SCENE III. Another part of the forest
Alarum; excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLVILLE, meeting
FALSTAFF. What's your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and
of
what place, I pray?
COLVILLE. I am a knight sir; and my name is Colville of the
Dale.
FALSTAFF. Well then, Colville is your name, a knight is your
degree, and your place the Dale. Colville shall still be your
name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place—a
place
deep enough; so shall you be still Colville of the Dale.
COLVILLE. Are not you Sir John Falstaff?
FALSTAFF. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do you yield,
sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, 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.
COLVILLE. I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that
thought
yield me.
FALSTAFF. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of
mine;
and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my
name.
An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the
most
active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me.
Here comes our general.
Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND,
BLUNT, and others
PRINCE JOHN. The heat is past; follow no further now.
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.
Exit WESTMORELAND
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.
FALSTAFF. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: I
never
knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do
you
think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poor
and
old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither
with
the very extremest inch of possibility; I have found'red nine
score and odd posts; and here, travel tainted as I am, have,
in
my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colville 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-nos'd
fellow of Rome-I came, saw, and overcame.
PRINCE JOHN. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.
FALSTAFF. I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I
beseech your Grace, let it be book'd with the rest of this
day's
deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad
else, with mine own picture on the top on't, Colville kissing
my
foot; to the which course if I be enforc'd, if you do not all
show like gilt twopences to me, and I, in the clear sky of
fame,
o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of
the
element, which show like pins' heads to her, believe not the
word
of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert
mount.
PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too heavy to mount.
FALSTAFF. Let it shine, then.
PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too thick to shine.
FALSTAFF. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me
good,
and call it what you will.
PRINCE JOHN. Is thy name Colville?
COLVILLE. It is, my lord.
PRINCE JOHN. A famous rebel art thou, Colville.
FALSTAFF. And a famous true subject took him.
COLVILLE. I am, my lord, but as my betters are
That led me hither. Had they been rul'd by me,
You should have won them dearer than you have.
FALSTAFF. I know not how they sold themselves; but thou, like a
kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I thank thee for
thee.
Re-enter WESTMORELAND
PRINCE JOHN. Now, have you left pursuit?
WESTMORELAND. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd.
PRINCE JOHN. Send Colville, with his confederates,
To York, to present execution.
Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure.
Exeunt BLUNT and others
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,
Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him
And we with sober speed will follow you.
FALSTAFF. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through
Gloucestershire; and, when you come to court, stand my good
lord,
pray, in your good report.
PRINCE JOHN. Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition,
Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
Exeunt all but FALSTAFF
FALSTAFF. I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your
dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth
not
love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh—but that's no
marvel;
he drinks no wine. There's never none of these demure boys
come
to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood,
and
making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male
green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches.
They
are generally fools and cowards-which some of us should be
too,
but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold
operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me there
all
the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it;
makes it
apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and
delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, the
tongue,
which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second
property of
your excellent sherris 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 sherris warms
it,
and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extremes.
It
illumineth 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 puff'd up with this
retinue,
doth any deed of courage—and this valour comes of sherris.
So
that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that
sets
it a-work; and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil
till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof
comes
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 till'd, with excellent
endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris,
that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand
sons,
the first humane principle I would teach them should be to
forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.
Enter BARDOLPH
How now, Bardolph!
BARDOLPH. The army is discharged all and gone.
FALSTAFF. Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire, and there
will
I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already
temp'ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I
seal
with him. Come away. Exeunt
SCENE IV. Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber
Enter the KING, PRINCE THOMAS OF CLARENCE, PRINCE HUMPHREY OF
GLOUCESTER,
WARWICK, and others
KING. Now, lords, if God doth give successful end
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address'd, our power connected,
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.
WARWICK. Both which we doubt not but your Majesty
Shall soon enjoy.
KING. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
Where is the Prince your brother?
PRINCE HUMPHREY. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at
Windsor.
KING. And how accompanied?
PRINCE HUMPHREY. I do not know, my lord.
KING. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?
PRINCE HUMPHREY. No, my good lord, he is in presence here.
CLARENCE. What would my lord and father?
KING. 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,
And noble offices thou mayst effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,
Between his greatness and thy other brethren.
Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love,
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
By seeming cold or careless of his will;
For he is gracious if he be observ'd.
He hath a tear for pity and a hand
Open as day for melting charity;
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he is flint;
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd.
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth;
But, being moody, give him line and scope
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. 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,
Mingled with venom of suggestion—
As, force perforce, the age will pour it in—
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
CLARENCE. I shall observe him with all care and love.
