All language subtitles for The.Hollow.Crown.S01E03.720p.BluRay.x265

There thou makest me sad
and makest me sin in envy

that my Lord Northumberland should be
the father to so blest a son.

Whilst I see riot and dishonour
stain the brow of my young Harry.

He doth it as like one of these
harlotry players as I ever see.

There is a virtuous man whom I've
often noted in thy company,

but I know not his name.

Falstaff!

My liege, I did deny no prisoners.

Send me your prisoners
by the speediest means

Or you shall hear in such a kind
from us as will displease you.

I speak not this in estimation
of what I think might be,

but what I know is ruminated,
plotted and set down.

Why, it cannot choose
but be a noble plot.

And then the power of Scotland
and of York, to join with Mortimer.

I have a truant been to chivalry,

Yet this before my father's majesty,

I will, try fortune with him
in a single fight.

Doomsday is near. Die all...

Die merrily!

I am the Prince of Wales
and think not, Percy,

To share with me in glory any more.

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There is Percy!

Percy I killed myself
and saw thee dead.

Lord, lord,
how this world is given to lying.

Sirrah, you giant.

What says the doctor to my water?

He said, sir, the water itself was
a good healthy water but,

for the party that owned it, he might
have more diseases than he knew for.

Men of all sorts take a pride
to gird at me.

The brain of this
foolish-compounded clay, man,

is not able to invent anything
that tends to laughter,

more than I invent
or is invented on me.

I am not only witty in myself, but
the cause that wit is in other men.

Thou whoreson mandrake,

thou art fitter to be worn in my cap
than to wait at my heels.

Where's Bardolph?

He's gone into Smithfield
to buy your worship a horse.

An I could get me but a wife
in the stews,

I were manned, horsed, and wived.

Noble earl, I bring you certain
news from Shrewsbury.

Good, and God will?

As good as heart can wish.

The king is almost wounded
to the death

and, in the fortune of my lord your
son, Prince Harry slain outright.

How is this derived?
Saw you the field?

Came you from Shrewsbury?

I spake with one, my lord,
that came from thence.

Here comes more news.

Yea, this man's brow,
like to a title-leaf,

foretells the nature
of the tragic volume.

Say, Hastings,
didst thou come from Shrewsbury?

I ran from Shrewsbury,
my noble lord,

Where hateful death put on his
ugliest mask to fright our party.

How doth my son and brother?

Thou tremblest and the whiteness
in thy cheek

Is apter than thy tongue
to tell thy errand.

Douglas is living
and your brother yet,

But for my lord your son...

Why, he is dead. See what a ready
tongue suspicion hath.

You are too great
to be by me gainsaid,

Your spirit is too true,
your fears too certain.

Yet, for all this,
say not that Percy's dead.

I see a strange
confession in thine eye.

Thou shakest thy head and hold'st it
fear or sin to speak a truth.

I cannot think, my lord,
your son is dead.

I am sorry that I should force you
to believe that which

I would to God I had not seen.

But these mine eyes
saw him in bloody state.

His death, whose spirit lent a fire

even to the dullest peasant in
his camp, being bruited once,

took fire and heat away from the
best tempered courage in his troops.

So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's
loss, fly from the field.

The sum of all
Is that the king hath won

and hath sent out a speedy power
to encounter you, my lord.

For this I shall have
time enough to mourn.

Let heaven kiss earth!

Now let not nature's hand keep
the wild flood confined!

Let order die and darkness
be the burier of the dead!

Sweet earl,
divorce not wisdom from your honour.

The lives of all your loving
complices lean on your health,

the which, if you give o'er to
stormy passion, must perforce decay.

We all that are engaged to this loss
knew that we ventured on such

dangerous seas that if we wrought
our life 'twas ten to one.

I hear for certain -
and do speak the truth...

the gentle Archbishop of York is up
with well appointed powers.

I knew of this before but,
to speak truth,

this present grief
had wiped it from my mind.

Sir John Falstaff!

Here comes that nobleman that
committed the Prince to prison.

Boy, tell him I'm deaf.
Sir John.

You must speak louder,
my master is deaf.

Sir John.

A young knave and begging?
Is there not wars?

Is there not employment? Do not
the rebels need soldiers?

You mistake me, sir.

Why, sir, did I say
you were an honest man?

Setting my knighthood
and my soldiership aside,

I'd lied in my throat,
if I'd said so.

I pray you, sir,
then set your knighthood

and our soldiership aside
and give me leave to tell you,

you lie in your throat if you say
I am any other than an honest man.

I give thee leave to tell me so.
Hence, avaunt!

Sir, the Lord Chief Justice
would speak with you.

My good lord. God give your lordship
good time of day.

I'm glad to see
your lordship abroad.

I heardsay your lordship was sick.

Your lordship, though not clean
past your youth, hath yet some

smack of age in you, some relish
of the saltness of time and I must

humbly beseech your lordship to have
a reverent care of your health.

Sir John, I sent for you before
your expedition to Shrewsbury.

An't please your lordship, I hear
his majesty is returned
with some discomfort.

I talk not of his majesty.

You would not come
when I sent for you.

And I hear, moreover,

his highness is fallen into this
same whoreson apoplexy.

Well, God mend him.
I pray you, let me speak with you.

This apoplexy is, as I take it,
a kind of lethargy,

an't please your lordship,
a kind of sleeping in the blood,

a whoreson tingling.

What tell you me of it,
be it as it is.

It hath its original
from much grief,

from study
and perturbation of the brain.

I've read the cause of his effects,
a kind of deafness.

I think you are fallen
into the disease,

for you hear not what I say to you.

Very well, my lord, very well.

Rather, an't please you, it is
the disease of not listening,

the malady of not marking,
that I am troubled withal.

I sent for you, when were
matters against you for your life,

to come and speak with me.

As I was then advised by my learned
counsel in the laws of soldiery,

I did not come.

Well, the truth is, Sir John,
you live in great infamy.

He that buckles him
in my belt cannot live in less.

You have misled the youthful prince.

The young prince hath misled me.

I'm the fellow with the great belly
and he my dog.

Your day's service at Shrewsbury
hath a little gilded over

your night's exploit of robbery.

You may thank the unquiet time for
your quiet o'er-posting that action.

My lord?

Wake not the sleeping wolf.

To wake a wolf
is as bad as to smell a fox.

You follow the young prince up
and down like his ill angel.

You that are old consider not
the capacities of us that are young.

Do you set your name down
in the scroll of youth,

that are written down old
with all the characters of age?

My lord, I was born about three
of the clock in the afternoon

with a white head
and something a round belly.

For my voice, I have lost it with
halloing and singing of anthems.

To approve my youth further,
I will not.

The truth is I'm only old
in judgment and understanding

and he that will caper with me
for a thousand marks,

let him lend me the money
and have at him.

Well, God send the prince
a better companion.

God send the companion
a better prince.

I cannot rid my hands of him.

Well, the king hath severed you
and Prince Harry.

I hear you are going with
Lord John of Lancaster

against the Archbishop
and the Earl of Northumberland.

Yea. I thank your pretty
sweet wit for it.

But look you pray, all you that
kiss my lady Peace at home,

that our armies join not in a hot
day for, by the Lord,

I take but two shirts out with me
and I mean not
to sweat extraordinarily.

