Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
Letter.
Prince. See now whether pure Feare, and entire Cowardise, doth not make thee wrong this vertuous Gentlewoman, to close with vs? Is shee of the Wicked? Is thine Hostesse heere, of the Wicked? Or is the Boy of the Wicked? Or honest Bardolph (whose Zeale burnes in his Nose) of the Wicked? Poin. Answere thou dead Elme, answere Fal. The Fiend hath prickt downe Bardolph irrecouerable, and his Face is Lucifers Priuy-Kitchin, where hee doth nothing but rost Mault-Wormes: for the Boy, there is a good Angell about him, but the Deuill outbids him too Prince. For the Women? Fal. For one of them, shee is in Hell alreadie, and burnes poore Soules: for the other, I owe her Money; and whether shee bee damn'd for that, I know not Host. No, I warrant you Fal. No, I thinke thou art not: I thinke thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another Indictment vpon thee, for suffering flesh to bee eaten in thy house, contrary to the Law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle Host. All Victuallers doe so: What is a Ioynt of Mutton, or two, in a whole Lent? Prince. You, Gentlewoman Dol. What sayes your Grace? Falst. His Grace sayes that, which his flesh rebells against Host. Who knocks so lowd at doore? Looke to the doore there, Francis? Enter Peto.
Prince. Peto, how now? what newes? Peto. The King, your Father, is at Westminster, And there are twentie weake and wearied Postes, Come from the North: and as I came along, I met, and ouer-tooke a dozen Captaines, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes, And asking euery one for Sir Iohn Falstaffe Prince. By Heauen (Poines) I feele me much to blame, So idly to prophane the precious time, When Tempest of Commotion, like the South, Borne with black Vapour, doth begin to melt, And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads. Giue me my Sword, and Cloake: Falstaffe, good night. Enter. Falst. Now comes in the sweetest Morsell of the night, and wee must hence, and leaue it vnpickt. More knocking at the doore? How now? what's the matter? Bard. You must away to Court, Sir, presently, A dozen Captaines stay at doore for you Falst. Pay the Musitians, Sirrha: farewell Hostesse, farewell Dol. You see (my good Wenches) how men of Merit are sought after: the vndeseruer may sleepe, when the man of Action is call'd on. Farewell good Wenches: if I be not sent away poste, I will see you againe, ere I goe Dol. I cannot speake: if my heart bee not readie to burst- Well (sweete Iacke) haue a care of thy selfe Falst. Farewell, farewell. Enter.
Host. Well, fare thee well: I haue knowne thee these twentie nine yeeres, come Pescod-time: but an honester, and truer-hearted man- Well, fare thee well Bard. Mistris Teare-sheet Host. What's the matter? Bard. Bid Mistris Teare-sheet come to my Master Host. Oh runne Dol, runne: runne, good Dol. Exeunt. Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. Enter the King, with a Page. King. Goe, call the Earles of Surrey, and of Warwick: But ere they come, bid them ore-reade these Letters, And well consider of them: make good speed. Enter. How many thousand of my poorest Subiects Are at this howre asleepe? O Sleepe, O gentle Sleepe, Natures soft Nurse, how haue I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids downe, And steepe my Sences in Forgetfulnesse? Why rather (Sleepe) lyest thou in smoakie Cribs, Vpon vneasie Pallads stretching thee, And huisht with bussing Night, flyes to thy slumber, Then in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great? Vnder the Canopies of costly State, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest Melodie? O thou dull God, why lyest thou with the vilde, In loathsome Beds, and leau'st the Kingly Couch, A Watch-case, or a common Larum-Bell? Wilt thou, vpon the high and giddie Mast, Seale vp the Ship-boyes Eyes, and rock his Braines, In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge, And in the visitation of the Windes, Who take the Ruffian Billowes by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaff'ning Clamors in the slipp'ry Clouds, That with the hurley, Death it selfe awakes? Canst thou (O partiall Sleepe) giue thy Repose To the wet Sea-Boy, in an houre so rude: And in the calmest, and most stillest Night, With all appliances, and meanes to boote, Deny it to a King? Then happy Lowe, lye downe, Vneasie lyes the Head, that weares a Crowne. Enter Warwicke and Surrey.
