The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 74
all disordered, with no limits.
BARD.
Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all
compass, --out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.
Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you will always be
beyond the limit–beyond any reasonable limit, Sir John.
FAL.
Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life:thou art our admiral,
thou bearest the lantern in the poop,--but 'tis in the nose of thee;
thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp.
You change your face, and I'll change my lifestyle: you are our Admiral,
you carry the lantern for our ship–that's your glowing red nose,
you are the Knight of the Burning Lamp.
BARD.
Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.
Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm.
FAL.
No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a
death's-head or a memento mori:I never see thy face but I think upon
hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes,
burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear
by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire, that's God's angel:but
thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in
thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'st up Gad's-hill in
the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis
fatuus or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art
a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a
thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night
betwixt tavern and tavern:but the sack that thou hast drunk me would
have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe.
I have maintain'd that salamander of yours with fire any time this
two-and-thirty years; God reward me for it!
No, I swear; I make good use of it as many men do of
death's heads or Memento Mori: I never see your face without thinking of
hellfire, and Dives who lived in purple; for there he is in his robes,
burning, burning. If there was any virtue in you, I would swear
by your face; my oath would be, “By this fire, that's God's angel!": but
you have gone over completely to the other side, and apart from the light in your face,
you are the son of utter darkness. When you ran up Gadshill in
the night to catch my horse, if I didn't think you were an explosion or ball
lightning then money can't buy anything. Oh, you are
a permanent beacon, and everlasting bonfire! You have saved me a
thousand marks in flares and torches, walking with you at night
between taverns: but the sack that I have bought you would
have paid for lights at half the price from the most expensive shop in Europe.
I have provided fuel for that likes of yours for the past
thirty-two years; may God reward me for it!
BARD.
'Sblood, I would my face were in your stomach!
By God, I could wish it was burning up your stomach!
FAL.
God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.--
[Enter the Hostess.]
How now, Dame Partlet the hen! have you enquir'd yet who
pick'd my pocket?
Lord have mercy! Then I would definitely have heartburn–
hello there, my old chicken! Have you found out yet who
picked my pocket?
HOST.
Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think I
keep thieves in my house? I have search'd, I have inquired,
so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant:
the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.
Why, Sir John, what do you think, St John? Do you think I'd
allow thieves in my house? I have looked, I have question,
so has my husband, every man, every boy, every servant:
no one ever lost the tenth of a hair before in my house.
FAL.
Ye lie, hostess:Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair; and
I'll be sworn my pocket was pick'd. Go to, you are a woman, go.
You're lying, landlady: Bardolph was shaved, and lost many hairs; and
I'll swear my pocket was picked. Get away, you are a woman, get away.
HOST.
Who, I? no; I defy thee:God's light, I was never call'd so in
mine own house before.
Who, me? No; I defy you; by God, I was never called that in
my own house before.
FAL.
Go to, I know you well enough.
Get away, I know you well enough.
HOST.
No, Sir John; you do not know me, Sir John. I know you, Sir John:
you owe me money, Sir John; and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me
of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.
No, Sir John; you do not know me, Sir John. I know you, Sir John:
you owe me money, Sir John; and now you start a quarrel to take
my mind off it: I bought you a dozen shirts to wear.
FAL.
Dowlas, filthy dowlas:I have given them away to bakers' wives,
and they have made bolters of them.
The worst sort of rough cloth: I have given them away to bakers' wives,
and they have made them into pudding cloths.
HOST.
Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell.
You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings,
and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound.
Now, as I am an honest woman, they were made of fine lawn at eight shillings a yard.
You owe money here as well, Sir John, for your food and your drinks between meals,
and for money lent to you, twenty-four pounds.
FAL.
He had his part of it; let him pay.
He had some of it; let him pay.
HOST.
He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing.
Him? Alas, he is poor; he has nothing.
FAL.
How! poor? look upon his face; what call you rich? let
them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks:I'll not pay a
denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take
mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket pick'd? I have
lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark.
What! Poor? Look on his face; what do you call rich? Let them
stamp his nose, let them stamp his cheeks: I won't pay
a farthing. What, do you think I'm wet behind the ears? Can I not
relax in my own inn without having my pocket picked? I have
lost a signet ring of my grandfather's which was worth forty marks.
HOST.
O Jesu, I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft,
that that ring was copper!
O Jesus, I don't know how often I've heard the Prince tell him
that that ring was made of copper!
FAL.
How! the Prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup:'sblood, an he were
here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.--
[Enter Prince Henry and Pointz, marching.Falstaff meets them,
playing on his truncheon like a fife.]
How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i'faith? must we all
march?
What! The Prince is a knave, a sneaking rascal: by God, if he were
here, I would beat him like a dog, if he said that–
What's up, lad? I
s that the way the wind blows, by God? Must we all
march?
BARD.
Yea, two-and-two, Newgate-fashion.
Yes, two by two, prison style.
HOST.
My lord, I pray you, hear me.
My Lord, I beg you, listen to me.
PRINCE.
What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? I love
him well; he is an honest man.
What is it, Mistress Quickly? How is your husband? I like
him very much; he is an honest man.
HOST.
Good my lord, hear me.
My good lord, listen to me.
FAL.
Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
Please, ignore her, and listen to me.
PRINCE.
