Act II, Scene iv

[Enter two Drawers.]

FIRST DRAWER.:

What the devil hast thou brought there? apple-johns?

thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.

SECOND DRAWER.:

Mass, thou sayest 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 angered him to the heart: but he hath

forgot that.

FIRST DRAWER.:

Why, then, cover, and set them down: and see if thou canst find out

Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music.

Dispatch: The room where they supped is too hot; they'll come in

straight.

SECOND DRAWER.:

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.

FIRST DRAWER.:

By the mass, here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent

stratagem.

SECOND DRAWER.:

I'll see if I can find out Sneak.

[Exit.]

[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 First Drawer.] — [Singing] "And was a worthy king."

How now, Mistress Doll!

HOSTESS.:

Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.

FALSTAFF.:

So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick.

DOLL.:

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 charged 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 hogshead? there's a whole

merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk

better stuffed 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 First Drawer.]

FIRST DRAWER.:

Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak with you.

DOLL.:

Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not come hither: it is the

foul-mouthed'st 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 lived 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: your ancient swaggerer 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 swaggerers.

FALSTAFF.:

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.

[Exit First Drawer.]

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 swaggerers.

[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 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 damned 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 earned 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 stewed 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 revenged of her.

PAGE.:

Pray thee go down.

PISTOL.:

I'll see her damned first; to Pluto's damned lake, by this

hand, to the 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 Trojan 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 nothing?

FALSTAFF.:

Pistol, I would be quiet.

PISTOL.:

Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: 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' the groin? methought a' made a shrewd

thrust at your belly.

[Re-enter Bardolph.]

FALSTAFF.:

Have you turned him out o' doors?

BARDOLPH.:

Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, sir, i'

the shoulder.

FALSTAFF.:

A rascal! to brave me!

DOLL.:

Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou

sweatest! 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 darest for thy heart: an thou dost, I'll canvass

thee between a pair of sheets.

[Enter Music.]

PAGE.:

The music is come, sir.

FALSTAFF.:

Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal

bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quicksilver.

DOLL.:

I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou whoreson

little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting

o' days and foining o' 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' chipped 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

joined-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, whether the withered elder hath not his poll clawed

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 the

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 o'

Thursday: shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come: it

grows late; we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me when I am gone.

DOLL.:

By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping, an thou sayest so:

prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return: well,

hearken at the end.

FALSTAFF.:

Some sack, Francis.

PRINCE & POINS.

Anon, anon, sir.

[Coming forward.]

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.

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

Gad's-hill: 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 pantler and bread-chipper and I

know not what!

FALSTAFF.:

No abuse, Hal.

POINS.:

No abuse!

FALSTAFF.:

No abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before

the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him; 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 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

outbids him too.

PRINCE.:

For the women?

FALSTAFF.:

For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns poor souls.

For the other, I owe her money; and whether she be damned 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 victuallers 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 the 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 unpicked.

[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 called 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 Doll: come.[She comes blubbered.]

Yea, will you come, Doll?

[Exeunt.]