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Open your ears, for which of you will stop
the vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?

I, from the orient to the drooping west,
making the wind my post-horse...

...still unfold the acts commenced on this ball of earth

Upon my tongue continual slanders ride,
the which in every language I pronounce

Stuffing the ears of men with false reports

Rumour is a pipe blown by surmises, jealousies,
conjectures, and of so easy and so plain a stop...

...that the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
the still-discordant wavering multitude, can play upon it

But what need I thus my well-known body to anatomise
among my household? Why is Rumour here?

I run before King Henry′s victory

Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury
hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops...

....quenching the flame of bold rebellion
even with the rebels′ blood

But what mean I to speak so true at first?

My office is to noise abroad that young Prince Henry
fell under the wrath of noble Hotspur′s sword

And that the King before the Douglas′ rage
stooped his anointed head as low as death

This have I rumoured through the peasant towns
between the royal field of Shrewsbury...

...and this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, where
Hotspur′s father, old Northumberland, lies crafty-sick

The posts come tiring on, and not a man of them
brings other news than they have learned of me

From Rumour′s tongues they bring
smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs

- Who keeps the gate here, ho? Where is the Earl?
- What shall I say you are?

Tell thou the Earl
that the Lord Randolph doth attend him here

His lordship is walked forth into the orchard

Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,
and he himself will answer

Here comes the Earl

What news, Lord Randolph? Every minute now
should be the father of some stratagem

The times are wild.
Contention, like a horse full of high feeding...

...madly hath broke loose
and bears down all before him

Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury

- Good, an heaven will
- As good as heart can wish

The King is almost wounded to the death,
Prince Harry slain outright...

...and Walter Blunt killed by the hand of Douglas

Such a day, so fought,
so followed and so fairly won...

...came not till now to dignify the times
since Caesar′s fortunes

How is this derived?
Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?

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

Here comes my servant Travers,
whom I sent on Tuesday last to listen after news

- Now, Travers, what good tidings comes from you?
- My lord, I over-rode him on the way

And he is furnished with no certainties more
than he haply may retail from me

But after you, my lord came spurring hard
a gentleman, almost forspent with speed...

...that stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse

He told me that rebellion had met ill luck
and that young Harry Percy′s spur was cold

Said he young Harry Percy′s spur was cold?
Of Hotspur Coldspur? That rebellion had met ill luck?

My lord, I′ll tell you what: if my young lord your son
have not the day, I′ll give my knighthood for a silken point

Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers
give then such instances of loss?

Look, here comes more news

Yea, this man′s brow, like to a title-leaf,
foretells the nature of a tragic volume

- Say, Morton, 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

This thou wouldst say, ‵Your son did thus and thus.
Your brother thus. So fought the noble Douglas...′

...stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed...

...thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
ending with ‵Brother, son, and all are dead′

Douglas is living, and your brother, yet.
But, for my lord your son...

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

He that but fears the thing he would not know...

...hath by instinct knowledge from others′ eyes
that what he feared is chanced

- Yet speak, Morton
- Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain

Yet, for all this, say not that Percy is dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye

Thou shakest thy head
and holdest it fear or sin to speak a truth

- If he be slain, say so
- I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead

I am sorry I must force you to believe
that which I would to God I had not seen

But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
rendering faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed...

...to Henry Monmouth, whose swift wrath
beat down the never-daunted Percy to the earth

From whence with life he never more sprung up

The sum of all is that the King hath won, and hath
sent out a speedy power to encounter you, my lord...

...under the conduct of young Lancaster and Westmorland

- This is the news at full
- For this I shall have time enough to mourn

In poison there is physic,
and this news, having been well...

....that would have made me sick,
being sick, have in some measure made me well

Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch. A scaly gauntlet
now with joints of steel must glove this hand

And hence, thou sickly coif.
Now bind my brows with iron

And approach the raggedest hour that time and spite
dare bring to frown upon the enraged Northumberland

Let heaven kiss earth. Let order die and let the world
no longer be a stage to feed contention in a lingering act

But let one spirit of the first-born Cain reign in all bosoms,
that, each heart being set on bloody courses...

...the rude scene may end,
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 over to stormy passion,
must perforce decay

It was your presurmise
that in the dole of blows your son might drop

You knew he walked over perils on an edge,
more likely to fall in than to get over

Yet did you say ‵Go forth′. What hath then befallen
more than that being which was like to be?

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

...that if we wrought our life was ten to one

And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
choked the respect of likely peril feared

And since we are overset, venture again

I hear for certain, and do speak the truth. The gentle
Archbishop of York is up with well-appointed powers

He is a man who with a double surety binds his followers

My lord your son had only but the corpse,
but shadows and the shows of men, to fight

For that same word, rebellion,
did divide the action of their bodies from their souls

It froze them up as fish are in a pond.
But now the Bishop turns insurrection to religion

And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones

Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
gasping for life under great Bolingbroke

- And more and less do flock to follow him
- I knew of this before

But, to speak truth,
this present grief had wiped it from my mind

Go in with me, and counsel every man
the aptest way for safety and revenge

Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed.
Never so few, nor never yet more need

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 of

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

I do here stand before thee like a sow
that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one

If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason
than to set me off, why then I have no judgement

He may keep his own grace,
but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him

What said Master Dombledon
about the satin for my short cloak and slops?

He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance
than Bardolph. He liked not the security

Let him be damned, like the glutton.
May his tongue be hotter

A rascally yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman
in hand, and then stand upon security

- Where is Bardolph?
- He′s gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse

I bought him in St Paul′s,
and he′ll buy me a horse in Smithfield

If I could get me a wife in the stews,
I were manned, horsed, and wived

Sir, here comes the nobleman
that committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolph

Wait, close. I will not see him

- What′s he that goes there?
- Falstaff, an it please your lordship

He that was in question for the robbery upon Gads Hill?

He, my lord.
But he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury

- Call him back again
- Sir John Falstaff

Boy, tell him I am deaf

- You must speak louder, my master is deaf
- I am sure he is, to the hearing of anything good

- Go, pluck him by the elbow, I must speak with him
- Sir John

What? A young knave, and beg?
Is there not wars? Is there not employment?

Doth not the King lack subjects?
Do not the rebels want soldiers?

Though it be a shame to be on any side but one,
it is worse shame to beg

- You mistake me, sir
- Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man?

You hunt counter, hence. Avaunt!

- Sir John Falstaff, a word with you
- My good lord! Give your lordship good time of the day

I heard say your lordship was sick.
I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice

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 most humbly beseech your lordship
to have a reverend care of your health

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

If it please your lordship, I hear his majesty
is returned with some discomfort from Wales

I talk not of his majesty.
You would not come when I sent for you

And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into a kin
d
of lethargy, a sleeping of the blood, a whoreson tingling

- What tell you me of it?
- It is 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 it please you...

...it is the disease of not listening,
the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal

I sent for you, when there were matters against you
for your life, to come speak with me

As I was then advised by my learned counsel
in the laws of this land-service, 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

Your means is very slender,
and your waste very great

I would it were otherwise. I would my means
were greater, and my waist slenderer

Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound

Your day′s service at Shrewsbury hath a little
gilded over your night′s exploit on Gad′s Hill

- My lord?
- But since all is well, keep it so

There is not a white hair on your face
but should have his effect of gravity

His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy

You follow the young Prince up and down,
like his evil angel

Not so, my lord. You that are old
consider not the capacities of us that are young

You measure the heat of our livers
with the bitterness of your galls

And we that are in the vaward of our youth,
I must confess, are wags too

Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth,
that are written down old with all the characters of age?

