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twg_000000017900 | KING. Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb In the dead carrion. Enter Westmoreland. Whos here? Westmoreland? WESTMORELAND. Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver! Prince John your son doth kiss your Graces hand. Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all Are brought to the correction of your law. There | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017901 | is not now a rebels sword unsheathed, But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere. The manner how this action hath been borne Here at more leisure may your Highness read, With every course in his particular. KING. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day. Enter Harcourt. Look, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017902 | heres more news. HARCOURT. From enemies heaven keep your Majesty; And when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of! The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, With a great power of English and of Scots, Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown. The manner and true order of the fight | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017903 | This packet, please it you, contains at large. KING. And wherefore should these good news make me sick? Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest letters? She either gives a stomach and no food Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast And takes away the stomachsuch are the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017904 | rich, That have abundance and enjoy it not. I should rejoice now at this happy news, And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy. O me! Come near me, now I am much ill. GLOUCESTER. Comfort, your Majesty! CLARENCE. O my royal father! WESTMORELAND. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up. WARWICK. Be patient, princes; you do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017905 | know these fits Are with his Highness very ordinary. Stand from him, give him air; hell straight be well. CLARENCE. No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs. Th incessant care and labour of his mind Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in So thin that life looks through and will break out. GLOUCESTER. The people fear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017906 | me, for they do observe Unfatherd heirs and loathly births of nature. The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep and leapd them over. CLARENCE. The river hath thrice flowd, no ebb between, And the old folk, times doting chronicles, Say it did so a little time before That our great-grandsire, Edward, sickd and died. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017907 | WARWICK. Speak lower, princes, for the King recovers. GLOUCESTER. This apoplexy will certain be his end. KING. I pray you take me up, and bear me hence Into some other chamber: softly, pray. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. Another chamber. The King lying on a bed. Clarence, Gloucester, Warwick and others in attendance. KING. Let there be no noise made, my gentle | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017908 | friends, Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit. WARWICK. Call for the music in the other room. KING. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. CLARENCE. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. WARWICK. Less noise, less noise! Enter Prince Henry. PRINCE. Who saw the Duke of Clarence? CLARENCE. I am here, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017909 | brother, full of heaviness. PRINCE. How now, rain within doors, and none abroad? How doth the King? GLOUCESTER. Exceeding ill. PRINCE. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him. GLOUCESTER. He altred much upon the hearing it. PRINCE. If he be sick with joy, hell recover without physic. WARWICK. Not so much noise, my lords. Sweet prince, speak low; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017910 | The King your father is disposed to sleep. CLARENCE. Let us withdraw into the other room. WARWICK. Willt please your Grace to go along with us? PRINCE. No, I will sit and watch here by the King. [_Exeunt all but the Prince._] Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? O polishd perturbation! golden | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017911 | care! That keepst the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night! Sleep with it now; Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet As he whose brow with homely biggen bound Snores out the watch of night. O majesty! When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit Like a rich armour worn in heat of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017912 | day, That scaldst with safety. By his gates of breath There lies a downy feather which stirs not: Did he suspire, that light and weightless down Perforce must move. My gracious lord, my father! This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorced So many English kings. Thy due from me Is tears | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017913 | and heavy sorrows of the blood, Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously. My due from thee is this imperial crown, Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, Derives itself to me. Lo, where it sits, Which God shall guard; and put the worlds whole strength Into one giant arm, it shall not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017914 | force This lineal honour from me. This from thee Will I to mine leave, as tis left to me. [_Exit._] KING. Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence! Enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence and the rest. CLARENCE. Doth the King call? WARWICK. What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace? KING. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords? CLARENCE. We left the Prince | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017915 | my brother here, my liege, Who undertook to sit and watch by you. KING. The Prince of Wales! Where is he? Let me see him. He is not here. WARWICK. This door is open, he is gone this way. GLOUCESTER. He came not through the chamber where we stayd. KING. Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017916 | WARWICK. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. KING. The Prince hath taen it hence. Go seek him out. Is he so hasty that he doth suppose My sleep my death? Find him, my Lord of Warwick, chide him hither. [_Exit Warwick._] This part of his conjoins with my disease, And helps to end me. See, sons, what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017917 | things you are, How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, Their brains with care, their bones with industry; For this they have engrossed and piled up The cankerd heaps of strange-achieved gold; For this they have been thoughtful to invest Their sons with arts | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017918 | and martial exercises; When, like the bee, tolling from every flower The virtuous sweets, Our thighs packd with wax, our mouths with honey, We bring it to the hive; and like the bees, Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste Yields his engrossments to the ending father. Enter Warwick. Now where is he that will not stay so long | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017919 | Till his friend sickness hath determind me? WARWICK. My lord, I found the Prince in the next room, Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow That tyranny, which never quaffd but blood, Would, by beholding him, have washd his knife With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. KING. But wherefore did he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017920 | take away the crown? Enter Prince Henry. Lo where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry. Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. [_Exeunt Warwick and the rest._] PRINCE. I never thought to hear you speak again. KING. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. Dost thou so hunger for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017921 | mine empty chair That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! Thou seekst the greatness that will overwhelm thee. Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity Is held from falling with so weak a wind That it will quickly drop. My day is dim. Thou hast stolen that which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017922 | after some few hours Were thine without offence, and at my death Thou hast seald up my expectation. Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not, And thou wilt have me die assured of it. Thou hidst a thousand daggers in thy thoughts Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, To stab at half an hour of my life. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017923 | What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour? Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself, And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head, Only compound me with forgotten dust. Give | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017924 | that which gave thee life unto the worms. Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; For now a time is come to mock at form. Harry the Fifth is crownd. Up, vanity! Down, royal state! All you sage counsellors, hence! And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness! Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017925 | scum. Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? Be happy, he will trouble you no more. England shall double gild his treble guilt, England shall give him office, honour, might, For the fifth Harry from curbd license plucks The muzzle of restraint, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017926 | the wild dog Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! When that my care could not withhold thy riots, What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! PRINCE. O, pardon me, my liege! But for my tears, The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017927 | moist impediments unto my speech, I had forestalld this dear and deep rebuke Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard The course of it so far. There is your crown; And He that wears the crown immortally Long guard it yours! If I affect it more Than as your honour and as your renown, Let me no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017928 | more from this obedience rise, Which my most inward true and duteous spirit Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending. God witness with me, when I here came in, And found no course of breath within your Majesty, How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, O, let me in my present wildness die And never live to show | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017929 | th incredulous world The noble change that I have purposed! Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, I spake unto this crown as having sense, And thus upbraided it: The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father; Therefore thou best of gold art worst of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017930 | gold. Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, Preserving life in medcine potable; But thou, most fine, most honourd, most renownd, Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege, Accusing it, I put it on my head, To try with it, as with an enemy That had before my face murderd my father, The quarrel of a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017931 | true inheritor. But if it did infect my blood with joy, Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride, If any rebel or vain spirit of mine Did with the least affection of a welcome Give entertainment to the might of it, Let God for ever keep it from my head And make me as the poorest vassal is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017932 | That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! KING. O my son, God put it in thy mind to take it hence, That thou mightst win the more thy fathers love, Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed, And hear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017933 | God knows, my son, By what by-paths and indirect crookd ways I met this crown, and I myself know well How troublesome it sat upon my head. To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation, For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth. It seemd in me But as an honour | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017934 | snatchd with boisterous hand, And I had many living to upbraid My gain of it by their assistances, Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears Thou seest with peril I have answered; For all my reign hath been but as a scene Acting that argument. And now my death Changes the mood, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017935 | for what in me was purchased, Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; So thou the garland wearst successively. Yet though thou standst more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends, Have but their stings and teeth newly taen out; By whose | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017936 | fell working I was first advanced And by whose power I well might lodge a fear To be again displaced; which to avoid, I cut them off, and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land, Lest rest and lying still might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, Be it thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017937 | course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out, May waste the memory of the former days. More would I, but my lungs are wasted so That strength of speech is utterly denied me. How I came by the crown, O God, forgive, And grant it may with thee in true peace live! PRINCE. My gracious | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017938 | liege, You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; Then plain and right must my possession be, Which I with more than with a common pain Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. Enter Lord John of Lancaster and others. KING. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster. LANCASTER. Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017939 | KING. Thou bringst me happiness and peace, son John, But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown From this bare witherd trunk. Upon thy sight My worldly business makes a period. Where is my Lord of Warwick? PRINCE. My Lord of Warwick! Enter Warwick and others. KING. Doth any name particular belong Unto the lodging where I first did swoon? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017940 | WARWICK. Tis calld Jerusalem, my noble lord. KING. Laud be to God! Even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem, Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land. But bear me to that chamber; there Ill lie; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [_Exeunt._] ACT V SCENE I. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017941 | Gloucestershire. Shallows house. Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Bardolph and Page. SHALLOW. By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away tonight. What, Davy, I say! FALSTAFF. You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow. SHALLOW. I will not excuse you, you shall not be excused. Excuses shall not be admitted, there is no excuse shall serve, you shall not be excused. Why, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017942 | Davy! Enter Davy. DAVY. Here, sir. SHALLOW. Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see. Yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not be excused. DAVY. Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served; and again, sirshall we sow the hade land with wheat? SHALLOW. With red wheat, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017943 | Davy. But for William cook, are there no young pigeons? DAVY. Yes, sir. Here is now the smiths note for shoeing and plough-irons. SHALLOW. Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused. DAVY. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had. And, sir, do you mean to stop any of Williams | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017944 | wages, about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair? SHALLOW. He shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. DAVY. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? SHALLOW. Yea, Davy, I will use him well: a friend i th | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017945 | court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite. DAVY. No worse than they are backbitten, sir, for they have marvellous foul linen. SHALLOW. Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy. DAVY. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot against Clement Perkes o th hill. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017946 | SHALLOW. There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor. That Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge. DAVY. I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir, but yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friends request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017947 | I have served your worship truly, sir, this eight years; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore I beseech your worship let him be countenanced. SHALLOW. Go to; I say he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017948 | shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy. [_Exit Davy._] Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off with your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bardolph. BARDOLPH. I am glad to see your worship. SHALLOW. I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph; and welcome, my tall fellow [_to the Page_]. Come, Sir John. FALSTAFF. Ill follow | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017949 | you, good Master Robert Shallow. [_Exit Shallow._] Bardolph, look to our horses. [_Exeunt Bardolph and Page._] If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded hermits staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his mens spirits and his. They, by observing of him, do bear themselves like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017950 | foolish justices: he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man. Their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society that they flock together in consent, like so many wild-geese. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master: if to his men, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017951 | I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another. Therefore let men take heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017952 | of six fashions, which is four terms, or two actions, and he shall laugh without intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017953 | cloak ill laid up! SHALLOW. [_Within_.] Sir John! FALSTAFF. I come, Master Shallow, I come, Master Shallow. [_Exit._] SCENE II. Westminster. The palace. Enter Warwick and the Lord Chief Justice, meeting. WARWICK. How now, my Lord Chief Justice, whither away? CHIEF JUSTICE. How doth the King? WARWICK. Exceeding well. His cares are now all ended. CHIEF JUSTICE. I hope, not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017954 | dead. WARWICK. Hes walkd the way of nature, And to our purposes he lives no more. CHIEF JUSTICE. I would his Majesty had calld me with him. The service that I truly did his life Hath left me open to all injuries. WARWICK. Indeed I think the young King loves you not. CHIEF JUSTICE. I know he doth not, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017955 | do arm myself To welcome the condition of the time, Which cannot look more hideously upon me Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. Enter Lancaster, Clarence, Gloucester and others. WARWICK. Here comes the heavy issue of dead Harry. O that the living Harry had the temper Of he the worst of these three gentlemen! How many nobles then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017956 | should hold their places, That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! CHIEF JUSTICE. O God, I fear all will be overturnd. LANCASTER. Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow. GLOUCESTER & CLARENCE. Good morrow, cousin. LANCASTER. We meet like men that had forgot to speak. WARWICK. We do remember, but our argument Is all too heavy to admit much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017957 | talk. LANCASTER. Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy! CHIEF JUSTICE. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier! GLOUCESTER. O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed; And I dare swear you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow; it is sure your own. LANCASTER. Though no man be assured what grace to find, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017958 | You stand in coldest expectation. I am the sorrier; would twere otherwise. CLARENCE. Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair, Which swims against your stream of quality. CHIEF JUSTICE. Sweet Princes, what I did I did in honour, Led by th impartial conduct of my soul; And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017959 | forestalld remission. If truth and upright innocency fail me, Ill to the King my master that is dead, And tell him who hath sent me after him. WARWICK. Here comes the Prince. Enter King Henry the Fifth, attended. CHIEF JUSTICE. Good morrow, and God save your Majesty! KING. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, Sits not so easy on me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017960 | as you think. Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear. This is the English, not the Turkish court; Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, For, by my faith, it very well becomes you. Sorrow so royally in you appears That I will deeply put the fashion on And wear it in my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017961 | heart. Why then, be sad; But entertain no more of it, good brothers, Than a joint burden laid upon us all. For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured, Ill be your father and your brother too; Let me but bear your love, Ill bear your cares. Yet weep that Harrys dead, and so will I; But Harry lives, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017962 | that shall convert those tears By number into hours of happiness. PRINCES. We hope no otherwise from your Majesty. KING. You all look strangely on me. And you most; You are, I think, assured I love you not. CHIEF JUSTICE. I am assured, if I be measured rightly, Your Majesty hath no just cause to hate me. KING. No? How | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017963 | might a prince of my great hopes forget So great indignities you laid upon me? What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison Th immediate heir of England? Was this easy? May this be washd in Lethe and forgotten? CHIEF JUSTICE. I then did use the person of your father; The image of his power lay then in me; And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017964 | in the administration of his law, Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, Your Highness pleased to forget my place, The majesty and power of law and justice, The image of the King whom I presented, And struck me in my very seat of judgement; Whereon, as an offender to your father, I gave bold way to my authority And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017965 | did commit you. If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now the garland, To have a son set your decrees at nought? To pluck down justice from your awful bench? To trip the course of law and blunt the sword That guards the peace and safety of your person? Nay more, to spurn at your most royal image, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017966 | And mock your workings in a second body? Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; Be now the father and propose a son, Hear your own dignity so much profaned, See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, Behold yourself so by a son disdaind, And then imagine me taking your part And in your power soft silencing your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017967 | son. After this cold considerance, sentence me; And, as you are a king, speak in your state What I have done that misbecame my place, My person, or my lieges sovereignty. KING. You are right, justice, and you weigh this well. Therefore still bear the balance and the sword. And I do wish your honours may increase Till you do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017968 | live to see a son of mine Offend you and obey you, as I did. So shall I live to speak my fathers words: Happy am I, that have a man so bold That dares do justice on my proper son; And not less happy, having such a son That would deliver up his greatness so Into the hands of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017969 | justice. You did commit me, For which I do commit into your hand Th unstained sword that you have used to bear, With this remembrance: that you use the same With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit As you have done gainst me. There is my hand. You shall be as a father to my youth, My voice shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017970 | sound as you do prompt mine ear, And I will stoop and humble my intents To your well-practised wise directions. And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you, My father is gone wild into his grave, For in his tomb lie my affections; And with his spirit sadly I survive To mock the expectation of the world, To frustrate prophecies, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017971 | and to raze out Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down After my seeming. The tide of blood in me Hath proudly flowd in vanity till now. Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of floods, And flow henceforth in formal majesty. Now call we our high court of parliament, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017972 | And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel That the great body of our state may go In equal rank with the best-governd nation; That war, or peace, or both at once, may be As things acquainted and familiar to us; In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. Our coronation done, we will accite, As I before rememberd, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017973 | all our state: And, God consigning to my good intents, No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, God shorten Harrys happy life one day! [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Gloucestershire. Shallows orchard. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy, Bardolph and the Page. SHALLOW. Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last years pippin | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017974 | of mine own graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth. Come, cousin Silence. And then to bed. FALSTAFF. Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich. SHALLOW. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John. Marry, good air. Spread, Davy, spread, Davy. Well said, Davy. FALSTAFF. This Davy serves you for good uses; he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017975 | is your serving-man and your husband. SHALLOW. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John. By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper. A good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down. Come, cousin. SILENCE. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall [_Singing._] _Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, And praise God for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017976 | the merry year, When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there So merrily, And ever among so merrily._ FALSTAFF. Theres a merry heart! Good Master Silence, Ill give you a health for that anon. SHALLOW. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. DAVY. Sweet sir, sit. Ill be with you anon. Most sweet sir, sit. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017977 | Master page, good master page, sit. Proface! What you want in meat, well have in drink, but you must bear; the hearts all. [_Exit._] SHALLOW. Be merry, Master Bardolph, and, my little soldier there, be merry. SILENCE. [_Singing._] _Be merry, be merry, my wife has all, For women are shrews, both short and tall. Tis merry in hall when beards | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017978 | wag all, And welcome merry Shrove-tide. Be merry, be merry._ FALSTAFF. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle. SILENCE. Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now. Enter Davy. DAVY. [_To Bardolph_.] Theres a dish of leather-coats for you. SHALLOW. Davy! DAVY. Your worship? Ill be with you straight. [_To Bardolph_] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017979 | A cup of wine, sir? SILENCE. [_Singing._] _A cup of wine thats brisk and fine, And drink unto thee, leman mine, And a merry heart lives long-a._ FALSTAFF. Well said, Master Silence. SILENCE. An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o th night. FALSTAFF. Health and long life to you, Master Silence. SILENCE. [_Singing._] _Fill the cup, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017980 | and let it come, Ill pledge you a mile to th bottom._ SHALLOW. Honest Bardolph, welcome! If thou wantst anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief, [_to the Page_] and welcome indeed too. Ill drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cabileros about London. DAVY. I hope to see London once ere I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017981 | die. BARDOLPH. An I might see you there, Davy, SHALLOW. By the mass, youll crack a quart together, ha! will you not, Master Bardolph? BARDOLPH. