The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

with him?

PAGE. None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.

PRINCE. What pagan may that be?

PAGE. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master’s.

PRINCE. Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull.

Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?

POINS. I am your shadow, my lord; I’ll follow you.

PRINCE. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. There’s for your silence.

BARDOLPH. I have no tongue, sir.

PAGE. And for mine, sir, I will govern it.

PRINCE. Fare you well; go. Exeunt BARDOLPH and PAGE

This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.

POINS. I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans and London.

PRINCE. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?

POINS. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers.

PRINCE. From a god to a bull? A heavy descension! It was Jove’s case. From a prince to a prentice? A low transformation! That shall be mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.

Exeunt

SCENE III.

Warkworth. Before the castle

 

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY

 

NORTHUMBERLAND. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs;

Put not you on the visage of the times And be, like them, to Percy troublesome.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. I have given over, I will speak no more.

Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; And but my going nothing can redeem it.

LADY PERCY. O, yet, for God’s sake, go not to these wars!

The time was, father, that you broke your word, When you were more endear’d to it than now; When your own Percy, when my heart’s dear Harry, Threw many a northward look to see his father Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain.

Who then persuaded you to stay at home?

There were two honours lost, yours and your son’s.

For yours, the God of heaven brighten it!

For his, it stuck upon him as the sun In the grey vault of heaven; and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move

To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.

He had no legs that practis’d not his gait; And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, Became the accents of the valiant;

For those who could speak low and tardily Would turn their own perfection to abuse To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait, In diet, in affections of delight,

In military rules, humours of blood,

He was the mark and glass, copy and book, That fashion’d others. And him-O wondrous him!

O miracle of men!- him did you leave—

Second to none, unseconded by you—

To look upon the hideous god of war

In disadvantage, to abide a field

Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur’s name Did seem defensible. So you left him.

Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong To hold your honour more precise and nice With others than with him! Let them alone.

The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong.

Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur’s neck, Have talk’d of Monmouth’s grave.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Beshrew your heart,

Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights.

But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in another place,

And find me worse provided.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. O, fly to Scotland Till that the nobles and the armed commons Have of their puissance made a little taste.

LADY PERCY. If they get ground and vantage of the King, Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, First let them try themselves. So did your son; He was so suff’red; so came I a widow; And never shall have length of life enough To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, For recordation to my noble husband.

NORTHUMBERLAND. Come, come, go in with me. ‘Tis with my mind As with the tide swell’d up unto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neither way.

Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop, But many thousand reasons hold me back.

I will resolve for Scotland. There am I, Till time and vantage crave my company. Exeunt

SCENE IV.

London. The Boar’s Head Tavern in Eastcheap Enter FRANCIS and another DRAWER

 

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

SECOND DRAWER. Mass, thou say’st 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 ang’red him to the heart; but he hath forgot that.

FRANCIS. Why, then, cover and set them down; and see if thou canst find out Sneak’s noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music.

 

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; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.

THIRD DRAWER. By the mass, here will be old uds; it will be an excellent stratagem.

SECOND DRAWER. I’ll see if I can find out Sneak.

Exeunt second and third DRAWERS

 

Enter HOSTESS and DOLL TEARSHEET

 

HOSTESS. I’ faith, sweetheart, 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. Better than I was-hem.

HOSTESS. Why, that’s well said; a good heart’s worth gold.

Lo, here comes Sir John.

 

Enter FALSTAFF

 

FALSTAFF. [Singing] ‘When Arthur first in court’- Empty the jordan. [Exit FRANCIS]- [Singing] ‘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. A pox damn you, you muddy rascal! Is that all the comfort you give me?

FALSTAFF. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.

DOLL. I make them! Gluttony and diseases make them: 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. 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 charg’d chambers bravely-DOLL. 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 goodyear! one must bear, and that must be you. You are the weaker vessel, as as they say, the emptier vessel.

DOLL. 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 stuff’d 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.

 

Re-enter FRANCIS

 

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

DOLL. Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth’dst 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 liv’d 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 swagg’rer 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 swagg’rers.

FALSTAFF. He’s no swagg’rer, 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.

Exit FRANCIS

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. So you do, hostess.

HOSTESS. Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an ‘twere an aspen leaf. I cannot abide swagg’rers.

 

Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and PAGE

 

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. 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. 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. Captain! Thou abominable damn’d 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 earn’d 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 stew’d prunes and dried cakes. A captain! God’s light, these villains will make the