Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S orchard
Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, BARDOLPH, the PAGE, and DAVY
Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we
will eat a last year's pippin of mine own graffing, with a dish
of caraways, and so forth. Come, cousin Silence. And then to bed.
Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and rich.
Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John
-marry, good air. Spread, Davy, spread, Davy; well said, Davy.
This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your
serving-man and your husband.
A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir
John. By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper. A good
varlet. Now sit down, now sit down; come, cousin.
Ah, sirrah! quoth-a- we shall [Singing]
Do nothing but eat and make good cheer,
And praise God for the merry year;
When flesh is cheap and females dear,
And lusty lads roam here and there,
So merrily,
And ever among so merrily.
There's a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I'll give you
a health for that anon.
Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.
Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon; most sweet sir, sit.
Master Page, good Master Page, sit. Proface! What you want in
meat, we'll have in drink. But you must bear; the heart's all.
Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier there,
be merry.
Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;
For women are shrews, both short and tall;
'Tis merry in hall when beards wag an;
And welcome merry Shrove-tide.
Be merry, be merry.
I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this
mettle.
Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now.
[To BARDOLPH] There's a dish of leather-coats for you.
Your worship! I'll be with you straight. [To BARDOLPH]
A cup of wine, sir?
A cup of wine that's brisk and fine,
And drink unto the leman mine;
And a merry heart lives long-a.
An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' th' night.
Health and long life to you, Master Silence!
Fill the cup, and let it come,
I'll pledge you a mile to th' bottom.
Honest Bardolph, welcome; if thou want'st anything and
wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief
and welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all
the cabileros about London.
I hope to see London once ere I die.
An I might see you there, Davy!
By the mass, you'R crack a quart together- ha! will you
not, Master Bardolph?
By God's liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick by
thee, I can assure thee that. 'A will not out, 'a; 'tis true
bred.
Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing; be merry.
[One knocks at door] Look who's at door there, ho! Who knocks?
[To SILENCE, who has drunk a bumper] Why, now you have
done me right.
Is't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat.
An't please your worship, there's one Pistol come from the
court with news.
From the court? Let him come in.
What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight,
thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.
By'r lady, I think 'a be, but goodman Puff of Barson.
Puff!
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!
Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend,
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.
I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world.
A foutra for the world and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa and golden joys.
O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
[Singing] And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.
Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.
Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from the
court, I take it there's but two ways- either to utter them or
conceal them. I am, sir, under the King, in some authority.
Under which king, Bezonian? Speak, or die.
A foutra for thine office!
Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is King;
Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth.
When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like
The bragging Spaniard.
As nail in door. The things I speak are just.
Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow,
choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I
will double-charge thee with dignities.
O joyful day!
I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.
Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord
Shallow, be what thou wilt- I am Fortune's steward. Get on thy
boots; we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph!
[Exit BARDOLPH] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal
devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow!
I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man's
horses: the laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed are
they that have been my friends; and woe to my Lord Chief Justice!
Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!
'Where is the life that late I led?' say they.
Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days!