Have you not a moist eye? A dry hand? A yellow cheek?
A white beard? A decreasing leg? An increasing belly?

Is not your voice broken? Your wind short?
Your chin double? Your wit single?

And every part about you blasted with antiquity?
And will you call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John

My lord, I was born 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 am only old in judgement and understanding

For the box of the ear that the Prince gave you, he gav
e
it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord

I have checked him for it, and the young lion repents

Marry, not in ashes and sackcloth,
but in new silk and old sack

Well, heaven send the Prince a better companion

Heaven 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

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

There is not a dangerous action
can peep out its head but I am thrust upon it

But it was always yet the trick of our English nation,
if they have a good thing, to make it too common

I would to God my name were not so terrible
to the enemy as it is. Well, I cannot last ever

Well, be honest, be honest,
and heaven bless your expedition

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

Not a penny, not a penny. Fare you well.
Commend me to my cousin Westmorland

If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle

A man can no more separate age and covetousness
than he can part young limbs and lechery

But the gout galls the one,
and the pox pinches the other

- Boy
- Sir?

- What money is 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 the disease is incurable

Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster,
this to the Prince...

...this to the Earl of Westmorland,
and this to old Mistress Ursula...

...whom I have weekly sworn to marry
since I perceived the first white hair on my chin

About it. You know where to find me

A pox of this gout, or a gout of this pox

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

It is no matter if I do halt. I have the wars for my colour,
and my pension shall seem the more reasonable

A good wit will make use of anything.
I will turn diseases to commodity

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
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
- Ay, marry, there′s the point

But if without him we be thought too feeble...

...my judgement is, we should not step too far
till we had his assistance by the hand

′Tis very true, Lord Randolph, for indeed
it was young Hotspur′s case at Shrewsbury

It was, my lord, who lined himself with hope,
eating the air on promise of supply

And so, with great imagination proper to madmen,
led his powers to death and winking leaped into destruction

But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt
to lay down likelihoods and forms of hope

Yes, if this present quality of war lives so in 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 in fewer offices?

Or at least desist to build at all?

Much more, in this great work, 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 Randolph,
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

So is the unfirm King in three divided, 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...

...the French and Welsh baying him at the heels.
Never fear that

Let us on,
and publish the occasion of our arms

The commonwealth is sick of their own choice,
their over-greedy love hath surfeited

O thou fond many, with what loud applause
didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke...

...before he was what thou wouldst have him be.
And being now trimmed in thine own desires...

...thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him
that thou provokest thyself to cast him up

So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard

And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
and howlest to find it

What trust is in these times?

They that, when Richard lived, would have him die,
are now become enamoured on his grave

Thou, that threwest dust upon his godly head...

...when through proud London he came sighing on
after the admired heels of Bolingbroke...

...criest now
‵O earth, yield us that king again, and take thou this′

O, thoughts of men accursed.
Past and to come seems best, things present worst

- Master Fang, have you entered the action?
- It is entered

Where′s your yeoman?
Is it a lusty yeoman? Will he stand to it?

Sirrah... where′s Snare?

- Here, here
- Oh lord

- Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff
- Ay, good Master Snare, I have entered him and all

It may chance cost some of us our lives. He will stab

Alas the day, take heed of him.
He stabbed me in mine own house, and that most beastly

He cares not what mischief he doth,
if his weapon be out

He will foin like any devil,
he will spare neither man, woman nor child

- If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust
- No, nor I neither: I′ll be at your elbow

If I but fist him once, if he come but within my vice...

I am undone with his going.
I warrant he is an infinitive thing upon my score

Good Master Fang, hold him sure.
Good Master Snare, let him not scape

He comes continuantly to Pie Corner to buy a saddle...

...and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber′s-head
in Lombard Street to Master Smooth′s the silkman

I pray ye, since my exion is entered and my case so ope
nly
known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer

A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman
to bear, and I have borne, and borne, and borne

And have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, from this day
to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on

There is no honesty in such dealing

Yonder he comes,
and that arrant malmsey-nose Bardolph, with him

Do your offices, do your offices. Master Fang
and Master Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices

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

Throw me in the channel? I′ll throw thee there.
Wilt thou? Wilt thou? Thou bastardly rogue

Murder, murder! O, thou honeysuckle villain,
wilt thou kill God′s officers and the King′s?

O, thou honey-seed rogue, thou art a honey-seed,
a man-queller, and a woman-queller

Keep them off, Bardolph

A rescue, a rescue!

Good people, bring a rescue.
Do, do, thou rogue! Do, thou hemp-seed!

- Away, you scullion
- You rampallion

- You fustilarian
- I′ll tickle your catastrophe

What′s the matter? Keep the peace here, ho

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

How now, Sir John? What are you brawling here?
You should have been well on your way to York

Stand from him, fellow...
Wherefore hangest upon him?

O my most worshipful lord, an it 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,
he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his

But I will have some of it out again,
or I will ride thee o′nights like the mare

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,
on Wednesday in Whitsun week...

...when the Prince broke thy head
for likening him 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.
Canst thou deny it?

Did not goodwife Keech, the butcher′s wife,
come in then and call me gossip Quickly...

...coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar,
telling us she had a good dish of prawns...

...whereby thou didst desire to eat some,
whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound?

And didst not thou, when she was gone downstairs,
desire me to be no more familiar with such poor people...

...saying that ere long they should call me madam?

And didst thou not kiss me
and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings?

I put thee now to thy book-oath. Deny it, if thou canst

My lord, this is a poor mad soul

And she says up and down the town
that her eldest son looks like you

She hath been in good case,
and the truth is, poverty hath distracted her

Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with
your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way

It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words tha
t
come with such more than impudent sauciness from you...

...can thrust me from a level consideration

I know you have practised
upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman

- Yea, in troth, my lord
- Prithee, peace

Pay her the debt you owe her,
and unpay the villainy you have done her

The one you may do with sterling money,
and the other with current repentance

My lord, I say to you, I do desire deliverance from the
se
officers, being upon hasty employment in the King′s affairs

- Sir John, satisfy the poor woman
- Come hither, hostess

Now, Master Gower, what news?

Fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse,
are marched up to my Lord of Lancaster...

- ...against Northumberland and the Archbishop
- Come, go along with me, good Master Gower

- As I am a gentleman...
- Nay, you said so before

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

By this holy ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn
both my plate and the tapestry of my dining chambers

Glasses, glasses is the only drinking.
And for thy walls...

...a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal,
is worth a thousand of these fly-bitten tapestries

Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, if it were no
t
for thy humours, there is not a better wench in England

Go, wash thy face, and withdraw thy action.
Come, thou must not be in this humour with me

Come, I know thou wast set on to this

Prithee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles.
I am loathe to pawn my plate, in good earnest, la

- Let it alone. I′ll make other shift. You′ll be a fool
still
- Well, you shall have it, although I pawn my gown

- I hope you′ll come to supper. You′ll pay me all together?
- Will I live?

Go, with her, with her. Hook on, hook on

- Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?
- No more words. Let′s have her

Before God, I am exceeding weary

Is it come to that? I had thought weariness
durst not have attached one of so high blood

It doth 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, in 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?

