 | The sequel of Henry the Fourth |  |
ACT I.
SCENE The Street.Enter Falstaffe and Boy.
Falstaffe.
Sirrah, you Giant, what says
the Doctor to my Water?
Boy.
He says the Water it
self was a good healthy Water,
but for the Party who made it,
he might have more Diseases than
he knew of.
Fal.
Men of all sorts take a Pride to gird at me.
I am not only Witty my self, but the Cause of
Wit in other Men. I do here walk before thee like
a Sow that has o'rewhelm d all her Litter but one.
If the Prince put thee into my Service for any other
thou Whorson Mandrake, thou art fitter to
be worn in my Cap, than to wait at my Heels.
What said Mr. Doubledown about the Sattin for my
Doublet, and Breeches?
Boy.
He said Sir you should secure him a better
Man than Bardolfe, he would not take his Bond
and yours; he liked not the Security.
Fal.
Let him be Damn'd like the Glutton, and
may his Tongue be hotter! A Whorson Achitophel!
A Rascally, Yea-forsooth Knave, to bear a Gentleman
in hand, and then stand upon Security! I had
as lief he should put Ratsbane in my Mouth, as
offer to stop it with Security. I looked he should
have sent me Two and Twenty Yards of Sattin (as
I am a true Knight) and he sends me Security.
Well he may sleep in Security, for he has the Horn
of abundance, and the Lightness of his Wife shines
through it, and yet cannot he see, tho' he has his
own Lanthorn to light him—Where's Bardolfe?
Boy.
He's gone to Smithfield to buy your Worship
a Horse.
Fal.
I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me
a Horse in Smithfield, if I cou'd get me a Wife
in the Stews; I were Man'd, Hors'd, and Wiv'd.
Boy.
Sir, here comes the Nobleman, who committed
the Prince for striking him about Bardolfe.
Fal.
Sirrah, stand between us, I won't be seen.
Enter Lord Chief Justice and Gentleman.
C. Just.
What's he that goes before there?
Gent.
Falstaffe, an't please your Lordship.
C. Just.
He that was question'd for the Robbery?
Gent.
The same my Lord. But he has since done good
Service at Shrewsbury, and as I hear is now going
with some Forces to Lord John of Lancaster.
O, to York! Go, call him back again.
Gent.
Sir John Falstaffe.
Fal.
Boy, tell him I am deaf.
Boy.
You must speak louder Sir, my Master's
deaf.
C. Just.
I am sure he is to the hearing any thing
that's good. Go pluck him by the Sleeve, I must
speak with him.
Gent.
Sir John.
Fal.
What! a young Knave and beg; are there not
Wars? Is there not Employment? does not the
King lack Subjects? do not the Rebels want Souldiers?
tho' it be a Shame to be on any side but one,
it is worse Shame to beg, than to be on the worst
side, were it worse than the name of Rebellion can
tell how to make it.
Gent.
Sir, you mistake me.
Fal.
Why Sir did I say you were an Honest Man?
setting my Knighthood and my Souldiership aside,
I lyed in my Throat if I had said so.
Gent.
Then pray Sir set your Knighthood and your
Souldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you,
you do lye in your Throat if you say I am any
other than an Honest Man.
Fal.
I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside
that which grows to me? if thou get'st any leave of
me, hang me, if thou tak'st leave, thou wert better
be hang'd; you hunt-counter, hence! Avaunt!
Gent.
Sir, my Lord would speak with you.
C. Just.
Sir John Falstaffe, a Word with you.
Fal.
My good Lord, give your Lordship the good
time of the Day. I am glad to see your Lordship
abroad. I heard your Lordship was Sick. I hope
your Lordship goes abroad by Advice. Your Lordship
(tho' not clean past your Youth) has yet some
smatch of Age in you; Some relish of the Saltness
to have a reverend care of your Health.
C. Just.
Sir John, I sent to speak with you before
your Expedition to Shrewsbury.
Fal.