Well, I cannot last ever.

But it was alway yet
the trick of our English nation,

if they have a good thing,
to make it too common.

If ye will needs say I am an old
man, you should give me rest.

I would to God my name were not
so terrible to the enemy as it is.

Well, be honest, be honest,
and God bless your expedition.

Will your lordship lend me a
thousand pound to furnish me forth?

Not a penny, not a penny.

Boy. Sir?

What money's in my purse?

Seven groats and two pence.

I can get no remedy against this
consumption of the purse.

Borrowing only lingers and lingers
it out but disease is incurable.

A pox of this gout.

Or a gout of this pox.

For the one or the other plays
the rogue with my great toe.

Thus have you heard our cause
and know our means.

And, my most noble friends,
I pray you all.

Speak plainly your opinions
of our hopes.

And first, lord marshal,
what say you to it?

I well allow the occasion
of our arms,

But gladly would be better satisfied

How in our means we should
advance ourselves

To look with forehead
bold and big enough

Upon the power and puissance
of the king.

Our present musters
grow upon the file

To five and twenty thousand
men of choice.

And our supplies live largely
in the hope

Of great Northumberland,
whose bosom burns

With an incensed fire of injuries.

The question then, Lord Hastings,
standeth thus,

Whether our present
five and twenty thousand

May hold up head
without Northumberland?

With him, we may. But if without him
we be thought too feeble,

My judgment is, we should
not step too far.

'Tis very true, Lord Coleville,
for indeed

It was young Hotspur's case
at Shrewsbury.

It was, my lord. He lined himself
with hope,

Eating the air
on promise of supply.

But, by your leave,
it never yet did hurt

To lay down likelihoods
and forms of hope.

When we mean to build,

We first survey the plot,
then draw the model.

And when we see the figure
of the house

Then must we rate
the cost of the erection

Which if we find outweighs ability,

What do we then
but draw anew the model

Or at last desist to build at all?

Much more,
in this great work of ours,

Which is almost to pluck
a kingdom down and set another up.

I think we are a body strong enough,
even as we are,

to equal with the king.

What, is the king but five
and twenty thousand?

To us no more. Nay, not so much,
Lord Coleville.

For his divisions, as the times
do brawl, are in three heads...

one power against the French,
and one against Glendower.

Perforce a third must take up us

and his coffers sound with hollow
poverty and emptiness.

That he should draw his several
strengths together

and come against us in full
puissance need not be dreaded.

If he should do so, he leaves
his back unarmed, never fear that.

Who is it like should
lead his forces hither?

The Duke of Lancaster
and Westmoreland.

Let us away and publish
the occasion of our arms.

Shall we go draw our numbers
and set on?

We are time's subjects
and time bids be gone.

Humphrey, son of Gloucester, Thomas,
son of Clarence.

Where's the prince your brother?

I think he's gone to hunt,
my lord, at Windsor.

How accompanied?

I do not know, my lord.

Is not his brother, John, with him?

No, my good lord,
he is in presence here.

Ah.

What would my lord and father?

How chance thou art not with
the prince thy brother?

He loves thee
and thou dost neglect him, John.

Thou hast a better place in his
affections than all thy brothers.

Cherish it, my boy,

And noble offices thou mayst
effect of mediation after I am dead

Between his greatness
and thy other brethren.

Therefore omit him not.

Blunt not his love,

Lose not the good advantage
of his grace

By seeming cold or careless
of his will.

I shall observe him
with all care and love.

Why art thou not at Windsor
with him, John?

He is not there today.
He dines in London.

And...

how accompanied,
canst thou tell that?

With Poins and other
his continual followers.

The foremost subject is
the fattest soil to weeds,

And he, the noble image of my youth,

Is overspread with them.

Therefore my grief stretches
itself beyond the hour of death.

The blood weeps from my heart
when I do shape

In forms imaginary the unguided days
and rotten times

that you shall look upon

When I am sleeping with my ancestors.

My gracious lord,
you look beyond him quite:

The prince but studies his
companions like a strange tongue,

wherein, to gain the language.

The prince will
in the perfectness of time

Cast off his followers and
their memory shall as a pattern
or measure live,

By which his grace must mete
the lives of others,
Turning past evils to advantages.

'Tis seldom when the bee
doth leave her comb

In the dead carrion.

Master Fang, where's your yeoman?

Is't a lusty yeoman?
Will a' stand to 't?

Sirrah? Where's Snare?

O Lord, ay! Good Master Snare.

Here, here. Snare,
we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.

It may chance cost some of us
our lives, for he will stab.

He stabbed me in mine own house.

If his weapon be out,
he will thrust like any devil.

If I can close with him,
I care not for his thrust.

No, nor I neither.
I'll be at your elbow.

And I but fist him once an a' come
but within my vice.

I am undone by his going
to the wars.

How now? Whose mare's dead?
What's the matter?

Sir John, I arrest you at
the suit of Mistress Quickly.

Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph,
cut me off the villain's head.

Throw the quean in the channel.

I'll throw thee in the channel!
Thou bastardly rogue!

Keep them off, Bardolph.

You fustilarian!
I'll tickle your catastrophe.

Thou wo't, wo't thou?
Thou wo't, wo't ta?

Do, do, thou rogue!

What is the matter?
Keep the peace here!

Good my lord, be good to me.
I beseech you, stand to me.

How now, Sir John.
What are you brawling here?

Doth this become your place,
your time and business?

You should have been
well on your way to York.

Stand from him, fellow.

Wherefore hang'st upon him?

O most worshipful lord,
an't please your grace,

I am a poor widow of Eastcheap
and he is arrested at my suit.

For what sum?

It is more than for some,
my lord, it is for all, all I have.

He hath eaten me
out of house and home.

How comes this, Sir John?

Are you not ashamed to enforce
a poor widow

to so rough a course
to come by her own?

What is the gross sum
that I owe thee?

Marry, if thou wert an honest man,
thyself and the money too...

thou didst swear to me
upon a parcel-gilt goblet

sitting in my Dolphin-chamber at
the round table by a sea-coal fire

upon Wednesday in Wheeson week when
the prince broke thy head for liking

his father to a singing-man of
Windsor, thou didst swear to me then

as I was washing thy wound to marry
me and make me my lady thy wife.

My lord, this is a poor mad soul
and she says up and down the town

that her eldest son is like you.

Poverty hath distracted her.

Sir John, Sir John,
I am well acquainted

with your manner of wrenching
the true cause the false way.

You have, as it appears to me,

practised upon the easy-yielding
spirit of this woman,

made her serve your uses
both in purse and in person.

Aye, in good truth, my lord.

Pray thee, peace.

Pay her the debt you owe her and
unpay the villany you have done her.

My lord, I will not undergo
this sneap without reply.

I say to you, I do desire
deliverance from these officers,

being upon hasty employment
in the king's affairs.

You speak as having power
to do wrong.

But answer in the effect
of your reputation

and satisfy this poor woman.

Come hither.

Now, Master Gower, what news?

The king, my lord, and Harry
Prince of Wales are near at hand.

The rest the paper tells.

As I am a gentleman.

Faith, you said so before.