Or to bear the inventory of thy shirts,
as one for superfluity, and one other for use?

But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I...

...for it is a low ebb of linen with thee
when thou keptest not racket here

Tell me, how many good young princes
would do so, their fathers lying so sick as yours is?

- Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?
- Yes, and let it be an excellent good thing

- It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine
- Go to

Why, I tell thee it is not meet
that I should be sad now my father is sick

Albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases me,
for fault of a better, to call my friend...

- ...I could be sad, and sad indeed too
- Very hardly upon such a subject

Thou thinkest me as far in the devil′s book
as thou and Falstaff...

...for obduracy and persistency.
Let the end try the man

But 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

Never a man′s thought in the world
keeps the roadway better than thine

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
- Nay, I am well spoken of

I can hear it with mine own ears.
The worst that they can say of me...

...is that I am a second brother
and that I am a proper fellow of my hands

And those two things, I confess, I cannot help

- Look, look, here comes Bardolph
- And the boy that I gave Falstaff

He had him from me Christian,
and see if the fat villain have not transformed him ape

- Save your grace
- And yours, most noble Bardolph

Come, you pernicious ass, you bashful fool,
must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now?

He called me even now, my lord, through a red lattice,
and I could discern no part of his face from the window

At last I spied his eyes, and methought he had made two
holes in the ale-wife′s new petticoat and peeped through

- Hath not the boy profited?
- Away, you upright rabbit

- And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
- Well, my good lord

He heard of your grace′s coming to town.
There′s a letter for you

Delivered with good respect.
And how doth the martlemas, your master?

- In bodily health, sir
- Marry, the immortal part needs a physician

I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog,
and he holds his place, for look you 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 the honourable Romans in brevity′
- Sure he means brevity in breath, short-winded

‵I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee′

‵Thine, by yea and no, which is as much as to say
as thou usest him, Jack Falstaff with my familiars...′

‵John with my brothers and sister,
and Sir John with all Europe′

‵Repent at idle times as thou mayest, and so farewell′

‵Postscript. Be not too familiar with Poins...′

‵...for he misuses thy favours so much,
that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell′

My lord, I will steep this letter in sack and make him eat it

That′s to make him eat twenty of his words.
But do you use me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister?

May the wench have 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?
- Yes, my lord

- Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank?
- At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap

- Sup any women with him?
- None, my lord...

- ... but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet
- Mistress Doll Tearsheet. What pagan may that be?

A proper gentlewoman, sir,
and a kinswoman of my master′s

Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull

- 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 in town. There′s for your silence

- I have no tongue, sir
- And for mine, sir, I will govern it

Fare ye well. Go

This Doll Tearsheet should be some road

I warrant you, as common as the way
between Saint Albans and London

How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight
in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?

Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons,
and wait upon him at his table like drawers

From a prince to a prentice, a low transformation,
that shall be mine. Follow me, Ned

I prithee, loving wife and gentle daughter,
give an even way unto my rough affairs

Put not you on the visage of the times
and be like them to Percy troublesome

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, when you broke your word,
when you were more endeared to it than now

When your own Percy, when my heart-dear Harry...

...threw many a northward look to see his father
bring up his powers. But he did long in vain

Who then persuaded you to stay at home?

There were two honours lost, yours and your son′s

For yours, may heavenly glory brighten it

For his, it stuck upon him
as the sun in the grey vault of heaven

And by his light did all the chivalry of England
move to do brave acts

He was indeed the glass
wherein the noble youth did dress themselves

He had no legs that practised not his gait,
and speaking thick, which nature made his blemish...

...became the accents of the valiant

He was the mark and glass,
copy and book, that fashioned others

And him, O wondrous him, O miracle of men,
him did you leave, second to none...

...unseconded by you, to look upon
the hideous god of war in disadvantage

To abide a field where nothing but the sound of
Hotspur′s name did seem defensible. So you left him

Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong...

...to hold your honour more precise and nice
with others than with him. Let them alone

The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong.
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers...

...today might I, hanging on Hotspur′s neck,
have talked of Monmouth′s grave

Beshrew your heart, fair daughter

You do draw my spirits from me
with new lamenting ancient oversights

But I must go and meet with danger there, or it will
seek me in another place and find me worse provided

O, 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 shall have length of life enough
to rain upon remembrance with mine eyes...

...that it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
for recordation to my noble husband

Come, come, go in with me.
′Tis with my mind...

...as with the tide swelled up unto his height,
that makes a still-stand, running neither way

Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop,
but many thousand reasons hold me back

I will resolve for Scotland.
There am I, till time and vantage crave my company

What hast thou brought there? Apple-johns?

- Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john
- Thou sayst 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

Anon anon sir

See if thou canst find out Sneak′s noise.
Mistress Tearsheet would fain have some music

I′ll see if I can find out Sneak

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

But, you have drunk too much canaries

And that is a marvellous searching wine,
and it perfumes the blood ere we can say ‵What′s this?′

- How do you now?
- Better than I was

Why, that was well said. A good heart′s worth gold.
Look, here comes Sir John

Empy the jordan

- How now, Mistress Doll?
- Sick of a calm, yea, good sooth

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

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

- You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll
- I make them?

Gluttony and diseases make them,
I make them not

If the cook 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

Why, this is the old fashion.
You two never meet but you fall to some discord

You are both, in good troth, 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 they say, the emptier vessel

Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead?

There′s a whole merchant′s venture of Bordeaux stuff
i
n 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

Sir, Captain Pistol is below, and would speak with you

Hang him, swaggering rascal. let him not come hither.
It is the foul-mouthedest rogue in England

If he swagger, let him not come here.
I must live amongst 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

- Dost thou hear, hostess?
- Pray you, pacify yourself, Sir John

- There comes no swaggerers here
- Dost thou hear? It is mine ensign

Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me.
Your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors

I was before Master Tisick, the deputy,
the other day, and as he said to me...

It was no longer ago than Wednesday last,
‵Neighbour Quickly′, says he...

Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then.
‵Neighbour Quickly′, says he...

‵Receive those that are civil,
for′, sayeth he, ‵you are in an ill name′

Now he 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

He′s no swaggerer, hostess, a tame cheater he.
You may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound

He will not swagger with a Barbary hen,
if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance

- Call him up, drawer
- ‵Cheater′, call you him?

I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheat,
but I do not love swaggering

I am the worse when one says ‵swagger′.
Feel, masters, how I shake. Look you, I warrant you

- So you do, hostess
- Do I? Yea, in very truth do I, if it were an aspen leaf

I cannot abide swaggerers

- 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. You shall hardly offend her

Come, I′ll drink no proofs nor no bullets. I will 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 ma
te.
Away, you mouldy rogue, away. I am meat for your master

- I know you, Mistress Dorothy
- Away, you cutpurse rascal, you filthy bung, away

I′ll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps,
if you play the saucy cuttle with me

Away, you bottle-ale rascal,
you basket-hilt stale juggler, you

- Know me? Since when, I pray you, sir?
- I will murder your ruff for this

No more Pistol, I would not have you go off here

No, good Captain Pistol. Not here, sweet Captain

Captain? Thou abominable damned cheater,
art thou not ashamed to be called captain?

If 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?