War. There is a Historie in all mens Liues, Figuring the nature of the Times deceas'd: The which obseru'd, a man may prophecie With a neere ayme, of the maine chance of things, As yet not come to Life, which in their Seedes And weake beginnings lye entreasured: Such things become the Hatch and Brood of Time; And by the necessarie forme of this, King Richard might create a perfect guesse, That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falsenesse, Which should not finde a ground to roote vpon, Vnlesse on you King. Are these things then Necessities? Then let vs meete them like Necessities; And that same word, euen now cryes out on vs: They say, the Bishop and Northumberland Are fiftie thousand strong War. It cannot be (my Lord:) Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Eccho, The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace To goe to bed, vpon my Life (my Lord) The Pow'rs that you alreadie haue sent forth, Shall bring this Prize in very easily. To comfort you the more, I haue receiu'd A certaine instance, that Glendour is dead. Your Maiestie hath beene this fort-night ill, And these vnseason'd howres perforce must adde Vnto your Sicknesse King. I will take your counsaile: And were these inward Warres once out of hand, Wee would (deare Lords) vnto the Holy-Land.
Bard. Hold Wart, Trauerse: thus, thus, thus Falst. Come, manage me your Calyuer: so: very well, go-too, very good, exceeding good. O, giue me alwayes a little, leane, old, chopt, bald Shot. Well said Wart, thou art a good Scab: hold, there is a Tester for thee Shal. Hee is not his Crafts-master, hee doth not doe it right. I remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay at Clements Inne, I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthurs Show: there was a little quiuer fellow, and hee would manage you his Peece thus: and hee would about, and about, and come you in, and come you in: Rah, tah, tah, would hee say, Bownce would hee say, and away againe would hee goe, and againe would he come: I shall neuer see such a fellow Falst. These fellowes will doe well, Master Shallow. Farewell Master Silence, I will not vse many wordes with you: fare you well, Gentlemen both: I thanke you: I must a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, giue the Souldiers Coates Shal. Sir Iohn, Heauen blesse you, and prosper your Affaires, and send vs Peace. As you returne, visit my house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peraduenture I will with you to the Court Falst. I would you would, Master Shallow Shal. Go-too: I haue spoke at a word. Fare you well. Enter.
Falst. Fare you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph, leade the men away. As I returne, I will fetch off these Iustices: I doe see the bottome of Iustice Shallow. How subiect wee old men are to this vice of Lying? This same staru'd Iustice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildenesse of his Youth, and the Feates hee hath done about Turnball-street, and euery third word a Lye, duer pay'd to the hearer, then the Turkes Tribute. I doe remember him at Clements Inne, like a man made after Supper, of a Cheese-paring. When hee was naked, hee was, for all the world, like a forked Radish, with a Head fantastically caru'd vpon it with a Knife. Hee was so forlorne, that his Dimensions (to any thicke sight) were inuincible. Hee was the very Genius of Famine: hee came euer in the rere-ward of the Fashion: And now is this Vices Dagger become a Squire, and talkes as familiarly of Iohn of Gaunt, as if hee had beene sworne Brother to him: and Ile be sworne hee neuer saw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his Head, for crowding among the Marshals men. I saw it, and told Iohn of Gaunt, hee beat his owne Name, for you might haue truss'd him and all his Apparrell into an Eele-skinne: the Case of a Treble Hoeboy was a Mansion for him: a Court: and now hath hee Land, and Beeues. Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I returne: and it shall goe hard, but I will make him a Philosophers two Stones to me. If the young Dace be a Bayt for the old Pike, I see no reason, in the Law of Nature, but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.
Iohn. Goe (my Lord) And let our Army be discharged too: And good my Lord (so please you) let our Traines March by vs, that wee may peruse the men Enter. Wee should haue coap'd withall Bish. Goe, good Lord Hastings: And ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. Enter. Iohn. I trust (Lords) wee shall lye to night together. Enter Westmerland. Now Cousin, wherefore stands our Army still? West. The Leaders hauing charge from you to stand, Will not goe off, vntill they heare you speake Iohn. They know their duties. Enter Hastings. Hast. Our Army is dispers'd: Like youthfull Steeres, vnyoak'd, they tooke their course East, West, North, South: or like a Schoole, broke vp, Each hurryes towards his home, and sporting place West. Good tidings (my Lord Hastings) for the which, I doe arrest thee (Traytor) of high Treason: And you Lord Arch-bishop, and you Lord Mowbray, Of Capitall Treason, I attach you both Mow. Is this proceeding iust, and honorable? West. Is your Assembly so? Bish. Will you thus breake your faith? Iohn. I pawn'd thee none: I promis'd you redresse of these same Grieuances Whereof you did complaine; which, by mine Honor, I will performe, with a most Christian care. But for you (Rebels) looke to taste the due Meet for Rebellion, and such Acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these Armes commence, Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence. Strike vp our Drummes, pursue the scatter'd stray, Heauen, and not wee, haue safely fought to day. Some guard these Traitors to the Block of Death, Treasons true Bed, and yeelder vp of breath.
