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Henry the Fourth, Part Two (Folio 1 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Not Peer Reviewed
Scæna Quarta.
1030
Enter two Drawers.
1. Drawer. What hast thou brought there? Apple-Iohns?
Thou know'st Sir Iohn cannot endure an Apple-
Iohn.
2. Draw. Thou say'st true: the Prince once set a Dish
1035of Apple-Iohns before him, and told him there were fiue
more Sir Iohns: and, putting off his Hat, said, I will now
take my leaue of these sixe drie, round, old-wither'd
Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but hee hath for-
got that.
10401. Draw. Why then couer, and set them downe: and
see if thou canst finde out Sneakes Noyse; Mistris Teare-
sheet would faine haue some Musique.
2. Draw. Sirrha, heere will be the Prince, and Master
Points, anon: and they will put on two of our Ierkins,
1045and Aprons, and Sir Iohn must not know of it: Bardolph
hath brought word.
1. Draw. Then here will be old Vtis: it will be an ex-
cellent stratagem.
2. Draw. Ile see if I can finde out Sneake.
Exit.
1050
Enter Hostesse, and Dol.
Host. Sweet-heart, me thinkes now you are in an ex-
cellent good temperalitie: your Pulsidge beates as ex-
traordinarily, as heart would desire; and your Colour
(I warrant you) is as red as any Rose: But you haue
1055drunke too much Canaries, and that's a maruellous sear-
ching Wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere wee can say
what's this. How doe you now?
Dol. Better then I was: Hem.
Host. Why that was well said: A good heart's worth
1060Gold. Looke, here comes Sir Iohn.
Enter Falstaffe.
Falst. When Arthur first in Court --- (emptie the Iordan)
and was a worthy King: How now Mistris Dol?
Host. Sick of a Calme: yea, good-sooth.
1065Falst. So is all her Sect: if they be once in a Calme,
they are sick.
Dol. You muddie Rascall, is that all the comfort you
giue me?
Falst. You make fat Rascalls, Mistris Dol.
1070Dol. I make them? Gluttonie and Diseases make
them, I make them not.
Falst. If the Cooke make the Gluttonie, you helpe to
make the Diseases (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch
of you: Grant that, my poore Vertue, grant that.
1075Dol. I marry, our Chaynes, and our Iewels.
Falst. Your Brooches, Pearles, and Owches: For to
serue brauely, is to come halting off: you know, to come
off the Breach, with his Pike bent brauely, and to Surge-
rie brauely; to venture vpon the charg'd-Chambers
1080brauely.
Host. Why this is the olde fashion: you two neuer
meete, but you fall to some discord: you are both (in
good troth) as Rheumatike as two drie Tostes, you can-
not one beare with anothers Confirmities. What the
1085good-yere? One must beare, and that must bee you:
you are the weaker Vessell; as they say, the emptier
Vessell.
Dol. Can a weake emptie Vessell beare such a huge
full Hogs-head? There's a whole Marchants Venture
1090of Burdeux-Stuffe in him: you haue not seene a Hulke
better stufft in the Hold. Come, Ile be friends with thee
Iacke: Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I
shall euer see thee againe, or no, there is no body
cares.
1095
Enter Drawer.
Drawer. Sir, Ancient Pistoll is below, and would
speake with you.
Dol. Hang him, swaggering Rascall, let him not
come hither: it is the foule-mouth'dst Rogue in Eng-
1100land.
Host. If hee swagger, let him not come here: I must
liue amongst my Neighbors, Ile no Swaggerers: I am
in good name, and fame, with the very best: shut the
doore, there comes no Swaggerers heere: I haue not
1105liu'd all this while, to haue swaggering now: shut the
doore, I pray you.
Falst. Do'st thou heare, Hostesse?
Host. 'Pray you pacifie your selfe (Sir Iohn) there comes
no Swaggerers heere.
1110 Falst. Do'st thou heare? it is mine Ancient.
Host. Tilly-fally (Sir Iohn) neuer tell me, your ancient
Swaggerer comes not in my doores. I was before Master
Tisick the Deputie, the other day: and as hee said to me,
it was no longer agoe then Wednesday last: Neighbour
1115Quickly (sayes hee;) Master Dombe, our Minister, was by
then: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee) receiue those that
are Ciuill; for (sayth hee) you are in an ill Name: now
hee said so, I can tell whereupon: for (sayes hee) you are
an honest Woman, and well thought on; therefore take
1120heede what Guests you receiue: Receiue (sayes hee) no
swaggering Companions. There comes none heere. You
would blesse you to heare what hee said. No, Ile no
Swaggerers.