If it please your Lordship, I hear his Majesty
has brought some Indisposition from Wales—
C. Just.
I talk not of his Majesty. You would
not come when I sent for you.
Fal.
And I hear moreover that his Highness is
fallen into this same Whorson Apoplexy—
C. Just.
Well! Heaven mend him. Pray let me
speak with you.
Fal.
This Apoplexy is (as I take it) a kind of
Lethargy, a Sleeping of the Blood, a Whorson
tingling—
C. Just.
Be't as it is, but answer me Sir John.
Fal.
It has his Original from much Grief, from
Study, and Perturbation of the Brain. I have read
the cause of its effects in Gallen; it is a kind of
Deafness.
C. Just.
I think you are fallen into the Disease,
for you hear not what I say to you. I sent for you
when there were matters against you for your Life,
to speak with me.
Fal.
As I was advised then by my Learned
Council in the Laws of this Land, I did not come.
C. Just.
Well the Truth is Sir John, you live in
great Infamy.
Fal.
He that Buckles him in my Belt cannot
live in less.
C. Just.
Your Means are slender, and your Wast
is great.
Fal.
I would it were otherwise: I would my
Waste were slender, and my Means were Great.
C. Just.
You have misled the Youthful Prince.
The young Prince has misled me. I am
the Fellow with the great Belly, and he my Dog.
C. Just.
Well, I am loath to gall a new heal'd
Wound; your Days Service at Shrewsbury, has a
little gilded over your Nights Exploit at Gads Hill,
you may thank the Rebellious time, for your quiet
passing o're that matter.
Fal.
You that are Old, consider not the capacities
of us that are Young; you measure the heat
of our Livers with the bitterness of your Galls,
and we that are in the Declension of our Youth I
must confess are Waggs too.
C. Just.
Do you set down your Name in the
Scrowle of Youth, that are written down Old
with all the Characters of Age: have you not a
moist Eye? a dry Hand? a yellow Cheek? a
white Beard? a decreasing Leg? an increasing
Belly? is not your Voice broken? your Wind
short? and every part about you blasted with Antiquity?
And will you call your self Young? Fye,
Sir John, Fye!
Fal.
My Lord I was born with a white Beard,
and something a round Belly; for my Voice I lost
it with singing Anthems; to prove my Youth further
is needless. The Truth is, I am only old in
Judgment and Understanding, and he that will cut a
Caper with me for a Thousand Marks, let him lend me
the Money, and have at him. For the box of the Ear
that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude
Prince, and you took it like a sensible Lord, I have
check'd him for it, and the young Lion repents,
marry not in Ashes and Sack-cloth, but in new
Silk and old Sack.
C. Just.
Well, Heav'n send the Prince a better
Companion!
Heav'n send the Companion a better Prince.
I cannot rid my Hands of him.
C. Just.
Well, the King has severed you and
Prince Harry, I hear you are going with Lord John
of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of
Northumberland.
Fal.
Yes, I thank your pretty sweet Wit for it:
but look you pray (all you that kiss my Lady
Peace at home) that our Armies join not in a hot
Day; should the Day be hot, if I brandish any
thing but my Bottle, would I might never Spit
white again; there is not a dangerous Action can
peep out her Head, but I am thrust upon it; well,
I cannot last ever.
C. Just.
Well Sir John be Honest, be Honest,
and Heaven bless your Expedition,
Fal.
Will your good Lordship lend me a Thousand
Pound to set me forth?
C. Just.
Not a Penny, not a Penny, I know you
too well. Commend me to my Cozen Westmorland.
[Exit with Gent.
Fal.
If I do: Phillup me with a three-man-Beetle.
A Man can no more separate old Age and
Avarice, than he can separate young Limbs and
Lechery, but the Gout galls the one, and the Pox
pinches the other, and so both the Disgraces prevent
my Curses. Boy.
Boy.
Sir.
Fal.
What Money's in my Purse?
Boy.
Seven Groats and Two Pence.
Fal.