KING. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?
CLARENCE. He is not there to-day; he dines in London.
KING. And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?
CLARENCE. With Poins, and other his continual followers.
KING. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;
And he, the noble image of my youth,
Is overspread with them; therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.
The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape,
In forms imaginary, th'unguided days
And rotten times that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!
WARWICK. 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 look'd upon and learnt; which once attain'd,
Your Highness knows, comes to no further use
But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,
The Prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers; and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live
By which his Grace must mete the lives of other,
Turning past evils to advantages.
KING. 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
In the dead carrion.
Enter WESTMORELAND
Who's here? Westmoreland?
WESTMORELAND. Health to my sovereign, and new happiness
Added to that that am to deliver!
Prince John, your son, doth kiss your Grace's hand.
Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all,
Are brought to the correction of your law.
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,
But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere.
The manner how this action hath been borne
Here at more leisure may your Highness read,
With every course in his particular.
KING. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day.
Enter HARCOURT
Look here's more news.
HARCOURT. From enemies heaven keep your Majesty;
And, when they stand against you, may they fall
As those that I am come to tell you of!
The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph,
With a great power of English and of Scots,
Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown.
The manner and true order of the fight
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
KING. And wherefore should these good news make me sick?
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach and no food-
Such are the poor, in health—or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach—such are the rich
That have abundance and enjoy it not.
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.
PRINCE HUMPHREY. Comfort, your Majesty!
CLARENCE. O my royal father!
WESTMORELAND. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
WARWICK. Be patient, Princes; you do know these fits
Are with his Highness very ordinary.
Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.
CLARENCE. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs.
Th' 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.
PRINCE HUMPHREY. The people fear me; for they do observe
Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature.
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leapt them over.
CLARENCE. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;
And the old folk, Time's doting chronicles,
Say it did so a little time before
That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.
WARWICK. Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers.
PRINCE HUMPHREY. This apoplexy will certain be his end.
KING. I pray you take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber. Softly, pray. Exeunt
SCENE V. Westminster. Another chamber
The KING lying on a bed; CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others in attendance
KING. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
WARWICK. Call for the music in the other room.
KING. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
CLARENCE. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
WARWICK. Less noise! less noise!
Enter PRINCE HENRY
PRINCE. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
CLARENCE. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
PRINCE. How now! Rain within doors, and none abroad!
How doth the King?
PRINCE HUMPHREY. Exceeding ill.
PRINCE. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.
PRINCE HUMPHREY. He alt'red much upon the hearing it.
PRINCE. If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic.
WARWICK. Not so much noise, my lords. Sweet Prince, speak low;
The King your father is dispos'd to sleep.
CLARENCE. Let us withdraw into the other room.
WARWICK. Will't please your Grace to go along with us?
PRINCE. No; I will sit and watch here by the King.
Exeunt all but the PRINCE
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st 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 scald'st 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 divorc'd
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. [Putting on the crown] Lo where 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. Exit
KING. Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!
Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE
CLARENCE. Doth the King call?
WARWICK. What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace?
KING. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
CLARENCE. We left the Prince my brother here, my liege,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
KING. The Prince of Wales! Where is he? Let me see him.
He is not here.
WARWICK. This door is open; he is gone this way.
PRINCE HUMPHREY. He came not through the chamber where we
stay'd.
KING. Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?
WARWICK. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
KING. The Prince hath ta'en 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.
Exit WARWICK
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!
For this the foolish over-careful fathers
Have broke their sleep with thoughts,
Their brains with care, their bones with industry;
For this they have engrossed and pil'd up
The cank'red heaps of strange-achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises;
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets,
Our thighs with wax, our mouths with honey pack'd,
We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees,
Are murd'red for our pains. This bitter taste
Yields his engrossments to the ending father.
Re-enter WARWICK
Now where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?
WARWICK. My lord, I found the Prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
KING. But wherefore did he take away the crown?
Re-enter PRINCE HENRY
Lo where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry.
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
Exeunt all but the KING and the PRINCE
PRINCE. I never thought to hear you speak again.
KING. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair
That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind
That it will quickly drop; my day is dim.
Thou hast stol'n that which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offense; and at my death
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation.
Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it.
Thou hid'st 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;
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head;
Only compound me with forgotten dust;
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-
Harry the Fifth is crown'd. 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 curb'd license plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again.
