS]
[Enter HOSTESS and DOLL TEARSHEET]
HOSTESS.
I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent
good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as
heart would desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as
any rose, in good truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too
much canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it
perfumes the blood ere one can say 'What's this?' How do you now?
DOLL.
Better than I was--hem.
HOSTESS.
Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold.
Lo, here comes Sir John.
[Enter FALSTAFF]
FALSTAFF. [Singing]
'When Arthur first in court'--Empty the
Jordan. [Exit FRANCIS]--[Singing]
'And was a worthy king'--
How now, Mistress Doll!
HOSTESS.
Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.
FALSTAFF.
So is all her sect; and 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 charg'd 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 that
must be you. You are the weaker vessel, as as they say, the emptier vessel.
DOLL.
Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogs-head?
There's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him;
you have not seen a hulk better stuff'd 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.
[Re-enter FRANCIS]
FRANCIS.
Sir, Ancient Pistol's below and would speak with you.
DOLL.
Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it
is the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England.
HOSTESS.
If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith!
I must live among my neighbours; I'll no swaggerers. I am in
good name and fame with the very best. Shut the door. There comes
no swaggerers here; I have not liv'd all this while to have
swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you.
FALSTAFF.
Dost thou hear, hostess?
HOSTESS.
Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes no
swaggerers here.
FALSTAFF.
Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
HOSTESS.
Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me; and your ancient
swagg'rer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick,
the debuty, t' other day; and, as he said to me--'twas no longer
ago than Wednesday last, i' good faith!--'Neighbour Quickly,'
says he--Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then--'Neighbour Quickly,'
says he 'receive those that are civil, for' said he 'you are
in an ill name.' Now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon. 'For'
says he 'you are an honest woman and well thought on, therefore take
heed what guests you receive. Receive' says he 'no swaggering
companions.' There comes none here. You would bless you to
hear what he said. No, I'll no swagg'rers.
FALSTAFF.
He's no swagg'rer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' faith;
you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He'll not
swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of
resistance. Call him up, drawer.
[Exit FRANCIS]
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 swagg'rers.
[Enter 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 cut-purse 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 damn'd 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 earn'd 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 stew'd prunes and dried cakes. A
captain! God's light, these villains will make the word as
odious as the word 'occupy'; which was an excellent good word before
it was ill sorted. Therefore captains had need look to't.
BARDOLPH.
Pray thee go down, good ancient.
FALSTAFF.
Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
PISTOL.
Not I! I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could
tear her; I'll be reveng'd of her.
PAGE.
Pray thee go down.
PISTOL.
I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damn'd lake, by
this hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile
also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors!
Have we not Hiren here?
HOSTESS.
Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i'faith;
I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
PISTOL.
These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses,
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty mile a day,
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,
And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?
HOSTESS.
By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter words.
BARDOLPH.
Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a brawl anon.
PISTOL.
Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not
Hiren here?
HOSTESS.
O' my word, Captain, there's none such here. What the
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 down stairs; I cannot endure
such a fustian rascal.
PISTOL.
Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags?
FALSTAFF.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling.
Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be nothing here.
BARDOLPH.
Come, get you down stairs.
PISTOL.
What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
[Snatching up his sword]
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine 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.
Get you down stairs.
[Drawing and driving PISTOL out]
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.
[Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH]
DOLL.
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you
whoreson little valiant villain, you!
HOSTESS.
Are you not hurt i' th' groin? Methought 'a made a
shrewd thrust at your belly.
[Re-enter BARDOLPH]
FALSTAFF.
Have you turn'd him out a 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.
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
DOLL.
Do, an thou dar'st for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll
canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
[Enter musicians]
PAGE.
The music is come, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Don. A rascal
bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quick-silver.
DOLL.
I' faith, and thou follow'dst 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, PRINCE HENRY and POINS disguised as drawers]
FALSTAFF.
Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a death's-head;
do not bid me remember mine end.
DOLL.
Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of?
FALSTAFF.
A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have made a
good pantler; 'a would ha' chipp'd bread well.
DOLL.
They say Poins has a good wit.
FALSTAFF.
He a good wit! hang him, baboon! His wit's as thick
as Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is in
a mallet.
DOLL.
Why does the Prince love him so, then?
FALSTAFF.
Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a plays at
quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off
candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys,
and jumps upon join'd-stools, and swears with a good grace, and
wears his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the Leg, and
breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other
gambol faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for
the which the Prince admits him. For the Prince himself is such
another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between
their avoirdupois.
PRINCE.
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 wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd like a parrot.
POINS.
Is it not strange that desire should so many years
outlive performance?
FALSTAFF.
Kiss me, Doll.
PRINCE.
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says
th' almanac to that?
POINS.
And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping
to his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.
FALSTAFF. Thou dost give me flattering busses.
DOLL.
By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
FALSTAFF.
I am old, I am old.
DOLL.
I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all.
FALSTAFF.
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money a
Thursday. Shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come. 'A
grows late; we'll to bed. Thou't forget me when I am gone.
DOLL.
By my troth, thou't set me a-weeping, an thou say'st so.
Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return.
Well, hearken a' th' end.
FALSTAFF.
Some sack, Francis.
PRINCE& POINS.
Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing]
FALSTAFF.
Ha! a bastard son of the King's? And art thou not
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 Grace! By my troth, welcome
to London. Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine. O Jesu,
are you come from Wales?
FALSTAFF.
Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light
flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
[Leaning his band upon DOLL]
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.
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.
Didst thou hear me?
PRINCE.
Yea; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by
Gadshill. 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 wilful abuse, and
then I know how to handle you.
FALSTAFF.
No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no abuse.
PRINCE.
Not to dispraise me, and call me pander, 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
disprais'd him before the wicked--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 prick'd 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.
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
damn'd 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 vict'lers do so. What's a joint of mutton or two
in a whole Lent?
PRINCE.
You, gentlewoman--
DOLL. What says your Grace?
FALSTAFF.
His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against.
[Knocking within]
HOSTESS.
Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door there, Francis.
[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,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one 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 vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
[Exeunt PRINCE, POINS, PETO, and BARDOLPH]
FALSTAFF.
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we
must hence, and leave it unpick'd. [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 call'd 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.
[Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH]
HOSTESS.
Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine
years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted
man--well, fare thee well.
BARDOLPH. [Within]
Mistress Tearsheet!
HOSTESS
What's the matter?
BARDOLPH. [Within]
Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
HOSTESS.
O, run Doll, run, run, good Come. [To BARDOLPH]
She comes blubber'd.--Yea, will you come, Doll?
[Exeunt.] _
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