10 20 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 410 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. Prince. I do, I will. SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. I. ACT III.-Scene 2. Before Justice Shallow's House. SHALLOW, SILENCE, MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, SERVANTS. Shal. Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence? Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. Shal. And how doth my cousin, your wife? and your fairest daughter and mine, my goddaughter Ellen? Sil. Alas! a black ousel, cousin Shallow ! Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford still, is he not? Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost. Shal. 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. Sil. You were called 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin. Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing 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 Cotswold man; you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns o' court again: . . . Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes 30 hither anon about soldiers? Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. I saw him break Skogan'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 mine old acquaintance are dead! Sil. We shall all follow, cousin. Shal. Certain, 't is 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? Is old Double of Sil. By my troth, I was not there. Shal. Jesu, Jesu, dead! a' 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 clapped i' the 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? Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. Shal. And is old Double dead? Sil. Here comes two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him. Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow? Shal. 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? Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir John Falstaff: a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader. Shal. He greets me well, sir: I knew him a good backsword man. How doth the good knight? may I ask how my lady his wife doth? Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife. Shal. 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. Bard. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. 'Phrase' call you it? By this good day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldierlike 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 90 thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing. Enter FALSTAFF. Shal. It is very just. Look! here comes good Sir John. Give me your good hand, 100 110 120 give me your worship's good hand. By my troth, you look well and bear your years very well: welcome, good Sir John. Fal. I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow. Master Surecard, as I think? Shal. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me. Fal. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace. Sil. Your good worship is welcome. Fal. Fie! this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you provided me here half-a-dozen sufficient men? Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you. Shal. 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, so: yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy! Let them appear as I call: let them do so, let them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy? Moul. Here, an't please you. Shal. What think you, Sir John? a goodlimbed fellow; young, strong, and of good friends. Fal. Is thy name Mouldy? Moul. Yea, an't please you. Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used. Shal. 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. Fal. 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? Fee. I will do my good will, sir: you can have no more. Fal. 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: 18 well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow. Fee. I would Wart might have gone, sir. Fal. I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou might'st 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. Fee. It shall suffice, sir. Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next? Shal. Peter Bullcalf o' the Green! Come, Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow! Bull. O Lord! sir, I am a diseased man. Bull. A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which I caught with ringing in the king's affairs upon his coronation-day, sir. Fal. 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? Shal. Here is two more called than your number; you must have but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner. Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's field? Fal. No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that. Shal. Ha! 't was a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive? 19 200 210 220 Fal. She lives, Master Shallow. Shal. She never could away with me. Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot Sil. That's fifty-five year ago. Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well? Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. Shal. That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, Sir John, we have. Our 240 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, SHALLOW, and SILENCE. Bull. 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 hanged, 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 250 friends: else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much. Bard. Go to; stand aside. Moul. And good Master corporal captain, for my old dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do any thing about her when I am gone; and she is old and cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir. Bard. Go to; stand aside. Fee. By my troth, I care not; a man can 260 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. Bard. Well said; thou'rt a good fellow. Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES. Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have? Shal. Four, of which you please. Bard. (Aside.) Sir, a word with you: I have 270 three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf. Fal. (Aside.) Go to; well. Shal. Come, Sir John, which four will you have? Fal. Do you choose for me. Shal. Marry then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble and Shadow. Fal. 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. Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best. 280 Fal. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, 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, 290 come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket. And this same halffaced 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. Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus. 300 Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So; very well go to: very good, exceeding good. O! give me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; thou'rt a good scab hold, there's a tester for thee. Shal. 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 310 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. Fal. These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God keep you, Master Silence : I will not use many words with you. Fare 320 you well, gentlemen both; I thank you; I must a dozen mile to-night. Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. Shal. Sir John, the Lord bless you! God God send us peace! prosper your affairs! At your return visit our house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradventure I will with ye to the court. Fal. 'Fore God, I would you would, Master Shallow. Shal. Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you. Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. [Exeunt SHALLOW and SILence. On, Bardolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt BARDOLPH, RECRUITS, ETC. 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 330 340 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 cheeseparing : he was for all the world like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife: a' was forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invincible: a' was the very genius 350 of famine; . . . a' came ever in the rearward SO of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the over-scutched huswives 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 Tilt-yard; 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 beefs. Well, I'll be acquainted with him if I return; and it shall go hard but I will 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. KING HENRY V. Now entertain conjecture of a time of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, flames Each battle sees the other's umbered face; Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents The armourers, accomplishing the knights, The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate The morning's danger, and their gesture sad Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats Presenteth them unto the gazing moon Upon his royal face there is no note His liberal eye doth give to every one, II. (1)—ACT IV.-Scene 1. KING HENRY; THREE SOLDIERS-JOHN BATES, ALEXANDER COURT, AND MICHAEL WILLIAMS. Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder? Will. Under what captain serve you? K. Hen. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. Will. A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman: I pray you, what thinks he of our estate? K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed off the next tide. Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king? K. Hen. No; nor it is not meet he should. For, though I speak it to you, I think the oking is but a man, as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions: his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are: yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army. Bates. He may show what outward courage he will, but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck, and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here. K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king: I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is. Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved. K. Hen. I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's minds. Methinks I could not die any where so contented as in the king's company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable. Will. That's more than we know. Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough if we know we are the king's subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us. Will. But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day, 50 and cry all 'We died at such a place'; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. [I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing when blood is their argument?] Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it, whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection. 70 90 K. Hen. So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him: [or if a servant, under his master's command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation.] But this is not so: the 80 king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services. [Besides there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God: war is his beadle, war is his vengeance; so that here men are punished for before-breach of the king's laws in now the king's quarrel: where they feared the death they have borne 100 life away, and where they would be safe they perish. Then, if they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited.] Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own. [Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, 110 the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained: and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to sec His greatness, and to teach others how they should prepare.] Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head; the king is not to answer it. Bates. I do not desire he should answer for 120 me; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him. K. Hen. I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed. Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our throats are cut he may be ransomed, and we ne'er the wiser. K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after. |