I can get no remedy against this Consumption
of the Purse; Borrowing only lingers; and lingers
it out, but the Disease is incurable—Go bear this
Letter to my Lord of Lancaster—This to the Prince
—This to my Lord of Westmorland, and this to
old Mrs. Ursula, whom I have Weekly sworn to
on my Chin—about it, you know where to find
me. [Exit Boy.]
A Pox o' this Gout! or a Gout
o' this Pox! for the one or the other plays the Devil
with my great Toe, but 'tis no matter, if I do
halt, I have the Wars for my Colour, and my Pension
shall seem the more reasonable; a good Wit
will make use of any thing, I will turn Diseases
to Commodity.
[Exit.
SCENE A Hall.
Enter Archbishop of York, Hastings, Mowbray, and Lord Bardolfe.
Arch.
Thus have you heard our Cause, and know our means,
And my most noble Friends, I pray you all
Speak plainly your Opinions of our hopes:
And first Lord Marshal what say you to it?
Mow.
I well allow th' occasion of our Arms,
But gladly would be better satisfied
How (with our Means) we should advance ourselves
To look with Forehead bold and big enough
Upon the Strength and Power of the King.
Hast.
Our present Musters stand upon the Roll
Full Five and Twenty Thousand chosen Men,
And our Supply live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose Bosome burns
With an Incensed Fire of Injuries.
L. Bar.
The Question then Lord Hastings standeth thus,
Whither our present Five and Twenty Thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland?
Hast.
With him we may.
I marry, there's the Point,
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My Judgment is we should not step too far,
Till we have his Assistance by the hand.
For in a Theme so bloody-fac'd as this
Conjecture, Expectation, and Surmise
Of Aids uncertain, should not be admitted.
Arch.
'Tis very true Lord Bardolfe, for indeed
It was young Hotspur's case at Shreswbury.
L. Bar.
It was my Lord, who lin'd himself with hope,
Eating the Air on promise of Supply,
Flatt'ring himself with prospect of a Power
Much smaller than the smallest of his Thoughts,
And so with great Imagination
(Proper to Mad-men) led his Men to Death,
And winking leap'd into Destruction.
Hast.
But by your leave it never yet did hurt
To lay down Likelihoods and Forms of hope.
L. Bar.
Yes, if this present quality of War
Lives in the hope, as in an early Spring
We see th' appearing Buds which promise Fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant as Dispair
That Frosts will nip 'em.
Hast.
Grant that our hopes (yet promising fair birth)
Should be Stillborn: and that we now possess'd
The utmost of our Expectations;
I think we are a Body strong enough
(Even as we are) and equal with the King.
L. Bar.
What is the King but Five and Twenty Thousand?
Hast.
We hear no more; nay not so much, Lord Bardolfe,
We have Intelligence that all his Forces
Are in three heads; One part against the French,
March against us: So is the unfirm King
In three divided, and his Coffers sound
With hollow Poverty and Emptyness.
Arch.
That he should draw his several Strengths together
And March against us in full Puissance
Need not be dreaded.
Hast.
If he should do so
He leaves his Back unarm'd, The French and Welsh
Baying him at the Heels: Never fear that.
L. Bar.
Who is it that commands his Forces hither?
Hast.
The Duke of Lancaster and Westmorland.
Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Monmouth.
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I have no certain knowledge.
Arch.
Then let's on,
And publish the occasion of our Arms,
The Commonwealth is Sick of their own choice,
Their over-greedy Love has Surfeited.
A Habitation giddy and unsure
Has he who builds upon the vulgar Heart.
Oh thou fond Many! with what loud Applause
Did'st thou beat Heav'n with blessing Bullingbroke
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be?
And now he is dress'd up in thy own desire
Thou (Beastly feeder) art so full of him
That thou provok'st thy self to cast him up,
What Trust is in these times?
They who when Richard liv d, would have him dye
Are now become enamour'd on his Grave,
Thou that threw'st dust upon his Sacred Head
When thro' proud London he came Sighing on
After th' admired Heels of Bullinbroke,
Cry'st now, O Earth, yield us that King again
Past, and to come seems best, things present worst.