Falst. Hee's no Swaggerer (Hostesse:) a tame Cheater,
1125hee: you may stroake him as gently, as a Puppie Grey-
hound: hee will not swagger with a Barbarie Henne, if
her feathers turne backe in any shew of resistance. Call
him vp (Drawer.)
Host. Cheater, call you him? I will barre no honest
1130man my house, nor no Cheater: but I doe not loue swag-
gering; I am the worse when one sayes, swagger: Feele
Masters, how I shake: looke you, I warrant you.
Dol. So you doe, Hostesse.
Host. Doe I? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an As-
1135pen Leafe: I cannot abide Swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy.
Pist. 'Saue you, Sir Iohn.
Falst. Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I charge
you with a Cup of Sacke: doe you discharge vpon mine
1140Hostesse.
Pist. I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two
Bullets.
Falst. She is Pistoll-proofe (Sir) you shall hardly of-
fend her.
1145Host. Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I
will drinke no more then will doe me good, for no mans
pleasure, I.
Pist. Then to you (Mistris Dorothie) I will charge
you.
1150Dol. Charge me? I scorne you (scuruie Companion)
what? you poore, base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-
Mate: away you mouldie Rogue, away; I am meat for
your Master.
Pist. I know you, Mistris Dorothie.
1155Dol. Away you Cut-purse Rascall, you filthy Bung,
away: By this Wine, Ile thrust my Knife in your mouldie
Chappes, if you play the sawcie Cuttle with me. Away
you Bottle-Ale Rascall, you Basket-hilt stale Iugler, you.
Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two Points on
1160your shoulder? much.
Pist. I will murther your Ruffe, for this.
Host. No, good Captaine Pistol: not heere, sweete
Captaine.
Dol. Captaine? thou abhominable damn'd Cheater,
1165art thou not asham'd to be call'd Captaine? If Captaines
were of my minde, they would trunchion you out, for ta-
king their Names vpon you, before you haue earn'd them.
You a Captaine? you slaue, for what? for tearing a poore
Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-house? Hee a Captaine? hang
1170him Rogue, hee liues vpon mouldie stew'd-Pruines, and
dry'de Cakes. A Captaine? These Villaines will make
the word Captaine odious: Therefore Captaines had
neede looke to it.
Bard. 'Pray thee goe downe, good Ancient.
1175Falst. Hearke thee hither, Mistris Dol.
Pist. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporall Bardolph, I
could teare her: Ile be reueng'd on her.
Page. 'Pray thee goe downe.
Pist. Ile see her damn'd first: to Pluto's damn'd Lake,
1180to the Infernall Deepe, where Erebus and Tortures vilde
also. Hold Hooke and Line, say I: Downe: downe
Dogges, downe Fates: haue wee not Hiren here?
Host. Good Captaine Peesel be quiet, it is very late:
I beseeke you now, aggrauate your Choler.
1185Pist. These be good Humors indeede. Shall Pack-
Horses, and hollow-pamper'd Iades of Asia, which can-
not goe but thirtie miles a day, compare with Cæsar, and
with Caniballs, and Troian Greekes? nay, rather damne
them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roare: shall
1190wee fall foule for Toyes?
Host. By my troth Captaine, these are very bitter
words.
Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a
Brawle anon.
1195Pist. Die men, like Dogges; giue Crownes like Pinnes:
Haue we not Hiren here?
Host. On my word (Captaine) there's none such here.
What the good-yere, doe you thinke I would denye her?
I pray be quiet.
1200Pist. Then feed, and be fat (my faire Calipolis.) Come,
giue me some Sack, Si fortune me tormente, sperato me con-
tente. Feare wee broad-sides? No, let the Fiend giue fire:
Giue me some Sack: and Sweet-heart lye thou there:
Come wee to full Points here, and are et cetera's no-
1205thing?
Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pist. Sweet Knight, I kisse thy Neaffe: what? wee haue
seene the seuen Starres.
Dol. Thrust him downe stayres, I cannot endure such
1210a Fustian Rascall.
Pist. Thrust him downe stayres? know we not Gallo-
way Nagges?
Fal. Quoit him downe (Bardolph) like a shoue-groat
shilling: nay, if hee doe nothing but speake nothing, hee
1215shall be nothing here.
Bard. Come, get you downe stayres.
Pist. What? shall wee haue Incision? shall wee em-
brew? then Death rocke me asleepe, abridge my dolefull
dayes: why then let grieuous, gastly, gaping Wounds,
1220vntwin'd the Sisters three: Come Atropos, I say.
Host. Here's good stuffe toward.
