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  • Title: Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: James D. Mardock
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-409-7

    Copyright James D. Mardock. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: James D. Mardock
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)

    Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.
    Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring
    825thee to Staines.
    Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph,
    be blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle
    thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe hee is dead, and wee must
    erne therefore.
    830Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is,
    eyther in Heauen, or in Hell.
    Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs
    Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a
    finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome
    835Child: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue and One, eu'n
    at the turning o'th'Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with
    the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fin-
    gers end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was
    as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now
    840Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a good cheare: so a
    cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now I,
    to comfort him, bid him a should not thinke of God; I
    hop'd there was no neede to trouble himselfe with any
    such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more Clothes on his
    845feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they
    were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and so
    vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone.
    Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack.
    Hostesse. I, that a did.
    850Bard. And of Women.
    Hostesse. Nay, that a did not.
    Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incar-
    Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Co-
    855lour he neuer lik'd.
    Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him about
    Hostesse. A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women:
    but then hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of
    Boy. Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon
    Bardolphs Nose, and a said it was a blacke Soule burning
    in Hell.
    Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that fire:
    865that's all the Riches I got in his seruice.
    Nim. Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone from
    Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes:
    Looke to my Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences
    870rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: trust none: for Oathes
    are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and hold-fast
    is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee
    thy Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yoke-
    fellowes in Armes, let vs to France, like Horse-
    875leeches my Boyes, to sucke, to sucke, the very blood to
    Boy. And that's but vnwholesome food, they say.
    Pist. Touch her soft mouth and march.
    Bard. Farwell Hostesse.
    880Nim. I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: but
    Pist. Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I thee
    Hostesse. Farwell: adieu. Exeunt