- Good Ancient
- Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll

Pray thee go down

Not I. I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph,
I could tear her. I′ll be revenged on her

Pray thee go down

I′ll see her damned first
to Pluto′s damned lake

To the infernal deep,
with Erebus and tortures vile also

Hold hook and line, say I

Down, down, dogs! Down, Fates!
Have we not Hiren here?

Good Captain Peesel, be quiet. It is very late.
I beseek you now, aggravate your choler

These be good humours indeed

Shall pack-horses and hollow pampered jades of Asia,
which cannot go but thirty miles a day...

...compare with Caesar and with cannibals,
and Trojan Greeks?

Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus,
and let the welkin roar

- Shall we fall foul for toys?
- By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter words

Be gone, good Ancient. This will grow to a brawl anon

Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins!
Have we not Hiren here?

On my word, Captain, there′s none such here. What the
goodyear, do you think I would deny her? I pray be quiet

Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
Come, give me 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

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

Thrust him downstairs.
I cannot endure such a fustian rascal

‵Thrust him down stairs′?
Know we not Galloway nags?

Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling

Nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing,
he shall be nothing here

Come, get you downstairs

What? Shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days

Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
untwined the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say

- Here′s good stuff toward
- Give me my sword, boy

- I prithee, Jack, I prithee do not draw
- Get you downstairs

Here′s a goodly tumult. I′ll forswear keeping house,
before 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

I prithee, Jack, be quiet. The rascal is gone.
Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you

Are you not hurt in the groin?
Methought he made a shrewd thrust at your belly

Have you turned him out of doors?

- Yes, sir. The rascal′s drunk
- No!

- You have hurt him, sir, in the shoulder
- A rascal to brave me

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 love thee

Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of
Agamemnon and ten times better than the Nine Worthies

- Ah, villain
- A rascally slave, I will toss the rogue in a blanket

Do, if thou darest for thy heart.
If thou dost, I′ll canvass thee between a pair of sheets

- The music is come, sir
- Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll

A rascal bragging slave.
The rogue fled from me like quicksilver

And thou followedest him like a church.
Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig

When wilt thou leave fighting on days
and foining on 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 is the Prince of?

A good shallow young fellow. He would have made
a good pantry-lad, he would have chopped bread well

They say Poins hath a good wit

He a good wit? Hang him, baboon.
His wit is as thick as Tewkesbury mustard

Why doth 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 drinks off candles′ ends for flap-dragons

And rides the wild-mare with the boys,
and jumps upon joint-stools, and swears with a good grace

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 of a wheel have his ears cut off?
- Let us beat him before his whore

Look, if the withered elder
hath not his poll clawed like a parrot

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

Kiss me, Doll

Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction.
What says the almanac to that?

And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man,
be not lisping to his master′s old counsel-keeper

- Thou dost give me flattering busses
- Nay truly, I kiss thee with a most constant heart

I am old, I am old

I love thee better than I love ever
a scurvy young boy of them all

What stuff wilt thou have a kirtle of?
I shall receive money on Thursday

Thou shalt have a cap tomorrow.
It grows late. We will to bed

- Thou wilt forget me when I am gone
- Thou wilt set me a-weeping, if thou sayst so

Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return

Well, hearken the end

- Some sack, Francis
- Anon, anon, sir

Ha? 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

A better than thou.
I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer

Very true, sir,
and I come to draw you out by the ears

O, the lord preserve thy good grace.
Welcome to London. What, are you come from Wales?

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, if 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
- Blessing on your good heart, and so she is, by my troth

- Didst thou hear me?
- Yes, 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

No, no, no, not so.
I did not think thou wast within hearing

I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse,
and then I know how to handle you

No abuse, Hal, on mine honour, no abuse

Not to dispraise me, and call me pantry-lad
and bread-chopper and I know not what?

- No abuse, Hal
- No abuse?

No abuse, Ned, in 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 frien
d
and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanksfor it

No abuse, Hal. None, Ned, none. No, boys, none

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 the boy of the wicked?

Or honest Bardolph,
whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

Answer, thou dead elm, answer

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

For the women?

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

- No, I warrant you
- No, I think thou art not. I think thou art quit for that

Who knocks so loud at door?
Look to the door there, Francis

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,
and asking every one 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

Give me my sword and cloak.
Falstaff, good night

Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night,
and we must hence and leave it unpicked

More knocking at the door?
How now, what′s the matter?

You must away to court, sir, presently.
A dozen captains stay at door for you

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

I cannot speak.
If my heart be not ready to burst...

- Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself
- Farewell, farewell

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

- Mistress Tearsheet
- What′s the matter?

- Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master
- O, run, Doll, run. Run, good Doll

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...

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?

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 clamours 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

- Many good morrows to your majesty
- Is it good morrow, lords?

- ′Tis one o′clock, and past
- Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords

- Have you read over the letters that I sent you?
- We have, my liege

Then you perceive
the body of our kingdom how foul it is

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

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

O, if this were seen the happiest youth,
reading 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...

...and in two years after were they at wars

It is but eight years since this Percy
was the man nearest my soul

Who like a brother toiled in my affairs
and laid his love and life under my foot

Yea, for my sake,
even to the eyes of Richard gave him defiance

But which of you was by
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...

...but that necessity so bowed the state
that I and greatness were compelled to kiss

‵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

There is a history in all men′s lives, figuring the nature
of the times deceased, the which observed...

...a man may prophesy, with a near aim,
of the main chance of things as yet not come to life...

...which in their seeds and weak beginnings
lie intreasured

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

Are these things then necessities?

Then let us meet them like necessities.
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 life, my lord, the powers that you already
have sent forth shall bring this prize in very easily

Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill, and these
unseasoned hours perforce must add unto your sickness

I will take your counsel

And were these inward wars once out of hand,
we would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land

Come on, come on, come on

Give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir.
An early stirrer, by the rood

- And how doth my good cousin Silence?
- Good morrow, good cousin Shallow

And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow?

And your fairest daughter and mine,
my goddaughter Ellen?

Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow

By yea and nay, sir.
I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar

- He is at Oxford still, is he not?
- Indeed, sir, to my cost

He must then to the Inns of Court shortly

I was once of Clement′s Inn,
where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet

You were called ‵lusty Shallow′ then, cousin

I was called anything,
and I would have done anything 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 of Court again

And I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas
were and had the best of them all at commandment

Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John,
a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk

This Sir John, cousin,
that comes hither anon about soldiers?

The same Sir John, the very same.
I saw him break Scoggin′s head at the court-gate...

...when he was a crack not thus high

And the very same day did I fight with
one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray′s Inn

O, the mad days that I have spent!
And to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead

- We shall all follow, cousin
- Certain, ′tis certain, very sure, very sure

Death as the sun is set is certain to all, all shall die

- How much a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford Fair?
- Truly, cousin, I was not there

Death is certain.
Is old Double of your town living yet?

- Dead, sir
- Dead?

See, see, he drew a good bow, and dead?

He shot a fine shoot. John of Gaunt loved him well,
and betted much money on his head. Dead?

- How a score of ewes now?
- A score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds

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 stout gentleman, and a most gallant leader

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?

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

It is well said, sir, and it is well said indeed too

Better accommodated. Good phrases are surely,
and everywhere, very commendable

Accommodated. It comes of ‵accommodo′.
Very good, a good phrase

Pardon me, sir, I have heard the word.
Phrase call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase

But I will maintain the word with my sword to be a
soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command

‵Accommodated′, that is when a man is, as they say...
accommodated

Or when a man is being
whereby he thought to be accommodated...