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
PRINCE. O, pardon me, my liege! But for my tears,
The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke
Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard
The course of it so far. There is your crown,
And he that wears the crown immortally
Long guard it yours! [Kneeling] If I affect it more
Than as your honour and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise,
Which my most inward true and duteous spirit
Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending!
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 th' 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 this crown as having sense,
And thus upbraided it: 'The care on thee depending
Hath fed upon the body of my father;
Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold.
Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable;
But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,
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 murd'red my father—
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
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 of it,
Let God for ever keep it from my head,
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
KING. O my son,
God put it in thy mind to take it hence,
That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it!
Come hither, Harry; sit thou 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 crook'd 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. It seem'd in me
But as an honour snatch'd with boist'rous hand;
And I had many living to upbraid
My gain of it by their assistances;
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears
Thou seest with peril I have answered;
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument. And now my death
Changes the mood; for what in me was purchas'd
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;
So thou the garland wear'st successively.
Yet, though thou stand'st 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 ta'en out;
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displac'd; which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land,
Lest rest and lying still might make them look
Too near unto my state. 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!
PRINCE. My gracious liege,
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.
Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WARWICK, LORDS, and others
KING. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
PRINCE JOHN. Health, peace, and happiness, to my royal father!
KING. Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John;
But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare wither'd trunk. Upon thy sight
My worldly business makes a period.
Where is my Lord of Warwick?
PRINCE. My Lord of Warwick!
KING. Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
WARWICK. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.
KING. 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 suppos'd the Holy Land.
But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. Exeunt
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ACT V. SCENE I. Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S house
Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and PAGE
SHALLOW. By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night.
What, Davy, I say!
FALSTAFF. You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.
SHALLOW. I will not excuse you; you shall not be excus'd;
excuses
shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you
shall
not be excus'd. Why, Davy!
Enter DAVY
DAVY. Here, sir.
SHALLOW. Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy; let me see, Davy; let me see,
Davy; let me see—yea, marry, William cook, bid him come
hither.
Sir John, you shall not be excus'd.
DAVY. Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served; and,
again, sir—shall we sow the headland with wheat?
SHALLOW. With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook—are there
no
young pigeons?
DAVY. Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and
plough-irons.
SHALLOW. Let it be cast, and paid. Sir John, you shall not be
excused.
DAVY. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had;
and,
sir, do you mean to stop any of William's wages about the
sack he
lost the other day at Hinckley fair?
SHALLOW. 'A shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of
short-legg'd hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little
tiny
kickshaws, tell William cook.
DAVY. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?
SHALLOW. Yea, Davy; I will use him well. A friend i' th' court
is
better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy; for
they
are arrant knaves and will backbite.
DAVY. No worse than they are backbitten, sir; for they have
marvellous foul linen.
SHALLOW. Well conceited, Davy—about thy business, Davy.
DAVY. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of
Woncot
against Clement Perkes o' th' hill.
SHALLOW. There, is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor.
That
Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.
DAVY. I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but yet God
forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his
friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for
himself, when a knave is not. I have serv'd your worship
truly,
sir, this eight years; an I cannot once or twice in a quarter
bear out 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 you, let him be countenanc'd.
SHALLOW. Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about,
DAVY. [Exit DAVY] Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come,
off
with your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.
BARDOLPH. I am glad to see your worship.
SHALLOW. I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph.
[To the PAGE] And welcome, my tall fellow. Come, Sir John.
FALSTAFF. I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.
[Exit SHALLOW] Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt
BARDOLPH
and PAGE] If I were sawed into quantities, I should make
four
dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as Master Shallow. 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 serving-man. Their spirits are so married
in
conjunction with the participation of society that they flock
together in consent, like so many wild geese. If I had a suit
to
Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of
being near their master; if to his men, I would curry with
Master
Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is
certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is
caught,
as men take diseases, one of another; therefore let men take
heed
of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this
Shallow
to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of
six
fashions, which is four terms, or two actions; and 'a shall
laugh
without intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight
oath, and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow that
never
had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him laugh
till
his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up!
SHALLOW. [Within] Sir John!
FALSTAFF. I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow.
Exit
SCENE II. Westminster. The palace
Enter, severally, WARWICK, and the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
WARWICK. How now, my Lord Chief Justice; whither away?
CHIEF JUSTICE. How doth the King?
WARWICK. Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended.
CHIEF JUSTICE. I hope, not dead.
WARWICK. He's walk'd the way of nature;
And to our purposes he lives no more.
CHIEF JUSTICE. I would his Majesty had call'd me with him.
The service that I truly did his life
Hath left me open to all injuries.
