Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Rosemary Gaby
Not Peer Reviewed

Henry IV, Part 2 (Folio 1 1623)

The second Part of King Henry the Fourth. 83
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
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
Pist. I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two
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
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
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 Caesar, 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
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-
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