Fal. Giue me my Rapier, Boy.
Dol. I prethee Iack, I prethee doe not draw.
Fal. Get you downe stayres.
1225Host. Here's a goodly tumult: Ile forsweare keeping
house, before Ile be in these tirrits, and frights. So: Mur-
ther I warrant now. Alas, alas, put vp your naked Wea-
pons, put vp your naked Weapons.
Dol. I prethee Iack be quiet, the Rascall is gone: ah,
1230you whorson little valiant Villaine, you.
Host. Are you not hurt i'th'Groyne? me thought hee
made a shrewd Thrust at your Belly.
Fal. Haue you turn'd him out of doores?
Bard. Yes Sir: the Rascall's drunke: you haue hurt
1235him (Sir) in the shoulder.
Fal. A Rascall to braue me.
Dol. Ah, you sweet little Rogue, you: alas, poore Ape,
how thou sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy Face: Come
on, you whorson Chops: Ah Rogue, I loue thee: Thou
1240art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth fiue of Agamem-
non, and tenne times better then the nine Worthies: ah
Villaine.
Fal. A rascally Slaue, I will tosse the Rogue in a Blan-
ket.
1245Dol. Doe, if thou dar'st for thy heart: if thou doo'st,
Ile canuas thee betweene a paire of Sheetes.
Enter Musique.
Page. The Musique is come, Sir.
Fal. Let them play: play Sirs. Sit on my Knee, Dol.
1250A Rascall, bragging Slaue: the Rogue fled from me like
Quick-siluer.
Dol. And thou followd'st him like a Church: thou
whorson little tydie Bartholmew Bore-pigge, when wilt
thou leaue fighting on dayes, and foyning on nights, and
1255begin to patch vp thine old Body for Heauen?
Enter the Prince and Poines disguis'd.
Fal. Peace (good Dol) doe not speake like a Deaths-
head: doe not bid me remember mine end.
Dol. Sirrha, what humor is the Prince of?
1260Fal. A good shallow young fellow: hee would haue
made a good Pantler, hee would haue chipp'd Bread
well.
Dol. They say Poines hath a good Wit.
Fal. Hee a good Wit? hang him Baboone, his Wit is
1265as thicke as Tewksburie Mustard: there is no more con-
ceit in him, then is in a Mallet.
Dol. Why doth the Prince loue him so then?
Fal. Because their Legges are both of a bignesse: and
hee playes at Quoits well, and eates Conger and Fennell,
1270and drinkes off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and rides
the wilde-Mare with the Boyes, and iumpes vpon Ioyn'd-
stooles, and sweares with a good grace, and weares his
Boot very smooth, like vnto the Signe of the Legge; and
breedes no bate with telling of discreete stories: and such
1275other Gamboll Faculties hee hath, that shew a weake
Minde, and an able Body, for the which the Prince admits
him; for the Prince himselfe is such another: the
weight of an hayre will turne the Scales betweene their
Haber-de-pois.
1280Prince. Would not this Naue of a Wheele haue his
Eares cut off?
Poin. Let vs beat him before his Whore.
Prince. Looke, if the wither'd Elder hath not his Poll
claw'd like a Parrot.
1285Poin. Is it not strange, that Desire should so many
yeeres out-liue performance?
Fal. Kisse me Dol.
Prince. Saturne and Venus this yeere in Coniunction?
What sayes the Almanack to that?
1290Poin. And looke whether the fierie Trigon, his Man,
be not lisping to his Masters old Tables, his Note-Booke,
his Councell-keeper?
Fal. Thou do'st giue me flatt'ring Busses.
Dol. Nay truely, I kisse thee with a most constant
1295heart.
Fal. I am olde, I am olde.
Dol. I loue thee better, then I loue ere a scuruie young
Boy of them all.
Fal. What Stuffe wilt thou haue a Kirtle of? I shall
1300receiue Money on Thursday: thou shalt haue a Cappe
to morrow. A merrie Song, come: it growes late,
wee will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am
gone.
Dol. Thou wilt set me a weeping, if thou say'st so:
1305proue that euer I dresse my selfe handsome, till thy re-
turne: well, hearken the end.
Fal. Some Sack, Francis.
Prin. Poin. Anon, anon, Sir.
Fal. Ha? a Bastard Sonne of the Kings? And art not
1310thou Poines, his Brother?
Prince. Why thou Globe of sinfull Continents, what
a Life do'st thou lead?
Fal. A better then thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art
a Drawer.
1315Prince. Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out
by the Eares.
Host. Oh, the Lord preserue thy good Grace: Wel-
come to London. Now Heauen blesse that sweete Face
of thine: what, are you come from Wales?
