The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 170
hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg,
an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your
wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and
every part about you blasted with antiquity? And will
you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!
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FALSTAFF My lord, I was born about three of the clock
in the afternoon, with a white head, and something a
round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with hallooing,
and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further,
I will not: the truth is, I am only old in judgment and
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understanding; and he that will caper with me for a
thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have
at him! For the box of the ear that the Prince gave you,
he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a
sensible lord. I have checked him for it, and the young
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lion repents – [aside] marry, not in ashes and
sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack.
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, God send the Prince a better
companion!
FALSTAFF God send the companion a better prince!
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I cannot rid my hands of him.
CHIEF JUSTICE Well, the King hath severed you and
Prince Harry: I hear you are going with Lord John of
Lancaster, against the Archbishop and the Earl of
Northumberland.
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FALSTAFF Yea, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But
look you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home,
that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord,
I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to
sweat extraordinarily. If it be a hot day, and I brandish
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anything but a bottle, I would I might never spit white
again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out
his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot last
ever; but it was alway yet the trick of our English
nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too
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common. If ye will needs say I am an old man, you
should give me rest. I would to God my name were not
so terrible to the enemy as it is – I were better to be
eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to
nothing with perpetual motion.
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CHIEF JUSTICE Well, be honest, be honest, and God
bless your expedition!
FALSTAFF Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound
to furnish me forth?
CHIEF JUSTICE Not a penny, not a penny; you are too
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impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: commend me
to my cousin Westmoreland.
Exeunt Lord Chief Justice and Servant.
FALSTAFF If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A
man can no more separate age and covetousness than
a can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout galls
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the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the
degrees prevent my curses. Boy!
PAGE Sir?
FALSTAFF What money is in my purse?
PAGE Seven groats and two pence.
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FALSTAFF I can get no remedy against this consumption
of the purse; borrowing only lingers and lingers it out,
but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter to my
Lord of Lancaster; this to the Prince; this to the Earl
of Westmoreland; – and this to old mistress Ursula,
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whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived
the first white hair of my chin. About it; you know
where to find me. Exit Page.
A pox of this gout! or a gout of this pox! for the one or
the other plays the rogue with my great toe. ’Tis no
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matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and
my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good
wit will make use of anything; I will turn diseases to
commodity. Exit.
1.3 Enter the Archbishop, THOMAS MOWBRAY the Earl Marshal, the Lords HASTINGS and BARDOLPH.
ARCHBISHOP
Thus have you heard our cause, and known our means,
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes:
And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?
MOWBRAY I well allow the occasion of our arms,
5
But gladly would be better satisfied
How in our means we should advance ourselves
To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the power and puissance of the King.
HASTINGS Our present musters grow upon the file
10
To five and twenty thousand men of choice;
And our supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
With an incensed fire of injuries.
LORD BARDOLPH
The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus –
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Whether our present five and twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland.
HASTINGS With him we may.
LORD BARDOLPH Yea, marry, there’s the point:
But if without him we be thought too feeble
My judgment is, we should not step too far
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Till we had his assistance by the hand;
For in a theme so bloody-fac’d as this
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
Of aids incertain should not be admitted.
ARCHBISHOP ’Tis very true, Lord Bardolph, for indeed
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It was young Hotspur’s case at Shrewsbury.
LORD BARDOLPH
It was, my lord; who lin’d himself with hope,
Eating the air and promise of supply,
Flatt’ring himself in project of a power
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts,
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And so, with great imagination
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,
And winking leap’d into destruction.
HASTINGS But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
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LORD BARDOLPH Yes, if this present quality of war –
Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot –
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
We see th’appearing buds; which to prove fruit
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair
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That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model,
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection,
Which if we find outweighs ability,
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What do we then but draw anew the model
In fewer offices, or at least desist
To build at all? Much more, in this great work –
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down
And set another up – should we survey
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The plot of situation and the model,
Consent upon a sure foundation,
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite; or else
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We fortify in paper and in figures,
Using the names of men instead of men,
&n
bsp; Like one that draws the model of an house
Beyond his power to build it, who, half-through,
Gives o’er, and leaves his part-created cost
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A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter’s tyranny.
HASTINGS
Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
Should be still-born, and that we now possess’d
The utmost man of expectation,
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I think we are a body strong enough,
Even as we are, to equal with the King.
LORD BARDOLPH
What, is the King but five and twenty thousand?
HASTINGS
To us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph;
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
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Are in three heads: one power against the French;
And one against Glendower; perforce a third
Must take up us. So is the unfirm King
In three divided, and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
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ARCHBISHOP
That he should draw his several strengths together
And come against us in full puissance
Need not be dreaded.
HASTINGS If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarm’d, the French and Welsh
Baying him at the heels: never fear that.
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LORD BARDOLPH
Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
HASTINGS The Duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland;
Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth;
But who is substituted ’gainst the French
I have no certain notice.
ARCHBISHOP Let us on,
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And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited.
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
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O thou fond many, with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!
And being now trimm’d in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,
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That thou provok’st thyself to cast him up.
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard;
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
And howl’st to find it. What trust is in these times?
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They that, when Richard liv’d, would have him die
Are now become enamour’d on his grave.
Thou that threw’st dust upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came sighing on
After th’admired heels of Bolingbroke,
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Cry’st now, ‘O earth, yield us that King again,
And take thou this!’ O thoughts of men accurs’d!
Past and to come seems best; things present, worst.
MOWBRAY Shall we go draw our numbers and set on?
HASTINGS
We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone.
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Exeunt.
2.1 Enter Hostess, with two officers, FANG with her and SNARE following.
HOSTESS Master Fang, have you entered the action?
FANG It is entered.
HOSTESS Where’s your yeoman? Is’t a lusty yeoman?
Will a stand to’t?
FANG Sirrah – Where’s Snare?
5
HOSTESS O Lord, ay! Good Master Snare.
SNARE Here, here.
FANG Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
HOSTESS Yea, good Master Snare, I have entered him
and all.
10
SNARE It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he
will stab.
HOSTESS Alas the day, take heed of him – he stabbed me
in mine own house, most beastly in good faith. A cares
not what mischief he does, if his weapon be out; he
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will foin like any devil, he will spare neither man,
woman, nor child.
FANG If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.
HOSTESS No, nor I neither; I’ll be at your elbow.
FANG And I but fist him once, and a come but within
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my vice, –
HOSTESS I am undone by his going, I warrant you, he’s
an infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang,
hold him sure; good Master Snare, let him not ’scape.
A comes continuantly to Pie Corner – saving your
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manhoods – to buy a saddle, and he is indited to