As I am a gentleman.
Come, no more words of this.

Come, an 'twere not for thy humours,

there's not a better wench
in England.

Go, wash thy face,
and draw the action.

Come, thou must not be
in this humour with me.

Dost not know me?

Come, come,
I know thou wast set on to this.

Pray thee, Sir John,
let it be but twenty nobles.

I' faith, I am loath to pawn
my plate, so God save me, la.

Let it alone, I'll make other shift.
You'll be a fool still.

Well, you shall have it,
though I pawn my gown.

I hope you'll come to supper.
You'll pay me all together?

Will I live? Come.

With her, with her.
Hook on, hook on.

Will you have Doll Tearsheet
meet you at supper?

No more words, let's have her.

I have heard better news.

What's the news, my lord?

Come all his forces back?

No. Fifteen hundred foot, five
hundred horse, are marched up

with my lord of Lancaster, against
Northumberland and the Archbishop.

You shall have letters
of me presently. My lord.

What's the matter?

Master Gower, shall I
entreat you with me to dinner?

I must wait upon my good lord here,
I thank you, good Sir John.

Sir John, you loiter here too long,

being you are to take soldiers
up in counties as you go.

Will you sup with me, Master Gower?

What foolish master taught you
these manners, Sir John?

Master Gower, if they become me not,
he was a fool that taught them me.

Now the Lord lighten thee,
thou art a great fool.

Before God, I am exceeding weary.

Is't come to that?

I had thought weariness durst not
have attached one of so high blood.

Come faith, it does me,

though it discolours the complexion
of my greatness to acknowledge it.

Doth it not show vilely in me
to desire small beer?

Why, a prince should not be
so loosely studied as to remember
so weak a composition.

Belike then my appetite
was not princely got,

for, by my troth, I do now remember
the poor creature, "small beer".

But, indeed, these
humble considerations make me

out of love with my greatness.

What a disgrace is it to me
to remember thy name.

Or to know thy face tomorrow.

How ill it follows after
you have laboured so hard,

you should talk so idly.

Tell me, how many good young princes
would do so,

their fathers being so sick
as yours at this time is?

Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?

Yes, faith, let it be
an excellent good thing.

It shall serve among wits of no
higher breeding than thine.

Go to.

I stand the push of your one thing
that you will tell.

Marry, I tell thee, it is
not meet that I should be sad,

now my father is sick.

Albeit I could tell thee,
as to one it pleases me,

for fault of a better,
to call my friend,

I could be sad and sad indeed too.

Very hardly upon such a subject.

I tell thee, my heart bleeds
inwardly that my father
is so sick

and keeping such vile company
as thou art

hath in reason taken from me
all ostentation of sorrow.

The reason? What wouldst thou think
of me if I should weep?

I would think thee a most
princely hypocrite.

It would be every man's thought
and thou art a blessed fellow

to think as every man thinks.
Every man would think me
an hypocrite indeed.

And what accites your most
worshipful thought to think so?

Why, because you have been so lewd
and so much engraffed to Falstaff.

And to thee.

By this light, I am well spoke on.
I can hear it with my own ears.

By the mass, here comes Bardolph.

And the boy that I gave Falstaff.

God save your grace.

And yours, most noble Bardolph.

Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful
fool, must you be blushing?

E' calls me e'en now, my lord,
through a red lattice window

and I could discern
no part of his face.

Me thought he had made two
holes in a red petticoat

and so peeped through.

Away, you whoreson upright rabbit,
away!

How doth your master, Bardolph?

Well, my lord.

He heard of your grace's coming to
town, there's a letter for you.

I do allow this wen to be
as familiar with me as my dog,

for look you how he writes.

"Sir John Falstaff, knight,
to the son of the king,

"nearest his father,
Harry Prince of Wales, greeting."

Why, this is a certificate.

Peace!

"I will imitate... Oh, I will
imitate to the honourable Romans
in brevity.

"Be not too familiar with Poins.

"He misuses thy favours so much,

"that he swears thou art to marry
his sister Nell.

"Repent at idle times as thou mayest,
and so, farewell."

My lord, I'll steep this letter
in sack and make him eat it.

Must I marry your sister?

God send the wench no worse fortune
but I never said so.

Well, thus we play
the fools with the time

and the spirits of the wise
sit in the clouds and mock us.

Is your master here in London?
Yea, my lord.

Where sups he?

At the old place, my lord,
in Eastcheap.

Sup any women with him?

None, my lord, but old Mistress
Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.

Shall we steal upon them,
Ned, at supper?

I am your shadow, my lord,
I'll follow you.

Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph,

no word to your master
that I am yet come to town.

There's for your silence.

I have no tongue, sir.

And for mine, sir, I'll govern it.

Fare you well, go.

Might we see Falstaff bestow himself
tonight in his true colours

and not ourselves be seen?

I pray thee,
loving wife and gentle daughter,

give even way
unto my rough affairs.

I have given over,
I will speak no more.

Do what you will,
your wisdom be your guide.

Alas, sweet wife, my honour
is at pawn

And, but my going,
nothing can redeem it.

O yet, for God's sake,
go not to these wars.

The time was, father,
that you broke your word

When you were more endeared to it
than now, When your own Percy,

when my heart's dear Harry,

Threw many a northward look to
see his father bring up his powers.

Beshrew your heart, fair daughter,
you do draw my spirits from me

With new lamenting
ancient oversights.

Fly to Scotland, till that the
nobles and the armed commons

Have of their puissance
made a little taste.

If they get ground and vantage
of the king

Then join you with them like a rib
of steel to make strength stronger

but, for all our loves,
first let them try themselves.

So did your son. He was so suffered.

So came I a widow and never will
have length of life enough

To rain upon remembrance
with mine eyes.

I will resolve for Scotland.

There am I, till time
and vantage crave my company.

Go call the Earls of Westmoreland
and Warwick.

But, ere they come,
bid them o'er-read these letters,

And well consider of them.

Make good speed.

How many thousand of my poorest
subjects are at this hour asleep?

O sleep, O gentle sleep,

Nature's soft nurse,

how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt

weigh my eyelids down

and steep
my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, sleep,
liest thou in smoky cribs,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee
and hushed with buzzing

night-flies to thy slumber,
than in the perfumed chambers

of the great, under the canopies
of costly state,

And lulled

with sounds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull god, why liest thou
with the vile

In loathsome beds
and leavest the kingly couch

A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?

Wilt thou upon
the high and giddy mast

Seal up the ship-boy's eyes
and rock his brains

In cradle of the rude imperious surge
And in the visitation of the winds

Who take the ruffian billows
by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads and
hanging them with deafening clamour

in the slippery clouds, that,
with the hurly, death itself awakes?

Canst thou, O partial sleep,
give thy repose

To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude

And in the calmest
and most stillest night

With all appliances and means to boot

Deny it to a king?

Then happy low, lie down.

Uneasy lies the head
that wears a crown.

The room where they supped is too
hot. They'll come in straight.

Sirrah, here will be the prince
and Master Poins anon

and Sir John must not know of it.

Bardolph hath brought word.

It will be an excellent stratagem.
Dispatch.

I'll see if I can find out Sneak.

