First Drawer

What the devil hast thou brought there? apple-johns? thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.

Second Drawer

Mass, thou sayest true. The prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns, and, putting off his hat, said “I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.” It angered him to the heart: but he hath forgot that.

First Drawer

Why, then, cover, and set them down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music. Dispatch: the room where they supped is too hot; they'll come in straight.

Second Drawer

Sirrah, here will be the prince and Master Poins anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John must not know of it: Bardolph hath brought word.

First Drawer

By the mass, here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent stratagem.

Second Drawer

I'll see if I can find out Sneak.

Hostess

I' faith, sweet heart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality: your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere one can say “What's this?” How do you now?

Doll Tearsheet

Better than I was: hem!

Hostess

Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold. Lo, here comes Sir John.

Falstaff

“When Arthur first in court” — Empty the jordan. — “And was a worthy king.” How now, Mistress Doll!

Hostess

Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.

Falstaff

So is all her sect; and they be once in a calm, they are sick.

Doll Tearsheet

A pox damn you, you muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?

Falstaff

You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.

Doll Tearsheet

I make them! gluttony and diseases make : I make them not.

Falstaff

If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Doll: we catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that.

Doll Tearsheet

Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.

Falstaff

“Your brooches, pearls, and ouches:” for to serve bravely is to come halting off, you know: to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon the charged chambers bravely, —

Doll Tearsheet

Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!

Hostess

By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet but you fall to some discord: you are both, i' good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What the good-year! one must bear, and that must be you: you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.

Doll Tearsheet

Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead? there's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars; and whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares.

First Drawer

Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak with you.

Doll Tearsheet

Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not come hither: it is the foul-mouthed'st rogue in England.

Hostess

If he swagger, let him not come here: no, by my faith; I must live among my neighbours: I'll no swaggerers: I am in good name and fame with the very best: shut the door; there comes no swaggerers here: I have not lived all this while, to have swaggering now: shut the door, I pray you.

Falstaff

Dost thou hear, hostess?

Hostess

Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John: there comes no swaggerers here.

Falstaff

Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient.

Hostess

Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me: and your ancient swagger, 'a comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick, the debuty t' other day; and, as he said to me, 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last. “I' good faith, neighbour Quickly,” says he; Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then; “neighbour Quickly,” says he, “receive those that are civil; for” said he, “you are in an ill name:” now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon: “for,” says he, “you are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed what guests you receive: receive,” says he, “no swaggering companions.” There comes none here: you would bless you to hear what he said: no, I'll no swaggerers.

Falstaff

He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' faith; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound: he'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. Call him up, drawer.

Hostess

Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater: but I do not love swaggering, by my troth; I am the worse, when one says swagger: feel, masters, how I shake; look you, I warrant you.

Doll Tearsheet

So you do, hostess.

Hostess

Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers.

Pistol

God save you, Sir John!

Falstaff

Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with 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 her.

Hostess

Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets: I'll drink no 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 cutpurse rascal! you filthy bung, away! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the 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 this.

Falstaff

No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here: discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.

Hostess

No, Good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.

Doll Tearsheet

Captain! thou abominable damned cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earned them. You a captain! you slave, for what? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! hang him, rogue! he lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain! God's light, these villains will make the word as odious as the word “occupy;” which was an excellent good word before it 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 tear her: I'll be revenged of her.

Page

Pray thee, go down.

Pistol

I'll see her damned first; to Pluto's damned lake, by this hand, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors! Have we not Hiren here?

Hostess

Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i' faith: I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.

Pistol

These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses

And hollow pampered 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

By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.

Bardolph

Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to a brawl anon.

Pistol

Die men like dogs! give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren here?

Hostess

A' my word, captain, there's none such here. What the good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be quiet.

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, sweet heart, lie thou there. Laying down his sword.

Come we to full points here; and are etceteras no things?

Falstaff

Pistol, I would be quiet.

Pistol

Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf: what! we have seen the seven stars.

Doll Tearsheet

For God's sake, thrust him down stairs: I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.

Pistol

Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags?

Falstaff

Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling: nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be nothing here.

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

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.

Hostess

Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.

Doll Tearsheet

I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you!

Hostess

Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought 'a made a shrewd thrust at your belly.

Falstaff

Have you turned him out a' doors?

Bardolph

Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, sir, i' the shoulder.

Falstaff

A rascal! to brave me!

Doll Tearsheet

Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! alas, poor ape, how thou sweatest! come, let me wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops: ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee: thou art as valorous as 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 darest for thy heart: an thou dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets.

Page

The music is come, sir.

Falstaff

Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver.

Doll Tearsheet

I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting a' days and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?

Falstaff

Peace, good Doll do not speak like a death's head; do 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 good pantler, 'a would ha' chipped bread well.

Doll Tearsheet

They say Poins has a good wit.

Falstaff

He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick as Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is in a mallet.

Doll Tearsheet

Why does the prince love him so, then?

Falstaff

Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild-mare with the boys, and jumps upon joint-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other gambol faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince admits him: for the prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn scales between their avoirdupois.

Prince

Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?

Poins

Let's beat him before his whore.

Prince

Look, whether the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.

Poins

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

Falstaff

Kiss me, Doll.

Prince

Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what says the almanac to that?

Poins

And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.

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 them all.

Falstaff

What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money a' Thursday: shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come: it grows late; we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me when I am gone.

Doll Tearsheet

By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping, an thou sayest so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return: well, hearken at the end.

Falstaff

Some sack, Francis.

Prince. Poins.

Anon, anon, sir.

Falstaff

Ha! a bastard son of the king's? And art not thou Poins his brother?

Prince

Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!

Falstaff

A better than thou: I am a gentleman; thou art a drawer.

Prince

Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.

Hostess

O, the Lord preserve thy grace! by my troth, welcome to 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.

Doll Tearsheet

How, you fat fool! I scorn you.

Poins

My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.

Prince

You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!

Hostess

God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, by my troth.

Falstaff

Didst thou hear me?

Prince

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 purpose to try my patience.

Falstaff

No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing.

Prince

I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle you.

Falstaff

No abuse, Hal, a' mine honour; no abuse.

Prince

Not to dispraise me, and call me pantler and bread-chipper and I know not what?

Falstaff

No abuse, Hal.

Poins

No abuse?

Falstaff

No abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall 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 me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal: none, Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none.

Prince

See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? is she of the wicked? is thine hostess here of the wicked? or is thy boy of the wicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

Poins

Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

Falstaff

The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him; but the devil blinds him too.

Prince

For the women?

Falstaff

For one of them, she's in hell already, and burns poor souls. For the other, I owe her money; and whether she be damned for that, I know not.

Hostess

No, I warrant you.

Falstaff

No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which I think thou wilt howl.

Hostess

All victuallers do so: what's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

Prince

You, gentlewoman, —

Doll Tearsheet

What says your grace?

Falstaff

His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

Hostess

Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.

Prince

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,

Bareheaded, sweating, knocking at the taverns,

And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

Prince

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 Henry, Poins, Peto and Bardolph,

Falstaff

Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked. 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

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 man of action is called 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.

Hostess

Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man, — well, fare thee well.

Bardolph

Mistress Tearsheet!

Hostess

What's the matter?

Bardolph

Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.

Hostess

O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come. She comes blubbered. Yea, will you come, Doll?