- ...which is an excellent thing
- It is very just

Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your good hand,
give me your worship′s good hand

Trust me, you look well and bear your years very well.
Welcome, good Sir John

I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow

Master Surecard, as I think?

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

Good Master Silence,
it well befits you be Justice of the Peace

- Your good worship is welcome
- Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen

Have you provided me here
half a dozen of sufficient men?

- Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?
- Let me see them, I beseech you

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. 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?
- Here, if it please you

What think you, Sir John?
A good-limbed fellow. Young, strong, and of good friends

- Is thy name Mouldy?
- Yea, if it please you

- ′Tis the more time thou wert used
- Ha, ha, ha! Most excellent

Things that are mouldy lack use.
Very singular good. Well said, Sir John, very well said

- Prick him
- I was pricked well enough before...

...if you could have let me alone

My old dame will be undone now
for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery

You need not to have pricked me.
There are other men fitter to go out than I

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?

Ay, marry, let me have Shadow 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

- 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 pins.
Prick him no more

Ha, ha, ha! 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 would have 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, good woman′s tailor.
Well said, courageous Feeble

Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove
or most magnanimous mouse

Prick the woman′s tailor well, Master Shallow,
deep, Master Shallow

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

- Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble
- It shall suffice

I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.
Who is the next?

- Peter Bullcalf of the green
- Yea, marry, let us see Bullcalf

- Here, sir
- Trust me, a likely fellow

- Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar again
- O, good my lord captain...

- What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?
- O, 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 will have away thy cold

- Is here all?
- There 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

Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner.
I am glad to see you, in good troth, Master Shallow

O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night
in the Windmill in Saint George′s Field?

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

Ha, it was 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

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 was fifty-five years ago

Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that
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 then
‵Hem, boys hem, and a cup of old sack′

Come, let′s to dinner, come, let′s to dinner.
O Jesu, the days that we have seen. Come, cousin Silence

Good Master Corporate Bardolph

Stand my friend, and here is 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 friends

- Else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much
- Go to. Stand aside

And, good Master Corporal Captain,
for my old dame′s sake, stand my friend

She hath nobody to do anything about her
when I am gone, and she is old, and cannot help herself

- You shall have forty, sir
- Go to. Stand aside

I care not. A man can die but once.
We owe God a death

I will never bear a base mind.
If it be my destiny, so. If it be not, so

No man is too good to serve his prince, and let it go
which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next

- Well said. Thou art a good fellow
- Nay, I will bear no base mind

- Come, sir, which men shall I have?
- Four of which you please

Sir, a word with you

- I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf
- Go to, well

- Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
- Do you choose for me

Marry, then...
Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble and Shadow

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

Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your likeliest
men, and I would have you served with the best

Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man?

Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk,
and big assemblance of a man?

Give me the spirit, Master Shallow.
Where′s Wart? You see what a ragged appearance it is

He shall charge you and discharge you
with the motion of a pewterer′s hammer

And this same half-faced 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 musket into Wart′s hand, Bardolph

Hold, Wart, traverse. Thus, thus, thus

Come, manage me your musket

So, very well, go to, very good, exceeding good

O, give me always a little, lean, old, chopped, bald shot

Well said, Wart. Thou art a good scab.
Hold, there is a tester for thee

He is not his craft′s master. He doth not do it right

I remember at Mile-End Green,
when I lay at Clement′s Inn

I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur′s show

There was a little quiver fellow,
and he would manage you his piece thus

And he would about and about,
and come you in and come you in

‵Ra, ta, ta′, would he say

‵Bounce′, would he say

And away again would he go

And again would he come

I shall never see such a fellow again

These fellows will do well, Master Shallow

Farewell, Master Silence.
I will not use many words with you

Fare you well, gentlemen both. I thank you.
I must a dozen mile tonight

Bardolph, give the soldiers coats and lead them away

Sir John, lord bless you.
God prosper your affairs, God send us peace

As you return, visit my house. Let our old acquaintance
be renewed. Peradventure I will with you to the court

- I would you would, Master Shallow
- Go to. I have spoke at a word

- Fare you well. God keep you
- Fare you well, gentle gentlemen

An I return, I will fetch off these justices.
I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow

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 of his youth...

...and the feats he hath done about Turnbull Street,
and every third word a lie

I do remember him at Clement′s Inn,
like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring

When he was naked...

...he was, for all the world, like a forked radish,
with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife

He was so forlorn, that his dimensions
to any thick sight were invisible

He was the very genius of famine, yet lecherous
as a monkey, and the whores called him mandrake

He came ever in the rearward of the fashion

And now is this Vice′s dagger become a squire,
and now hath he land and beefs

Well, I will be acquainted with him if I return

If the young dace be a bait for the old pike,
I may snap at him

Let time shape, and there an end

What is this forest called?

- ′Tis Gaultree Forest, an it shall please your grace
- Here stand, my lords

My friends and brethren in these great affairs

I must acquaint you that I have received
new-dated letters from Northumberland

Here doth he wish his person,
with such powers as might hold sortance with his quality

The which he could not levy, whereupon
he is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes, to Scotland

Thus do the hopes we have in him
touch ground and dash themselves to pieces

Now, what news?

West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,
in goodly form comes on the enemy

And by the ground they hide, I judge their number
upon or near the rate of thirty thousand

The just proportion that we gave them out.
Let us sway on and face them in the field

- What well-appointed leader fronts us here?
- I think it is my Lord of Westmorland

Health and fair greeting from our general,
the Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster

Say on, my Lord of Westmorland, in peace

Unto your grace do I in chief address
the substance of my speech

You, Lord Archbishop,
whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched...

Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored,
whose white investments figure innocence...

...wherefore do you so ill translate yourself
into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war?

Turning your books to graves,
your ink to blood, your pens to lances...

...and your tongue divine
to a loud trumpet and a point of war

Wherefore do I this?
So the question stands. Briefly to this end

We are all diseased, and with our surfeiting and wanton
hours have brought ourselves into a burning fever

And we must bleed for it, of which disease
our late King Richard, being infected, died

But, my most noble Lord of Westmorland, I do not
as an enemy to peace, troop in the throngs of military men

But rather show awhile like fearful war,
to diet rank minds sick of happiness

And purge the obstructions
which begin to block our very veins of life

Hear me more plainly.
We see which way the stream of time doth run...

...and are enforced from our most quiet there
by the rough torrent of occasion

And have the summary of all our griefs,
when time shall serve, to show in articles

Which long ere this we offered to the King,
and might by no suit gain our audience

Here come I from our princely general to tell you
from his grace that he will give you audience

And wherein it shall appear that your demands
are just, you shall enjoy them

But he hath forced us to compel this offer,
and it proceeds from policy, not love

Marshal, you overween to take it so.
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear

For, lo, within a ken our army lies,
our battle is more full of names than yours

Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
our armour all as strong, our cause the best

Then reason will our hearts should be as good.
Say you not then our offer is compelled

Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley

That argues but the shame of your offence.
A rotten case abides no handling

Hath the Prince John a full commission...

...to hear and absolutely to determine
of what conditions we shall stand upon?

That is intended in the general′s name.
I muse you make so slight a question

Then take, my Lord of Westmorland, this schedule.
For this contains our general grievances

Each several article herein redressed,
we come within our awful banks again...