I' faith, sweetheart,
methinks now you're in
an excellent good temperality.

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 is a marvellous searching
wine and it perfumes the blood

ere one can say "What's this?"
How do you now?

Better than I was. Why, that's well
said. A good heart's worth gold.

"When Arthur first in court..."
Lo, here comes Sir John.

Empty the jordan. "And was a worthy
king." How now, Mistress Doll.

Sick of a calm, yea, good faith.
So is all her sect...

maybe once in a calm, they are sick.

You muddy rascal, is that all
the comfort you give me?

You make fat rascals, Doll.

I make them? Gluttony and diseases
make them, I make them not.

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.

Hang yourself, you muddy conger,
hang yourself!

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.

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.

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

Hang him, swaggering rascal.

Let him not come hither, he is the
foul-mouthed'st rogue in England.

If he swagger, let him not come
here. No, by my faith. I must live

among my neighbours.
I'll no swaggerers.

Dost thou hear, hostess?
Pacify yourself, Sir John, there
comes no swaggerers here.

Dost thou hear? It's mine ancient.

Tilly-fally, Sir John,
ne'er tell me,

your ancient swaggerer
comes not in my doors.

He's no swaggerer, hostess.
A tame cheater, I'faith.

You may stroke him
as gently as a puppy greyhound.

Call him up, drawer.
Cheater, call you him?

Feel, masters, how I shake,
look you, I warrant you.

So you do, hostess. Do I?

Yea, in very truth,
do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf.

I cannot abide swaggerers.

God save you, Sir John!

Welcome, Ancient Pistol.

Here, Pistol, I charge you
with a cup of sack.

Do you discharge upon mine hostess.

I will discharge upon her,
Sir John, with two bullets.

She is Pistol-proof, sir.

I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets.

I'll drink no more than will do me
good, for no man's pleasure, I.

Then to you, Mistress Dorothy.
I will charge you.

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.
I know you, Mistress Dorothy.

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.

God let me not live but I'll murder
your ruff for this.

No more, Pistol. I would not have
you go off here. Discharge yourself
of our company, Pistol.

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!

Good Captain Peesel, be quiet.
'Tis very late, I'faith.

Down, down, dogs! Down, faitors!

I beseek you now,
aggravate your choler.

Be gone, good ancient.

Die men like dogs!
Give crowns like pins!

Have we not iron here?

O' my word, captain,
there's none such here.

Do you think I would deny her?
For God's sake, be quiet.

Then feed and be fat,
my fair Calipolis.

Come, give us some sack.

"Si fortune me tormente,
sperato me contento."

Fear we broadsides?

Give me some sack and sweetheart,
lie thou there.

Well, come we to full points here
and are etceteras nothing?

Pistol, I would be quiet.

Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf.

What? We have seen the seven stars.

Ah, for God's sake,
thrust him down stairs.

I cannot endure such
a fustian rascal.

Thrust him down stairs?
Know we not Galloway nags?

What? Shall we have incision?
Shall we imbrue?

Then death rock me asleep,
abridge my doleful days!

Give me my rapier, boy.

Get you downstairs!

I pray thee, Jack,
do not draw! Do not draw!

Get you down stairs.

I pray thee, Jack, be quiet.
The rascal's gone.

Oh, you whoreson little
valiant villain, you.

Are you not hurt I' the groin?

Me thought a' made a shrewd
thrust at your belly.

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. Ah, villain.

A rascally slave.
I'll toss the rogue in a blanket.

Do, an thou darest for thy heart.

An thou dost, I'll canvass
thee between a pair of sheets.

The music is come, sir.

Let him play.

Sit on my knee, Doll.

He's a rascal bragging slave.

The rogue fled from me
like quicksilver.

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?

Peace, good Doll.

Do not speak like a death's-head,

do not bid me remember mine end.

Sirrah, what humour's the prince of?

A good, shallow young fellow.

He'd have made a good pantler,
he'd ha' chipp'd bread well.

They say Poins has a good wit.

He a good wit?

Hang him, baboon.

His wit is thick
as Tewksbury mustard.

Why does the prince
love him so, then?

Because...

their legs are both
of a bigness and...

he plays at quoits well, and...

eats conger and fennel

and rides the wild-mare
with the boys

and swears with a good grace and
wears his boots very smooth and...

breeds no bate
with telling of discreet stories.

And such other
gambol faculties he hath

that show a weak mind
and an able body

For the which the prince admits him

for the prince himself
is such another.

Would not this nave
have his ears cut off?

Let's beat him
before his whore.

Kiss me, Doll.

Look, whether the withered elder
hath not his poll

clawed like a parrot.

Is it not strange that desire should
so many years outlive performance?

Thou dost give me flattering busses.

I kiss thee
with a most constant heart.

I'm old.

I'm old.

I love thee better than I love e'er
a scurvy young boy of them all.

What stuff wilt have a gown of?

I shall receive money o' Thursday.

Shalt have a cap to-morrow?

A merry song, come.

It grows late.

Thou'lt forget me when I'm gone.

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

Prove that ever I dress myself
handsome till thy return.

Well, harken at the end.

Some sack!

Francis!

Anon, anon, sir!

Anon, anon, sir.
Anon, anon, sir.

A bastard son of the king's?

And art not thou Poins, his brother?

Why, thou globe
of sinful continents,

what a life dost thou lead.

O the Lord, preserve thy good grace.

By my troth, welcome to London.

Now, the Lord bless
that sweet face of thine.

Thou whoreson mad
compound of majesty.

By this light flesh
and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.

How, you fat fool, I scorn you.

My lord, he will drive you
out of your revenge

and turn all to a merriment
unless you take not the heat.

You whoreson candle-mine you,

how vilely did you speak of me
even now

before this honest,
virtuous, civil gentlewoman.

God's blessing of your good heart
and so she is, by my troth.

Confess the wilful abuse
and then I know how to handle you.

No abuse, Hal,
o' mine honour, no abuse.

No?

Not to dispraise me and call me
pantler and bread-chipper

and I know not what?

No abuse, Hal.

No abuse?

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've 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.

Peto, how now, what news?

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,

Asking for Sir John Falstaff.

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.

Falstaff.

Good night.

Now comes in the sweetest morsel
of the night

and we must hence
and leave it unpicked.

How now?

What's the matter?

You must away to court, sir.

A dozen captains
stay at the door for you.

Pay the musicians, sirrah.

Farewell, hostess.

Farewell, Doll.

Now you see, my good wenches,

how men of merit are sought after.

Farewell good wenches.

If I be not sent away post,

I'll see you again ere I go.

I cannot speak.

If my heart be not read to burst.

Well, sweet Jack,

have a care of thyself.

Farewell.

I have known thee these twenty-nine
years, come peascod-time,

but an honester
and truer-hearted man...

well, fare thee well.

Mistress Tearsheet!

What's the matter?

Good Mistress Tearsheet,
come to my master!

O, run, Doll, run. Run, good Doll.
She comes blubbered.

Doll, will you come!

Many good morrows to your majesty.

Is it...

good morrow, lords?

'Tis one o'clock and past.

Ah.

Well, then.

Good morrow to you all, my lords.

You have read o'er the letters
that I sent you?

We have, my liege.

