Chapter 85

Ch.Iust. How comes this, Sir Iohn? Fy, what a man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not asham'd to inforce a poore Widdowe to so rough a course, to come by her owne? Falst. What is the grosse summe that I owe thee? Host. Marry (if thou wer't an honest man) thy selfe, & the mony too. Thou didst sweare to mee vpon a parcell gilt Goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber at the round table, by a sea-cole fire, on Wednesday in Whitson week, when the Prince broke thy head for lik'ning him to a singing man of Windsor; Thou didst sweare to me then (as I was washing thy wound) to marry me, and make mee my Lady thy wife. Canst y deny it? Did not goodwife Keech the Butchers wife come in then, and cal me gossip Quickly? comming in to borrow a messe of Vinegar: telling vs, she had a good dish of Prawnes: whereby y didst desire to eat some: whereby I told thee they were ill for a greene wound? And didst not thou (when she was gone downe staires) desire me to be no more familiar with such poore people, saying, that ere long they should call me Madam? And did'st y not kisse me, and bid mee fetch thee 30.s? I put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny it if thou canst? Fal. My Lord, this is a poore mad soule: and she sayes vp & downe the town, that her eldest son is like you. She hath bin in good case, & the truth is, pouerty hath distracted her: but for these foolish Officers, I beseech you, I may haue redresse against them

Iust. Sir Iohn, sir Iohn, I am well acquainted with your maner of wrenching the true cause, the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of wordes, that come with such (more then impudent) sawcines from you, can thrust me from a leuell consideration, I know you ha' practis'd vpon the easie-yeelding spirit of this woman

Host. Yes in troth my Lord

Iust. Prethee peace: pay her the debt you owe her, and vnpay the villany you haue done her: the one you may do with sterling mony, & the other with currant repentance

Fal. My Lord, I will not vndergo this sneape without reply. You call honorable Boldnes, impudent Sawcinesse: If a man wil curt'sie, and say nothing, he is vertuous: No, my Lord (your humble duty reme[m]bred) I will not be your sutor. I say to you, I desire deliu'rance from these Officers being vpon hasty employment in the Kings Affaires

Iust. You speake, as hauing power to do wrong: But answer in the effect of your Reputation, and satisfie the poore woman

Falst. Come hither Hostesse. Enter M[aster]. Gower] Ch.Iust. Now Master Gower; What newes? Gow. The King (my Lord) and Henrie Prince of Wales Are neere at hand: The rest the Paper telles

Falst. As I am a Gentleman

Host. Nay, you said so before

Fal. As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words of it Host. By this Heauenly ground I tread on, I must be faine to pawne both my Plate, and the Tapistry of my dyning Chambers

Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the onely drinking: and for thy walles a pretty slight Drollery, or the Storie of the Prodigall, or the Germane hunting in Waterworke, is worth a thousand of these Bed-hangings, and these Flybitten Tapistries. Let it be tenne pound (if thou canst.) Come, if it were not for thy humors, there is not a better Wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy Action: Come, thou must not bee in this humour with me, come, I know thou was't set on to this

Host. Prethee (Sir Iohn) let it be but twenty Nobles, I loath to pawne my Plate, in good earnest la

Fal. Let it alone, Ile make other shift: you'l be a fool still

Host. Well, you shall haue it although I pawne my Gowne. I hope you'l come to Supper: You'l pay me altogether? Fal. Will I liue? Go with her, with her: hooke-on, hooke-on

Host. Will you haue Doll Teare-sheet meet you at supper? Fal. No more words. Let's haue her

Ch.Iust. I haue heard bitter newes

Fal. What's the newes (my good Lord?) Ch.Iu. Where lay the King last night? Mes. At Basingstoke my Lord

Fal. I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the newes my Lord? Ch.Iust. Come all his Forces backe? Mes. No: Fifteene hundred Foot, fiue hundred Horse Are march'd vp to my Lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland, and the Archbishop

Fal. Comes the King backe from Wales, my noble L[ord]? Ch.Iust. You shall haue Letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good M[aster]. Gowre

Fal. My Lord

Ch.Iust. What's the matter? Fal. Master Gowre, shall I entreate you with mee to dinner? Gow. I must waite vpon my good Lord heere. I thanke you, good Sir Iohn

Ch.Iust. Sir Iohn, you loyter heere too long being you are to take Souldiers vp, in Countries as you go

Fal. Will you sup with me, Master Gowre? Ch.Iust. What foolish Master taught you these manners, Sir Iohn? Fal. Master Gower, if they become mee not, hee was a Foole that taught them mee. This is the right Fencing grace (my Lord) tap for tap, and so part faire

Ch.Iust. Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great Foole.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page.

