| ACT I SCENE II | London. A street. | |
| | Enter FALSTAFF, with his Page bearing his swordand buckler | |
| FALSTAFF | Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water? | |
| Page | He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy | |
| | water; but, for the party that owed it, he might | |
| | have more diseases than he knew for. | 5 |
| FALSTAFF | Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the | |
| | brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not | |
| | able to invent anything that tends to laughter, more | |
| | than I invent or is invented on me: I am not only | |
| | witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other | 10 |
| | men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that | |
| | hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the | |
| | prince put thee into my service for any other reason | |
| | than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. | |
| | Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn | 15 |
| | in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never | |
| | manned with an agate till now: but I will inset you | |
| | neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and | |
| | send you back again to your master, for a jewel,-- | |
| | the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is | 20 |
| | not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in | |
| | the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his | |
| | cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is | |
| | a face-royal: God may finish it when he will, 'tis | |
| | not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still at a | 25 |
| | face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence | |
| | out of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had | |
| | writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He | |
| | may keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine, | |
| | I can assure him. What said Master Dombledon about | 30 |
| | the satin for my short cloak and my slops? | |
| Page | He said, sir, you should procure him better | |
| | assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his | |
| | band and yours; he liked not the security. | |
| FALSTAFF | Let him be damned, like the glutton! pray God his | 35 |
| | tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally | |
| | yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, | |
| | and then stand upon security! The whoreson | |
| | smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and | |
| | bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is | 40 |
| | through with them in honest taking up, then they | |
| | must stand upon security. I had as lief they would | |
| | put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with | |
| | security. I looked a' should have sent me two and | |
| | twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he | 45 |
| | sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security; | |
| | for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness | |
| | of his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he | |
| | see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. | |
| | Where's Bardolph? | 50 |
| Page | He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse. | |
| FALSTAFF | I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in | |
| | Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife in the | |
| | stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived. | |
| | Enter the Lord Chief-Justice and Servant | |
| Page | Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the | 55 |
| | Prince for striking him about Bardolph. | |
| FALSTAFF | Wait, close; I will not see him. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | What's he that goes there? | |
| Servant | Falstaff, an't please your lordship. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | He that was in question for the robbery? | 60 |
| Servant | He, my lord: but he hath since done good service at | |
| | Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with some | |
| | charge to the Lord John of Lancaster. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | What, to York? Call him back again. | |
| Servant | Sir John Falstaff! | 65 |
| FALSTAFF | Boy, tell him I am deaf. | |
| Page | You must speak louder; my master is deaf. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. | |
| | Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him. | |
| Servant | Sir John! | 70 |
| FALSTAFF | What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not | |
| | wars? is there not employment? doth not the king | |
| | lack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? | |
| | Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it | |
| | is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, | 75 |
| | were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell | |
| | how to make it. | |
| Servant | You mistake me, sir. | |
| FALSTAFF | Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting | |
| | my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied | 80 |
| | in my throat, if I had said so. | |
| Servant | I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and our | |
| | soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, | |
| | you lie in your throat, if you say I am any other | |
| | than an honest man. | 85 |
| FALSTAFF | I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that | |
| | which grows to me! if thou gettest any leave of me, | |
| | hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be | |
| | hanged. You hunt counter: hence! avaunt! | |
| Servant | Sir, my lord would speak with you. | 90 |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. | |
| FALSTAFF | My good lord! God give your lordship good time of | |
| | day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heard | |
| | say your lordship was sick: I hope your lordship | |
| | goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not | 95 |
| | clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in | |
| | you, some relish of the saltness of time; and I must | |
| | humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent care | |
| | of your health. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to | 100 |
| | Shrewsbury. | |
| FALSTAFF | An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is | |
| | returned with some discomfort from Wales. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | I talk not of his majesty: you would not come when | |
| | I sent for you. | 105 |
| FALSTAFF | And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into | |
| | this same whoreson apoplexy. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with | |
| | you. | |
| FALSTAFF | This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, | 110 |
| | an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the | |
| | blood, a whoreson tingling. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | What tell you me of it? be it as it is. | |
| FALSTAFF | It hath its original from much grief, from study and | |
| | perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of | 115 |
| | his effects in Galen: it is a kind of deafness. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | I think you are fallen into the disease; for you | |
| | hear not what I say to you. | |
| FALSTAFF | Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an't please | |
| | you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady | 120 |