Then you perceive
the body of our kingdom

How foul it is,

with what rank diseases grow

And with what danger,
near the heart of it.

It is but as a body yet distempered

Which to his former strength
may be restored

With good advice
and little medicine.

My Lord Northumberland
will soon be cooled.

Ah.

O God!

That one might read the book of fate

And see the revolution of the times,

Make mountains level
and the continent,

Weary of solid firmness,

melt itself into the sea.

How chances mocks

And changes
fill the cup of alteration

With divers liquors.

O...

if this were seen,

The happiest youth,
viewing his progress through,

What perils past,
what crosses to ensue

Would shut the book
and sit him down and die.

'Tis not 'ten years gone

Since Richard and Northumberland,

great friends,

Did feast together.

Which of you was by?

You, cousin Warwick,
as I may remember,

When Richard,
with his eye brimful of tears,

Did speak these words,
now proved a prophecy.

"Northumberland,
thou ladder by the which

"My cousin Bolingbroke
ascends my throne."

Though then,

God knows, I had no such intent

"The time shall come,"

Thus did he follow it,

"The time will come,

"that foul sin, gathering head,

"Shall break into corruption."

So went on,

Foretelling
this same time's condition

And the division of our amity.

Such things become the hatch
and brood of time.

And by the necessary form of this

King Richard might create
a perfect guess

That great Northumberland,

then false to him,

Would of that seed
grow to a greater falseness

Which should not find a ground
to root upon

Unless on you.

And that same word even now
cries out on us.

They say the bishop
and Northumberland

Are fifty thousand strong.
It cannot be, my lord.

Rumour doth double
like the voice and echo

The numbers of the feared.

Please it your grace
To go to bed.

Upon my soul, my lord,

The powers that
you already have sent forth

Shall bring this prize in
very easily.

Your majesty hath been
this fortnight ill.

I take your counsel.

An early stirrer, by the rood

And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Good morrow,
good cousin Sh-shallow.

And how doth my cousin,
your bedfellow?

And my god-daughter, Ellen?

I dare say my cousin William
is become a good scholar.

He is at Oxford still, is he not?

Indeed, sir, to my c-cost.

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.

You were called L-Lusty Shallow
then, cousin.

By the mass, I was called any thing

and I would have done
any thing indeed, too.

We knew where the bona robas were.

Then was Jack Falstaff,
now Sir John, a boy.

This Sir John that comes hither
anon about the s-s-soldiers?

The same Sir John, the very same.

Jesu, Jesu,
the mad days that I have spent!

And to see how many of
my old acquaintance are dead.

We shall all follow, cousin.

Certain, 'tis certain,
very sure, very sure.

Death, as the Psalmist saith,

is certain to all.

All shall die.

Death is certain.

And is old Double
of your town living yet?

D-d-d-d-dead, sir.

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.

And is old Double dead?

Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's
men, as I think.

Good morrow, honest gentlemen.

I beseech you,
which is Justice 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?

My captain, sir, commends him to you

my captain, Sir John Falstaff,

a most gallant leader.

He greets me well, sir.

I knew him a good backsword man.

How doth the good knight?

And how... may I ask,
how my lady, his wife, doth?

Sir, pardon, a soldier is better
accommodated than with a wife.

Better accommodated?

It is good. Yea, indeed, is it.

Accommodated.

It comes of 'accommodo'. Very good.

A good phrase.

Look, here comes good Sir John.

Give me your good hand,
give me your worship's good hand!

Welcome, good Sir John.

I'm glad to see you well,
good Master Robert Shallow.

Master Surecard, as I think?

No, Sir John, this is my cousin
Silence, in commission with me.

Good Master Silence, it well befits

you should be of the peace.

Your good w-w-worship is welcome.

Fie! It's hot weather, gentlemen.

Have you provided me
half a dozen sufficient men?

Marry, have we, sir!

Let's see them, I beseech you.

Sit.

Will you sit?

Where's the roll?
Where's the roll?

Let me see, let me see,

let me see. So, so.

Yea, marry.

Ralph Mouldy!

Let them appear as I call.

Let them do so, let them do so.

Where's Mouldy?

Here, an't please you.

What think you, Sir John?

A good-limbed fellow.

Young, strong, and of good friends.

Is thy name Mouldy?

Yea, an't please you.

'Tis the more time thou wert used.

Most excellent, I' faith.

Things that are mouldy lack use.

Very singular good.

In faith, well said,
Sir John, very well said.

Prick him.

I was pricked 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.

Go to. Peace, Mouldy, you shall go.

Mouldy, it is time you were spent.
Spent?

Peace, fellow, peace. Stand aside.
Know you where you are?

For the other, Sir John,
let me see.

Simon Shadow!

Yea, marry, let me have him
to sit under.

He's like to be a cold soldier.

Where's Shadow?

Here, sir.

Shadow, whose son art thou?

My mother's son, sir.

Thy mother's son? Like enough.

And thy father's shadow.

Do you like him, Sir John?

Shadow will serve for summer.

Prick him, for we have a number of
shadows to fill up the muster-book.

Thomas Wart!

Where's he?

Here, sir.

Ugh!

Is thy name Wart?

Yea, sir.

Thou art a very ragged wart!

Shall I prick him down, Sir John?

It were superfluous, for his apparel
is built upon his back

and the whole frame
stands upon pins.

Prick him no more.

You can do it, sir, you can do it.

I commend you well.

Francis Feeble!

Here, sir.

What trade art thou, Feeble?

A woman's tailor, sir.

Shall I prick him, sir?

You may, but if he had been a man's
tailor, he'ld ha' pricked you.

Wilt thou make as many holes
in an enemy's battle

as thou hast done
in a woman's petticoat?

I will do my good will, sir,

you can have no more.

Well said.

Well said, courageous Feeble.

Prick the woman's tailor.

I would Wart might have gone, sir.

I would thou wert a man's tailor
that thou mightst mend him

and make him fit to go.

I am bound to thee,
Reverend Feeble. Who's next?

Peter Bullcalf o' the green.

Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.

Here, sir!

'Fore God, a likely fellow!

Come, prick me, Bullcalf,
till he roar again.

O Lord!

Good my lord captain!

What, dost thou roar
before thou art pricked?

O Lord, sir,

I am a diseased man.

What disease hast thou?

A whoreson cold, sir,

a cough, sir, which I caught

with ringing in the king's affairs

upon his coronation day, sir.

Come, thou shalt go
to the wars in a gown.

We wilt have away thy cold

and I will take such order
that my friends shall ring for thee.

Is here all?

Here is more called
than your number.

You must have but three here, sir.

And so, I pray you,
go in with me to dinner.

Come, I will go drink with you,

but I cannot tarry dinner.

I'm glad to see you, by my troth,
Master Shallow.

Good Master Corporate Bardolph!

Shhh!

Stand my friend

and here's four Harry
ten shillings for you.

In very truth, sir, I had as lief
be hanged, sir, as go sir.

Go to. Stand aside.

Good master corporal captain,

for my old dame's sake,
stand my friend.

You shall have forty, sir.

Go to. Stand aside.

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.

He that dies this year
is quit for the next.

Well said.

Thou'rt an honest fellow.

O, Sir John, do you remember

since we lay all night in the
windmill in Saint George's field?