Iohn. Fare you well, Falstaffe: I, in my condition, Shall better speake of you, then you deserue. Enter. Falst. I would you had but the wit: 'twere better then your Dukedome. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded Boy doth not loue me, nor a man cannot make him laugh: but that's no maruaile, hee drinkes no Wine. There's neuer any of these demure Boyes come to any proofe: for thinne Drinke doth so ouer-coole their blood, and making many Fish-Meales, that they fall into a kinde of Male Greene-sicknesse: and then, when they marry, they get Wenches. They are generally Fooles, and Cowards; which some of vs should be too, but for inflamation. A good Sherris-Sack hath a two-fold operation in it: it ascends me into the Braine, dryes me there all the foolish, and dull, and cruddie Vapours, which enuiron it: makes it apprehensiue, quicke, forgetiue, full of nimble, fierie, and delectable shapes; which deliuer'd o're to the Voyce, the Tongue, which is the Birth, becomes excellent Wit.
The second propertie of your excellent Sherris, is, the warming of the Blood: which before (cold, and setled) left the Liuer white, and pale; which is the Badge of Pusillanimitie, and Cowardize: but the Sherris warmes it, and makes it course from the inwards, to the parts extremes: it illuminateth the Face, which (as a Beacon) giues warning to all the rest of this little Kingdome (Man) to Arme: and then the Vitall Commoners, and in-land pettie Spirits, muster me all to their Captaine, the Heart; who great, and pufft vp with his Retinue, doth any Deed of Courage: and this Valour comes of Sherris. So, that skill in the Weapon is nothing, without Sack (for that sets it a-worke:) and Learning, a meere Hoord of Gold, kept by a Deuill, till Sack commences it, and sets it in act, and vse. Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry is valiant: for the cold blood hee did naturally inherite of his Father, hee hath, like leane, stirrill, and bare Land, manured, husbanded, and tyll'd, with excellent endeauour of drinking good, and good store of fertile Sherris, that hee is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand Sonnes, the first Principle I would teach them, should be to forsweare thinne Potations, and to addict themselues to Sack. Enter Bardolph.
War. Lesse noyse, lesse noyse. Enter Prince Henry. P.Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence? Clar. I am here (Brother) full of heauinesse P.Hen. How now? Raine within doores, and none abroad? How doth the King? Glo. Exceeding ill P.Hen. Heard hee the good newes yet? Tell it him Glo. Hee alter'd much, vpon the hearing it P.Hen. If hee be sicke with Ioy, Hee'le recouer without Physicke War. Not so much noyse (my Lords) Sweet Prince speake lowe, The King, your Father, is dispos'd to sleepe Clar. Let vs with-draw into the other Roome War. Wil't please your Grace to goe along with vs? P.Hen. No: I will sit, and watch here, by the King. Why doth the Crowne lye there, vpon his Pillow, Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow? O pollish'd Perturbation! Golden Care! That keep'st the Ports of Slumber open wide, To many a watchfull Night: sleepe with it now, Yet not so sound, and halfe so deepely sweete, As hee whose Brow (with homely Biggen bound) Snores out the Watch of Night. O Maiestie! When thou do'st pinch thy Bearer, thou do'st sit Like a rich Armor, worne in heat of day, That scald'st with safetie: by his Gates of breath, There lyes a dowlney feather, which stirres not: Did hee suspire, that light and weightlesse dowlne Perforce must moue. My gracious Lord, my Father, This sleepe is sound indeede: this is a sleepe, That from this Golden Rigoll hath diuorc'd So many English Kings. Thy due, from me, Is Teares, and heauie Sorrowes of the Blood, Which Nature, Loue, and filiall tendernesse, Shall (O deare Father) pay thee plenteously. My due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne, Which (as immediate from thy Place, and Blood) Deriues it selfe to me. Loe, heere it sits, Which Heauen shall guard: And put the worlds whole strength into one gyant Arme, It shall not force this Lineall Honor from me. This, from thee, will I to mine leaue, As 'tis left to me. Enter.
Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence. King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence Clar. Doth the King call? War. What would your Maiestie? how fares your Grace? King. Why did you leaue me here alone (my Lords?) Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege) Who vndertooke to sit and watch by you King. The Prince of Wales? where is hee? let mee see him War. This doore is open, hee is gone this way Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where wee stayd King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from my Pillow? War. When wee with-drew (my Liege) wee left it heere King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence: Goe seeke him out. Is hee so hastie, that hee doth suppose My sleepe, my death? Finde him (my Lord of Warwick) Chide him hither: this part of his conioynes With my disease, and helpes to end me. See Sonnes, what things you are: How quickly Nature falls into reuolt, When Gold becomes her Obiect? For this, the foolish ouer-carefull Fathers Haue broke their sleepes with thoughts, Their braines with care, their bones with industry. For this, they haue ingrossed and pyl'd vp The canker'd heapes of strange-atchieued Gold: For this, they haue beene thoughtfull, to inuest Their Sonnes with Arts, and Martiall Exercises: When, like the Bee, culling from euery flower The vertuous Sweetes, our Thighes packt with Wax, Our Mouthes with Honey, wee bring it to the Hiue; And like the Bees, are murthered for our paines. This bitter taste yeelds his engrossements, To the ending Father. Enter Warwicke.
Now, where is hee, that will not stay so long, Till his Friend Sicknesse hath determin'd me? War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Roome, Washing with kindly Teares his gentle Cheekes, With such a deepe demeanure, in great sorrow, That Tyranny, which neuer quafft but blood, Would (by beholding him) haue wash'd his Knife With gentle eye-drops. Hee is comming hither King. But wherefore did hee take away the Crowne? Enter Prince Henry. Loe, where hee comes. Come hither to me (Harry.) Depart the Chamber, leaue vs heere alone. Enter. P.Hen. I neuer thought to heare you speake againe King. Thy wish was Father (Harry) to that thought: I stay too long by thee, I wearie thee. Do'st thou so hunger for my emptie Chayre, That thou wilt needes inuest thee with mine Honors, Before thy howre be ripe? O foolish Youth! Thou seek'st the Greatnesse, that will ouer-whelme thee. Stay but a little: for my Cloud of Dignitie Is held from falling, with so weake a winde, That it will quickly drop: my Day is dimme. Thou hast stolne that, which after some few howres Were thine, without offence: and at my death Thou hast seal'd vp my expectation. Thy Life did manifest, thou lou'dst me not, And thou wilt haue me dye assur'd of it. Thou hid'st a thousand Daggers in thy thoughts, Which thou hast whetted on thy stonie heart, To stab at halfe an howre of my Life. What? canst thou not forbeare me halfe an howre? Then get thee gone, and digge my graue thy selfe, And bid the merry Bels ring to thy eare That thou art Crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the Teares, that should bedew my Hearse Be drops of Balme, to sanctifie thy head: Onely compound me with forgotten dust.
Giue that, which gaue thee life, vnto the Wormes: Plucke downe my Officers, breake my Decrees; For now a time is come, to mocke at Forme. Henry the fift is Crown'd: Vp Vanity, Downe Royall State: All you sage Counsailors, hence: And to the English Court, assemble now From eu'ry Region, Apes of Idlenesse. Now neighbor-Confines, purge you of your Scum: Haue you a Ruffian that will sweare? drinke? dance? Reuell the night? Rob? Murder? and commit The oldest sinnes, the newest kinde of wayes? Be happy, he will trouble you no more: England, shall double gill'd, his trebble guilt. England, shall giue him Office, Honor, Might: For the Fift Harry, from curb'd License pluckes The muzzle of Restraint; and the wilde Dogge Shall flesh his tooth in euery Innocent. O my poore Kingdome (sicke, with ciuill blowes) When that my Care could not with-hold thy Ryots, What wilt thou do, when Ryot is thy Care? O, thou wilt be a Wildernesse againe, Peopled with Wolues (thy old Inhabitants.) Prince. O pardon me (my Liege) But for my Teares, The most Impediments vnto my Speech, I had fore-stall'd this deere, and deepe Rebuke, Ere you (with greefe) had spoke, and I had heard The course of it so farre.
