Henry IV, Pt. 2
Act 2, Scene 4
London. The Boar’s Head Tavern in Eastcheap.
- Enter a Drawer or two—Francis and a second Drawer.
Francis2 - 3
- What the devil hast thou brought there? Apple-johns? Thou
- knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.
Second Drawer4 - 8
- Mass, thou say’st 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, wither’d knights.” It
- ang’red him to the heart, but he hath forgot that.
Francis9 - 11
- Why then cover and set them down, and see if thou canst find
- out Sneak’s noise. Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some
- Enter Will, a third Drawer.
Third Drawer13 - 14
- Dispatch. The room where they supp’d is too hot, they’ll
- come in straight.
Francis15 - 17
- 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 word.
Third Drawer18 - 19
- By the mass, here will be old utis, it will be an excellent
- I’ll see if I can find out Sneak.
- Exit with Third Drawer.
- Enter Mistress Quickly the Hostess and Doll Tearsheet.
Mistress Quickly23 - 29
- I’ faith, sweet heart, methinks now you are in an excellent
- good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as
- heart would desire, and your color, I warrant you, is as red
- as any rose, in good truth law! But, i’ faith, you have
- drunk too much canaries, and that’s a marvelous searching
- wine, and it perfumes the blood ere one can say, “What’s
- this?” How do you now?
- Better than I was. Hem!
Mistress Quickly31 - 32
- Why, that’s well said; a good heart’s worth gold. Lo here
- comes Sir John.
- Enter Sir John Falstaff.
Falstaff34 - 39
- “When Arthur first in court”—Empty the jordan.—
- Exit Francis.
- “And was a worthy king.”
- How now, Mistress Doll?
- Sick of a calm, yea, good faith.
Falstaff41 - 42
- So is all her sect; and they be once in a calm, they are
Doll Tearsheet43 - 44
- A pox damn you, you muddy rascal, is that all the comfort
- you give me?
- You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.
- I make them? Gluttony and diseases make, I make them not.
Falstaff47 - 49
- If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the
- diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you.
- Grant that, my poor virtue, grant that.
- Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels.
Falstaff51 - 54
- “Your brooches, pearls, and ouches.” 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 charg’d chambers bravely—
- Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!
Mistress Quickly56 - 61
- By my troth, this is the old fashion, you two never meet but
- you fall to some discord. You are both, i’ good truth, 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.
Doll Tearsheet62 - 67
- Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead?
- There’s a whole merchant’s venture of Bordeaux stuff in him,
- you have not seen a hulk better stuff’d 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.
- Enter Drawer Francis.
- Sir, Ancient Pistol’s below, and would speak with you.
Doll Tearsheet70 - 71
- Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither. It is
- the foul-mouth’d’st rogue in England.
Mistress Quickly72 - 76
- If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith, I
- must live among my neighbors; 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 liv’d all this while to
- have swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you.
- Dost thou hear, hostess?
Mistress Quickly78 - 79
- Pray ye pacify yourself, Sir John. There comes no swaggerers
- Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient.
Mistress Quickly81 - 92
- Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne’er tell me; and your ancient
- swagger, ’a comes not in my doors. I was before Master
- Tisick, the debuty, t’ other day, and, as he said to
- me—’twas no longer ago than Wed’sday last, i’ good faith—
- “Neighbor Quickly,” says he—Master Dumbe, our minister, was
- by then— “Neighbor 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 swagg’rers.
Falstaff93 - 96
- He’s no swagg’rer, hostess, a tame cheater, i’ faith, you
- may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He’ll not
- swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any
- show of resistance. Call him up, drawer.
- Exit Francis.
Mistress Quickly98 - 101
- 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.
- So you do, hostess.
Mistress Quickly103 - 104
- Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, and ’twere an aspen leaf. I
- cannot abide swagg’rers.
- Enter Ancient Pistol and Bardolph and Boy Page.
- God save you, Sir John!
Falstaff107 - 108
- Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a
- cup of sack, do you discharge upon mine hostess.
- I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
- She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly offend her.
Mistress Quickly111 - 112
- 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.
- Then to you, Mistress Dorothy, I will charge you.
Doll Tearsheet114 - 116
- Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor,
- base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy
- rogue, away! I am meat for your master.
- I know you, Mistress Dorothy.
