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  • Title: Henry IV, Part 2 (Folio 1 1623)
  • Editor: Rosemary Gaby

    • Copyright Rosemary Gaby. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Rosemary Gaby
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry IV, Part 2 (Folio 1 1623)

    Scena Tertia.
    Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe,
    Page, and Pistoll.
    Shal. Nay, you shall see mine Orchard: where, in an
    3035Arbor we will eate a last yeares Pippin of my owne graf-
    fing, with a dish of Carrawayes, and so forth (Come Co-
    sin Silence, and then to bed.
    Fal. You haue heere a goodly dwelling, and a rich.
    Shal. Barren, barren, barren: Beggers all, beggers all
    3040Sir Iohn: Marry, good ayre. Spread Dauy, spread Dauie:
    Well said Dauie.
    Falst. This Dauie serues you for good vses: he is your
    Seruingman, and your Husband.
    Shal. A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Var-
    3045let, Sir Iohn: I haue drunke too much Sacke at Supper. A
    good Varlet. Now sit downe, now sit downe: Come
    Cosin.
    Sil. Ah sirra (quoth-a) we shall doe nothing but eate,
    and make good cheere, and praise heauen for the merrie
    3050yeere: when flesh is cheape, and Females deere, and lustie
    Lads rome heere, and there: so merrily, and euer among
    so merrily.
    Fal. There's a merry heart, good M. Silence, Ile giue
    you a health for that anon.
    3055Shal. Good M. Bardolfe: some wine, Dauie.
    Da. Sweet sir, sit: Ile be with you anon: most sweete
    sir, sit. Master Page, good M. Page, sit: Proface. What
    you want in meate, wee'l haue in drinke: but you beare,
    the heart's all.
    3060Shal. Be merry M. Bardolfe, and my little Souldiour
    there, be merry.
    Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife ha's all:
    For women are Shrewes, both short, and tall:
    'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wagge all;
    3065And welcome merry Shrouetide. Be merry, be merry.
    Fal. I did not thinke M. Silence had bin a man of this
    Mettle.
    Sil. Who I? I haue beene merry twice and once, ere
    now.
    3070Dauy. There is a dish of Lether-coats for you.
    Shal. Dauie.
    Dau. Your Worship: Ile be with you straight. A cup
    of Wine, sir?
    Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's briske and fine, & drinke
    3075vnto the Leman mine: and a merry heart liues long-a.
    Fal. Well said, M. Silence.
    Sil. If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweete of
    the night.
    Fal. Health, and long life to you, M. Silence.
    3080Sil. Fill the Cuppe, and let it come. Ile pledge you a
    mile to the bottome.
    Shal. Honest Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want'st any
    thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome my
    little tyne theefe, and welcome indeed too: Ile drinke to
    3085M. Bardolfe, and to all the Cauileroes about London.
    Dau. I hope to see London, once ere I die.
    Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie.
    Shal. You'l cracke a quart together? Ha, will you not
    M. Bardolfe?
    3090Bar. Yes Sir, in a pottle pot.
    Shal. I thanke thee: the knaue will sticke by thee, I
    can assure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred.
    Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir.
    Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry.
    3095Looke, who's at doore there, ho: who knockes?
    Fal Why now you haue done me right.
    Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't
    not so?
    Fal. 'Tis so.
    3100Sil. Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somwhat.
    Dau. If it please your Worshippe, there's one Pistoll
    come from the Court with newes.
    Fal. From the Court? Let him come in.
    Enter Pistoll.
    3105How now Pistoll?
    Pist. Sir Iohn, 'saue you sir.
    Fal. What winde blew you hither, Pistoll?
    Pist. Not the ill winde which blowes none to good,
    sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men in
    3110the Realme.
    Sil. Indeed, I thinke he bee, but Goodman Puffe of
    Barson.
    Pist. Puffe? puffe in thy teeth, most recreant Coward
    base. Sir Iohn, I am thy Pistoll, and thy Friend: helter
    3115skelter haue I rode to thee, and tydings do I bring, and
    luckie ioyes, and golden Times, and happie Newes of
    price.
    Fal. I prethee now deliuer them, like a man of this
    World.
    3120Pist. A footra for the World, and Worldlings base,
    I speake of Affrica, and Golden ioyes.
    Fal. O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy newes?
    Let King Couitha know the truth thereof.
    Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and Iohn.
    3125Pist. Shall dunghill Curres confront the Hellicons?
    And shall good newes be baffel'd?
    Then Pistoll lay thy head in Furies lappe.
    Shal. Honest Gentleman,
    I know not your breeding.
    3130Pist. Why then Lament therefore.
    Shal. Giue me pardon, Sir.
    If sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there
    is but two wayes, either to vtter them, or to conceale
    them. I am Sir, vnder the King, in some Authority.
    3135Pist. Vnder which King?
    Bezonian, speake, or dye.
    Shal. Vnder King Harry.
    Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fift?
    Shal. Harry the Fourth.
    3140Pist. A footra for thine Office.
    Sir Iohn, thy tender Lamb-kinne, now is King,
    Harry the Fift's the man, I speake the truth.
    When Pistoll lyes, do this, and figge-me, like
    The bragging Spaniard.
    Fal.
    The second Part of King Henry the Fourth. 99
    3145Fal. What, is the old King dead?
    Pist. As naile in doore.
    The things I speake, are iust.
    Fal. Away Bardolfe, Sadle my Horse,
    Master Robert Shallow, choose what Office thou wilt
    3150In the Land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee
    With Dignities.
    Bard. O ioyfull day:
    I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune.
    Pist. What? I do bring good newes.
    3155Fal. Carrie Master Silence to bed: Master Shallow, my
    Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortunes Steward.
    Get on thy Boots, wee'l ride all night. Oh sweet Pistoll:
    Away Bardolfe: Come Pistoll, vtter more to mee: and
    withall deuise something to do thy selfe good. Boote,
    3160boote Master Shallow, I know the young King is sick for
    mee. Let vs take any mans Horsses: The Lawes of Eng-
    land are at my command'ment. Happie are they, which
    haue beene my Friendes: and woe vnto my Lord Chiefe
    Iustice.
    3165Pist. Let Vultures vil'de seize on his Lungs also:
    Where is the life that late I led, say they?
    Why heere it is, welcome those pleasant dayes. Exeunt
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