What say'st thou, Jack?
What are you saying, Jack?
FAL.
The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my
pocket pick'd:this house is turn'd bawdy-house; they pick pockets.
The other night I fell asleep here behind the curtain, and had my
pocket picked: this house has become a brothel; they pick pockets.
PRINCE.
What didst thou lose, Jack?
What did you lose, Jack?
FAL.
Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound
a-piece and a seal-ring of my grandfather's.
Will you believe me, Hal? Three or four bonds of forty pounds
each, and a signet ring of my grandfather's.
PRINCE.
A trifle, some eight-penny matter.
A trifle, worth about eightpence.
HOST.
So I told him, my lord; and I said I heard your Grace say so;
and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd
man as he is; and said he would cudgel you.
That's what I said to him, my lord; and I said I had heard your Grace say so;
and, my lord, he spoke horribly about you, like the foulmouthed
man he is; and he said he would beat you.
PRINCE.
What! he did not?
What! He didn't?
HOST.
There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.
If I'm lying I have no faith, honesty or womanhood in me.
FAL.
There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd prune; nor no more
truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and, for woman-hood, Maid Marian
may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.
There is no more faith in you than in a common tart; no more
truth in you than in a hunted fox; and as for womanhood, maid Marian
would be a model of respectability compared to you. Go away, you object.
HOST.
Say, what thing? what thing?I am an honest man's wife:and,
setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.
Object? Object? I am the wife of an honest man: and,
forgetting your knighthood, you are a knave to call me that.
FAL.
Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.
Forgetting your womanhood, you are a beast to say different.
HOST.
Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
You're calling me a beast, you knave, what sort of beast?
FAL.
What beast!why, an otter.
What sort? Why, an otter.
PRINCE.
An otter, Sir John, why an otter?
An otter, Sir John, why an otter?
FAL.
Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have
her.
Why, she is neither fish nor meat; a man doesn't know how to take her.
HOST.
Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where
to have me, thou knave, thou!
You are a dishonest man to say so; you or any man knows how
to take me, you knave, you!
PRINCE.
Thou say'st true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.
You're telling the truth, landlady; and he is insulting you terribly.
HOST.
So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you ought him a
thousand pound.
He does the same to you, my lord; he said the other day you owed him a
thousand pounds.
PRINCE.
Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Sir, do I owe you a thousand pounds?
FAL.
A thousand pound, Hal! a million:thy love is worth a million;
thou owest me thy love.
A thousand pounds, Hal!A million: your love is worth a million;
you owe me your love.
HOST.
Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.
No, my lord, he called you a knave, and said he would beat you.
FAL.
Did I, Bardolph?
Did I, Bardolph?
BARD.
Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
Indeed, Sir John, that's what you said.
FAL.
Yea, if he said my ring was copper.
Yes, if he said my ring was copper.
PRINCE.
I say 'tis copper:darest thou be as good as thy word now?
I say it is copper: are you going to keep your word now?
FAL.
Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but man, I dare; but as thou
art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.
Why, Hal, you know, I would dare to fight you as a man; but as you
are Prince, I fear you as I fear the roaring of a lion cub.
PRINCE.
And why not as the lion?
And why not the roaring of a lion?
FAL.
The King himself is to be feared as the lion:dost thou think I'll
fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle
break.
The King himself is to be frightened of as a lion: do you think I'll
be as afraid of you as I am of your father? If I am, I pray to God
for my belt to break.
PRINCE.
Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in this
bosom of thine; it is all fill'd up with midriff.
Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whoreson,
impudent, emboss'd rascal, if there were anything in thy pocket but
tavern-reckonings, and one poor pennyworth of sugar-candy to make thee
long-winded,--if thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but
these, I am a villain:and yet you will stand to it; you will not
pocket-up wrong. Art thou not ashamed!
Sir, there is no room for faith, truth or honesty in this
heart of yours; it's all filled up with stomach.
Charge an honest woman with picking your pocket! Why, you son of a bitch,
impudent fake rascal, if there was anything in your pocket apart from
tavern bills, and a poor pennyworth of sugar candy to give you
energy–if your pockets had anything apart from these things
in them, I am a villain: and yet you stick by it; you
won't admit to your lies! Aren't you ashamed?
FAL.
Dost thou hear, Hal? thou know'st, in the state of innocency Adam fell;
and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy?
Thou see'st I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more
frailty. You confess, then, you pick'd my pocket?
What do you think, Hal? You know that Adam fell in a state of innocence;
so how should poor JackFalstaff m
anage in these evil days?
You see I have more flesh than other men; and therefore more
weaknesses. You admit, then, that you picked my pocket?
PRINCE.
It appears so by the story.
That's what it looks like.
FAL.
Hostess, I forgive thee:go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband,
look to thy servants, cherish thy guests:thou shalt find me tractable
to any honest reason; thou see'st I am pacified.--Still?Nay, pr'ythee,
be gone.
[Exit Hostess.]
Now, Hal, to the news at Court:for the robbery, lad, how is
that answered?
Hostess, I forgive you: go and get breakfast ready; love your husband,
watch your servants, value your guests: you shall find me amenable
to any sort of honesty; you see I am pacified–still here? No, please,
be gone.
Now, Hal, give us news of the court: what reaction is there, lad,
to that robbery?
PRINCE.
O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:the money