Exeunt.
SCENE The Street.
Enter Hostess with Two Bailiffs, Fang and Snare.
Host.
Mr. Fang, have you entered the Action?
Fang.
It is entered.
Host.
Where's your Man? Is he a lusty Fellow,
and will he stand to't?
Fang.
Sirrah Snare.
Snare.
Here Sir here.
Fang.
Snare, we must Arrest Sir John Falstaffe.
Snare.
It may cost some of us our Lives; he will
Stab.
Host.
Alas the Day! take heed of him, he would
have Stab'd me in my own House, and that most
Beastly. He cares not what mischief he does, if
his Weapon be out, he will foyn like any Devil, he
will spare neither Man Woman nor Child.
Fang.
If I can but close with him I care not for
his Thrust.
Host.
No nor I neither, I'll be at your Elbow.
Fang.
If I but Fist him once, if he come but
within my Vice.
Host.
I am undone by him; I warrant he's an infinite
thing upon my Score, good Mr. Fang hold
him sure, and Mr. Snare let him not escape. He is
invited to Dinner to the Lubbers-head in Lombardstreet,
to Mr. Smooth's the Silk-man. I pray ye,
since my Action is enter'd, and my case so publickly
known to the World, let him be brought to his
Answer, a Hundred Mark is a great deal for a poor
borne, and have been Fub'd off, and Fub'd off from
this Day to that Day, that 'tis a Shame to be
thought on; there's no Honesty in such dealing, unless
a Woman should be made an Ass, and a Beast
to bear every Knaves wrong—
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolfe.
Yonder he comes, and that Arrant Malmsey-nose
Bardolfe with him. Do your Offices, do your Offices
Mr. Fang, and Mr. Snare, do me, do me your
Offices.
Fal.
How now? What's the matter?
Fang.
Sir John I Arrest you at the Suit of Mrs.
Quickly.
Fal.
Away Varlets, draw Bardolf, cut me off the
Villains Head, throw the Quean into the Channel.
Host.
Throw me into the Channel? I'le throw
thee there. Wilt thou, wilt thou, thou Bastardly
Rogue? Murder! Murder! O thou Honey-suckle
Villain! Wilt thou kill Heav'ns Officers, and the
Kings? Oh thou Hemp-seed Rogue! thou Manqueller,
and Woman-queller?
Fal.
Keep 'em off Bardolfe.
Fang.
A Rescue, a Rescue.
Host.
Good People bring a Rescue. Thou wilt
not, thou wilt not, do, do thou Rogue! thou
Hempseed!
Fal.
Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you
Fustilian, I'le tuck your Catastrophe.
Enter Lord Chief Justice.
C. Just.
What's the matter? Keep the Peace
there!
Host.
Good my Lord be good to me; I beseech
you stand to me.
How now Sir John? What are you
brawling here? does this become your Place, the
Time and Business? You should have been on your
way to York. Stand from him Fellow; wherefore
hang'st thou on him?
Host.
O my most Worshipful Lord, an't please
your Grace, I am a poor Widow of East-cheap, and
he's Arrested at my Suit.
C. Just.
What is the Sum?
Host.
It is more than for Some my Lord. It is
for all I have; he has eaten me out of House and
Home. He has put all my Substance into that Fat
Belly of his; but I will have some of it out again,
or I will ride thee a nights like the Mare.
C. Just.
How comes this Sir John? What Man of
your Title would endure this Tempest of Exclamation?
Are not you ashamed to enforce a poor Widdow,
to so rough a Course to come by her own?
Fal.
What is the Gross Sum that I owe you?
Host.
