King Henry IV, Part 2 by William Shakespeare (summer reads txt) 📖

PRINCE. I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog; and he holds his place; for look you how he writes.

POINS. [Reads.] “John Falstaff, knight,”—every man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to name himself: even like those that are kin to the king; for they never prick their finger but they say, “There’s some of the king’s blood spilt.” “How comes that?” says he, that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower’s cap, “I am the king’s poor cousin, sir.”

PRINCE. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. But to the letter:

POINS. [Reads] “Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the king, nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting.” Why, this is a certificate.

PRINCE. Peace!

POINS. [Reads.] “I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity:” he sure means brevity in breath, short-winded. “I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses thy favours so much, that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayest; and so, farewell. “Thine, by yea and no, which is as much as to say, as thou usest him, JACK FALSTAFF with my familiars, JOHN with my brothers and sisters, and SIR JOHN with all Europe.” My lord, I’ll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it.

PRINCE. That ‘s to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? must I marry your sister?

POINS. God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so.

PRINCE. Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. Is your master here in London?

BARDOLPH. Yea, my lord.

PRINCE. Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank?

BARDOLPH. At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.

PRINCE. What company?

PAGE. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.

PRINCE. Sup any women 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 Alban’s and London.

PRINCE. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night 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 suffer’d: 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 two Drawers.]

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

SECOND DRAWER. Mass, thou sayest 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 angered him to the heart: but he hath forgot that.

FIRST DRAWER. Why, then, cover, and set them down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak’s noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music. Dispatch: The room where they supped is too hot; they’ll come in straight.

SECOND DRAWER. 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.

FIRST DRAWER. By the mass, here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent stratagem.

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

[Exit.]

[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 First Drawer.]—[Singing] “And was a worthy king.” How now, Mistress Doll!

HOSTESS. Sick of a calm; yea, good faith.

FALSTAFF. So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick.

DOLL. 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 charged 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 good-year! 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 stuffed 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 First Drawer.]

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

DOLL. Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not come hither: it is the foul-mouthed’st 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 lived 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: your ancient swaggerer 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 swaggerers.

FALSTAFF. He’s no swaggerer, 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 First Drawer.]

HOSTESS. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house,