Doll Tearsheet118 - 122
- Away, you cutpurse rascal! You filthy bung, away! By this
- wine, I’ll thrust my knife in your moldy chaps, and 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!
- God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this.
Falstaff124 - 125
- No more, Pistol, I would not have you go off here. Discharge
- yourself of our company, Pistol.
- No, good Captain Pistol, not here, sweet captain.
Doll Tearsheet127 - 136
- Captain? Thou abominable damn’d cheater, art thou not
- asham’d to be call’d captain? And captains were of my mind,
- they would truncheon you out for taking their names upon you
- before you have earn’d 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 moldy stew’d prunes
- and dried cakes. A captain! God’s light, these villains will
- make the word as odious as the word “occupy,” which was an
- excellent good word before it was ill sorted; therefore
- captains had need look to’t.
- Pray thee go down, good ancient.
- Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
Pistol139 - 140
- Not I. I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear
- her. I’ll be reveng’d of her.
- Pray thee go down.
Pistol142 - 145
- I’ll see her damn’d first, to Pluto’s damned lake, by this
- hand, to th’ infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile
- also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! Down,
- faitors! Have we not Hiren here?
- Draws his sword.
Mistress Quickly147 - 148
- Good Captain Peesel, be quiet, ’tis very late, i’ faith. I
- beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
Pistol149 - 155
- These be good humors indeed! Shall pack-horses
- And hollow pamper’d jades of Asia,
- Which cannot go but thirty mile a day,
- Compare with Caesars and with Cannibals
- And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with
- King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar.
- Shall we fall foul for toys?
- By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
- Be gone, good ancient. This will grow to a brawl anon.
Pistol158 - 159
- Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren
- A’ 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.
Pistol161 - 167
- Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
- Come give ’s some sack.
- “Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento.”
- Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire.
- Give me some sack, and, sweet heart, lie thou there.
- Laying down his sword.
- Come we to full points here? And are etceteras no things?
- Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pistol169 - 170
- Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! We have seen the seven
Doll Tearsheet171 - 172
- For God’s sake thrust him down stairs. I cannot endure such
- a fustian rascal.
- Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags?
Falstaff174 - 176
- Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. Nay,
- and ’a do nothing but speak nothing, ’a shall be nothing
- Come, get you down stairs.
Pistol178 - 182
- What? Shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
- Snatching up his sword.
- Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
- Why then let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
- Untwind the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!
- Here’s goodly stuff toward!
- Give me my rapier, boy.
- I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee do not draw.
- Get you down stairs.
- Drawing, and driving Pistol out.
Mistress Quickly188 - 191
- 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 Pistol and Bardolph.
Doll Tearsheet193 - 194
- I pray thee, Jack, be quiet, the rascal’s gone. Ah, you
- whoreson little valiant villain, you!
Mistress Quickly195 - 196
- Are you not hurt i’ th’ groin? Methought ’a made a shrewd
- thrust at your belly.
- Enter Bardolph.
- Have you turn’d him out a’ doors?
Bardolph199 - 200
- Yea, sir. The rascal’s drunk; you have hurt him, sir, i’ th’
- A rascal! To brave me?
Doll Tearsheet202 - 206
- 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!
- Ah, rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
Doll Tearsheet208 - 209
- Do, and thou dar’st for thy heart. And thou dost, I’ll
- canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
- Enter Sneak and other musicians.
- The music is come, sir.
Falstaff212 - 213
- Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal
- bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quicksilver.
Doll Tearsheet214 - 217
- I’ faith, and thou follow’dst him like a church. Thou
- whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou
- leave fighting a’ days and foining a’ nights, and begin to
- patch up thine old body for heaven?
- Enter, behind, Prince Henry and Poins, disguised.
Falstaff219 - 220
- Peace, good Doll, do not speak like a death’s-head, do not
- bid me remember mine end.
- Sirrah, what humor’s the Prince of?
Falstaff222 - 223
- A good shallow young fellow. ’A would have made a good
- pantler, ’a would ’a’ chipp’d bread well.
- They say Poins has a good wit.
Falstaff225 - 227
- He a good wit? Hang him, baboon! His wit’s as thick as
- Tewksbury mustard, there’s no more conceit in him than is in
- a mallet.
- Why does the Prince love him so then?
