Gloucestershire. The Garden of SHALLOW’S House. | |
| |
Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, BARDOLPH, the Page, and DAVY. | |
| Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year’s pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth; come, cousin Silence; and then to bed. | |
| Fal. ’Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich. | 4 |
| Shal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread, Davy: well said, Davy. | |
| Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man and your husband. | |
| Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John: by the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down. Come, cousin. | |
Sil. Ah, sirrah! quoth a’, we shall| | Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, |
| And praise God for the merry year; |
| When flesh is cheap and females dear, |
| And lusty lads roam here and there, |
| So merrily. |
| And ever among so merrily. |
| 8 |
| Fal. There’s a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I’ll give you a health for that anon. | |
| Shal. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. | |
| Davy. Sweet sir, sit; I’ll be with you anon: most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit. Proface! What you want in meat we’ll have in drink: but you must bear: the heart’s all. [Exit. | |
| Shal. Be merry, Master Bardolph; and my little soldier there, be merry. | 12 |
Sil. | | Be merry, be merry, my wife has all: |
| For women are shrews, both short and tall: |
| ’Tis merry in hall when beards wag all, |
| And welcome merry Shrove-tide. |
| Be merry, be merry. |
| |
| Fal. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle. | |
| Sil. Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now. | |
| |
Re-enter DAVY. | 16 |
| Davy. There’s a dish of leather-coats for you. [Setting them before BARDOLPH. | |
| Shal. Davy! | |
| Davy. Your worship! I’ll be with you straight. | |
| A cup of wine, sir? | 20 |
| Sil. A cup of wine that’s brisk and fine | |
| And drink unto the leman mine; | |
| And a merry heart lives long-a. | |
| Fal. Well said, Master Silence. | 24 |
| Sil. And we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o’ the night. | |
| Fal. Health and long life to you, Master Silence. | |
| Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come; | |
| I’ll pledge you a mile to the bottom. | 28 |
| Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. [To the Page.] Welcome, my little tiny thief; and welcome indeed too. I’ll drink to Master Bardolph and to all the cavaleiroes about London. | |
| Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die. | |
| Bard. An I might see you there, Davy,— | |
| Shal. By the mass, you’ll crack a quart together: ha! will you not, Master Bardolph? | 32 |
| Bard. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot. | |
| Shal. By God’s liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that: a’ will not out; he is true bred. | |
| Bard. And I’ll stick by him, sir. | |
| Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry. [Knocking within.] Look who’s at door there. Ho! who knocks? [Exit DAVY. | 36 |
| Fal. [To SILENCE, who drinks a bumper.] | |
| Why, now you have done me right. | |
Sil. | | Do me right, |
| And dub me knight: |
| Samingo. |
| |
| Is’t not so? | 40 |
| Fal. ’Tis so. | |
| Sil. Is’t so? Why, then, say an old man can do somewhat. | |
| |
Re-enter DAVY. | |
| Davy. An’t please your worship, there’s one | 44 |
| Pistol come from the court with news. | |
| Fal. From the court! let him come in. | |
| |
Enter PISTOL. | |
| How now, Pistol! | 48 |
| Pist. Sir John, God save you, sir! | |
| Fal. What wind blew you hither, Pistol? | |
| Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. | |
| Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm. | 52 |
| Sil. By’r lady, I think a’ be, but goodman | |
| Puff of Barson. | |
| Pist. Puff! | |
| Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! | 56 |
| Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, | |
| And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, | |
| And tidings do I bring and lucky joys | |
| And golden times and happy news of price. | 60 |
| Fal. I prithee now, deliver them like a man of this world. | |
| Pist. A foutra for the world and worldlings base! | |
| I speak of Africa and golden joys. | |
| Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? | 64 |
| Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. | |
| Sil. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. | |
| Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? | |
| And shall good news be baffled? | 68 |
| Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies’ lap. | |
| Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. | |
| Pist. Why then, lament therefore. | |
| Shal. Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there is but two ways: either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, sir, under the king, in some authority. | 72 |
| Pist. Under which king, Bezonian? speak, or die. | |
| Shal. Under King Harry. | |
| Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fifth? | |
| Shal. Harry the Fourth. | 76 |
| Pist. A foutra for thine office! | |
| Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; | |
| Harry the Fifth’s the man. I speak the truth: | |
| When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like | 80 |
| The bragging Spaniard. | |
| Fal. What! is the old king dead? | |
| Pist. As nail in door: the things I speak are just. | |
| Fal. Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, ’tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities. | 84 |
| Bard. O joyful day! | |
| I would not take a knighthood for my fortune. | |
| Pist. What! I do bring good news. | |
| Fal. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortune’s steward. Get on thy boots: we’ll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! [Exit BARDOLPH.] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and, withal devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow: I know the young king is sick for me. Let us take any man’s horses; the laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they which have been my friends, and woe unto my lord chief justice! | 88 |
| Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! | |
| ‘Where is the life that late I led?’ say they: | |
| Why, here it is: welcome these pleasant days! [Exeunt. | |