No more of that, Master Shallow,
no more of that.

Ha, 'twas a merry night!

And is Jane Nightwork alive?

She lives, Master Shallow.

She never could...

away with me.

Never, never. She would always say

she could not abide Master Shallow.

By the mass,
I could anger her to the heart.

She was then a bona-roba.

Doth she hold her own well?

Old, old, Master 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.

That's f-fifty-five year ago.

Ha, cousin Silence,

that thou hadst seen
that this knight

and I have seen.

Ha, Sir John, said I well?

We have heard the chimes
at midnight, Master Shallow.

That we have.

That we have.

In faith, Sir John, we have.

Our watch-word was "Hem boys!"

Jesus,

the days that we have seen.

I think it is
my Lord of Westmoreland.

Health and fair greeting
from our general, the prince,

Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.

What doth concern your coming?

You, Lord Archbishop,

Wherefore do you so ill
translate ourself

Out of the speech of peace
that bears such grace,

Into the harsh
and boisterous tongue of war?

I have in equal balance
justly weighed

What wrongs our arms may do,

What wrongs we suffer,

And find our griefs
outweigh our offences

Which long ere this
we offered to the king.

When we are wronged
and would unfold our griefs

We are denied access
unto his person.

Whenever yet was your appeal denied?

My brother General,
the commonwealth,

I make my quarrel in particular.

There is no need
of any such redress.

Or if there were,
it not belongs to you.

Why not to him in part
and to us all

That feel the bruises
of the days before.

You speak, Lord Mowbray,
now you know not what.

Here come I from our
princely general to say that

his grace will give you audience

And wherein
that your demands are just,

You shall enjoy them.

Hath the Prince John
a full commission

To hear and absolutely
to determine

Of what conditions
we shall stand upon?

I muse you make
so slight a question.

There is a thing
within my bosom tells me

That no conditions of our peace
can stand.

The prince is here at hand.

Pleaseth your lordship

To meet his grace.

In God's name then, set forward.

My Lord of York,
it better showed with you

When that your flock
encircled you to hear

Your exposition on the holy text

Than now to see you here
an iron man,

Cheering a rout of rebels
with your drum.

I sent your grace

The parcels and particulars
of our griefs,

The which hath been with scorn

shoved from the court,

Whereon this Hydra son of war
is born,

Whose dangerous eyes
may well be charmed asleep

With grant
of our just and right desires.

And true obedience,
of this madness cured,

Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

If not, we ready are to try
our fortunes to the last man.

And though we here fall down,
we have supplies

to second our attempt.

If they miscarry,
theirs shall second them.

You're too shallow, Hastings,

much too shallow,

To sound the bottom
of the after-times.

Pleaseth your grace
to answer them directly

How far forth you do like
their articles.

I like them all
and do allow them well,

And swear here
by the honour of my blood,

My father's purposes
have been mistook.

My lord, these griefs shall be
with speed redressed

Upon my soul, they shall.

If this may please you,

Discharge your powers
unto their several counties,

As we will ours

and here between the armies

Let's drink together
friendly and embrace.

I take your princely word
for these redresses.

I give it you
I will maintain my word.

And thereupon
I drink unto your grace.

Go, Coleville,
and deliver to the army

This news of peace.

Let them have pay and part.

I know it will well please them.

Hie thee, Coleville.

To you,
my noble Lord of Westmoreland.

I pledge your grace and, if you knew

what pains I have bestowed to
breed this present peace,

You would drink freely.

You wish me health
in very happy season.

For I am on the sudden
something ill.

The word of peace is rendered.
Hark, how they shout.

This had been cheerful
after victory.

A peace is of the nature
of a conquest.

For then both parties nobly
are subdued,

And neither party loser.

Go, my lord,

And let our army be discharged too.

And, good my lord, so please you,
let our trains

March by us
that we may peruse the men

We should have coped withal.
Go, good Lord Hastings,

And, ere they be dismissed,
let them march by.

Now, cousin,
wherefore stands our army still?

The leaders,
having charge from you to stand,

Will not go off
until they hear you speak.

They know their duties.

My lord,
our armies have dispersed already.

Like youthful steers unyoked,

they take their courses

East, west, north, south.

Or, like a school broke up,

Each hurries toward his home

and sporting-place.

Good tidings, my Lord of Hastings,
for the which

I do arrest thee, traitor,
of high treason.

And you, Lord Archbishop,

and you, Lord Mowbray,

Of capitol treason
I attach you both.

Is this proceeding
just and honourable?

Is your assembly so?

Will you thus break your faith?

I pawned thee none.

What's your name, sir?

Of what condition are you
and what place, I pray?

I'm a knight, sir,

and my name is
Coleville of the Dale.

Well, then, Coleville is your name,
a knight is your degree,

and your place the dale.

Coleville shall bestill your name,
a traitor your degree,

and the dungeon your place,

so shall you be still
Coleville of the Dale.

Are not you Sir John Falstaff?

Do ye yield, sir?

I think you are Sir John Falstaff

and in that thought yield me.

I have a whole school of tongues
in this belly of mine

and not a tongue of them all speaks
any other word but my name.

Now, Falstaff,
where have you been all this while?

When everything is ended,
then you come.

I have speeded hither with the
very extremest inch of possibility

and here, travel-tainted as I am,

taken Sir John Coleville
of the Dale,

a most furious knight
and valorous enemy.

He saw me and yielded.

That I may justly say,

with the hook-nosed fellow of
Rome, "I came, saw, and overcame."

It was more of his courtesy
than your deserving.

I beseech your grace,
let it be booked

with the rest of this day's deeds

or, by the Lord, I'll have it
in a particular ballad else,

with mine own picture
on the top of it,

Coleville kissing my foot.

Is thy name Coleville?

It is, my lord.

A famous rebel art thou, Coleville?

A famous true subject took him.

Have you left pursuit?

Retreat is made
and execution stayed.

Send Coleville with his confederates

To York to present execution.

And now dispatch we
toward the court, my lord.

Our news shall go before us
to his majesty,

Which, cousin,
you shall bear to comfort him.

My lord, give me leave to go

Through Gloucestershire
and, when you come to court,

Stand my good lord,
pray, in your good report.

Fare you well, Falstaff.
I, in my condition,

Shall better speak of you
than you deserve.

I would you had but the wit.

Oh, Westmoreland.

Prince John,

your son doth kiss
your grace's hand.

Mowbray, the Archbishop,
Hastings and all

Are brought to
the correction of your law.

There is not now a rebel sword
unsheathed.

O Westmoreland,
thou art a summer bird,

Which ever
in the haunch of winter sings

The lifting up of day.

And wherefore does this
good news make me sick?

Oh.

I should rejoice now
at this happy news.

And now my sight fails

and my brain...

Comfort, your majesty!

O, my royal father!
My sovereign lord,

you should cheer up yourself,
look up! Be patient, princes.

You do know, these fits

Are with his highness
very ordinary.

Stand from him. Give him air.

He'll straight be well.

No, he cannot long hold out
these pangs.

This apoplexy will certain
be his end.

Speak lower, princes,

for the king recovers.

I pray thee, take me up,

and bear me hence

Into some other chamber.

Softly, pray!