WARWICK. Indeed, I think the young king loves you not.
CHIEF JUSTICE. 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.
Enter LANCASTER, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER,
WESTMORELAND, and others
WARWICK. Here comes the heavy issue of dead Harry.
O that the living Harry had the temper
Of he, the worst of these three gentlemen!
How many nobles then should hold their places
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort!
CHIEF JUSTICE. O God, I fear all will be overturn'd.
PRINCE JOHN. Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.
GLOUCESTER & CLARENCE. Good morrow, cousin.
PRINCE JOHN. We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
WARWICK. We do remember; but our argument
Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
PRINCE JOHN. Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy!
CHIEF JUSTICE. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier!
PRINCE HUMPHREY. O, good my lord, you have lost a friend
indeed;
And I dare swear you borrow not that face
Of seeming sorrow—it is sure your own.
PRINCE JOHN. Though no man be assur'd what grace to find,
You stand in coldest expectation.
I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise.
CLARENCE. Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair;
Which swims against your stream of quality.
CHIEF JUSTICE. Sweet Princes, what I did, I did in honour,
Led by th' impartial conduct of my soul;
And never shall you see that I will beg
A ragged and forestall'd remission.
If truth and upright innocency fail me,
I'll to the King my master that is dead,
And tell him who hath sent me after him.
WARWICK. Here comes the Prince.
Enter KING HENRY THE FIFTH, attended
CHIEF JUSTICE. Good morrow, and God save your Majesty!
KING. 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. Yet be sad, good brothers,
For, by my faith, it very well becomes you.
Sorrow so royally in you appears
That I will deeply put the fashion on,
And wear it in my heart. Why, then, be sad;
But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
Than a joint burden laid upon us all.
For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd,
I'll be your father and your brother too;
Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares.
Yet weep that Harry's dead, and so will I;
But Harry lives that shall convert those tears
By number into hours of happiness.
BROTHERS. We hope no otherwise from your Majesty.
KING. You all look strangely on me; and you most.
You are, I think, assur'd I love you not.
CHIEF JUSTICE. I am assur'd, if I be measur'd rightly,
Your Majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
KING. 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,
Th' immediate heir of England! Was this easy?
May this be wash'd in Lethe and forgotten?
CHIEF JUSTICE. I then did use the person of your father;
The image of his power lay then in me;
And in th' administration of his law,
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
Your Highness pleased to forget my place,
The majesty and power of law and justice,
The image of the King whom I presented,
And struck me in my very seat of judgment;
Whereon, as an offender to your father,
I gave bold way to my authority
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a son set your decrees at nought,
To pluck down justice from your awful bench,
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword
That guards the peace and safety of your person;
Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image,
And mock your workings in a second body.
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours;
Be now the father, and propose a son;
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd,
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd;
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,
My person, or my liege's sovereignty.
KING. 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.
So shall I live to speak my father's words:
'Happy am I that have a man so bold
That dares do justice on my proper son;
And not less happy, having such a son
That would deliver up his greatness so
Into the hands of justice.' You did commit me;
For which I do commit into your hand
Th' unstained sword that you have us'd to bear;
With this remembrance—that you use the same
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit
As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand.
You shall be as a father to my youth;
My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear;
And I will stoop and humble my intents
To your well-practis'd 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 flow'd 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 govern'd nation;
That war, or peace, or both at once, may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us;
In which you, father, shall have foremost hand.
Our coronation done, we will accite,
As I before rememb'red, all our state;
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. Exeunt
SCENE III. Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S orchard
Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, BARDOLPH, the PAGE, and DAVY
SHALLOW. Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we
will eat a last year's pippin of mine own graffing, with a
dish
of caraways, and so forth. Come, cousin Silence. And then to
bed.
FALSTAFF. Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and rich.
SHALLOW. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir
John
-marry, good air. Spread, Davy, spread, Davy; well said,
Davy.
FALSTAFF. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your
serving-man and your husband.
SHALLOW. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir
John. By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper. A
good
varlet. Now sit down, now sit down; come, cousin.
SILENCE. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a—we shall [Singing]
Do nothing but eat and make good cheer,
And praise God 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.
FALSTAFF. There's a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I'll give
you
a health for that anon.
SHALLOW. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.
DAVY. Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon; most sweet sir,
sit.
Master Page, good Master Page, sit. Proface! What you want in
meat, we'll have in drink. But you must bear; the heart's
all.
Exit
SHALLOW. Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier
there,
be merry.