Prin. You are right Iustice, and you weigh this well: Therefore still beare the Ballance, and the Sword: And I do wish your Honors may encrease, Till you do liue, to see a Sonne of mine Offend you, and obey you, as I did. So shall I liue, to speake my Fathers words: Happy am I, that haue a man so bold, That dares do Iustice, on my proper Sonne; And no lesse happy, hauing such a Sonne, That would deliuer vp his Greatnesse so, Into the hands of Iustice. You did commit me: For which, I do commit into your hand, Th' vnstained Sword that you haue vs'd to beare: With this Remembrance; That you vse the same With the like bold, iust, and impartiall spirit As you haue done 'gainst me. There is my hand, You shall be as a Father, to my Youth: My voice shall sound, as you do prompt mine eare, And I will stoope, and humble my Intents, To your well-practis'd, wise Directions. And Princes all, beleeue me, I beseech you: My Father is gone wilde into his Graue, (For in his Tombe, lye my Affections) And with his Spirits, sadly I suruiue, To mocke the expectation of the World; To frustrate Prophesies, and to race out Rotten Opinion, who hath writ me downe After my seeming. The Tide of Blood in me, Hath prowdly flow'd in Vanity, till now. Now doth it turne, and ebbe backe to the Sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of Floods, And flow henceforth in formall Maiesty. Now call we our High Court of Parliament, And let vs choose such Limbes of Noble Counsaile, That the great Body of our State may go In equall ranke, with the best gouern'd Nation, That Warre, or Peace, or both at once may be As things acquainted and familiar to vs, In which you (Father) shall haue formost hand. Our Coronation done, we will accite (As I before remembred) all our State, And heauen (consigning to my good intents) No Prince, nor Peere, shall haue iust cause to say, Heauen shorten Harries happy life, one day.
King. I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy Prayers: How ill white haires become a Foole, and Iester? I haue long dream'd of such a kinde of man, So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so prophane: But being awake, I do despise my dreame. Make lesse thy body (hence) and more thy Grace, Leaue gourmandizing; Know the Graue doth gape For thee, thrice wider then for other men. Reply not to me, with a Foole-borne Iest, Presume not, that I am the thing I was, For heauen doth know (so shall the world perceiue) That I haue turn'd away my former Selfe, So will I those that kept me Companie. When thou dost heare I am, as I haue bin, Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou was't The Tutor and the Feeder of my Riots: Till then, I banish thee, on paine of death, As I haue done the rest of my Misleaders, Not to come neere our Person, by ten mile. For competence of life, I will allow you, That lacke of meanes enforce you not to euill: And as we heare you do reforme your selues, We will according to your strength, and qualities, Giue you aduancement. Be it your charge (my Lord) To see perform'd the tenure of our word. Set on. Exit King.
Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound Shal. I marry Sir Iohn, which I beseech you to let me haue home with me Fal. That can hardly be, M[aster]. Shallow, do not you grieue at this: I shall be sent for in priuate to him: Looke you, he must seeme thus to the world: feare not your aduancement: I will be the man yet, that shall make you great Shal. I cannot well perceiue how, vnlesse you should giue me your Doublet, and stuffe me out with Straw. I beseech you, good Sir Iohn, let mee haue fiue hundred of my thousand Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard, was but a colour Shall. A colour I feare, that you will dye in, Sir Iohn Fal. Feare no colours, go with me to dinner: Come Lieutenant Pistol, come Bardolfe, I shall be sent for soone at night Ch.Iust. Go carry Sir Iohn Falstaffe to the Fleete, Take all his Company along with him Fal. My Lord, my Lord Ch.Iust. I cannot now speake, I will heare you soone: Take them away Pist. Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento. Exit. Manent Lancaster and Chiefe Iustice Iohn. I like this faire proceeding of the Kings: He hath intent his wonted Followers Shall all be very well prouided for: But all are banisht, till their conuersations Appeare more wise, and modest to the world Ch.Iust. And so they are Iohn. The King hath call'd his Parliament, My Lord Ch.Iust. He hath Iohn. I will lay oddes, that ere this yeere expire, We beare our Ciuill Swords, and Natiue fire As farre as France. I heare a Bird so sing, Whose Musicke (to my thinking) pleas'd the King. Come, will you hence? Exeunt.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.