Prin. Trust me, I am exceeding weary

Poin. Is it come to that? I had thought wearines durst not haue attach'd one of so high blood

Prin. It doth me: though it discolours the complexion of my Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth it not shew vildely in me, to desire small Beere? Poin. Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied, as to remember so weake a Composition

Prince. Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore Creature, Small Beere. But indeede these humble considerations make me out of loue with my Greatnesse. What a disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know thy face to morrow? Or to take note how many paire of Silk stockings y hast? (Viz. these, and those that were thy peach-colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inuentorie of thy shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other, for vse. But that the Tennis-Court-keeper knowes better then I, for it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st not Racket there, as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy Low Countries, haue made a shift to eate vp thy Holland

Poin. How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so hard, you should talke so idlely? Tell me how many good yong Princes would do so, their Fathers lying so sicke, as yours is? Prin. Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz? Poin. Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing

Prin. It shall serue among wittes of no higher breeding then thine

Poin. Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that you'l tell

Prin. Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I should be sad now my Father is sicke: albeit I could tell to thee (as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend) I could be sad, and sad indeed too

Poin. Very hardly, vpon such a subiect

Prin. Thou think'st me as farre in the Diuels Booke, as thou, and Falstaffe, for obduracie and persistencie. Let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my hart bleeds inwardly, that my Father is so sicke: and keeping such vild company as thou art, hath in reason taken from me, all ostentation of sorrow

Poin. The reason? Prin. What would'st thou think of me, if I shold weep? Poin. I would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite

Prin. It would be euery mans thought: and thou art a blessed Fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes: neuer a mans thought in the world, keepes the Rode-way better then thine: euery man would thinke me an Hypocrite indeede. And what accites your most worshipful thought to thinke so? Poin. Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so much ingraffed to Falstaffe

Prin. And to thee

Pointz. Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it with mine owne eares: the worst that they can say of me is, that I am a second Brother, and that I am a proper Fellowe of my hands: and those two things I confesse I canot helpe. Looke, looke, here comes Bardolfe

Prince. And the Boy that I gaue Falstaffe, he had him from me Christian, and see if the fat villain haue not transform'd him Ape. Enter Bardolfe.

Bar. Saue your Grace

Prin. And yours, most Noble Bardolfe

Poin. Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull Foole, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? what a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it such a matter to get a Pottle-pots Maiden-head? Page. He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red Lattice, and I could discerne no part of his face from the window: at last I spy'd his eyes, and me thought he had made two holes in the Ale-wiues new Petticoat, & peeped through

Prin. Hath not the boy profited? Bar. Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away

Page. Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away

Prin. Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy? Page. Marry (my Lord) Althea dream'd, she was deliuer'd of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him hir dream

Prince. A Crownes-worth of good Interpretation: There it is, Boy

Poin. O that this good Blossome could bee kept from Cankers: Well, there is six pence to preserue thee

Bard. If you do not make him be hang'd among you, the gallowes shall be wrong'd

Prince. And how doth thy Master, Bardolph? Bar. Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces comming to Towne. There's a Letter for you

Poin. Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the Martlemas, your Master? Bard. In bodily health Sir

Poin. Marry, the immortall part needes a Physitian: but that moues not him: though that bee sicke, it dyes not

Prince. I do allow this Wen to bee as familiar with me, as my dogge: and he holds his place, for looke you he writes

Poin.

Letter.

Iohn Falstaffe Knight: (Euery man must know that, as oft as hee hath occasion to name himselfe:) Euen like those that are kinne to the King, for they neuer pricke their finger, but they say, there is som of the kings blood spilt. How comes that (sayes he) that takes vpon him not to conceiue? the answer is as ready as a borrowed cap: I am the Kings poore Cosin, Sir

Prince. Nay, they will be kin to vs, but they wil fetch it from Iaphet. But to the Letter: - Sir Iohn Falstaffe, Knight, to the Sonne of the King, neerest his Father, Harrie Prince of Wales, greeting