SILENCE. [Singing]
Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;
For women are shrews, both short and tall;
'Tis merry in hall when beards wag an;
And welcome merry Shrove-tide.
Be merry, be merry.
FALSTAFF. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this
mettle.
SILENCE. Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now.
Re-enter DAVY
DAVY. [To BARDOLPH] There's a dish of leather-coats for you.
SHALLOW. Davy!
DAVY. Your worship! I'll be with you straight. [To BARDOLPH]
A cup of wine, sir?
SILENCE. [Singing]
A cup of wine that's brisk and fine,
And drink unto the leman mine;
And a merry heart lives long-a.
FALSTAFF. Well said, Master Silence.
SILENCE. An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' th'
night.
FALSTAFF. Health and long life to you, Master Silence!
SILENCE. [Singing]
Fill the cup, and let it come,
I'll pledge you a mile to th' bottom.
SHALLOW. Honest Bardolph, welcome; if thou want'st 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 cabileros about London.
DAVY. I hope to see London once ere I die.
BARDOLPH. An I might see you there, Davy!
SHALLOW. By the mass, you'll crack a quart together—ha! will
you
not, Master Bardolph?
BARDOLPH. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.
SHALLOW. By God's liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick
by
thee, I can assure thee that. 'A will not out, 'a; 'tis true
bred.
BARDOLPH. And I'll stick by him, sir.
SHALLOW. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing; be merry.
[One knocks at door] Look who's at door there, ho! Who
knocks?
Exit DAVY
FALSTAFF. [To SILENCE, who has drunk a bumper] Why, now you
have
done me right.
SILENCE. [Singing]
Do me right,
And dub me knight.
Samingo.
Is't not so?
FALSTAFF. 'Tis so.
SILENCE. Is't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat.
Re-enter DAVY
DAVY. An't please your worship, there's one Pistol come from
the
court with news.
FALSTAFF. From the court? Let him come in.
Enter PISTOL
How now, Pistol?
PISTOL. Sir John, God save you!
FALSTAFF. What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
PISTOL. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet
knight,
thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.
SILENCE. By'r lady, I think 'a be, but goodman Puff of Barson.
PISTOL. Puff!
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!
Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend,
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.
FALSTAFF. I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this
world.
PISTOL. A foutra for the world and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa and golden joys.
FALSTAFF. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
SILENCE. [Singing] And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.
PISTOL. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
SHALLOW. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.
PISTOL. Why, then, lament therefore.
SHALLOW. Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from
the
court, I take it there's but two ways—either to utter them
or
conceal them. I am, sir, under the King, in some authority.
PISTOL. Under which king, Bezonian? Speak, or die.
SHALLOW. Under King Harry.
PISTOL. Harry the Fourth—or Fifth?
SHALLOW. Harry the Fourth.
PISTOL. A foutra 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.
FALSTAFF. What, is the old king dead?
PISTOL. As nail in door. The things I speak are just.
FALSTAFF. 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.
BARDOLPH. O joyful day!
I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.
PISTOL. What, I do bring good news?
FALSTAFF. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord
Shallow, be what thou wilt—I am Fortune's steward. Get on
thy
boots; we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph!
[Exit BARDOLPH] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal
devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master
Shallow!
I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man's
horses: the laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed
are
they that have been my friends; and woe to my Lord Chief
Justice!
PISTOL. 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! Exeunt
SCENE IV. London. A street
Enter BEADLES, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET
HOSTESS. No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might
die,
that I might have thee hang'd. Thou hast drawn my shoulder
out of
joint.
FIRST BEADLE. 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 kill'd about her.
DOLL. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I'll tell thee
what,
thou damn'd tripe-visag'd rascal, an the child I now go with
do
miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou
paper-fac'd villain.
HOSTESS. O the Lord, that Sir John were come! He would make
this a
bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb
miscarry!
FIRST BEADLE. 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 amongst you.
DOLL. I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have
you
as soundly swing'd for this—you blue-bottle rogue, you
filthy
famish'd correctioner, if you be not swing'd, I'll forswear
half-kirtles.
FIRST BEADLE. Come, come, you she knight-errant, come.
HOSTESS. O God, that right should thus overcome might!
Well, of sufferance comes ease.
DOLL. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
HOSTESS. Ay, come, you starv'd bloodhound.
DOLL. Goodman death, goodman bones!
HOSTESS. Thou atomy, thou!
DOLL. Come, you thin thing! come, you rascal!
FIRST BEADLE. Very well. Exeunt
SCENE V. Westminster. Near the Abbey
Enter GROOMS, strewing rushes
FIRST GROOM. More rushes, more rushes!
