William Shakespeare's King Henry the Fourth, Part II in the complete original text.
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The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth

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Act II. Scene IV.

Scene IV.—London. A Boom in the Boar's
Head Tavern, in Eastcheap.

Enter two Drawers.

First Draw. What the devil hast thou brought
there? apple-johns? thou knowest Sir John can-
not endure an apple-john.
Sec. Draw. Mass, thou sayst true. The prince
once set a dish of apple-johns before him, and
told him there were five more Sir Johns; and,
putting off his hat, said, 'I will now take my
leave of these six dry, round, old withered
knights.' It angered him to the heart; but he
hath forgot that.
First Draw. Why then, cover, and set them
down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak's
noise; Mistress Teapsheet would fain hear some
music. Dispatch: the room where they supped
is too hot; they'll come in straight.
Sec. Draw. Sirrah, here will be the prince
and Master Poins anon; and they will put on
two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John
must not know of it: Bardolph hath brought
First Draw. By the mass, here will be old
utis: it will be an excellent stratagem.
Sec. Draw. I'll see if I can find out Sneak.

Quick. I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you
are in an excellent good temperality: your pul-
sidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would
desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as
red as any rose; in good truth, la! But, i' faith,
you have drunk too much canaries, and that's
a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes
the blood ere one can say, What's this? How
do you now?
Dol. Better than I was: hem!
Quick. Why, that's well said; a good heart's
worth gold. Lo! here comes Sir John.

Enter FALSTAFF, singing.
Fal. When Arthur first in court—Empty
the jordan.—[Exit First Drawer.]—And was a
worthy king. How now, Mistress Doll!
Quick. Sick of a calm: yea, good sooth.
Fal. So is all her sect; an they be once in a
calm they are sick.
Dol. You muddy rascal, is that all the com-
fort you give me?
Fal. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
Dol. I make them! gluttony and diseases
make them; I make them not.
Fal. If the cook help to make the glut-
tony, you help to make the diseases, Doll: we
catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that,
my poor virtue, grant that.
Dol. Ay, marry; our chains and our jewels.
Fal. 'Your brooches, pearls, and owches:'—
for to serve bravely is to come halting off you
know: to come off the breach with his pike bent
bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon
the charged chambers bravely,—
Dol. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang
Quick. By my troth, this is the old fashion;
you two never meet but you fall to some discord:
you are both, in good troth, as rheumatic as two
dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another's
confirmities. What the good-year! one must
bear, and that must be you; you are the weaker
vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.
Dol. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a
huge full hogshead? there's a whole merchant's
venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him: you have not
seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold. Come,
I'll be friends with thee, Jack: thou art going-
to the wars; and whether I shall ever see thee
again or no, there is nobody cares.

Re-enter First Drawer.
First Draw. Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and
would speak with you.
Dol. Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him
not come hither; it is the foul-mouthedest rogue
In England.
Quick. If he swagger, let him not come here:
no, by my faith; I must live amongst my neigh-
bours; I'll no swaggerers: I am in good name
and fame with the very best. Shut the door;
there comes no swaggerers here: I have not lived
all this while to have swaggering now: shut the
door, I pray you.
Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess?
Quick. Pray you, pacify yourself. Sir John:
there comes no swaggerers here,
Fal. Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient.
Quick. Tilly-folly, Sir John, never tell me: your
ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was
before Master Tisick, the deputy, t'other day;
and, as he said to me,—'twas no longer ago than
Wednesday last,—'Neighbour Quickly,' says
he;—Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then;—
'Neighbour Quickly,' says he, 'receive those that
are civil, for,' said he, 'you are in an ill name;'
now, a' said so, I can tell whereupon; 'for,'
says he, 'you are an honest woman, and well
thought on; therefore take heed what guests
you receive: receive, 'says he, 'no swaggering
companions.' There comes none here:—you
would bless you to hear what he said. No, I'll
no swaggerers.
Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame
cheater, i' faith; you may stroke him as gently
as a puppy greyhound: he will not swagger with
a Barbary hen if her feathers turn back in any
show of resistance. Call him up, drawer.
[Exit First Drawer.
Quick. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no
honest man my house, nor no cheater; but I do
not love swaggering, by my troth; I am the
worse, when one says swagger. Feel, masters,
how I shake; look you, I warrant you.
Dol. So you do, hostess.
Quick. Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an
'twere an aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers.

Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and Page.
Pist. God save you, Sir John!
Fal. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol,
I charge you with a cup of sack: do you dis-
charge upon mine hostess.
Pist. I will discharge upon her,. Sir John,
with two bullets.
Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly
offend her.
Quick. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no
bullets: I'll drink no more than will do me good,
for no man's pleasure, I,
Pist. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will
charge you.
Dol. Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy com-
panion. What! you poor, base, rascally, cheat-
ing, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue,
away! I am meat for your master.
Pist. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
Dol. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy
bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife
in your mouldy chaps an you play the saucy
cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal!
you basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when,
I pray you, sir? God's light! with two points
on your shoulder? much!
Pist. God let me not live. I will murder
your ruff for this!
Fal. No more. Pistol: I would not have you
go off here. Discharge yourself of our company,
Quick. No, good captain Pistol; not here,
sweet captain.
Dol. Captain! thou abominable damned
cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called
captain? An captains were of my mind, they
would truncheon you out for taking their names
upon you before you have earned them. You
a captain, you slave! for what? for tearing a
poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a
captain! Hang him, rogue! He lives upon
mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A
captain! God's light, these villains will make
the word captain as odious as the word 'occupy,'
which was an excellent good word before it was
ill sorted: therefore captains had need look to it.
Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
Pist. Not I; I tell thee what. Corporal Bar-
dolph; I could tear her. I'll be revenged of
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 fates!
Have we not Hiren here?
Quick. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; it is
very late, i' faith. I beseek you now, aggravate
your choler.
Pist. These be good humours, indeed! Shall
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Cæsars, and with Cannibals,
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?
Quick. By my troth, captain, these are very
bitter words.
Bard. Be gone, good ancient: this will grow
to a brawl anon.
Pist. Die men like dogs! give crowns like
pins! Have we not Hiren here?
Quick. 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.
Si fortuna me tormente, sperato me contento.
Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire:
Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou
there. [Laying down his sword.
Come we to full points here, and are et ceteras
Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif. What!
we have seen the seven stars.
Dol. 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: nay, an a' do nothing but speak
nothing, a' shall be nothing here.
Bard. Come, get you down stairs.
Pist. What! shall we have incision? Shall
we imbrue? [Snatching up his sword.
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos,
I say!
Quick. Here's goodly stuff toward!
Fal. Give me my rapier, boy.
Dol. I pray thee. Jack, I pray thee, do not
Fal. Get you down stairs. [Drawing.
Quick. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear
keeping' house, afore 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 BARDOLPH and PISTOL.
Dol. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's
gone. Ah! you whoreson little valiant villain,
Quick. Are you not hurt i' the groin? me-
thought a' made a shrewd thrust at your belly.