Marry (if thou wert an Honest Man) thy
self and the Money too. Thou didst swear to me
upon a parcel-guilt-Goblet sitting in my Dolphin
Chamber, at a round Table by a Sea-coal Fire, on
Wednesday in Whitson Week, when the Prince broke
thy Head, for lik'ning him to a Singing-man of
Windsor, thou did'st Swear to me then (as I was
washing thy Wound) to Marry me, and make me
a Lady, and thy Wife. Can'st thou deny it? Did
not Goody Ketch the Butchers Wife come in then
to borrow a little Vinegar, telling us she had a good
Dish of Prawnes; whereby thou did'st come to eat
some; whereby I told thee they were ill for a green
Wound? And did'st thou not, when she was gone
down Stairs, desire me to be no more familiar with
such poor People? Saying, That e're long they
should call me Madam? and did'st thou not kiss
thee now to thy Book Oath, deny it if thou can'st.
Fal.
My Lord, this is a poor Mad Soul, and she
says up and down the Town, that her eldest Son is
like your Lordship. She has been in good case, and
the Truth is Poverty has distracted her, but for
these foolish Officers, I beseech you I may have redress
against 'em.
C. Just.
Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted
with your Wrenching the true cause, the false
Way. It is not a confident Brow, nor a throng of
Words that come with such (more than impudent)
Sawciness from you, can thrust me from an even
Consideration; I know you have practised upon the
easie yielding Spirit of this Woman.
Host.
So he has my Lord.
C. Just.
Prithee Peace, Pay her the Debt you
owe her, and unpay the Villany you have done
her, the one you may do with good Money, the
other with currant Repentance.
Fal.
My Lord I must reply to this Rebuke of
yours, you call honourable boldness, impudent
Sawciness: My Lord I say to you, I desire deliverance
from these Officers, being on immediate Employment
on the Kings affairs.
C. Just.
You speak as you had power to do wrong,
but clear your reputation and satisfy this poor Woman.
Fal.
Come hither Hostess.
Enter Gower.
C. Just.
Now Mr. Gower, what news?
Gow.
The King my Lord, and Henry Prince of
Wales, are near at hand, the rest that Paper tells.
Fal.
As I am a Gentleman—
Host.
Nay you said that before.
As I am a Souldier then, upon my Honour,
I'll Marry thee, when the Wars are done. Come
no more Words on't.
Host.
By this Heav'nly Ground I tread on! I
must be fain to pawn my Plate, and the Tapestry
of my Dining Room.
Fal.
Glasses, Glasses, are the only Fashion now,
and for your Walls a little painted Canvas, with
the Story of the Prodigal, or a German Hunting is
worth a Million of your clumsy Arras—Let it
be Ten Pound if thou can'st, come, it shall be so;
if it were not for some of these Humours, there
were not a better Wench in England. Come, wash
thy Face and withdraw thy Action; come, thou
must not be in this Humour with me, come I know
thou wert set on to this.
Host.
Prithee Sir John let it be but Twenty Nobles.
I am loath to pawn my Plate in good Earnest,
so I am.
Fal.
Let it alone; I'll make a shift elsewhere—
you'l be a Fool still.
Host.
Well you shall have it, altho' I pawn my
best Gown, will that content you? I hope you'l
come to Supper. Well you'l pay me altogether.
Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at Supper?
Fal.
No more Words, let's have her.
Exeunt Hostess and Bailiffs.
C. Just.
I have heard unwelcome News.
Fal.
What's the News, my good Lord?
C. Just.
Where lay the King last Night?
Gow.
At Basingstoke, my Lord.
Fal.
I hope the King is well?
C. Just.
Come all his Forces back.
Gow.
No. Fifteen Hundred Foot. Five Hundred
Horse are marched up to the Duke of Lancaster,
against Northumberland, and the Archbishop.
Comes the King back from Wales, my noble
Lord?
C. Just.
You shall have your Letters of me presently,
come go along with me good Mr. Gower.
Fal.
Mr. Gower will you go with me to Dinner?
Gow.
I thank you Sir John, but I must wait here
on my Lord.
C. Just.
You loyter here too long Sir John, being
to take up Soldiers in the Counties as you go.
Fal.
Well, well, I go my Lord.
Exeunt.
| The sequel of Henry the Fourth | |