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BARD. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Pist. Not I: I tell thee what, corporal Bardolph ;-
PAGE. Pray thee, go down.
Pist. I'll see her damned first to Pluto's damned lake; by this hand !* to the infernal deep, with † Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down! down, dogs! down, faitors! Have we not Hiren here?
Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is very late, i' faith:9 I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
Pist. These be good humours, indeed! Shall pack-horses,
Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
Host. O my word, captain, there's none such here. What the good-year! do you think, I would deny her? for God's sake, be quiet.
Pist. Then, feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis. Come, give 's ** some sack.
Se fortuna me tormenta, la speranza me contenta.d
[Laying down his sword. Come we to full points here; and are et cetera's nothing?
FAL. Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif:e what! we have seen the seven stars.
First folio omits, by this hand. (+) First folio, where.
(1) First folio omits, i" faith. (I) First folio, Cæsar.
(1) First folio, I pray.
(**) First folio, give me. a Have we not Hiren here!] Pistol's rant is chiefly made up of bombastic quotations stolen from the playhouse. Thus, the line above was no doubt taken from an old play now lost, by George Peele, called "The Turkish Mahomet and Hyren the Fair Greek ;'' as the "hollow pamper'd jades of Asia” was borrowed from Marlowe's robustious drama of “Tamburlaine the Great," 1590:
“Holla, ye pamper'd jades of Asia,
What can you draw but twenty miles a day?” b Cannibals,-] He means Hannibals.
• My fair Calipolis.] From a line in “ The Battle of Alcazar," 1594, a play Mr. Dyce attributes to Peele :
“Feed then, and faint not, my fair Calipolis." d Sè fortuna, &c.] In the original this motto is corruptly printed si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento, perhaps intentionally.
Neif:] Neif is fist.
DOLL. For God's sake,* thrust him down stairs ; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.
Pist. Thrust him down stairs ! know we not Galloway nags?
FAL. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling :(4) nay, an t he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.
Bard. Come, get you down stairs.
[Snatching up his sword.
Host. Here's goodly stuff toward !
[Drawing. Host. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house, aforei I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now. -Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.
[Exeunt Pistol and BARDOLPH. DOLL. I prythee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal is gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you.
Host. Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought, a' made a shrewd thrust at your belly.
Re-enter BARDOLPH. FAL. Have you turned him out of doors ?
BARD. Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, sir, in the shoulder.
FAL. A rascal! to brave me!
DOLL. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas poor ape, how thou sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy face ;—come on, you whoreson chops :-Ah, rogue! i' faith, $ I love thee. Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the nine worthies : ah, villain !
FAL. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
DOLL. Do, an|| thou darest, for thy heart: if thou dost, I'll canvas thee between a pair of sheets. PAGE. The music is come, sir.
Enter Music. FAL. Let them play.—Play, sirs.—Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver.
DOLL. I'faith, and thou follow'dst him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidya Bartholomew boar-pig, (6) when wilt thou leave fighting o' days, and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
First folio omits, For God's sake. (t) First folio, if.
iFirst folio omits, l'faith.
(1) First folio, if. a Tidy-] Tidy meant plump : from the Teutonic, tydigh, ripe, mature, in good condition.
Enter behind, PRINCE HENRY and Poins, disguised like Drawers.
FAL. Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's head; do not bid me remember mine end.
DOLL, Sirrah, what humour is the prince of?
FAL. A good shallow young fellow: he would have made a good pantler, he would have chipped bread well.
DOLL. They say, Poins hath a good wit.
FAL. He a good wit ? hang him, baboon! his wit is as thick as Tewkesbury mustard; there is no more conceit in him, than is in a mallet.
DOLL. Why doth the prince love him so then?
FAL. Because their legs are both of a bigness; and he plays at quoits well; and eats conger and fennel; and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons ;(7) and rides the wild mare with the boys; and jumps upon joint-stools; and swears with a good grace; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories : and such other gambol faculties he hath, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince admits him : for the prince himself is such another ; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.
P. HEN. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off ? Poins. Let's beat him before his whore.
P. HEN. Look, if the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.
Poins. Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance ?
Fal. Kiss me, Doll.
P. HEN. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what says the almanac to that?
Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables; his note-book, his counsel-keeper. FAL. Thou dost give me flattering busses. DOLL. Nay, truly, I kiss thee with a most constant heart. FAL. I am old, I am old.
DOLL. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all.
FAL. What stuff wilt * have a kirtle of? I shall receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come: it grows late, we'll to bed. Thou 'lt forget me, when I am gone.
DOLL. By my troth † thou 'lt set me a weeping, an | thou say'st so: prove that ever Ig dress myself handsome till thy return.- -Well, hearken the end.
FAL. Some sack; Francis.
First 'folio inserts, thou.
(+) First folio omits, By my troth. First folio, if.
(3) First folio, I ever. * The wild mare-] The name given to the sport of see-saw, or what the French call bascule and balançoire.
The fiery Trigon,–] Among astrologers, Trigon or Triplicity imports the meeting of three signs of the same nature and quality; and Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius are the Fiery Trigon, but this does not much assist us in understanding the allusion intended.
P. HEN. POINS. Anon, anon, sir.
[Advancing. FAL. Ha! a bastard son of the king's ?-And art not thou Poins his brother?a
P. HEN. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead ?
FAL. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer. P. HEN. Very true, sir ; and I come to draw you out by the ears.
Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! welcome to London. -Now, heaven bless that sweet face of thine! What! are you come from Wales ?
FAL. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty,--by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
[Leaning his hand upon DOLL. DOLL. How! you fat fool, I scorn you.
Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.
P. HEN. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?
Host. God’s * blessing off your good heart! and so she is, by my troth.
Fal. Didst thou hear me?
P. HEN. Yes; and you knew me, as you did when you run away by Gads-hill: you knew, I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose, to try my patience.
Fål. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing.
P. HEN. I shall drive you, then, to confess the wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle
you. Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour ; no abuse.
P. HEN. Not! to dispraise me; and call me-pantler, and breadchipper,ț and I know not what ?
FAL. No abuse, Hal.
FAL. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him :-in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal;—none, Ned, none ;-no, boys, none.
P. HEN. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman, to close with us? Is she of the wicked ? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is thy s boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked ?
POINS. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy,—there is a good angel about him; but the devil outbids him too.
First folio omits, God's.
(+) First folio, on, First folio, chopper.
First folio, the. a Poins his brother :—Poins's brother.
P. HEN. For the women?
FAL. For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns, poor soul ! For the other,– I owe her money; and whether she be damned for that, I know not.
Host. No, I warrant you.
FAL. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art quit for that: marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law: for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.
Host. All victuallers do so; what's a joint of mutton or two, in a whole Lent?
P. HEN. You, gentlewoman,-
[Knocking without. Host. Who knocks so loud at door? look to the door there, Francis.
PETO. The king your father is at Westminster;
P. HEN. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,
[Exeunt P. HENRY, Poins, PETO, and BARDOLPH. Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. [Knocking heard.] More knocking at the door!
Re-enter BARDOLPH, How now? what's the matter?
BARD. You must away to court, sir, presently; a dozen captains stay at door for
you. FAL. Pay the musicians, sirrah. [To the Page.]-Farewell, hostess ;-farewell, Doll.-You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches:—if I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go.
DOLL. I cannot speak.—If my heart be not ready to burst :-well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
FAL. Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.
(*) Old text, souls.