SECOND GROOM. The trumpets have sounded twice.
THIRD GROOM. 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the
coronation. Dispatch, dispatch. Exeunt
Trumpets sound, and the KING and his train pass
over the stage. After them enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW,
PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and page
FALSTAFF. Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will make
the
King do you grace. I will leer upon him, as 'a comes by; and
do
but mark the countenance that he will give me.
PISTOL. God bless thy lungs, good knight!
FALSTAFF. Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. [To SHALLOW] O,
if
I had had to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed
the
thousand pound I borrowed of you. But 'tis no matter; this
poor
show doth better; this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.
SHALLOW. It doth so.
FALSTAFF. It shows my earnestness of affection-
SHALLOW. It doth so.
FALSTAFF. My devotion—
SHALLOW. It doth, it doth, it doth.
FALSTAFF. As it were, to ride day and night; and not to
deliberate,
not to remember, not to have patience to shift me—
SHALLOW. It is best, certain.
FALSTAFF. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with
desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, putting all
affairs
else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done
but to
see him.
PISTOL. 'Tis 'semper idem' for 'obsque hoc nihil est.' 'Tis all
in
every part.
SHALLOW. 'Tis so, indeed.
PISTOL. 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;
Hal'd thither
By most mechanical and dirty hand.
Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake,
For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.
FALSTAFF. I will deliver her.
[Shouts,within, and the trumpets sound]
PISTOL. There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds.
Enter the KING and his train, the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
among them
FALSTAFF. God save thy Grace, King Hal; my royal Hal!
PISTOL. The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of
fame!
FALSTAFF. God save thee, my sweet boy!
KING. My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man.
CHIEF JUSTICE. Have you your wits? Know you what 'tis you
speak?
FALSTAFF. My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart!
KING. I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers.
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
I have long dreamt of such a kind of man,
So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane;
But being awak'd, I do despise my dream.
Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;
Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape
For thee thrice wider than for other men—
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest;
Presume not that I am the thing I was,
For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,
That I have turn'd away my former self;
So will I those that kept me company.
When thou dost hear I am as I have been,
Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,
The tutor and the feeder of my riots.
Till then I banish thee, on pain of death,
As I have done the rest of my misleaders,
Not to come near our person by ten mile.
For competence of life I will allow you,
That lack of means enforce you not to evils;
And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,
We will, according to your strengths and qualities,
Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord,
To see perform'd the tenour of our word.
Set on. Exeunt the KING and his train
FALSTAFF. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds.
SHALLOW. Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me
have
home with me.
FALSTAFF. That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve
at
this; I shall be sent for in private to him. Look you, he
must
seem thus to the world. Fear not your advancements; I will be
the
man yet that shall make you great.
SHALLOW. I cannot perceive how, unless you give me your
doublet,
and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John,
let me
have five hundred of my thousand.
FALSTAFF. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you
heard
was but a colour.
SHALLOW. A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John.
FALSTAFF. Fear no colours; go with me to dinner. Come,
Lieutenant
Pistol; come, Bardolph. I shall be sent for soon at night.
Re-enter PRINCE JOHN, the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE,
with officers
CHIEF JUSTICE. Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet;
Take all his company along with him.
FALSTAFF. My lord, my lord—
CHIEF JUSTICE. I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon.
Take them away.
PISTOL. Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta.
Exeunt all but PRINCE JOHN and the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE
PRINCE JOHN. I like this fair proceeding of the King's.
He hath intent his wonted followers
Shall all be very well provided for;
But all are banish'd till their conversations
Appear more wise and modest to the world.
CHIEF JUSTICE. And so they are.
PRINCE JOHN. The King hath call'd his parliament, my lord.
CHIEF JUSTICE. He hath.
PRINCE JOHN. 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, pleas'd the King.
Come, will you hence? Exeunt
EPILOGUE EPILOGUE.
First my fear, then my curtsy, last my speech. My fear, is your displeasure; my curtsy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you look for a good speech now, you undo me; for what I have to say is of mine own making; and what, indeed, I should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your patience for it and to promise you a better. I meant, indeed, to pay you with this; which if like an ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promis'd you I would be, and here I commit my body to your mercies. Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely; and so I kneel down before you—but, indeed, to pray for the Queen. If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to use my legs? And yet that were but light payment—to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me. If the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly. One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloy'd with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Katherine of France; where, for anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already 'a be killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr and this is not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night.
THE END
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End of this Etext of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, The Second Part of King Henry IV