Falstaff229 - 238
- Because their legs are both of a bigness, and ’a 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 join’d-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 scales between their avoirdupois.
- Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?
- Let’s beat him before his whore.
Prince Henry241 - 242
- Look whe’er the wither’d elder hath not his pole claw’d like
- a parrot.
Poins243 - 244
- Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive
- Kiss me, Doll.
Prince Henry246 - 247
- Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th’
- almanac to that?
Poins248 - 250
- And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping
- to his master’s old tables, his note-book, his
- Thou dost give me flattering busses.
- By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
- I am old, I am old.
Doll Tearsheet254 - 255
- I love thee better than I love e’er a scurvy young boy of
- them all.
Falstaff256 - 258
- What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money a’
- Thursday, shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song! Come, it
- grows late, we’ll to bed. Thou’t forget me when I am gone.
Doll Tearsheet259 - 261
- By my troth, thou’t set me a-weeping and thou say’st so.
- Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy
- return—well, hearken a’ th’ end.
- Some sack, Francis.
Both Prince and Poins263
- Anon, anon, sir.
- Coming forward.
Falstaff265 - 266
- Ha? A bastard son of the King’s? And art not thou Poins his
Prince Henry267 - 268
- Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou
- A better than thou: I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.
- Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears.
Mistress Quickly271 - 273
- O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome to
- London. Now, the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O
- Jesu, are you come from Wales?
Falstaff274 - 275
- Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh
- and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
- How? You fat fool, I scorn you.
Poins277 - 278
- My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all
- to a merriment, if you take not the heat.
Prince Henry279 - 280
- You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vildly did you speak of
- me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman!
Mistress Quickly281 - 282
- God’s blessing of your good heart! And so she is, by my
- Didst thou hear me?
Prince Henry284 - 286
- 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 patience.
Falstaff287 - 288
- No, no, no, not so, I did not think thou wast within
Prince Henry289 - 290
- I shall drive you then to confess the willful abuse, and
- then I know how to handle you.
- No abuse, Hal, a’ mine honor, no abuse.
Prince Henry292 - 293
- Not to dispraise me, and call me pantler and bread-chipper,
- and I know not what?
- No abuse, Hal.
- No abuse?
Falstaff296 - 301
- No abuse, Ned, i’ th’ world, honest Ned, none. I disprais’d
- him before the wicked, that the wicked turns to the Prince
- might not fall in love with thee; 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 Henry302 - 306
- 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 wicked?
- Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
Falstaff308 - 311
- The fiend hath prick’d 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 blinds him too.
- For the women?
Falstaff313 - 315
- For one of them, she’s in hell already, and burns poor
- souls; for th’ other, I owe her money, and whether she be
- damn’d for that, I know not.
- No, I warrant you.
Falstaff317 - 320
- 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.
Mistress Quickly321 - 322
- All vict’lers do so. What’s a joint of mutton or two in a
- whole Lent?
- You, gentlewoman—
- What says your Grace?
- His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.
- Peto knocks at door.
- Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th’ door there, Francis.
- Enter Peto.
- Peto, how now, what news?
Peto330 - 335
- 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 Henry336 - 341
- By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame
- So idly to profane the precious time,
- When tempest of commotion, like the south
- Borne with black vapor, doth begin to melt
- And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
- Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.
- Exeunt Prince and Poins, Peto and Bardolph.
Falstaff343 - 348
- Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must
- hence and leave it unpick’d.
- Knocking within.
- More knocking at the door!
- Enter Bardolph.
- How now, what’s the matter?
Bardolph349 - 350
- You must away to court, sir, presently,
- A dozen captains stay at door for you.
Falstaff351 - 356
- 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
- call’d on. Farewell, good wenches, if I be not sent away
- post, I will see you again ere I go.
Doll Tearsheet357 - 358
- I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst—well,
- sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
- Farewell, farewell.
- Exit with Bardolph and Page.
Mistress Quickly361 - 363
- Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine
- years, come peascod-time, but an honester and truer-hearted
- man—well, fare thee well.
Bardolph364 - 365
- Mistress Tearsheet!
- What’s the matter?
Bardolph367 - 368
- Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
Mistress Quickly369 - 371
- O, run, Doll, run, run, good Doll. Come.
- To Bardolph.
- She comes blubber’d.—Yea! Will you come, Doll?