Re-enter BARDOLPH.
Fal. Have you turned him out o' doors?
Bard. Yes, sir: the rascal's drunk. You
have hurt him, sir, i' the shoulder.
Fal. A rascal, to brave me!
Dol. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas,
poor ape, how thou sweatest! 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.
All, villain!
Fal. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in
a blanket.
Dol. Do, an thou darest for thy heart: an
thou dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair of

Enter Music.
Page. The music is come, sir.
Fal. Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my
knee. Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue
fled from me like quicksilver.
Dol. I' faith, and thou followedst him like a
church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew
boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o' days,
and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up
thine old body for heaven?

Enter behind the PRINCE and POINS, disguised
like Drawers.
Fal. Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a
death's head: do not bid me remember mine
Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of?
Fal. A good shallow young fellow: a' would
have made a good pantler, a' would have chipped
bread well.
Dol. They say, Poins has a good wit.
Fal. He a good wit! hang him, baboon! his
wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard: there is
no more conceit in him than is in a mallet.
Dol. Why does 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, and rides the wild mare with the boys,
and jumps upon joint stools, and swears with a
good grace, and wears his boots very smooth,
like unto the sign of the leg, and breeds no bate
with telling of discreet stories; and such other
gambol faculties a' has, 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.
Prince. Would not this nave of a wheel have
his ears cut off?
Poins. Let's beat him before his whore.
Prince. Look, whether the withered elder
hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.
Poins. Is it not strange that desire should so
many years outhve performance?
Fal. Kiss me,. Doll.
Prince. Saturn and Venus this year in con-
junction! what says the almanack 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.
Dol. By my troth, I kiss thee with a most
constant heart.
Fal. I am old, I am old.
Dol. 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 o' 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.
Dol. By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping an
thou sayst so: prove that ever I dress myself
handsome till thy return. Well, hearken at the
Fal. Some sack, Francis!
Prince. & Poins.} [Coming forward] Anon, anon,
Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's? And
art not thou Poins his brother?
Prince. 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.
Prince. Very true, sir; and I come to draw
you out by the ears.
Quick. O! the Lord preserve thy good Grace;
by my troth, welcome to London. Now, the
Lord. bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu!
are you come from Wales?
Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of
majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood
[pointing to DOLL], thou art welcome.
Dolt. 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.
Prince. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how
vilely did you speak of me even now before this
honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
Quick. Blessing on your good heart! and so
she is, by my troth.
Fal. Didst thou hear me?
Prince. Yea; and you knew me, as you did
when you ran away by Gadshill: you knew I was
at your back, and spoke it on purpose to try my
Fal. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou
wast within hearing.
Prince. I shall drive you then to confess the
wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle
Fal. No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no
Prince. Not to dispraise me, and call me
pantler and bread-chipper and I know not what?
Fal. No abuse, Hal.
Poins. No abuse!
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, faith, boys, none.
Prince. 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 boy of the wicked? Or honest
Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the
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.
Prince. For the women?
Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already,
and burns poor souls. For the other, I owe her
money; and whether she be damned for that, I
know not.
Quick. No, I warrant you.
Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think thou
art quit for that. Marry, there is another in-
dictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be
eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the
which I think thou wilt howl.
Quick. All victuallers do so: what's a joint of
mutton or two in a whole Lent?
Prince. You, gentlewoman,—
Dol. What says your Grace?
Fal. His Grace says that which his flesh
rebels against. [Knocking within.
Quick. Who knocks so loud at door? Look
to the door there, Francis.

Enter PETO.
Prince. Peto, how now! what news?
Peto. The king your father is at Westminster;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
Come from the north: and as I came along,
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
Prince. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to
So idly to profane the precious time,
When tempest of commotion, like the south,
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff; good
night. [Exeunt the PRINCE, POINS, PETO,
Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of
the night, and we must hence and leave it un-
picked. [Knocking within.] 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. [To the Page]. Pay the musicians, sirrah.
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.
Dol. I cannot speak; if my heart be not
ready to burst,—well, sweet Jack, have a care of
Fal. Farewell, farewell.
Quick. Well, fore thee well: I have known
thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod-
time; but an honester, and truer-hearted man,
—well, fare thee well.
Bard. [ Within.] Mistress Tearsheet!
Quick. What's the matter?
Bard. [Within.] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come
to my master.
Quick. O! run, Doll, run; run, good Doll.
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