Sil. Who, I? I have been merry twice and Davy. There's a dish of leather-coats* for you. *Apples. [To Bardolph Shal. Davy! Davy. Your worship! I'll be with you straight [to Bardolph]. A cup of wine, sir? Sil. A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, Fal. Sil. [Singing. And drink unto the leman* mine; And a merry heart lives long-a. 50 Well said, Master Silence. *Sweetheart. An 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; [Singing. Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief [to the Page], and welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cavaleros* about London. *Cavaliers. 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? 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. 71 Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry. [Knocking within.] who's at door there, ho! who knocks? Look [Exit Davy. Fal. Why, now you have done me right. [To Silence seeing him take off a bumper. Do me right, [Singing. Sil. Is't not so? And dub me knight: Fol. 'Tis so. 80 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 Pistol come from the court with news. Fal. From the court! let him come in. How now, Pistol! Enter PISTOL. Pist. Sir John, God save you! 89 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. Sil. By'r lady, I think a' be, but goodman Puff of Barson. Pist. Puff! Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, Fal. I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world. Pist. A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys. Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. Sil. [Singing. Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? And shall good news be baffled? Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. IIO Sil. breeding. Honest gentleman, I know not your Pist. Why then, lament therefore. Shal. Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there's but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, sir, under the king, in some authority. Pist. Under which king, Shal. Under King Harry. Besonian ?* speak, *Beggarly fellow. Harry the Fourth? or Fifth? Shal. Harry the Fourth. A foutre for thine office! 121 Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; 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 doublecharge thee with dignities. Bard. O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune. 131 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 Bard.] 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. Blessed are they that have been my friends; and woe to my lord chief-justice! 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! SCENE IV. London. A street. [Exeunt. Enter Beadles, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET. Host. No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might die, that I might have thee hanged: thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint. First Bead. The constables have delivered her over to me; and she shall have whippingcheer enough, I warrant her: there hath been a man or two lately killed about her. Dol. Nut-hook,* nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain. *Thief. Host. O the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry! First Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me; for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you. Dol. I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this, you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner, if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles. First Bead. Come, come, you she knighterrant, come. Host. O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease. Dol. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice. Host. Ay, come, you starved blood-hound. Dol. Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal. 30 [Exeunt. SCENE V. A public place near Westminster Abbey. Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes. First Groom. More rushes, more rushes. Sec. Groom. The trumpets have sounded twice. First Groom. 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the coronation: dispatch, dispatch. [Exeunt. Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and Page. Fal. Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will make the king do you grace: I will leer upon him as a' comes by; and do but mark the countenance that he will give me. 9 O, Pist. God bless thy lungs, good knight. Fal. Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But 'tis no matter; this poor show doth better: this doth infer the zeal I had to see him. Fal. It shows my earnestness of affection,— Fal. My devotion, Shal. It doth, it doth, it doth. 20 Fal. As it were, to ride day and night; and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me, Shal. It is best, certain. Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him. 29 Pist. 'Tis semper idem,' for 'obsque hoc nihil est:' 'tis all in every part. Shai. 'Tis so, indeed. Pist. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, And make thee rage. Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, |