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_ ACT III SCENE II
Gloucestershire. Before Justice, SHALLOW'S house.
[Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY,
SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and servants behind.]
SHALLOW.
Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir;
give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth
my good cousin Silence?
SILENCE.
Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
SHALLOW.
And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your
fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?
SILENCE.
Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!
SHALLOW.
By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin William is
become a good scholar; he is at Oxford still, is he not?
SILENCE.
Indeed, sir, to my cost.
SHALLOW.
'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 call'd 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin.
SHALLOW.
By the mass, I was call'd anything; and I would have done
anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little
John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis
Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsole man--you had not four
such swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of 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,
boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.
SILENCE.
This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?
SHALLOW.
The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break
Scoggin's head at the court gate, when '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.
SHALLOW.
Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as
the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good
yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?
SILENCE.
By my troth, I was not there.
SHALLOW.
Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?
SILENCE.
Dead, sir.
SHALLOW.
Jesu, Jesu, dead! 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 clapp'd i' th' clout at twelve
score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and
fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to
see. How a score of ewes now?
SILENCE.
Thereafter as they be--a score of good ewes may be
worth ten pounds.
SHALLOW.
And is old Double dead?
[Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him]
SILENCE.
Here come two of Sir John Falstaffs men, as I think.
SHALLOW.
Good morrow, honest gentlemen.
BARDOLPH.
I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?
SHALLOW.
I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this
county, and one of the King's justices of the peace. What is your
good pleasure with me?
BARDOLPH.
My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir
John Falstaff--a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most
gallant leader.
SHALLOW.
He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good back-sword
man. How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth?
BARDOLPH.
Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than
with a wife.
SHALLOW.
It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed
too. 'Better accommodated!' It is good; yea, indeed, is it.
Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable.
'Accommodated!' It comes of accommodo. Very good; a good phrase.
BARDOLPH.
Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. 'Phrase' call you it?
By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the
word with my sword to be a 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.
[Enter FALSTAFF]
SHALLOW.
It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. Give
me your good hand, give me your worship's good hand. By my
troth, you like well and bear your years very well. Welcome, good
Sir John.
FALSTAFF.
I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert
Shallow. Master 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, so, so,--so, so--yea,
marry, sir. Rafe 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-limb'd 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 us'd.
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 prick'd 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 prick'd me; there are
other men fitter to go out than I.
FALSTAFF.
Go to; peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is
time you were spent.
MOULDY.
Spent!
SHALLOW.
Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; know you where you
are? For th' other, Sir John--let me see. Simon Shadow!
FALSTAFF.
Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's like
to be a cold soldier.
SHALLOW.
Where's Shadow?
SHADOW. Here, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Shadow, whose son art thou?
SHADOW.
My mother's son, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Thy mother's son! Like enough; and thy father's shadow.
So the son of the female is the shadow of the male. It is
often so indeed; but much of the father's substance!
SHALLOW.
Do you like him, Sir John?
FALSTAFF.
Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him; for we have
a number of shadows fill up the muster-book.
SHALLOW.
Thomas Wart!
FALSTAFF.
Where's he?
WART.
Here, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Is thy name Wart?
WART.
Yea, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Thou art a very ragged wart.
SHALLOW.
Shall I prick him, Sir John?
FALSTAFF.
It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back,
and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more.
SHALLOW.
Ha, ha, ha! You can do it, sir; you can do it. I commend
you well. Francis Feeble!
FEEBLE.
Here, sir.
FALSTAFF.
What trade art thou, Feeble?
FEEBLE.
A woman's tailor, sir.
SHALLOW.
Shall I prick him, sir?
FALSTAFF.
You may; but if he had been a man's tailor, he'd ha'
prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's
battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?
FEEBLE.
I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.
FALSTAFF.
Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, courageous
Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most
magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor--well, Master
Shallow, deep, Master Shallow.
FEEBLE.
I would Wart might have gone, sir.
FALSTAFF.
I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst mend
him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private
soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that
suffice, most forcible Feeble.
FEEBLE.
It shall suffice, sir.
FALSTAFF.
I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?
SHALLOW.
Peter Bullcalf o' th' green!
FALSTAFF.
Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.
BULLCALF.
Here, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf
till he roar again.
BULLCALF.