- ...and knit our powers to the arm of peace
- This will I show the general

There is a thing within my bosom tells me
that no conditions of our peace can stand

Fear you not that. If we can make our peace
upon such large terms and so absolute...

...as our conditions shall consist upon,
our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains

Ay, but our valuation shall be such that every slight a
nd
false-derived cause, shall to the King taste of this action

We shall be winnowed with so rough a wind
that even our corn shall seem as light as chaff...

- ...and good from bad find no partition
- No, no, my lord

Full well the King doth know
he cannot so precisely weed this land

His foes are so enrooted with his friends that, pluckin
g
to unfix an enemy, he doth unfasten so and shake a friend

Besides, the King hath wasted all his rods
on late offenders

So that his power, like to a fangless lion,
may offer, but not hold

′Tis very true.
And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal...

If we do now make our atonement well, our peace will,
like a broken limb united, grow stronger for the breaking

Be it so.
Here is returned my Lord of Westmorland

The Prince is here at hand

You are well encountered here, my Lord Marshal

Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop.
And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all

My Lord of York, it better showed with you
when that your flock, assembled by the bell...

...encircled you to hear with reverence
your exposition on the holy text

Than now to see you here an iron man...

...cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
turning the word to sword and life to death

Who hath not heard it spoken
how deep you were within the books of God?

To us, the imagined voice of God himself,
you have taken up...

...under the counterfeited zeal of God
the subjects of his substitute, my father

And both against the peace of God and him
have here upswarmed them

Good my Lord of Lancaster,
I am not here against your father′s peace

The time misordered doth, in common sense, crowd us
and crush us to this monstrous form, to hold our safety up

I sent your grace the parcels and particulars of our gr
ief,
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 most just and right desires

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,
and so success of mischief shall be born

And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up
whiles England shall have generation

You are 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, and 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 Westmorland.
- I pledge your grace

And if you knew what pains I have bestowed to breed
this present peace, you would drink freely

But my love to you
shall show itself more openly hereafter

- I do not doubt you
- I am glad of it

Health to my gentle cousin, good Lord Marshal

You wish me health in very happy season,
for I am, on the sudden, something ill

Against ill chances men are ever merry,
but heaviness foreruns the good event

Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow serves
to say thus, ‵some good thing comes tomorrow′

- Believe me, I am passing light in spirit
- So much the worse, if your own rule be true

- 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

I trust, lords, we shall lie tonight together.
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

Our army is dispersed. Like youthful steers unyoked,
each took his course east, west, north, south

Or, like a school broke up,
each hurries toward his home and sporting-place

Good tidings, my Lord Hastings, for the which
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason

And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Marshal,
of capital 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

I promised you redress of these same grievances
whereof you did complain

Which, by mine honour,
I will perform with a most Christian care

But for you rebels, look to taste the due
meet for rebellion and such acts as yours

Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence

Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
treason′s true bed and yielder up of breath

Strike up our drums, pursue the scattered stray.
God, and not we, have safely fought today

What′s your name, sir?
Of what degree are you, and of what place, I pray?

I am a knight, sir,
and my name is Sir John Coleville of the Dale

Well, then, Coleville is your name,
a knight is your degree, and your place, the Dale

Coleville shall still be your name,
a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place

A place deep enough
so shall you be still Coleville of the Dale

- Are not you Sir John Falstaff?
- As good a man as he, sir, whoever I am

Do ye yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do swe
at, they
are the drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death

Therefore rouse up fear and trembling,
and do observance to my mercy

I think you are Sir John Falstaff,
and in that thought yield me

Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
When everything is ended, then you come

These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
one time or other break some gallows′ back

My lord, I never knew yet
but rebuke and check was the reward of valour

Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet?
I, in my poor and old motion...

...have speeded hither with the very extremest inch
of possibility, and here, travel-tainted as I am...

...have in my pure and immaculate valour,
taken Sir John Coleville of the Dale

A most furious knight and valorous enemy.
But what of that? 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 know not. Here he is, and here I yield him

And I beseech your grace,
let it be booked with the rest of this day′s deeds

Or, I swear, I will have it in a particular ballad, wit
h mine
own picture on the top of it, Coleville kissing myfoot

- Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount
- Thine′s too heavy to mount

- Let it shine, then
- Thine′s too thick to shine

Let it do something, my good lord,
that may do me good, and call it what you will

- Is thy name Coleville?
- It is, my lord

- A famous rebel art thou, Coleville
- And a famous true subject took him

Send Coleville with his confederates
to York, to present execution

And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords

I hear the King my father is sore sick.
Our news shall go before us to his majesty

My lord, I beseech you when you come to court,
stand me, good lord, pray, in your good report

Fare you well, Falstaff.
I shall better speak of you than you deserve

I would you had but the wit

Good faith, this same young boy doth not love me,
nor a man cannot make him laugh

But that′s no marvel. He drinks no wine

There′s never any of these demure boys
come to any proof

They are generally fools and cowards,
which some of us should be too, but for inflammation

A good sherry-sack hath a two-fold operation in it

It ascends me into the brain, dries me there
all the foolish and dull and curdy vapours which environ it

Makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive,
full of nimble, fiery and delectable shapes

Which, delivered over to the voice, the tongue,
which is the birth, becomes excellent wit

The second property of your excellent sherry is...

...the warming of the blood,
which, before cold and settled...

...left the liver white and pale,
which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice

But the sherry warms it and makes it course
from the inwards to the parts extremes

It illuminateth the face, which as a beacon gives warning
to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm

And then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits
muster me all to their captain, the heart

Who, great and puffed up with his retinue,
doth any deed of courage

And this valour comes of sherry

Hereof is it that Prince Harry is valiant,
for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father...

...he hath, like lean, sterile and bare land,
manured, husbanded and tilled...

...with excellent endeavour of drinking good store
of fertile sherry, that he is become very hot and valiant

If I had a thousand sons, the first principle
I would teach them should be to addict themselves to sack

- How now Bardolph?
- The army is discharged all and gone

Let them go. I′ll through Gloucestershire,
and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire

I have him already tempering between my finger
and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away

Now, sons, if God doth give successful end
to this debate that bleedeth at our doors...

...we will our youth lead to Jersusalem
and draw no swrods but what are sanctified

Our navy is addressed, our power collected,
our substitutes in absence well invested...

...and everything lies level to our wish

Only we want a little personal strength,
and pause us...

...till these rebels, now afoot,
come underneath the yoke of government

Both which we doubt not
but your majesty shall soon enjoy

Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
where is the Prince your brother?

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

- And how accompanied?
- I do not know, my lord

- Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?
- No, my good lord, he is in presence here

- What would my lord and father?
- Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence

How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother?
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas

Thou hast a better place in his affection
than all thy brothers

Cherish it, my boy,
for he is gracious, if he be observed

He hath a tear for pity
and a hand open as day for melting charity

Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he′s flint

As humorous as winter, and as sudden
as hail congealed in the spring of day

His temper, therefore, must be well observed.
Learn this, Thomas

And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
a hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in

That the united vessel of their blood
shall never leak...

...though it do work as strong
as aconitum or rash gunpowder

I shall observe him with all care and love

- Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?
- He is not there today. He dines in London

- And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?
- With Poins, and other his continual followers

Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds, and he,
the noble image of my youth, is overspread with them

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...

