Enter FRANCIS and another DRAWER
- Francis. What the devil hast thou brought there-apple-johns?
knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.
- Second Drawer. Mass, thou say'st true. The Prince once set a
of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more
Johns; and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now take my
of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.' It ang'red
to the heart; but he hath forgot that.
- Francis. Why, then, cover and set them down; and see if thou
find out Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear
Enter third DRAWER
- Third Drawer. Dispatch! The room where they supp'd is too hot;
they'll come in straight.
- Francis. Sirrah, here will be the Prince and Master Poins anon;
they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John
not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.
- Third Drawer. By the mass, here will be old uds; it will be an
- Second Drawer. I'll see if I can find out Sneak.
Exeunt second and third DRAWERS
Enter HOSTESS and DOLL TEARSHEET
- Hostess Quickly. I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an
good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as
would desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as
rose, in good truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too
canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it
the blood ere one can say 'What's this?' How do you now?
- Doll Tearsheet. Better than I was—hem.
- Hostess Quickly. Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold.
Lo, here comes Sir John.
- Falstaff. [Singing] 'When Arthur first in court'—Empty the
Jordan. [Exit FRANCIS]—[Singing] 'And was a worthy king'—
now, Mistress Doll!
- Hostess Quickly. Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.
- Falstaff. So is all her sect; and they be once in a calm, they
- Doll Tearsheet. A pox damn you, you muddy rascal! Is that all the comfort
- Falstaff. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
- Doll Tearsheet. I make them! Gluttony and diseases make them: I make them
- Falstaff. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to
the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you;
that, my poor virtue, grant that.
- Doll Tearsheet. Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.
- Falstaff. 'Your brooches, pearls, and ouches.' For to serve
is to come halting off; you know, to come off the breach with
pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon
charg'd chambers bravely—
- Doll Tearsheet. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!
- Hostess Quickly. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never
but you fall to some discord. You are both, i' good truth, as
rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with
confirmities. What the good-year! one must bear, and that
you. You are the weaker vessel, as as they say, the emptier
- Doll Tearsheet. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogs-head?
There's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him;
have not seen a hulk better stuff'd in the hold. Come, I'll
friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the wars; and
I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares.
- Francis. Sir, Ancient Pistol's below and would speak with you.
- Doll Tearsheet. Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it
the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England.
- Hostess Quickly. If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith!
must live among my neighbours; I'll no swaggerers. I am in
name and fame with the very best. Shut the door. There comes
swaggerers here; I have not liv'd all this while to have
swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you.
- Falstaff. Dost thou hear, hostess?
- Hostess Quickly. Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes no
- Falstaff. Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
- Hostess Quickly. Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me; and your ancient
swagg'rer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick,
debuty, t' other day; and, as he said to me—'twas no longer
than Wednesday last, i' good faith!—'Neighbour Quickly,'
he—Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then—'Neighbour
says he 'receive those that are civil, for' said he 'you are
an ill name.' Now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon. 'For'
'you are an honest woman and well thought on, therefore take
what guests you receive. Receive' says he 'no swaggering
companions.' There comes none here. You would bless you to
what he said. No, I'll no swagg'rers.
- Falstaff. He's no swagg'rer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' faith;
may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He'll not
with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of
resistance. Call him up, drawer.
- Hostess Quickly. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my
nor no cheater; but I do not love swaggering, by my troth. I
the worse when one says 'swagger.' Feel, masters, how I
look you, I warrant you.
- Doll Tearsheet. So you do, hostess.
- Hostess Quickly. Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen
cannot abide swagg'rers.
Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and PAGE
- Pistol. God save you, Sir John!
- Falstaff. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you
a cup of sack; do you discharge upon mine hostess.
- Pistol. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
- Falstaff. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly offend
- Hostess Quickly. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets. I'll drink
more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.
- Pistol. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you.
- Doll Tearsheet. Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What! you poor,
base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy
rogue, away! I am meat for your master.
- Pistol. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
- Doll Tearsheet. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By
wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play
saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you
basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir?
God's light, with two points on your shoulder? Much!
- Pistol. God let me not live but I will murder your ruff for
- Falstaff. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here.
Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.
- Hostess Quickly. No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.
- Doll Tearsheet. Captain! Thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not
to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would
truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you
have earn'd them. You a captain! you slave, for what? For
a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! hang him,
rogue! He lives upon mouldy stew'd prunes and dried cakes. A
captain! God's light, these villains will make the word as
as the word 'occupy'; which was an excellent good word before
was ill sorted. Therefore captains had need look to't.
- Bardolph. Pray thee go down, good ancient.
- Falstaff. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
- Pistol. Not I! I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could
her; I'll be reveng'd of her.
- Pistol. I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damn'd lake, by
hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile
Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors!
we not Hiren here?
- Hostess Quickly. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i'
beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
- Pistol. These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses,
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty mile a day,
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,
And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?
- Hostess Quickly. By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter words.
- Bardolph. Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a brawl
- Pistol. Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not
- Hostess Quickly. O' my word, Captain, there's none such here. What the
good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be
- Pistol. Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
Come, give's some sack.
'Si fortune me tormente sperato me contento.'
Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire.
Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there.
[Laying down his sword]
Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothings?
- Falstaff. Pistol, I would be quiet.
- Pistol. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the
- Doll Tearsheet. For God's sake thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure
- Pistol. Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags?
- Falstaff. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat
Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be nothing
- Bardolph. Come, get you down stairs.
- Pistol. What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
[Snatching up his sword]
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!
- Hostess Quickly. Here's goodly stuff toward!