Poin. Why this is a Certificate

Prin. Peace. I will imitate the honourable Romaines in breuitie

Poin. Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short-winded. I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leaue thee. Bee not too familiar with Pointz, for hee misuses thy Fauours so much, that he sweares thou art to marrie his Sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell. Thine, by yea and no: which is as much as to say, as thou vsest him. Iacke Falstaffe with my Familiars: Iohn with my Brothers and Sister: & Sir Iohn, with all Europe. My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make him eate it

Prin. That's to make him eate twenty of his Words. But do you vse me thus Ned? Must I marry your Sister? Poin. May the Wench haue no worse Fortune. But I neuer said so

Prin. Well, thus we play the Fooles with the time, & the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and mocke vs: Is your Master heere in London? Bard. Yes my Lord

Prin. Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede in the old Franke? Bard. At the old place my Lord, in East-cheape

Prin. What Company? Page. Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church

Prin. Sup any women with him? Page. None my Lord, but old Mistris Quickly, and M[istris]. Doll Teare-sheet

Prin. What Pagan may that be? Page. A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman of my Masters

Prin. Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the Towne-Bull? Shall we steale vpon them (Ned) at Supper? Poin. I am your shadow, my Lord, Ile follow you

Prin. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your Master that I am yet in Towne. There's for your silence

Bar. I haue no tongue, sir

Page. And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it

Prin. Fare ye well: go. This Doll Teare-sheet should be some Rode

Poin. I warrant you, as common as the way betweene S[aint]. Albans, and London

Prin. How might we see Falstaffe bestow himselfe to night, in his true colours, and not our selues be seene? Poin. Put on two Leather Ierkins, and Aprons, and waite vpon him at his Table, like Drawers

Prin. From a God, to a Bull? A heauie declension: It was Ioues case. From a Prince, to a Prentice, a low transformation, that shall be mine: for in euery thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me Ned.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Northumberland, his Ladie, and Harrie Percies Ladie.

North. I prethee louing Wife, and gentle Daughter, Giue an euen way vnto my rough Affaires: Put not you on the visage of the Times, And be like them to Percie, troublesome

Wife. I haue giuen ouer, I will speak no more, Do what you will: your Wisedome, be your guide

North. Alas (sweet Wife) my Honor is at pawne, And but my going, nothing can redeeme it

La. Oh yet, for heauens sake, go not to these Warrs; The Time was (Father) when you broke your word, When you were more endeer'd to it, then now, When your owne Percy, when my heart-deereHarry, Threw many a Northward looke, to see his Father Bring vp his Powres: but he did long in vaine. Who then perswaded you to stay at home? There were two Honors lost; Yours, and your Sonnes. For Yours, may heauenly glory brighten it: For His, it stucke vpon him, as the Sunne In the gray vault of Heauen: and by his Light Did all the Cheualrie of England moue To do braue Acts. He was (indeed) the Glasse Wherein the Noble-Youth did dresse themselues. He had no Legges, that practic'd not his Gate: And speaking thicke (which Nature made his blemish) Became the Accents of the Valiant. For those that could speake low, and tardily, Would turne their owne Perfection, to Abuse, To seeme like him. So that in Speech, in Gate, In Diet, in Affections of delight, In Militarie Rules, Humors of Blood, He was the Marke, and Glasse, Coppy, and Booke, That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous! him, O Miracle of Men! Him did you leaue (Second to none) vn-seconded by you, To looke vpon the hideous God of Warre, In dis-aduantage, to abide a field, Where nothing but the sound of Hotspurs Name Did seeme defensible: so you left him. Neuer, O neuer doe his Ghost the wrong, To hold your Honor more precise and nice With others, then with him. Let them alone: The Marshall and the Arch-bishop are strong. Had my sweet Harry had but halfe their Numbers, To day might I (hanging on Hotspurs Necke) Haue talk'd of Monmouth's Graue

North. Beshrew your heart, (Faire Daughter) you doe draw my Spirits from me, With new lamenting ancient Ouer-sights. But I must goe, and meet with Danger there, Or it will seeke me in another place, And finde me worse prouided

Wife. O flye to Scotland, Till that the Nobles, and the armed Commons, Haue of their Puissance made a little taste

Lady. If they get ground, and vantage of the King, Then ioyne you with them, like a Ribbe of Steele, To make Strength stronger. But, for all our loues, First let them trye themselues. So did your Sonne, He was so suffer'd; so came I a Widow: And neuer shall haue length of Life enough, To raine vpon Remembrance with mine Eyes, That it may grow, and sprowt, as high as Heauen, For Recordation to my Noble Husband

North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my Minde As with the Tyde, swell'd vp vnto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neyther way. Faine would I goe to meet the Arch-bishop, But many thousand Reasons hold me backe. I will resolue for Scotland: there am I, Till Time and Vantage craue my company.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter two Drawers.