O Lord! good my lord captain-
FALSTAFF.
What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd?
BULLCALF.
O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man.
FALSTAFF.
What disease hast thou?
BULLCALF.
A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught
with ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will
have away thy cold; and I will take such order that thy friends
shall ring for thee. Is here all?
SHALLOW.
Here is two more call'd than your number. You must
have but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.
FALSTAFF.
Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry
dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW.
O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in
the windmill in Saint George's Field?
FALSTAFF.
No more of that, Master Shallow, no more of that.
SHALLOW.
Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive?
FALSTAFF.
She lives, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW.
She never could away with me.
FALSTAFF.
Never, never; she would always say she could not
abide Master Shallow.
SHALLOW.
By the mass, I could anger her to th' heart. She was
then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?
FALSTAFF.
Old, old, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW.
Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old;
certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork, by old Nightwork,
before I came to Clement's Inn.
SILENCE.
That's fifty-five year ago.
SHALLOW.
Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that
this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?
FALSTAFF.
We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW.
That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith,
Sir John, we have. Our watchword was 'Hem, boys!' Come, let's to
dinner; come, let's to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have
seen! Come, come.
[Exeunt FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES]
BULLCALF.
Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and
here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In
very truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd, sir, as go. And yet, for
mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am
unwilling and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with
my friends; else, sir, I did not care for mine own part so much.
BARDOLPH.
Go to; stand aside.
MOULDY.
And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame's
sake, stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when
I am gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself. You shall
have forty, sir.
BARDOLPH.
Go to; stand aside.
FEEBLE.
By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe
God a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An't be my destiny, so;
an't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's Prince; and,
let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for
the next.
BARDOLPH.
Well said; th'art a good fellow.
FEEBLE.
Faith, I'll bear no base mind.
[Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES ]
FALSTAFF.
Come, sir, which men shall I have?
SHALLOW.
Four of which you please.
BARDOLPH.
Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to free
Mouldy and Bullcalf.
FALSTAFF.
Go to; well.
SHALLOW.
Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
FALSTAFF.
Do you choose for me.
SHALLOW.
Marry, then--Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.
FALSTAFF.
Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home
till you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow you
come unto it. I will none of you.
SHALLOW.
Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are
your likeliest men, and I would have you serv'd with the best.
FALSTAFF.
Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man?
Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big
assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit, Master Shallow.
Here's Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is. 'A 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-fac'd fellow, Shadow--give me this man. He
presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great
aim level at the edge of a penknife. And, for a retreat--how
swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give me the
spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a caliver into
Wart's hand, Bardolph.
BARDOLPH.
Hold, Wart. Traverse--thus, thus, thus.
FALSTAFF.
Come, manage me your caliver. So--very well. Go to;
very good; exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old,
chopt, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; th'art a good scab.
Hold, there's a tester for thee.
SHALLOW.
He is not his craft's master, he doth not do it right.
I remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn--I
was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show--there was a little quiver
fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus; and 'a would
about and about, and come you in and come you in. 'Rah, tah,
tah!' would 'a say; 'Bounce!' would 'a say; and away again
would 'a go, and again would 'a come. I shall ne'er see such a fellow.
FALSTAFF.
These fellows will do well. Master Shallow, God keep
you! Master Silence, I will not use many words with you: Fare you
well! Gentlemen both, I thank you. I must a dozen mile to-night.
Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.
SHALLOW.
Sir John, the Lord bless you; God prosper your
affairs; God send us peace! At your return, visit our house; let our
old acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye to the court.
FALSTAFF.
Fore God, would you would.
SHALLOW.
Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you.
FALSTAFF.
Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.
[Exeunt JUSTICES]
On, Bardolph; lead the men away.
[Exeunt all but FALSTAFF]
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 starv'd 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 'a was naked, he was for all the world like a fork'd radish,
with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. 'A was so
forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invisible.
'A was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and
the whores call'd him mandrake. 'A came ever in the rearward of
the fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutch'd huswifes
that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his fancies
or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire,
and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn
brother to him; and I'll be sworn 'a ne'er saw him but once in
the Tiltyard; and then he burst his head for crowding among the
marshal's men. I saw it, and told John a 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 beeves. 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.
[Exit.] _
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