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot. SHALLOW. By Gods liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that. He will not out, he. Tis true bred. BARDOLPH. And Ill stick | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017982 | by him, sir. SHALLOW. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing! Be merry. [_Knocking within._] Look whos at door there, ho! Who knocks? [_Exit Davy._] FALSTAFF. [_To Silence, seeing him take off a bumper_.] Why, now you have done me right. SILENCE. [_Singing._] _Do me right, And dub me knight: Samingo._ Ist not so? FALSTAFF. Tis so. SILENCE. Ist so? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017983 | Why then, say an old man can do somewhat. Enter Davy. DAVY. Ant please your worship, theres one Pistol come from the court with news. FALSTAFF. From the court? Let him come in. Enter Pistol. How now, Pistol? PISTOL. Sir John, God save you! FALSTAFF. What wind blew you hither, Pistol? PISTOL. Not the ill wind which blows no man | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017984 | to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm. SILENCE. Byr lady, I think he be, but goodman Puff of Barson. PISTOL. Puff! Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, And tidings do I bring and lucky | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017985 | joys, And golden times, and happy news of price. FALSTAFF. I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world. PISTOL. A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys. FALSTAFF. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. SILENCE. [_Singing_.] _And Robin Hood, Scarlet, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017986 | and John._ PISTOL. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? And shall good news be baffled? Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies lap. SHALLOW. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. PISTOL. Why then, lament therefor. SHALLOW. Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it theres but two ways, either to utter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017987 | them, or conceal them. I am, sir, under the King, in some authority. PISTOL. Under which king, Besonian? Speak, or die. SHALLOW. Under King Harry. PISTOL. Harry the Fourth, or Fifth? SHALLOW. Harry the Fourth. PISTOL. A foutre for thine office! Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is King; Harry the Fifths the man. I speak the truth. When Pistol | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017988 | lies, do this, and fig me, like The bragging Spaniard. FALSTAFF. What, is the old King dead? PISTOL. As nail in door. The things I speak are just. FALSTAFF. Away, Bardolph, saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities. BARDOLPH. O joyful day! I would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017989 | not take a knighthood for my fortune. PISTOL. What! I do bring good news. FALSTAFF. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt; I am Fortunes steward! Get on thy boots, well ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! [_Exit Bardolph._] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devise something to do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017990 | thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow. I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any mans horses. The laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my friends, and woe to my Lord Chief Justice! PISTOL. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! Where is the life that late I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017991 | led? say they: Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days! [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. London. A street. Enter Beadles, dragging in Hostess Quickly and Doll Tearsheet. HOSTESS. No, thou arrant knave. I would to God that I might die, that I might have thee hanged. Thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint. FIRST BEADLE. The constables have delivered her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017992 | over to me, and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant her. There hath been a man or two lately killed about her. DOLL. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, Ill tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain. HOSTESS. O | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017993 | the Lord, that Sir John were come! He would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry! FIRST BEADLE. If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me, for the man is dead that you and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017994 | Pistol beat amongst you. DOLL. Ill tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this, you bluebottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner, if you be not swinged, Ill forswear half-kirtles. FIRST BEADLE. Come, come, you she knight-errant, come. HOSTESS. O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of sufferance comes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017995 | ease. DOLL. Come, you rogue, come, bring me to a justice. HOSTESS. Ay, come, you starved bloodhound. DOLL. Goodman death, goodman bones! HOSTESS. Thou atomy, thou! DOLL. Come, you thin thing, come, you rascal! FIRST BEADLE. Very well. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. A public place near Westminster Abbey. Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes. FIRST GROOM. More rushes, more rushes. SECOND GROOM. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017996 | The trumpets have sounded twice. FIRST GROOM. Twill be two oclock ere they come from the coronation. Dispatch, dispatch. [_Exeunt._] Trumpets sound, and the King and his train pass over the stage. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph and Page. FALSTAFF. Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow. I will make the King do you grace. I will leer upon him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017997 | as he comes by, and do but mark the countenance that he will give me. PISTOL. God bless thy lungs, good knight! FALSTAFF. Come here, Pistol, stand behind me. O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But tis no matter, this poor show doth better. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017998 | This doth infer the zeal I had to see him. SHALLOW. It doth so. FALSTAFF. It shows my earnestness of affection SHALLOW. It doth so. FALSTAFF. My devotion SHALLOW. It doth, it doth, it doth. FALSTAFF. As it were, to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me SHALLOW. It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017999 | is best, certain. FALSTAFF. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him. PISTOL. Tis _semper idem_, for _obsque hoc nihil est;_ tis all in every part. SHALLOW. Tis so, indeed. PISTOL. My | 60 | gutenberg |
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