...′tis needful that the most immodest word
be looked upon and learned

Which once attained, your highness knows,
comes to no further use but to be known and hated

′Tis seldom when the bee
doth leave her comb in the dead carrion

- Who′s here? Westmorland?
- Health to my sovereign, and new happiness

Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace′s hand

The Marshal, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all
are brought to the correction of your law

There is not now a rebel′s sword unsheathed,
but peace puts forth her olive everywhere

O Westmorland, thou art a summer bird, which ever
in the haunch of winter sings the lifting up of day

And wherefore should these good news make me sick?
Will fortune never come with both hands full?

I should rejoice now at this happy news,
and now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy

- O, me! Come near me, now I am much ill
- Comfort, your majesty

- O my royal father
- My sovereign lord, look up

- Stand from him. Give him air. He′ll straight be well
- No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs

The incessant care and labour of his mind
hath wrought the mure that should confine it in...

...so thin that life looks through and will break out

The people fright me, for they do observe
unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature

The seasons change their manners, as the year
had found some months asleep and leaped them over

The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between,
and the old folk, time′s doting chronicles...

...say it did so a little time before
that our great-grandsire, Edward, sicked and died

- Speak lower, princes, for the King recovers
- This apoplexy will certain be his end

I pray you 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
will whisper music to my weary spirit

Call for the music in the other room

Set me the crown upon my pillow here

- His eye is hollow, and he changes much
- Less noise, less noise

Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

- I am here, brother, full of heaviness
- How now, rain within doors, and none abroad?

- How doth the King?
- Exceeding ill

- Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him
- He altered much upon the hearing it

If he be sick with joy, he′ll recover without physic

Not so much noise, my lords. Sweet prince, speak low.
The King your father is disposed to sleep

- Let us withdraw into the other room
- 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 polished perturbation, golden care...

...that keepest the ports of slumber open wide
to many a watchful night

Sleep with it now, yet not so sound
and half so deeply sweet...

...as he whose brow with homely biggen bound
snores out the watch of night

O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer...

...thou dost sit like a rich armour worn
in heat of day, that scaldest with safety

By his gates of breath
there lies a downy feather which stirs not

Did he suspire,
that light and weightless down perforce must move

My gracious lord, my father

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, as immediate from thy place and blood,
derives itself to me

Lo, here it sits, which God shall guard

And put the world′s whole strength into one giant arm,
it shall not force this lineal honour from me

This from thee
will I to mine leave, as ′tis left to me

- Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence!
- Doth the King call?

- What would your majesty? How fares your grace?
- Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?

We left the Prince my brother here, my liege,
who undertook to sit and watch by you

The Prince of Wales? Where is he?
Let me see him

- This door is open. He is gone this way
- He came not through the chamber where we stayed

- Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?
- When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here

The Prince hath taken it hence. Go, seek him out.
Is he so hasty that he doth suppose my sleep my death?

Find him, my Lord of Warwick. Chide him hither

This part of his conjoins with my disease
and helps to end me

See, sons, what things you are, how quickly
nature falls into revolt when gold becomes her object

My lord, I found the Prince in the next room...

...washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks.
He is coming hither

But wherefore did he take away the crown?

Come hither to me, Harry...
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone

- 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

Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair...

...that thou wilt needs invest thee
with mine honours before thy hour be ripe?

O foolish youth!
Thou seekest the greatness that will overwhelm thee

Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours
were thine without offence

And at my death
thou hast sealed up my expectation

Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not,
and thou wilt have me die assured of it

Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart...

...to stab at half an hour of my life

What? Canst thou not forbear me half an hour?

Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
give that which gave thee life unto the worms

Pluck down my officers, break my decrees,
for now a time is come to mock at form

Henry 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 will swear, drink, dance...

...revel the night, rob, murder,
and commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways?

Be happy, he will trouble you no more.
England shall double gild his treble guilt

England shall give him office, honour, might

For the fifth Harry from curbed licence
plucks the muzzle of restraint

And the wild dog
shall flesh his tooth in 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 be a wilderness again,
peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants

O, pardon me, my liege, there is your crown

And he that wears the crown immortally
long guard it yours

If I affect it more than as your honour and as your
renown, let me no more from this obedience rise

God witness with me, when I here came in,
and found no course of breath within your majesty...

...how cold it struck my heart. If I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die

And never live to show the incredulous world
the noble change that I have purposed

Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
and dead almost, my liege, to think you were...

...I spake unto the crown as having sense,
and thus upbraided it

‵The care on thee depending
hath fed upon the body of my father′

‵And 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

But if it did infect my blood with joy,
or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride...

If any rebel or vain spirit of mine did with the least
affection
of a welcome give entertainment to the might ofit...

...let God forever keep it from my head

And make me as the poorest vassal is
that doth with awe and terror kneel to it

O my son, God put it in thy mind to take it hence,
that thou mightst join the more thy father′s love

Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed 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

And I myself know well
how troublesome it sat upon my head

To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
better opinion, better confirmation

For all the soil of the achievement goes
with me into the earth

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

Therefore, my Harry, be it thy course
to busy giddy minds with foreign quarrels

That action, hence borne out,
may waste the memory of the former days

More would I, but my lungs are wasted so
that strength of speech is utterly denied me

How I came by the crown, O God forgive,
and grant it may with thee in true peace live

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me.
Then plain and right must my possession be

Which I with more than with a common pain
′gainst all the world will rightfully maintain

- Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster
- Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father

Thou bringest me happiness and peace, son John

But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
from this bare withered trunk

- Where is my Lord of Warwick?
- My Lord of Warwick

Doth any name particular belong
unto the lodging where I first did swoon?

It is called Jerusalem, my noble lord

Laud be to God. Even there my life must end

It hath been prophesied to me many years,
I should not die but in Jerusalem

Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land

But bear me to that chamber, there I′ll lie

In that Jerusalem shall Harry die

By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away tonight.
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, let me see, Davy, let me see...

William the cook, bid him come hither.
Sir John, you shall not be excused

- Marry, sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat?
- With red wheat, Davy

- But for William Cook, are there no young pigeons?
- Yes, sir

Here is now the smith′s note
for shoeing and plough-irons

Let it be cast and paid.
Sir John, you shall not be excused

And, sir, do you mean to stop any of William′s wages,
about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley Fair?

He shall answer it.
Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens...

...a joint of mutton,
and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook

- Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?
- Yes, Davy. I will use him well

A friend in the court is better than a penny in purse

Use his men well, Davy,
for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite

No worse than they are bitten, sir,
for they have marvellous foul linen

Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy

I beseech you, sir, to favour William Visor of Woncot
against Clement Perkes of the Hill

There are many complaints, Davy, against that Visor.
That Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge

I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir

But yet, heaven forbid, sir, but a knave
should have some favour at his friend′s request

I have served your worship truly, sir, these eight years

And if I cannot once or twice in a quarter
bear up a knave against an honest man...

...I have but a very little credit with your worship

The knave is mine honest friend, sir.
Therefore, I beseech your worship let him be favoured

Go to, I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy

Where are you, Sir John?
Come, off with your boots

- Give me your hand, Master Bardolph
- I am glad to see your worship

I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph,
and welcome, my tall fellow

- Come, Sir John
- I′ll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow

Bardolph, look to our horses

It is a wonderful thing to see
the semblable coherence of his men′s spirits and his

They, by observing of him,
do bear themselves like foolish justices

He, by conversing with them,
is turned into a justice-like servingman

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

I come, Master Shallow.
And sir, I owe you a thousand pounds

- 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,
and 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 do arm myself
to welcome the condition of the time...

