Act 1 — Scene II.—EASTCHEAP, LONDON.
Reading edition
Enter Bardolph,(I) Nym, Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, and Boy, L. 2 E.
Quick. (L.C.) Pr’ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.17
Pist. (C.) No; for my manly heart doth yearn.— Bardolph, be blithe;—Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins; Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead, And we must yearn therefore.
Bard. (R.) ’Would I were with him, wheresome’er he is!
Quick. (C.) Sure, he’s in Arthur’s bosom,18 if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. ’A made a finer end,19 and went away, an it had been any christom child;20 ’a parted even just between twelve and one, e’en at turning o’ the tide:21 for after I saw him fumble with the sheets,22 and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers’ ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a’ babbled of green fields. How now, Sir John! quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. So a’ cried out—Heaven, Heaven, Heaven! three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him ’a should not think of Heaven; I hoped, there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So ’a bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone.
Nym. (R.C.) They say he cried out of sack.
Quick. Ay, that ’a did.
Bard. And of women.
Quick. Nay, that ’a did not.
Boy. (L.) Yes, that ’a did, and said they were devils incarnate.
Quick. crosses L.C. ’A could never abide carnation;23 ’twas a colour he never liked.
Boy. Do you not remember, ’a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph’s nose, and ’a said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire?
Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that’s all the riches I got in his service.
Nym. Shall we shog off?24 the king will be gone from Southampton.
Pist. Come, let’s away.—My love, give me thy lips. Look to my chattels and my moveables: Let senses rule;25 the word is, Pitch and pay;26 Trust none; For oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog,27 my duck: Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor.28 Go, clear thy crystals.29—Yoke-fellows in arms, Crosses L.H. Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys, To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! Crosses R.H.
Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they say.
Pitt. Touch her soft mouth, and march.
Bard. Farewell, hostess.
Kissing her.
Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu.
Pist. Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command.
Quick. Farewell; adieu.
Exeunt Bardolph, Pistol, Nym, R.H., and Dame Quickly, L.H.
Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to them all three: but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be a man to me; for, indeed, three such anticks do not amount to a man. For Bardolph,—he is white-livered and red-faced; by the means whereof ’a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol,—he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof ’a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym,—he hath heard that men of few words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest ’a should be thought a coward: but his few bad words are match’d with as few good deeds; for ’a never broke any man’s head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it—purchase. They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets as their gloves or their handkerchiefs: which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another’s pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service: their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.
Distant March heard. Exit Boy, R.H.
END OF FIRST ACT.
Enter Chorus.
Cho. Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies: Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man: They sell the pasture now to buy the horse; Following the mirror of all Christian kings, With wingéd heels, as English Mercuries; For now sits expectation in the air. O England!—model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart,— What might’st thou do, that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural! But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills1 With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men,— One, Richard earl of Cambridge;2 and the second, Henry lord Scroop of Masham,3 and the third, Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland,— Have, for the gilt of France4 (O guilt, indeed!), Confirm’d conspiracy with fearful France;(AA) And by their hands this grace of kings5 must die, (If hell and treason hold their promises,) Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.
The back scene opens and discovers a tableau, representing the three conspirators receiving the bribe from the emissaries of France.
Linger your patience on; and well digest The abuse of distance, while we force a play.6 The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed; The king is set from London; and the scene Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton,— There is the playhouse now, there must you sit: And thence to France shall we convey you safe, And bring you back, charming the narrow seas To give you gentle pass; for, if we may, We’ll not offend one stomach7 with our play. But, till the king come forth, and not till then,8 Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.
Exit.