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About this text

  • 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-
    76The Life of Henry the Fift.
    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