1.Drawer. What hast thou brought there? Apple-Iohns? Thou know'st Sir Iohn cannot endure an Apple-Iohn

2.Draw. Thou say'st true: the Prince once set a Dish of Apple-Iohns before him, and told him there were fiue more Sir Iohns: and, putting off his Hat, said, I will now take my leaue of these sixe drie, round, old-wither'd Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but hee hath forgot that

1.Draw. Why then couer, and set them downe: and see if thou canst finde out Sneakes Noyse; Mistris Teare-sheet would faine haue some Musique

2.Draw. Sirrha, heere will be the Prince, and Master Points, anon: and they will put on two of our Ierkins, and Aprons, and Sir Iohn must not know of it: Bardolph hath brought word

1.Draw. Then here will be old Vtis: it will be an excellent stratagem

2.Draw. Ile see if I can finde out Sneake. Enter.

Enter Hostesse, and Dol.

Host. Sweet-heart, me thinkes now you are in an excellent good temperalitie: your Pulsidge beates as extraordinarily, as heart would desire; and your Colour (I warrant you) is as red as any Rose: But you haue drunke too much Canaries, and that's a maruellous searching Wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere wee can say what's this. How doe you now? Dol. Better then I was: Hem

Host. Why that was well said: A good heart's worth Gold. Looke, here comes Sir Iohn. Enter Falstaffe.

Falst. When Arthur first in Court - (emptie the Iordan) and was a worthy King: How now Mistris Dol? Host. Sick of a Calme: yea, good-sooth

Falst. So is all her Sect: if they be once in a Calme, they are sick

Dol. You muddie Rascall, is that all the comfort you giue me? Falst. You make fat Rascalls, Mistris Dol

Dol. I make them? Gluttonie and Diseases make them, I make them not

Falst. If the Cooke make the Gluttonie, you helpe to make the Diseases (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch of you: Grant that, my poore Vertue, grant that

Dol. I marry, our Chaynes, and our Iewels

Falst. Your Brooches, Pearles, and Owches: For to serue brauely, is to come halting off: you know, to come off the Breach, with his Pike bent brauely, and to Surgerie brauely; to venture vpon the charg'd-Chambers brauely

Host. Why this is the olde fashion: you two neuer meete, but you fall to some discord: you are both (in good troth) as Rheumatike as two drie Tostes, you cannot one beare with anothers Confirmities. What the good-yere? One must beare, and that must bee you: you are the weaker Vessell; as they say, the emptier Vessell

Dol. Can a weake emptie Vessell beare such a huge full Hogs-head? There's a whole Marchants Venture of Burdeux-Stuffe in him: you haue not seene a Hulke better stufft in the Hold. Come, Ile be friends with thee Iacke: Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I shall euer see thee againe, or no, there is no body cares. Enter Drawer.

Drawer. Sir, Ancient Pistoll is below, and would speake with you

Dol. Hang him, swaggering Rascall, let him not come hither: it is the foule-mouth'dst Rogue in England

Host. If hee swagger, let him not come here: I must liue amongst my Neighbors, Ile no Swaggerers: I am in good name, and fame, with the very best: shut the doore, there comes no Swaggerers heere: I haue not liu'd all this while, to haue swaggering now: shut the doore, I pray you

Falst. Do'st thou heare, Hostesse? Host. 'Pray you pacifie your selfe (Sir Iohn) there comes no Swaggerers heere

Falst. Do'st thou heare? it is mine Ancient

Host. Tilly-fally (Sir Iohn) neuer tell me, your ancient Swaggerer comes not in my doores. I was before Master Tisick the Deputie, the other day: and as hee said to me, it was no longer agoe then Wednesday last: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee;) Master Dombe, our Minister, was by then: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee) receiue those that are Ciuill; for (sayth hee) you are in an ill Name: now hee said so, I can tell whereupon: for (sayes hee) you are an honest Woman, and well thought on; therefore take heede what Guests you receiue: Receiue (sayes hee) no swaggering Companions. There comes none heere. You would blesse you to heare what hee said. No, Ile no Swaggerers