| | of not marking, that I am troubled withal. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | To punish you by the heels would amend the | |
| | attention of your ears; and I care not if I do | |
| | become your physician. | |
| FALSTAFF | I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient: | 125 |
| | your lordship may minister the potion of | |
| | imprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but how | |
| | should I be your patient to follow your | |
| | prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a | |
| | scruple, or indeed a scruple itself. | 130 |
| Lord Chief-Justice | I sent for you, when there were matters against you | |
| | for your life, to come speak with me. | |
| FALSTAFF | As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the | |
| | laws of this land-service, I did not come. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy. | 135 |
| FALSTAFF | He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Your means are very slender, and your waste is great. | |
| FALSTAFF | I would it were otherwise; I would my means were | |
| | greater, and my waist slenderer. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | You have misled the youthful prince. | 140 |
| FALSTAFF | The young prince hath misled me: I am the fellow | |
| | with the great belly, and he my dog. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: your | |
| | day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded | |
| | over your night's exploit on Gad's-hill: you may | 145 |
| | thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting | |
| | that action. | |
| FALSTAFF | My lord? | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a | |
| | sleeping wolf. | 150 |
| FALSTAFF | To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt | |
| | out. | |
| FALSTAFF | A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: if I did say | |
| | of wax, my growth would approve the truth. | 155 |
| Lord Chief-Justice | There is not a white hair on your face but should | |
| | have his effect of gravity. | |
| FALSTAFF | His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | You follow the young prince up and down, like his | |
| | ill angel. | 160 |
| FALSTAFF | Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I hope | |
| | he that looks upon me will take me without weighing: | |
| | and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go: I | |
| | cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these | |
| | costermonger times that true valour is turned | 165 |
| | bear-herd: pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath | |
| | his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all the | |
| | other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of | |
| | this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. | |
| | You that are old consider not the capacities of us | 170 |
| | that are young; you do measure the heat of our | |
| | livers with the bitterness of your galls: and we | |
| | that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, | |
| | are wags too. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, | 175 |
| | that are written down old with all the characters of | |
| | age? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a | |
| | yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an | |
| | increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your | |
| | wind short? your chin double? your wit single? and | 180 |
| | every part about you blasted with antiquity? and | |
| | will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John! | |
| FALSTAFF | My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the | |
| | afternoon, with a white head and something a round | |
| | belly. For my voice, I have lost it with halloing | 185 |
| | and singing of anthems. To approve my youth | |
| | further, I will not: the truth is, I am only old in | |
| | judgment and understanding; and he that will caper | |
| | with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the | |
| | money, and have at him! For the box of the ear that | 190 |
| | the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, | |
| | and you took it like a sensible lord. I have | |
| | chequed him for it, and the young lion repents; | |
| | marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk | |
| | and old sack. | 195 |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Well, God send the prince a better companion! | |
| FALSTAFF | God send the companion a better prince! I cannot | |
| | rid my hands of him. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Well, the king hath severed you and Prince Harry: I | |
| | hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster | 200 |
| | against the Archbishop and the Earl of | |
| | Northumberland. | |
| FALSTAFF | Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look | |
| | you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home, | |
| | that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the | 205 |
| | Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean | |
| | not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, | |
| | and I brandish any thing but a bottle, I would I | |
| | might never spit white again. There is not a | |
| | dangerous action can peep out his head but I am | 210 |
| | thrust upon it: well, I cannot last ever: but it | |
| | was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if | |
| | they have a good thing, to make it too common. If | |
| | ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give | |
| | me rest. I would to God my name were not so | 215 |
| | terrible to the enemy as it is: I were better to be | |
| | eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to | |
| | nothing with perpetual motion. | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless your | |
| | expedition! | 220 |
| FALSTAFF | Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to | |
| | furnish me forth? | |
| Lord Chief-Justice | Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to | |
| | bear crosses. Fare you well: commend me to my | |
| | cousin Westmoreland. | 225 |
| | Exeunt Chief-Justice and Servant | |
| FALSTAFF | If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man | |
| | can no more separate age and covetousness than a' | |
| | can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout | |
| | galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and | |
| | so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy! | 230 |
| Page | Sir? | |
| FALSTAFF | What money is in my purse? | |
| Page | Seven groats and two pence. | |
| FALSTAFF | I can get no remedy against this consumption of the | |
| | purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, | 235 |
| | but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter | |
| | to my Lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this | |
| | to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old | |
| | Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry | |
| | since I perceived the first white hair on my chin. | 240 |
| | About it: you know where to find me. | |
| | Exit Page | |
| | A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for | |
| | the one or the other plays the rogue with my great | |
| | toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars | |
| | for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more | 245 |
| | reasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing: | |
| | I will turn diseases to commodity. | |
| | Exit | |