Let there be no noise made,
my gentle friends,

Unless...

some dull and favourable hand

Might whisper music
to my weary spirit.

Call for music in the other room.

Set me the crown on my pillow here.

His eye is hollow
and he changes much.

Less noise,

less noise.

Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

I'm here, brother,

full of heaviness.

How now, rain within doors
and none abroad?

How doth the king?

Exceeding ill.

Not so much noise, my lords.

Sweet prince, speak low.

The king, your father,
is disposed to sleep.

Will it please your grace
to go along with us?

No,

I will sit and watch here
by the king.

Why doth the crown lie there
upon his pillow,

Being so troublesome a bedfellow?

O majesty,

When thou dost pinch
thy bearer thou dost sit

Like a rich armour
worn in the heat of day,

That scalds with safety.

My gracious lord.

My father.

By his gates of breath,

There lies a downy feather
which stirs not.

This sleep is sound indeed,

this is a sleep

That from this golden rigol
hath divorced

So many English kings.

Thy due from me

Is tears and heavy sorrows
of the blood,

Which nature, love,

and filial tenderness

Shall, O dear father,

pay thee plenteously

My due from thee
is this imperial crown

Which God shall guard

and put the world's whole strength

Into one giant arm,
it shall not force

This lineal honour from me.

Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!

Clarence!

What would your majesty?
Why did you leave me here alone?

We left the prince,
my brother here, my liege.

The Prince of Wales? He's not here.

He undertook to sit
and watch by you.

Where is the crown?

Who took it from my pillow?

I never thought to hear you
speak again!

Thy wish was father, Harry,
to that thought.

I stay too long by thee,
I weary thee.

What, dost thou so hunger
for mine empty chair

That thou wilt needs
invest thee with my honours

Before thy hour be ripe?

O foolish youth!

Thou seek'st the honours
that will o'erwhelm thee.

Couldst thou not forbear me
half an hour?

Then get thee gone,
dig my grave thyself

Bid the merry bells
ring to thine ear

That thou art crowned

not that I am dead.

Pluck down my officers,

break my decrees

For now the time is come
to mock at form.

Harry the Fifth is crowned.
Up vanity!

Down royal state!

All you sage counsellors, hence!

And to the English court
assemble now

From every region,

apes of idleness.

Now neighbour confines
purge you of your scum.

Have you a ruffian
that would swear, drink, dance,

Revel the night, murder, and commit

The oldest sins
the newest kind of ways?

Be happy,
he will trouble you no more.

England shall give him office,
honour, might,

For the fifth Harry
from curbed licence pluck

The muzzle of restraint
and the wild dog

Shall flesh his tooth
on every innocent.

O my poor kingdom,
sick with civil blows

When that my care could
not withhold thy riots,

What wilt thou do
when riot is thy care?

O, thou wilt become
a wilderness again,

Peopled with wolves,

thy old inhabitants.

O, pardon me, my liege.

Wherefore did you take away
the crown?

God witness with me
when I found no course of breath

within your majesty
how cold it struck my heart.

I spake unto this crown
as having sense

And thus upbraided it:

"The care on thee depending

"Hath fed upon the body
of my father.

"Therefore,
thou best of gold art worst of gold.

"Other, less fine in carat,
is more precious,

"But thou, most fine,
most honoured, most renowned,

"Hast eat thy bearer up."

Thus, my most royal liege,

Accusing it,

I put it on my head,
to try with it,

as with an enemy

That had before my face
murdered my father.

O my son,

God put it in thy mind
to take it hence

That thou mightst
win the more thy father's love,

Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.

Come hither, Harry,
sit thou down by my side.

And hear, I think,
the very latest counsel

That ever I shall breathe.

God knows, my son,

By what by-paths
and indirect crooked ways

I met this crown.

For all my reign hath been
but as a scene

Acting that argument

but now my death

Changes the mood.

For what in me was purchased

Falls upon thee
in a more fairer sort.

Yet, though thou standest
more sure than I could do

Thou art not firm enough,
since griefs are green.

And all my friends,
which thou must make thy friends,

Have but their stings
and teeth newly taken out,

By whose fell working
I was first advanced

And by whose power
I well might lodge a fear

To be again displaced.

Therefore, my Harry,

Be it thy course
to busy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels.

That actions, hence borne out,

May waste the memory
of the former times.

Health, peace, and happiness
to my royal father.

Thou bring'st me happiness
and peace, son John.

More would I...

but my lungs are wasted so...

That strength of speech
is utterly denied me.

How I came by this crown

O God forgive

And grant it may

with thee

in true peace live.

Dominus quidquid per visum

audtiotum, odoratum

gustum et locutionem,

tactum, gressum deliquisti.

Amen.

Amen.

How now, my Lord Chief Justice.

Whither away?

How doth the king?

Exceeding well,
his cares are now all ended.

I hope, not dead.

He's walked the way of nature.

To our purposes he lives no more.

I would his majesty had called me
with him.

The service that
I truly did his life

Hath left me open
to all injuries.

Indeed I think the young king
loves you not.

I know he doth not

and while myself

To welcome
the condition of the time,

Which cannot look
more hideously upon me

Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.

O God,

I fear all will be overturned.

Good morrow cousin Warwick.

Good morrow.

Good morrow, cousin.

We meet like men
that had forgot to speak.

We do remember but our argument

Is all too heavy
to admit much talk.

Well, peace be with him
that hath made us heavy.

Peace be with us,
lest we be heavier.

O, good my lord,
you have lost a friend indeed.

Though no man be assured
what grace to find,

You stand in coldest expectation.

I am the sorrier.

Would 'twere otherwise.

Well, you must now speak
Sir John Falstaff fair

Which swims against
your stream of quality.

Sweet princes, what I did,
I did in honour,

Led by the impartial conduct
of my soul.

Where are you, Sir John?

Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.

I'm glad to see your worship.

I thank thee with all my heart,
kind Master Bardolph.

And welcome, my tall fellow.

Ah come, Sir John.

I'll follow you,
good Master Robert Shallow.

Bardolph, look to our horses.

I have him already tempering
between my finger and my thumb

and shortly will I seal with him.

Sir John!

I come, Master Shallow, I come.

By cock and pie, sir,
you shall not away to-night.

What, Davy, I say!

You must excuse me,
Master Robert Shallow.

I will not excuse you.

You shall not be excused.

Excuses shall not be admitted.

There is no excuse shall serve.

You shall not be excused.

Why, Davy!

Here, sir.
Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy,

let me see, Davy.
Let me see, Davy.

Let me see.

William cook,
bid him come hither.

Sir John, you shall not be excused.

Marry, sir, thus. Shall we sow
the headland with wheat?

With red wheat, Davy.

But for William cook

are there no young pigeons?

Yes, sir. Now, here is the smith's
note for shoeing and plough-irons.

Let it be cast and paid.

Sir John, you shall not be excused.

Now, sir, a new link to the bucket
needs be had.

Some pigeons, Davy,
a couple of short-legged hens,

and a joint of mutton,
tell William cook.

Doth the man of war stay all night,
sir?

Yea, marry, I will use him well.

You shall see my orchard,

where, in an arbour, we will eat

a last year's pippin

of my own graffing and so forth

and then...

to bed.