Falst. Hee's no Swaggerer (Hostesse:) a tame Cheater, hee: you may stroake him as gently, as a Puppie Greyhound: hee will not swagger with a Barbarie Henne, if her feathers turne backe in any shew of resistance. Call him vp (Drawer.) Host. Cheater, call you him? I will barre no honest man my house, nor no Cheater: but I doe not loue swaggering; I am the worse when one sayes, swagger: Feele Masters, how I shake: looke you, I warrant you

Dol. So you doe, Hostesse

Host. Doe I? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an Aspen Leafe: I cannot abide Swaggerers. Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy.

Pist. 'Saue you, Sir Iohn

Falst. Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I charge you with a Cup of Sacke: doe you discharge vpon mine Hostesse

Pist. I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two Bullets

Falst. She is Pistoll-proofe (Sir) you shall hardly offend her

Host. Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I will drinke no more then will doe me good, for no mans pleasure, I

Pist. Then to you (Mistris Dorothie) I will charge you

Dol. Charge me? I scorne you (scuruie Companion) what? you poore, base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-Mate: away you mouldie Rogue, away; I am meat for your Master

Pist. I know you, Mistris Dorothie

Dol. Away you Cut-purse Rascall, you filthy Bung, away: By this Wine, Ile thrust my Knife in your mouldie Chappes, if you play the sawcie Cuttle with me. Away you Bottle-Ale Rascall, you Basket-hilt stale Iugler, you. Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two Points on your shoulder? much

Pist. I will murther your Ruffe, for this

Host. No, good Captaine Pistol: not heere, sweete Captaine

Dol. Captaine? thou abhominable damn'd Cheater, art thou not asham'd to be call'd Captaine? If Captaines were of my minde, they would trunchion you out, for taking their Names vpon you, before you haue earn'd them. You a Captaine? you slaue, for what? for tearing a poore Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-house? Hee a Captaine? hang him Rogue, hee liues vpon mouldie stew'd-Pruines, and dry'de Cakes. A Captaine? These Villaines will make the word Captaine odious: Therefore Captaines had neede looke to it

Bard. 'Pray thee goe downe, good Ancient

Falst. Hearke thee hither, Mistris Dol

Pist. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporall Bardolph, I could teare her: Ile be reueng'd on her

Page. 'Pray thee goe downe

Pist. Ile see her damn'd first: to Pluto's damn'd Lake, to the Infernall Deepe, where Erebus and Tortures vilde also. Hold Hooke and Line, say I: Downe: downe Dogges, downe Fates: haue wee not Hiren here? Host. Good Captaine Peesel be quiet, it is very late: I beseeke you now, aggrauate your Choler

Pist. These be good Humors indeede. Shall PackHorses, and hollow-pamper'd Iades of Asia, which cannot goe but thirtie miles a day, compare with Cæsar, and with Caniballs, and Troian Greekes? nay, rather damne them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roare: shall wee fall foule for Toyes? Host. By my troth Captaine, these are very bitter words

Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a Brawle anon

Pist. Die men, like Dogges; giue Crownes like Pinnes: Haue we not Hiren here? Host. On my word (Captaine) there's none such here. What the good-yere, doe you thinke I would denye her? I pray be quiet

Pist. Then feed, and be fat (my faire Calipolis.) Come, giue me some Sack, Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contente. Feare wee broad-sides? No, let the Fiend giue fire: Giue me some Sack: and Sweet-heart lye thou there: Come wee to full Points here, and are et cetera's nothing? Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet

Pist. Sweet Knight, I kisse thy Neaffe: what? wee haue seene the seuen Starres

Dol. Thrust him downe stayres, I cannot endure such a Fustian Rascall

Pist. Thrust him downe stayres? know we not Galloway Nagges? Fal. Quoit him downe (Bardolph) like a shoue-groat shilling: nay, if hee doe nothing but speake nothing, hee shall be nothing here

Bard. Come, get you downe stayres

Pist. What? shall wee haue Incision? shall wee embrew? then Death rocke me asleepe, abridge my dolefull dayes: why then let grieuous, gastly, gaping Wounds, vntwin'd the Sisters three: Come Atropos, I say

Host. Here's good stuffe toward

Fal. Giue me my Rapier, Boy

Dol. I prethee Iack, I prethee doe not draw

Fal. Get you downe stayres