صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

The long-grown wounds of my intemperature.
If not, the end of life cancels all bonds;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

K. Henry. A hundred thousand Rebels die in this!. Thou shalt have Charge, and fovereign Truft herein.

Enter Blunt.

1

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.
Blunt. So is the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Dowglas and the English rebels met
Th' eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promifes be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a State.

K. Henry. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day, With him my fon, lord John of Lancaster;

For this advertisement is five days old.

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou shalt fet forward: On Thursday, we ourselves will march: our meeting Is at Bridgnorth; and, Harry, you shall march: Through Gloftershire: by which fome twelve days

hence

Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of bufinefs : let's away, I
Advantage feeds them fat, while we delay. [Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]

Changes to the Boar's-head Tavern in Eaft-cheap.
Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal. BA

ARDOLPH, am not I fall'n away vilely, fince this last action? Do I not bate? do I' not dwindle? why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown: I am wither'd, like an old apple John. Well, I'll repent, and that fuddenly,

while I am in some liking: I fhall be out of heart fhortly, and then I fhall have no ftrength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the infide of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse; the infide of a church! company, villainous company hath been the spoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it; come, fing me a bawdy fong, to make me merry: I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; fwore little; diced not above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house not above once in a quarter of an hour; paid money, that I borrow'd, three or four times; liv'd well, and in good compass: and now I live out all order, out of all compass.

Bard. Why, you are fo fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable compafs, Sir John.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our Admiral, thou beareft the lanthorn in the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be fworn; I make as good use of it, as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori. I never fee thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that liv'd in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning.If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would fwear by thy face; my oath fhould be, by this fire; but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'ft up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think, thou had't been an ignis fatius, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light; thou haft faved me a thousand marks in links and torches,

walking

walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the sack, that thou haft drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years, heav'n reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would, my face were in your belly. Fal. God-a-mercy! fo fhould I be fure to be heartburn'd.

Enter Hoftefs.

How now, dame Partlet the hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Hoft. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think, I keep thieves in my houfe? I have search'd, I have enquir'd, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, fervant by fervant: the tithe of a hair was never loft in my house before.

Fal. Ye lie, hoftefs; Bardolph was shav'd, and lost many a hair: and I'll be fworn, my pocket was pick'd; go to, you are a woman, go.

Hoft. Who I? I defy thee; I was never call'd fo in mine own house before.

Fal. Go to. I know you well enough.

Hoft. No, Sir John: you do not know me, Sir John; I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. bought you a dozen of fhirts to your back.

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made boulters

of them.

Hoft. Now as I am a true woman, Hilland of eight hillings an ell: you owe money here befides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four and twenty pounds.

pay.

Fal. He had his part of it, let him
Hoft. He? alas! he is poor, he hath nothing.
Fal. How! poor? look upon his face: what call

you,

you rich? let him coin his nofe, let him coin his cheeks: I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a yonker of me? fhall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I fhall have my pocket pick'd? I have loft a feal-ring of my grand-father's, worth forty mark.

Hoft. O Jefu! I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

Fal. How? the Prince is a Jack, a fneak-up; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.

SCENE VI.

Enter Prince Henry marching, and Peto playing on his Truncheon like a Fife: Falstaff meets them.

Fal.

OW now, lad? is the wind in that door? muft we all march?

How
Hmuft

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.
Hoft. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Henry. What fay' thou, Miftrefs Quickly? how does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest

man.

Hoft. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and lift to me.

P. Henry. What fay'ft thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket pickt: this houfe is turn'd bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Henry. What didft thou lofe, Jack?

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pounds a-piece, and a feal-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Henry. A trifle, fome eight-penny matter.

Hoft. So I told him, my lord; and Í faid, I heard your grace fay fo; and, my lord, he speaks most vilely you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and faid, he would cudgel you.

of

P. Henry.

P. Henry. What! he did not ?

Hoft. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman-hood in me elfe.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd prune; no more truth in thee than in a drawn Fox; and for woman-hood, Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Hoft. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Hoft. I am nothing to thank God on, I would thou fhould't know it: I am an honeft man's wife; and, fetting thy knighthood afide, thou art a knave to call me fo.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood afide, thou art a beast to fay otherwife.

Hoft. Say, what beaft, thou knave, thou?
Fal. What beaft? why, an Otter.

P. Henry. An Otter, Sir John, why an Otter? Fal. Why? fhe's neither fish nor flesh ; a man knows no where to have her.

Hoft. Thou art an unjust man in saying fo: thou, or any man knows where to have me; thou knave, thou!

P. Henry. Thou say'ft true, hoftefs, and he flanders thee moft groffy.

Hoft. So he doth you, my lord, and said this other day, you ow'd him a thousand pound.

P. Henry. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million; thy love is worth a million: thou ow'ft me thy love.

Hoft. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and faid, he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?

Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you faid fo.

Fal. Yea, if he said, my ring was copper.

P. Henry. I fay, 'tis copper.

good as thy word now ?

Dar't thou be as

Fal. Why, Hal, thou know'ft, as thou art but a

man

« السابقةمتابعة »