The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 154

FALSTAFF. What's your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray?

COLVILLE. I am a knight sir; and my name is Colville of the Dale.

FALSTAFF. Well then, Colville is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the Dale. Colville shall still be your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place- a place deep enough; so shall you be still Colville of the Dale.

COLVILLE. Are not you Sir John Falstaff?

FALSTAFF. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do you yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.

COLVILLE. I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.

FALSTAFF. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name.

An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me.

Here comes our general.

Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, BLUNT, and others

PRINCE JOHN. The heat is past; follow no further now.

Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.

Exit WESTMORELAND Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?

When everything is ended, then you come.

These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows' back.

FALSTAFF. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poor and old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have found'red nine score and odd posts; and here, travel tainted as I am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colville of the Dale,a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of that?

He saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say with the hook-nos'd fellow of Rome-I came, saw, and overcame.

PRINCE JOHN. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

FALSTAFF. I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I beseech your Grace, let it be book'd with the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top on't, Colville kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforc'd, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me, and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ers.h.i.+ne you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins' heads to her, believe not the word of the n.o.ble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.

PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too heavy to mount.

FALSTAFF. Let it s.h.i.+ne, then.

PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too thick to s.h.i.+ne.

FALSTAFF. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will.

PRINCE JOHN. Is thy name Colville?

COLVILLE. It is, my lord.

PRINCE JOHN. A famous rebel art thou, Colville.

FALSTAFF. And a famous true subject took him.

COLVILLE. I am, my lord, but as my betters are That led me hither. Had they been rul'd by me, You should have won them dearer than you have.

FALSTAFF. I know not how they sold themselves; but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I thank thee for thee.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND

PRINCE JOHN. Now, have you left pursuit?

WESTMORELAND. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd.

PRINCE JOHN. Send Colville, with his confederates, To York, to present execution.

Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure.

Exeunt BLUNT and others And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords.

I hear the King my father is sore sick.

Our news shall go before us to his Majesty, Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him And we with sober speed will follow you.

FALSTAFF. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through Gloucesters.h.i.+re; and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good report.

PRINCE JOHN. Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve.

Exeunt all but FALSTAFF FALSTAFF. I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh- but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine. There's never none of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally fools and cowards-which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood; which before, cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice; but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extremes. It illumineth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puff'd up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage- and this valour comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning, a mere h.o.a.rd of gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and till'd, with excellent endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.

Enter BARDOLPH

How now, Bardolph!

BARDOLPH. The army is discharged all and gone.

FALSTAFF. Let them go. I'll through Gloucesters.h.i.+re, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already temp'ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. Exeunt

SCENE IV.

Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber

Enter the KING, PRINCE THOMAS OF CLARENCE, PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others

KING. Now, lords, if G.o.d doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields, And draw no swords but what are sanctified.

Our navy is address'd, our power connected, Our subst.i.tutes in absence well invested, And everything lies level to our wish.

Only we want a little personal strength; And pause us till these rebels, now afoot, Come underneath the yoke of government.

WARWICK. Both which we doubt not but your Majesty Shall soon enjoy.

KING. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, Where is the Prince your brother?

PRINCE HUMPHREY. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.

KING. And how accompanied?

PRINCE HUMPHREY. I do not know, my lord.

KING. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?

PRINCE HUMPHREY. No, my good lord, he is in presence here.

CLARENCE. What would my lord and father?

KING. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.

How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother?

He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas.

Thou hast a better place in his affection Than all thy brothers; cherish it, my boy, And n.o.ble offices thou mayst effect Of mediation, after I am dead, Between his greatness and thy other brethren.

Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love, Nor lose the good advantage of his grace By seeming cold or careless of his will; For he is gracious if he be observ'd.

He hath a tear for pity and a hand Open as day for melting charity; Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he is flint; As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day.

His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd.

Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth; But, being moody, give him line and scope Till that his pa.s.sions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, That the united vessel of their blood, Mingled with venom of suggestion- As, force perforce, the age will pour it in- Shall never leak, though it do work as strong As aconitum or rash gunpowder.

CLARENCE. I shall observe him with all care and love.

KING. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?

CLARENCE. He is not there to-day; he dines in London.

KING. And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?

CLARENCE. With Poins, and other his continual followers.

KING. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; And he, the n.o.ble image of my youth, Is overspread with them; therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.

The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th'unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors.

For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, When rage and hot blood are his counsellors When means and lavish manners meet together, O, with what wings shall his affections fly Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!

WARWICK. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite.

The Prince but studies his companions Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful that the most immodest word Be look'd upon and learnt; which once attain'd, Your Highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms, The Prince will, in the perfectness of time, Cast off his followers; and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live By which his Grace must mete the lives of other, Turning past evils to advantages.

KING. 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb In the dead carrion.

Enter WESTMORELAND

Who's here? Westmoreland?

WESTMORELAND. Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that am to deliver!

Prince John, your son, doth kiss your Grace's hand.

Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, Are brought to the correction of your law.

There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd, But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere.

The manner how this action hath been borne Here at more leisure may your Highness read, With every course in his particular.

KING. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day.