'Fore God, you have here
a goodly dwelling and a rich.

Barren, barren, barren.

Beggars all, beggars all, Sir John.

Come, come, come,

off with your boots.

About thy business, Davy.

I beseech you, sir, to countenance
William Visor of Woncot

against Clement Perkes of the hill.

There is many complaints,
Davy, against that Visor.

That Visor is an arrant knave,
to my knowledge.

I grant your worship
he is a knave, sir.

Yea, God forbid, sir,

but a knave should have
some countenance...

I will devise matter enough
out of this Shallow

to keep Prince Harry
in continual laughter.

O, you shall see him laugh
till his face be like a wet cloak...

ill laid up.

Good morrow
and God save your majesty.

This new and gorgeous garment,
majesty,

Sits not so easy on me as you think.

Brothers,

you mix your sadness with some fear.

This is the English
not the Turkish court.

Yet weep that Harry's dead
and so will I,

But Harry lives

that shall convert those tears

By number
into hours of happiness.

We hope no other from your majesty.

You all look strangely on me

and you most.

You are, I think,
assured I love you not.

I am assured,
if I be measured rightly,

Your majesty hath
no just cause to hate me.

No?

How might a prince
of my great hopes forget

So great indignities
you laid upon me?

I then did use
the person of your father.

The image of his power
lay then on me.

Question your royal thoughts,
make the case yours,

Be now the father and propose a son,

Hear your own dignity
so much profaned,

See your most dreadful laws
so loosely slighted,

Behold yourself so
by a son disdained

And then imagine me
taking your part

And in your power

soft silencing your son.

You're right, Justice,

and you weigh this well.

Therefore still bear the balance
and the sword.

The tide of blood in me

Hath proudly flowed
in vanity till now.

Now doth it turn and ebb
back to the sea

Where it shall mingle
with the state of floods

And flow henceforth
in formal majesty.

Now call we our high court
of parliament!

♪ And welcome merry shrove tide

♪ Be merry, be merry! ♪

Well said, Master Silence.

And we shall be merry!

I did not think Master Silence
had been a man of this mettle.

I have been merry...

twice and once ere now.

Now comes in the sweet o' the night.

Honour and long life to you,
Master Silence.

Fill the cup and let it come.

I'll drink to Master Bardolph and
to all the cavaleros about London.

I hope to see London once ere I die.

An I might see you there, Davy.

By the mass,
you'll crack a quart together!

Will you not, Master Bardolph?

The knave will stick by thee,

I can assure thee of that.

I'll stick by him, Master Shallow.

Why, there spoke a king.

See who's at door there, ho.

Why, now you've done me right!

♪ Do me right, And dub me knight,

♪ Samingo

♪ Is't not right? ♪

An't please your worship, there's
one Pistol at the court with news.

Court?

Pistol!

Sweet knight,

thou art now one
of the greatest men in this realm.

Sir John, I am thy Pistol
and thy friend

and helter-skelter have I rode
to thee and tidings do I bring

and lucky joys and golden times
and happy news of price.

I pray thee now deliver them
like a man of this world!

Foutre for the world
and worldlings base

I speak of Africa
and golden joys!

Give me pardon, sir,

if, sir, you come
with news from the court,

I take it there's but two ways,

either to utter them
or to conceal them.

I am, sir, under the king,
in some... authority.

Under which king, Besonian?
Speak, or die.

Under King Harry.

Harry the Fourth or Fifth?

Harry the Fourth.

A foutre for thine office.

Sir John,
thy tender lambkin now is king.

Harry the Fifth's the man.
I speak the truth.

When Pistol lies, do this and fig me
like the bragging Spaniard.

What? Is the old king dead?

As nail in door.

The things I speak are just.

Away, Bardolph. Saddle my horse!

Master Robert Shallow, choose what
office thou wilt in the land,

'tis thine.

Pistol, I will double-charge thee
with dignities.

Carry Master Silence to bed.

Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow

be what thou wilt,
I am fortune's steward.

Get on thy boots,

we'll ride all night.
Now, Pistol, utter more to me

and withal devise something
to do thyself good.

Boot, boot, Master Shallow!

I know the young king
is sick for me.

Let us take any man's horses,

the laws of England
are at my commandment.

Blessed are they
that have been my friends

and woe to my Lord Chief Justice!

God save the King!

God save the King!
God save the King!

God save the King!
God save the King!

O, if I had time to have made
new liveries,

I would have bestowed the thousand
pound I borrowed of you.

But 'tis no matter,
this poor show does better,

this shows my earnestness
of affection...

It doth so... my devotion,
as it were, to ride day and night

and not to deliberate,
not to remember,

not to have patience to shift me...
It doth, it doth.

But to stand stained with travel
and sweating with desire to see him.

There roared the sea

and trumpet clangour sounds!

Lord! Lord!

God save thy grace, King Hal!

My royal Hal!

The heavens thee guard a king
most royal imp of fame!

God save thee my sweet boy!

My lord Chief Justice,

speak to that vain man.

Have you your wits?
Know you what 'tis to speak?

My king! My Jove!

I speak to thee,

my heart!

I know thee not, old man.

Fall to thy prayers.

How ill white hairs
become a fool and jester.

I've long dreamed of such
a kind of man,

So surfeit-swelled,
so old and so profane

But, being awaked,
I do despise my dream.

Make less thy body hence
and more thy grace.

Leave gormandizing,

know the grave doth gape

For thee thrice wider
than for other men.

Reply not to me
with a fool-born jest!

Presume not that
I am the thing I was.

For God doth know,

so shall the world perceive,

That I have turned away
my former self.

So will I those
that kept me company.

When thou dost hear
I am as I have been,

Approach me and
thou shalt be as thou wast,

The tutor and the feeder
of my riots.

Till then I banish thee,
on pain of death

As I have done
the rest of my misleaders,

Not to come near our person
by ten mile.

For competence of life
I will allow you,

The lack of means
enforce you not to evil.

And, as we hear
you do reform yourselves,

We will, according to
your strengths and qualities,

Give you advancement.

Be it your charge, my lord,

To see performed
the tenor of our word.

Set on.

Master Shallow,
I owe you a thousand pound.

Yea, marry, Sir John,

which I beseech you to
let me have home with me.

That can hardly be, Master Shallow.

Do not you grieve at this.

I shall be sent for
in private to him.

Look you,
he must seem thus to the world.

Fear not your advancements,

I will be the man yet
that shall make you great.

I cannot well perceive how,

unless you should give me
your doublet

and stuff me out with straw.

I beseech you, good Sir John,

let me have five hundred
of my thousand.

Sir, I will be as good as my word.

This that you heard
was but a colour.

A colour that I fear you'll die in,
Sir John.

Fear no colours!

Go with me to dinner.

Come, Lieutenant Pistol.

Come, Bardolph. Come, Peto.

I shall be sent for soon at night.

Go, carry Sir John Falstaff
to prison.

Take all his company along with him.

Die dogs! Die dogs!

Shall we have incision?

My lord, my lord!

I cannot now speak.

I will hear you soon.
Take them away.

I'll tell thee what,
thou tripe-visaged rascal!

O the Lord, that Sir John were come!

God save the King!

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