| William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Oxford Shakespeare. 1914. | | | |
| The Life of King Henry the Fifth | | | | Act II. Scene III. |
| | London. Before a Tavern in Eastcheap. | |
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Enter PISTOL, Hostess, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy. | |
| Host. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines. | |
| Pist. No; for my manly heart doth yearn. | |
| Bardolph, be blithe; Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins; | 5 |
| Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead, | |
| And we must yearn therefore. | |
| Bard. Would I were with him, wheresome’er he is, either in heaven or in hell! | |
| Host. Nay, sure, he’s not in hell: he’s in Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. A’ made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child; a’ parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o’ the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers’ ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a’ babbled of green fields. ‘How now, Sir John!’ quoth I: ‘what man! be of good cheer.’ So a’ cried out ‘God, God, God!’ three or four times: now I, to comfort him, bid him a’ should not think of God, I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So a’ bade me lay more clothes on his feet: 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 upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone. | |
| Nym. They say he cried out of sack. | 10 |
| Host. Ay, that a’ did. | |
| Bard. And of women. | |
| Host. Nay, that a’ did not. | |
| Boy. Yes, that a’ did; and said they were devils incarnate. | |
| Host. A’ could never abide carnation; ’twas a colour he never liked. | 15 |
| Boy. A’ said once, the devil would have him about women. | |
| Host. A’ did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon. | |
| Boy. Do you not remember a’ saw a flea stick upon Bardolph’s nose, and a’ said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire? | |
| Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that’s all the riches I got in his service. | |
| Nym. Shall we shog? the king will be gone from Southampton. | 20 |
| Pist. Come, let’s away. My love, give me thy lips. | |
| Look to my chattels and my moveables: | |
| Let senses rule, the word is, ‘Pitch and pay;’ | |
| Trust none; | |
| For oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafercakes, | 25 |
| And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck: | |
| Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor. | |
| Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms, | |
| Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys, | |
| To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! | 30 |
| Boy. And that’s but unwholesome food, they say. | |
| Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. | |
| Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her. | |
| Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but, adieu. | |
| Pist. Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command. | 35 |
| Host. Farewell; adieu. [Exeunt. | | | |
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