Act 2 — Scene III. London. Before a Tavern.[4757]

Host. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee[4758] to Staines. Pist. No; for my manly heart doth yearn.[4759][4760] Bardolph, be blithe: Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins:[4759] Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead,[4759][4761][4762]5 And we must yearn therefore.[4759][4760][4762] Bard. Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell![4763] Host. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom,[4764] if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. A' made a[4765]10 finer end and went away an it had been any christom[4765][4766] child; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at[4767][4768] the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with[4768][4769] the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his[4770] fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose[4771]15 was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields.[4772] 'How now, Sir John!' quoth I: 'what, man! be o' good[4773] cheer.' So a' cried out 'God, God, God!' three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself20 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; then I felt to[4774] his knees, and they were as cold as any stone, and so[4775] upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.[4776]25 Nym. They say he cried out of sack.[4777] Host. Ay, that a' did. Bard. And of women.[4778] Host. Nay, that a' did not. Boy. Yes, that a' did; and said they were devils[4779]30 incarnate. Host. A' could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour[4780] he never liked. Boy. A' said once, the devil would have him about[4781] women.35 Host. A' did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon. 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?[4782]40 Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service. Nym. Shall we shog? the king will be gone from Southampton. Pist. Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips.[4783]45 Look to my chattels and my movables:[4783] Let senses rule; the word is 'Pitch and Pay:'[4783][4784] Trust none;[4783] For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,[4783] And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck:[4783]50 Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor.[4783][4785] Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms,[4783][4786] Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys,[4783] To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck![4783] Boy. And that's but unwholesome food, they say.[4787]55 Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her.[4788] Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but, adieu. Pist. Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command. Host. Farewell; adieu. [Exeunt.60