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Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now:
Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea,
Where it shall mingle with the state of floods,
And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
Now, call we our high court of parliament,
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,
That the great body of our state may go
In equal rank with the best govern'd nation;
That war, or peace, or both at once, may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us,
In which you, father, shall have foremost band. -

[To the Lord Chief Justice.
Our coronation done, we will accite,
As I before remember'd, all our state :
And (God consigning to my good intents,)
No prince, nor peer, shall have just cause to say,
God shorten Harry's happy life one day.


SCENE III. Glostershire. The Garden of SHALLOW's House. Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, BARDOLPH, the Page,

and Davy. Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard; where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of carraways, and so forth; come, cousin Silence; and then to bed.

Fal. 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich.

Shal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John : - marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread, Davy; well said, Davy.

Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses : he is your servingman, and your husband.

Shal. 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. Sil. Ah, sirrah! quoih-a,

we shall

Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, [Singing.
And praise heaven 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.
Fal. There's a merry heart! - Good master Silence, I 'll give
you a health for that anon.

Shal. Give master Bardolph some wine, Davy.

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.

[E.cit. Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph; – and my little soldier there, be merry Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; (Singing

For women are shrews, both short and tall:
'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,

And welcome merry shrove-tide.
Be merry, be merry, &c.
Fal. I did not think master Silence had been a man of this
Sil. Who I? I have been merry twice and once, ere now.

Re-enter Davy.
Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats for you.

[Setting them before BARDOLPH. Shal. Davy,

Davy. Your worship. - I'll be with you straight.
of wine, Sir?
Sil. A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine, [Singing.
And drink unto the leman mine;

And a merry heart lives long-a.
Fal. Well said, master Silence.

Sil. An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet of the night.

A cup

Fal. Health and long life to you, master Silence.
Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come;

I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest any thing, 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 cavalieros about London.

Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die.
Bard. An I might see you there, Davy,

Shal. By the mass, you 'll crack a quart together. Ha! will you not, master Bardolph?

Bard. Yea, Sir, in a pottle pot.

Shal. By God's leggings I thank thee. The kpave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that: he will not out; he is true bred.

Bard. And I'll stick by him, Sir.

Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry. [Knocking heard.] Look, who's at door there. Ho! who knocks?

[Exit Davy. · Fal. Why, now you have done me right.

[TO SILENCE, who drinks a bumper. Sil. Do me right,

[Singing. And dub me knight:

Is 't not so?

Fal. 'Tis so.
Sil. Is 't so? Why, then say, an old man can do somewhat.

Re-enter DAVY.
Davy. An 't please your worship, there's one Pistol come
from the court with news.
Fal. From the court? let him come in.

How now, Pistol ?

Pist. Sir John, God save you, Sir.
Fal. What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good.

Sweet knight, th' art now one of the greatest men
In the realm.

Sil. By 'r lady, I think he be, but goodman Puff of Barson.

Pist. Puff?
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!
Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend,
And belter-skelter have I rode to thee;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.

Fal. I pr’ythee now, deliver them like a man of this world.

Pist. A foutra for the world, and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa, and golden joys.

Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?
Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Sil. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.

Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.

Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.
Pist. Wby then, lament therefore.

Shal. Give me pardon, Sir:- if, Sir, you come with news from the court, I take it, there is but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, Sir, under the king, in some authority.

Pist. Under which king, Bezonian ? speak, or die.
Shal. Under king Harry.

Harry the fourth? or fifth?
Shal. Harry the fourth.

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.

Fal. What! is the old king dead?
Pist. As nail in door: the things I speak are just.
Fal. Away, Bardolph! saddle my borse.

Master Robert

Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 't is thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with digoities.

Bard. O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.

Pist. What! I do bring good news?

Fal. 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. 0, sweet Pistol ! Away, Bardolph. [Exit BARD.] — 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. Happy are they which have been my friends, and woe unto my lord chief justice!

Pist. 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! [Exeunt.


London. A Street. Enter Beadles, dragging in Hostess QUICKLY, and DOLL

TEAR-SHEET. Host. No, thou arrant knave: I would to God I might die, that I might have thee hanged; thou bast drawn my shoulder out of joint.

1 Bead. The constables have delivered her over to me, and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant her. There hath been a man or two lately killed about her.

Dol. Nut-hook, put-hook, you lie. Come on: I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I now go with do miscarry, thou hadst better thou badst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain.

Host. O the Lord, that Sir Joho were come! he would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry! 1 Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again;

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