The Merry Wives of Windsor The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [9 vols.] · William Shakespeare
SCENE III. _A room in the Garter Inn._
_Enter FALSTAFF, Host, BARDOLPH, NYM, PISTOL, and ROBIN._ _Fal._ Mine host of the Garter! _Host._ What says my bully-rook? speak scholarly and wisely. _Fal._ Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my followers. 5 _Host._ Discard, bully Hercules; cashier: let them wag; trot, trot. _Fal._ I sit at ten pounds a week. _Host._ Thou’rt an emperor, Cæsar, Keisar, and Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph; he shall draw, he shall tap: said 10 I well, bully Hector? _Fal._ Do so, good mine host. _Host._ I have spoke; let him follow. [_To Bard._] Let me see thee froth and lime: I am at a word; follow. [_Exit._ _Fal._ Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade: 15 an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a withered serving-man a fresh tapster. Go; adieu. _Bard._ It is a life that I have desired: I will thrive. _Pist._ O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield? [_Exit Bardolph._ 20 _Nym._ He was gotten in drink: is not the humour conceited? _Fal._ I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box: his thefts were too open; his filching was like an unskilful singer; he kept not time. 25 _Nym._ The good humour is to steal at a minute’s rest. _Pist._ ‘Convey,’ the wise it call. ‘Steal!’ foh! a fico for the phrase!
_Fal._ Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. _Pist._ Why, then, let kibes ensue. 30 _Fal._ There is no remedy; I must cony-catch; I must shift. _Pist._ Young ravens must have food. _Fal._ Which of you know Ford of this town? _Pist._ I ken the wight: he is of substance good. 35 _Fal._ My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about. _Pist._ Two yards, and more. _Fal._ No quips now, Pistol! Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford’s 40 wife: I spy entertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer of invitation: I can construe the action of her familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be Englished rightly, is, ‘I am Sir John Falstaff’s.’ _Pist._ He hath studied her will, and translated her will, 45 out of honesty into English. _Nym._ The anchor is deep: will that humour pass? _Fal._ Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her husband’s purse: he hath a legion of angels. _Pist._ As many devils entertain; and ‘To her, boy,’ say I. 50 _Nym._ The humour rises; it is good: humour me the angels. _Fal._ I have writ me here a letter to her: and here another to Page’s wife, who even now gave me good eyes too, examined my parts with most judicious œillades; 55 sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly.
_Pist._ Then did the sun on dunghill shine. _Nym._ I thank thee for that humour. _Fal._ O, she did so course o’er my exteriors with such 60 a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass! Here’s another letter to her: she bears the purse too; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheaters to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East 65 and West Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go bear thou this letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford: we will thrive, lads, we will thrive. _Pist._ Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, And by my side wear steel? then, Lucifer take all! 70 _Nym._ I will run no base humour: here, take the humour-letter: I will keep the haviour of reputation. _Fal._ [_To Robin_] Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go; 75 Trudge, plod away o’ the hoof; seek shelter, pack! Falstaff will learn the humour of the age, French thrift, you rogues; myself and skirted page. [_Exeunt Falstaff and Robin._ _Pist._ Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and fullam holds, And high and low beguiles the rich and poor: 80 Tester I’ll have in pouch when thou shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk!
_Nym._ I have operations which be humours of revenge. _Pist._ Wilt thou revenge? _Nym._ By welkin and her star! 85 _Pist._ With wit or steel? _Nym._ With both the humours, I: I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. _Pist._ And I to Ford shall eke unfold How Falstaff, varlet vile, 90 His dove will prove, his gold will hold, And his soft couch defile. _Nym._ My humour shall not cool: I will incense Page to deal with poison; I will possess him with yellowness, for the revolt of mine is dangerous: that is my true humour. 95 _Pist._ Thou art the Mars of malecontents: I second thee; troop on. [_Exeunt._
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