1320Fal. Thou whorson mad Compound of Maiestie: by
this light Flesh, and corrupt Blood, thou art welcome.
Dol. How? you fat Foole, I scorne you.
Poin. My Lord, hee will driue you out of your re-
uenge, and turne all to a merryment, if you take not the
1325heat.
Prince. You whorson Candle-myne you, how vildly
did you speake of me euen now, before this honest, ver-
tuous, ciuill Gentlewoman?
Host. 'Blessing on your good heart, and so shee is by
1330my troth.
Fal. Didst thou heare me?
Prince. Yes: and you knew me, as you did when you
ranne away by Gads-hill: you knew I was at your back,
and spoke it on purpose, to trie my patience.
1335Fal. No, no, no: not so: I did not thinke, thou wast
within hearing.
Prince. I shall driue you then to confesse the wilfull
abuse, and then I know how to handle you.
Fal. No abuse (Hall) on mine Honor, no abuse.
1340Prince. Not to disprayse me? and call me Pantler, and
Bread-chopper, and I know not what?
Fal. No abuse (Hal.)
Poin. No abuse?
Fal. No abuse (Ned) in the World: honest Ned none.
1345I disprays'd him before the Wicked, that the Wicked
might not fall in loue with him: In which doing, I haue
done the part of a carefull Friend, and a true Subiect, and
thy Father is to giue me thankes for it. No abuse (Hal:)
none (Ned) none; no Boyes, none.
1350Prince. See now whether pure Feare, and entire Cow-
ardise, doth not make thee wrong this vertuous Gentle-
woman, to close with vs? Is shee of the Wicked? Is thine
Hostesse heere, of the Wicked? Or is the Boy of the
Wicked? Or honest Bardolph (whose Zeale burnes in his
1355Nose) of the Wicked?
Poin. Answere thou dead Elme, answere.
Fal. The Fiend hath prickt downe Bardolph irrecoue-
rable, and his Face is Lucifers Priuy-Kitchin, where hee
doth nothing but rost Mault-Wormes: for the Boy,
1360there is a good Angell about him, but the Deuill out-
bids him too.
Prince. For the Women?
Fal. For one of them, shee is in Hell alreadie, and
burnes poore Soules: for the other, I owe her Mo-
1365ney; and whether shee bee damn'd for that, I know
not.
Host. No, I warrant you.
Fal. No, I thinke thou art not: I thinke thou art quit
for that. Marry, there is another Indictment vpon thee,
1370for suffering flesh to bee eaten in thy house, contrary to
the Law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle.
Host. All Victuallers doe so: What is a Ioynt of
Mutton, or two, in a whole Lent?
Prince. You, Gentlewoman.
1375Dol. What sayes your Grace?
Falst. His Grace sayes that, which his flesh rebells
against.
Host. Who knocks so lowd at doore? Looke to the
doore there, Francis?
1380
Enter Peto.
Prince. Peto, how now? what newes?
Peto. The King, your Father, is at Westminster,
And there are twentie weake and wearied Postes,
Come from the North: and as I came along,
1385I met, and ouer-tooke a dozen Captaines,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes,
And asking euery one for Sir Iohn Falstaffe.
Prince. By Heauen (Poines) I feele me much to blame,
So idly to prophane the precious time,
1390When Tempest of Commotion, like the South,
Borne with black Vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads.
Giue me my Sword, and Cloake:
Falstaffe, good night.
Exit.
1395Falst. Now comes in the sweetest Morsell of the
night, and wee must hence, and leaue it vnpickt. More
knocking at the doore? How now? what's the mat-
ter?
Bard. You must away to Court, Sir, presently,
1400A dozen Captaines stay at doore for you.
Falst. Pay the Musitians, Sirrha: farewell Hostesse,
farewell Dol. You see (my good Wenches) how men of
Merit are sought after: the vndeseruer may sleepe, when
the man of Action is call'd on. Farewell good Wenches:
1405if I be not sent away poste, I will see you againe, ere I
goe.
Dol. I cannot speake: if my heart bee not readie
to burst--- Well (sweete Iacke) haue a care of thy
selfe.
1410Falst. Farewell, farewell.
Exit.
Host. Well, fare thee well: I haue knowne thee
these twentie nine yeeres, come Pescod-time: but an
honester, and truer-hearted man--- Well, fare thee
well.
1415Bard. Mistris Teare-sheet.
Host. What's the matter?
Bard. Bid Mistris Teare-sheet come to my Master.
Host. Oh runne Dol, runne: runne, good Dol.
Exeunt.