Enter WARWICK and SURREY. War. Many good morrows to your majesty! War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past. K. Hen. Why, then, good morrow to you all, my lords. (47) Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? War. We have, my liege. K. Hen. Then you perceive the body of our kingdom War. It is but as a body yet distemper'd; My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. K. Hen. O God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea! and, other times, to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth,-viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. 'Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together, and in two years after Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard "Northumberland, thou ladder by the which That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss:- War. There is a history in all men's lives, Such things become the hatch and brood of time; K. Hen. Are these things, then, necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities;— And that same word even now cries out on us: They say the bishop and Northumberland Are fifty thousand strong. War. It cannot be, my lord; Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, K. IIen. I will take your counsel: And were these inward wars once out of hand, [Exeunt. SCENE II. Court before Justice SHALLOW's house in Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and Servants, behind. Shal. Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my good cousin Silence? Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? Sil. Atas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow! Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not? Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost. Shal. 'A must, then, to the inns o' court shortly: I was once of Clement's-inn, where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet. Sil. You were called "lusty Shallow" then, cousin. Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsol' man, -you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns o' court again and, I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk. (49) Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers? Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. I saw him break Skogan's head at the court-gate, when 'a was a crack not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's-inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead! Sil. We shall all follow, cousin. Shal. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die.-How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there. Shal. Death is certain.-Is old Double of your town. living yet? Sil. Dead, sir. Shal. Jesu, Jesu, dead!-'a drew a good bow ;—and dead!'a shot a fine shoot:-John o' Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead!-'a would have clapped i' the clout at twelve score; and carried you a forehand shaft a(50) fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see.-How a score of ewes now? Sil. Thereafter as they be a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. Shal. And is old Double dead? Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. Enter BARDOLPH and one with him. Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow? Shal. I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this county, and one of the king's justices of the peace: what is your good pleasure with me? Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir John Falstaff,—a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader. Shal. He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword man. How doth the good knight? may I ask how my lady his wife doth? Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife. Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed too. Better accommodated!—it is good; yea, indeed, is it good phrases are surely, and ever were, very com mendable. Accommodated!-it comes of accommodo: very good; a good phrase. Bard. Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase call you it? by this good day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven. Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is, being, whereby 'a may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing. Shal. It is very just.-Look, here comes good Sir John. Enter FALSTAFF. Give me your good hand, give me your worship's good hand: by my troth, you like well,(51) and bear your years very well: welcome, good Sir John. Fal. I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow-Master Surecard, as I think? Shal. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me. Fal. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace. Sil. Your good worship is welcome. Fal. Fie! this is hot weather.-Gentlemen, have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you. Shal. Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll?-Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so: yea, marry, sir :-Ralph Mouldy!-let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so.-Let me see; where is Mouldy? Moul. Here, an't please you. Shal. What think you, Sir John? a good-limbed fellow young, strong, and of good friends. Fal. Is thy name Mouldy? Moul. Yea, an't please you. Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used. Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! things that are mouldy lack use: very singular good!-in faith, well said, Sir John; very well said. Fal. [to Shallow] Prick him. |