- Falstaff. Give me my rapier, boy.
- Doll Tearsheet. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
- Falstaff. Get you down stairs.
[Drawing and driving PISTOL out]
- Hostess Quickly. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house
I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant
Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked
Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH
- Doll Tearsheet. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you
whoreson little valiant villain, you!
- Hostess Quickly. Are you not hurt i' th' groin? Methought 'a made a
thrust at your belly.
- Falstaff. Have you turn'd him out a doors?
- Bardolph. Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, sir,
- Falstaff. A rascal! to brave me!
- Doll Tearsheet. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou
sweat'st! Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson
chops. Ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous
Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better
than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain!
- Falstaff. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
- Doll Tearsheet. Do, an thou dar'st for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll
thee between a pair of sheets.
- Page. The music is come, sir.
- Falstaff. Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Don. A
bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quick-silver.
- Doll Tearsheet. I' faith, and thou follow'dst him like a church. Thou
whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou
fighting a days and foining a nights, and begin to patch up
old body for heaven?
Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS disguised as drawers
- Falstaff. Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a death's-head;
not bid me remember mine end.
- Doll Tearsheet. Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of?
- Falstaff. A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have made a
pantler; 'a would ha' chipp'd bread well.
- Doll Tearsheet. They say Poins has a good wit.
- Falstaff. He a good wit! hang him, baboon! His wit's as thick
Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is in
- Doll Tearsheet. Why does the Prince love him so, then?
- Falstaff. Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a
quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off
ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys,
jumps upon join'd-stools, and swears with a good grace, and
his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the Leg, and
no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other
faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for
which the Prince admits him. For the Prince himself is such
another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between
- Henry V. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?
- Edward Poins. Let's beat him before his whore.
- Henry V. Look whe'er the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd
like a parrot.
- Edward Poins. Is it not strange that desire should so many years
- Henry V. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says
almanac to that?
- Edward Poins. And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not
to his master's old tables, his note-book, his
- Falstaff. Thou dost give me flattering busses.
- Doll Tearsheet. By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
- Falstaff. I am old, I am old.
- Doll Tearsheet. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of
- Falstaff. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive
Thursday. Shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come. 'A
grows late; we'll to bed. Thou't forget me when I am gone.
- Doll Tearsheet. By my troth, thou't set me a-weeping, an thou say'st so.
Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return.
hearken a' th' end.
- Falstaff. Some sack, Francis.
- Henry V. [with POINS:] Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing]
- Falstaff. Ha! a bastard son of the King's? And art thou not
- Henry V. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost
- Falstaff. A better than thou. I am a gentleman: thou art a
- Henry V. Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears.
- Hostess Quickly. O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome
London. Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine. O Jesu, are you come from Wales?
- Falstaff. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light
flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
[Leaning his band upon DOLL]
- Doll Tearsheet. How, you fat fool! I scorn you.
- Edward Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn
to a merriment, if you take not the heat.
- Henry V. YOU whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak
me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
- Hostess Quickly. God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, by
- Falstaff. Didst thou hear me?
- Henry V. Yea; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by
Gadshill. You knew I was at your back, and spoke it on
try my patience.
- Falstaff. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within
- Henry V. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse, and
then I know how to handle you.
- Falstaff. No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no abuse.
- Henry V. Not to dispraise me, and call me pander, and
bread-chipper, and I know not what!
- Falstaff. No abuse, Ned, i' th' world; honest Ned, none. I
disprais'd him before the wicked—that the wicked might not
in love with thee; in which doing, I have done the part of a
careful friend and a true subject; and thy father is to give
thanks for it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; no, faith,
- Henry V. See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth
make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us?
she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is
boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in
nose, of the wicked?
- Edward Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
- Falstaff. The fiend hath prick'd down Bardolph irrecoverable;
his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing
roast malt-worms. For the boy—there is a good angel about
but the devil outbids him too.
- Henry V. For the women?
- Falstaff. For one of them—she's in hell already, and burns
souls. For th' other—I owe her money; and whether she be
for that, I know not.
- Hostess Quickly. No, I warrant you.
- Falstaff. No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for
Marry, there is another indictment upon thee for suffering
to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which
think thou wilt howl.
- Hostess Quickly. All vict'lers do so. What's a joint of mutton or two
- Henry V. You, gentlewoman—
- Doll Tearsheet. What says your Grace?
- Falstaff. His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against.
- Hostess Quickly. Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door there,
- Henry V. Peto, how now! What news?
- Peto. The King your father is at Westminster;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
Come from the north; and as I came along
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
- Henry V. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame
So idly to profane the precious time,
When tempest of commotion, like the south,
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
Exeunt PRINCE, POINS, PETO, and BARDOLPH
- Falstaff. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we
must hence, and leave it unpick'd. [Knocking within] More
knocking at the door!
How now! What's the matter?
- Bardolph. You must away to court, sir, presently;
A dozen captains stay at door for you.
- Falstaff. [To the PAGE]. Pay the musicians, sirrah.—Farewell,
hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of
merit are sought after; the undeserver may sleep, when the
action is call'd on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent
away post, I will see you again ere I go.
- Doll Tearsheet. I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst!
Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
- Falstaff. Farewell, farewell.
Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH
- Hostess Quickly. Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these
years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted
- Bardolph. [Within] Mistress Tearsheet!
- Hostess Quickly. What's the matter?
- Bardolph. [Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
- Hostess Quickly. O, run Doll, run, run, good Come. [To BARDOLPH] She
comes blubber'd.—Yea, will you come, Doll? Exeunt