...which cannot look more hideously upon me
than I have drawn it in my fantasy

Here comes the heavy issue of dead Harry

- 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

- Here comes the Prince
- 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,
not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, but Harry Harry

I bid you be assured,
I′ll be your father and your brother too

Let me but bear your loves, I′ll bear your cares.
But 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?

What? Rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
the immediate heir of England?

Was this easy?
May this be washed in Lethe, and forgotten?

Your highness pleased to forget my place,
the image of the King whom I presented...

...and struck me in an Eastcheap tavern house

Whereon, as an offender to your father,
I gave bold way to my authority and did commit you

If the deed were ill, 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

After this cold considerance, sentence me

And, as you are a king, speak in your state
what I have done that misbecame my place

You are right, Justice, and you weigh this well.
Therefore still bear the balance and the sword

And I do wish your honours may increase till you do live
to see a son of mine offend you and obey you, as I did

You shall be as a father to my youth, and I will stoop
and
humble my intents to your well-practised wise directions

And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you: my father
is gone wild into his grave, for in his tomb lie my affections

And with his spirits sadly I survive,
to mock the expectation of the world

To frustrate prophecies and to raze out rotten opinion,
who hath writ me down after my seeming

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 let us choose such limbs of noble counsel...

...that the great body of our state
may go in equal rank with the best governed nation

And, God consigning to my good intents,
no prince nor peer shall have just cause to say...

....God shorten Harry′s happy life one day

Nay, you shall see mine orchard, where, in an arbour,
we will eat a last year′s pippin of my own graffing...

...with a dish of caraways, and so forth

Come, cousin Silence.
And then to bed

- You have here a goodly dwelling and a rich
- Barren, barren, barren. Beggars all, beggars all, Sir John

Marry, good air

Spread, Davy, spread, Davy. Well said, Davy

Oh by the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper.
A good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down. Come, cousin

Ah, sirrah, quoth a, we shall do nothing
but eat, and make good cheer

And praise heaven for the merry year
when flesh is cheap and females dear

And lusty lads roam here and there
so merrily, and ever among so merrily

There′s a merry heart.
Good Master Silence, I′ll give you a health for that anon

- Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy
- Sweet sir, sit. I′ll be with you anon. Most sweet sir, sit

Master page, good master page, sit. Good health

Be merry, Master Bardolph.
And, my little soldier there, be merry

Be merry, be merry, my wife has all,
for women are shrews, both short and tall

′Tis merry in hall when beards wag all,
and welcome merry Shrovetide. Be merry, be merry

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

Who, I?
I have been merry twice and once ere now

- There is a dish of leather-coats for you
- Davy

Your worship, I′ll be with you straight.
A cup of wine, sir?

A cup of wine that′s brisk and fine,
and drink unto the leman mine

And a merry heart lives long-a...

- Well said, Master Silence
- If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet of the night

Health and long life to you, Master Silence

Fill the cup, and let it come,
I′ll pledge you a mile to the bottom

Honest Bardolph, welcome. If thou wantest anything
and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart

Welcome, my little tiny thief.
And welcome indeed too

I′ll drink to Master Bardolph,
and to all the cavalieros about London. Bardolph!

I hope to see London once ere I die

- If I might see you there, Davy
- You′ll crack a quart together...

- ...will you not, Master Bardolph?
- Yes, sir, in a pottle-pot

By God′s ligins I thank thee.
The knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that

And I′ll stick by him, sir

Why, there spoke a king.
Lack nothing, be merry

Look who′s at gate there, ho! Who knocks?

- Why, now you have done me right
- Do me right, and dub me knight, Samingo

- Is′t not so?
- ′Tis so

If it please your worship,
there′s one Pistol come from the court with news

From the court? Let him come in. How now, Pistol?

- Sir John, God save you
- What wind blew you hither, Pistol?

Not the ill wind which blows none to good

Sweet knight,
thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm

- Indeed, I think he be, but Goodman Puff of Barson
- Puff? Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base

Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend,
helter-skelter have I rode to thee

And tidings do I bring and lucky joys
and golden times and happy news of price

I prithee now deliver them like a man of this world

A foutre for the world and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa and golden joys

O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof

And Robin Hood, Scarlet and John

Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news
from the court, I take it there is 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

O, joyful day,
I would not take a knighthood for my fortune

Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow,
be what thou wilt. I am fortune′s steward

Get on thy boots. We′ll ride all night.
O sweet Pistol. Away, Bardolph

Away, 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

Happy are they which have been my friends,
and woe unto my Lord Chief Justice

Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also

‵Where is the life that late I led?′ say they

Why, here it is. Welcome these pleasant days

No, thou arrant knave. I would I might die, that I migh
t have
thee hanged. Thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint

The constables have delivered her over to me, and
she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant her

There hath been a man or two lately killed about her

Thou damned tripe-visaged rascal.
If the child I now go with do miscarry...

...thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother,
thou paper-faced villain

O, that Sir John were come,
he would make this a bloody day to somebody

But I would the fruit of her womb might miscarry

If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again,
you have but eleven now

Come, I charge you both go with me,
for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat among you

O, that right should thus overcome might

- Come, you rogue, come. Bring me to a justice
- Yes, come, you bloodhound

- Dizzy eyed bum bailey
- Thou goose turd, thou

- Come, you tripe face, thing
- Very well

- More rushes, more rushes
- The trumpets have sounded twice

It will be two of the clock
ere they come from the coronation

Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow.
I will make the King do you grace

I will leer upon him as he comes by,
and do but mark the countenance that he will give me

- Bless thy lungs, good knight
- Come here, Pistol, stand behind me

O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would
have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you

But it is no matter, this poor show doth better,
this doth infer the zeal I had to see him

- It doth so
- It shows my earnestness in 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 change

It is most certain

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

Thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs in oblivi
on,
as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him

- ′Tis semper idem, for obsque hoc nihil est
- ′Tis so, indeed

My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver,
and make thee rage

Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,
is in base durance and contagious prison...

...haled thither by most mechanical and dirty hand

Rouse up revenge from ebon den
with fell Alecto′s snake, for Doll is in

- Pistol speaks naught but troth
- I will deliver her

There roared the sea, and trumpet-clangour sounds

Save thy grace, King Hal, my royal Hal

The heavens thee guard and keep,
most royal imp of fame

Save thee, my sweet boy

- My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man
- Have you your wits? Know you what it is you 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 have long dreamed of such a kind of man,
so surfeit-swelled, so old and so profane

But being awake, I do despise my dream

Make less thy body hence,
and more thy grace, leave gormandising

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,
not to come near our person by ten mile

For competence of life I will allow you,
that lack of means enforce you not to evil

And, as we hear you do reform yourselves...

...we will, according to your strength 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

Aye, 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 advancement.
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 I fear that you will die in, Sir John

Fear no colours. Go with me to dinner.
Come, Lieutenant Pistol. Come, Bardolph

I shall be sent for soon at night

Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet.
Take all his company along with him

- My lord, my lord...
- I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon

- Take them away
- Si fortuna me tormento, spero me contento

- The King hath called his parliament, my lord
- He hath

I will lay odds that, ere this year expire,
we bear our civil swords and native fire as far as France

I heard a bird so sing, whose music, to my thinking,
pleased the King. Come, will you hence?