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 excused; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused. Why, 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 excused.
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 need 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-legged 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’ the 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 of the 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 served your worship truly, sir, this eight years; and if 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 your worship, let him be countenanced.
Shallow Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, 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: and welcome, my tall fellow.
To the Page
Come, Sir John.
Falstaff I’ll follow you, good Master Robert 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.
Enter Warwick and the Lord Chief-Justice, meeting
Warwick How now, my lord chief-justice! whither away?
Lord Chief-Justice How doth the king?
Warwick Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended.
Lord Chief-Justice I hope, not dead.
Warwick He’s walk’d the way of nature;
And to our purposes he lives no more.
Lord 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.
Lord 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 come the heavy issue of dead Harry:
O that the living Harry had the temper
Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen!
How many nobles then should hold their places
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort!
Lord Chief-Justice O God, I fear all will be overturn’d!
Lancaster Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.
Good morrow, cousin.
Lancaster We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
Warwick We do remember; but our argument
Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
Lancaster Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy.
Lord Chief-Justice Peace be with us, lest we be heavier!
Gloucester 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.
Lancaster Though no man be assured 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.
Lord Chief-Justice Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honour,
Led by the 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 V, attended
Lord Chief-Justice Good morrow; and God save your majesty!
King Henry V 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 assured,
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.
Princes We hope no other from your majesty.
King Henry V You all look strangely on me: and you most;
You are, I think, assured I love you not.
Lord Chief-Justice I am assured, if I be measured rightly,
Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
King Henry V 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 wash’d in Lethe, and forgotten?
Lord Chief-Justice I then did use the person of your father;
The image of his power lay then in me:
And, in the 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 profaned,
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 Henry V 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
The unstained sword that you have used 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-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 spirit 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 remember’d, 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!
Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy, Bardolph, and the Page
Shallow Nay, you shall see my 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.
Falstaff ’Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a 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
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
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.
Shallow Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier there, be merry.
Silence 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 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.
Davy There’s a dish of leather-coats for you.
Davy Your worship! I’ll be with you straight.
A cup of wine, sir?
Silence 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’ the night.
Falstaff Health and long life to you, Master Silence.
Silence Fill the cup, and let it come;
I’ll pledge you a mile to the bottom.
Shallow Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief.
To the Page
And welcome indeed too. I’ll drink to Master
Bardolph, and to all the cavaleros about London.
Davy I hove 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; he is true bred.
Bardolph And I’ll stick by him, sir.
Shallow Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry.
Look who’s at door there, ho! who knocks?
Falstaff Why, now you have done me right.
To Silence, seeing him take off a bumper
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.
Davy An’t please your worship, there’s one Pistol come from the court with news.
Falstaff From the court! let him come in.
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.
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 foutre 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 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.
Silence 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 to conceal them. I am, sir, under the king, in some authority.
Pistol Under which king, Besonian? speak, or die.
Shallow Under King Harry.
Pistol Harry the Fourth? or Fifth?
Shallow Harry the Fourth.
Pistol 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.
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!
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!
Enter Beadles, dragging in Hostess Quickly and Doll Tearsheet
Mistress Quickly No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might die, that I might have thee hanged: 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 killed about her.
Doll Tearsheet Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I ’ll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain.
Mistress Quickly 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 Tearsheet I’ll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this — you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner, if you be not swinged, I’ll forswear half-kirtles.
First Beadle Come, come, you she knight-errant, come.
Mistress Quickly O God, that right should thus overcome might!
Well, of sufferance comes ease.
Doll Tearsheet Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
Mistress Quickly Ay, come, you starved blood-hound.
Doll Tearsheet Goodman death, goodman bones!
Mistress Quickly Thou atomy, thou!
Doll Tearsheet Come, you thin thing; come you rascal.
First Beadle Very well.
Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes
First Groom More rushes, more rushes.
Second Groom The trumpets have sounded twice.
First Groom ’Twill be two o’clock ere they come from the coronation: dispatch, dispatch.
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. O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But ’tis no matter; this poor show 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;
By most mechanical and dirty hand:
Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell
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 King Henry V 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 Henry IV My lord chief-justice, speak to that vain man.
Lord Chief-Justice Have you your wits? know you what ’tis to speak?
Falstaff My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart!
King Henry IV I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers;
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
I have long dream’d of such a kind of man,
So surfeit-swell’d, so old and so profane;
But, being awaked, I do despise my dream.
Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;
Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape
For thee thrice wider than for other men.
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest:
Presume not that I am the thing I was;
For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,
That I have 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 evil:
And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,
We will, according to your strengths and qualities,
Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord,
To see perform’d the tenor of our word. Set on.
Exeunt King Henry V, & c
Falstaff Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
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 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.
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 of Lancaster, the Lord Chief-Justice; Officers with them
Lord Chief-Justice Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet:
Take all his company along with him.
Falstaff My lord, my lord —
Lord Chief-Justice I cannot now speak: I will hear you soon.
Take them away.
Pistol Si fortune me tormenta, spero contenta.
Exeunt all but Prince John and the Lord Chief-Justice
Lancaster 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.
Lord Chief-Justice And so they are.
Lancaster The king hath call’d his parliament, my lord.
Lord Chief-Justice He hath.
Lancaster I will lay odds that, ere this year expire,
We bear our civil swords and native fire
As far as France: I beard a bird so sing,
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
Come, will you hence?
Last updated Monday, December 22, 2014 at 10:54