The powers of us may serve so great a day. Doug. Talk not of dying: I am out of fear [Exeunt. SCENE II. A public Road near Coventry. Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry: fill me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night. Bard. Will you give me money, captain? Fal. Lay out, lay out. Bard. This bottle makes an angel. Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain: farewell. [Exit. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the bans; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger 9 worse than a struck FOWL,] So the two oldest quartos. The folio, 1623, has fool for "fowl," an error, Malone says, adopted from the quarto, 1613. He probably had not seen the quarto of 1608, in which the blunder is also committed. The quarto of 1613 was printed from that of 1608. than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores; and such as, indeed, were never soldiers, but discarded unjust serving men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A'mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such Scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat:-nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's not a shirt and a half in all my company2: and the half-shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at St. Albans, or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. Enter Prince HENRY and WESTMORELAND. P. Hen. How now, blown Jack! how now, quilt! — an old faced ANCIENT :] Shakespeare here uses the word "ancient" to signify a standard: just before he has employed it to designate officers who carried the colours. Other writers of the same age were often guilty of the same confusion of terms. 2 There's NOT a shirt and a half in all my company :] So all the old copies, folio and quarto, the meaning being, "There's not above a shirt and a half,” &c. This seems to have been the phraseology of the time; for afterwards, Falstaff says, according to every ancient authority, " There's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive, and they are for the town's end." Modern editors, in both cases, have printed it "There's but," &c. Fal. What, Hal! How now, mad wag! what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?-My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy: I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury. West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there and you too; but my powers are there already. The king, I can tell you, looks for us all: we must away all night. Fal. Tut, never fear me: I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream. P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack; whose fellows are these that come after? Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. Fal. Tut, tut! good enough to toss3; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly. Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that and for their bareness, I am sure, they never learned that of me. P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is already in the field. Fal. What, is the king encamped? West. He is, sir John: I fear we shall stay too long. Fal. Well, To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast, Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt. 3 — good enough to Toss ;] i. e. to toss upon pikes ; a military phrase of the time. It occurs again in "Henry VI." Part 3. Act i. sc. 1. SCENE III. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter HOTSPUR, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon. Hot. We'll fight with him to-night. Wor. It may not be. Doug. You give him, then, advantage. Not a whit. Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply? Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful. Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd: stir not to-night. Ver. Do not, my lord. Doug. You do not counsel well. You speak it out of fear, and cold heart. Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, And I dare well maintain it with my life, If well-respected honour bid me on, I hold as little counsel with weak fear, As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives: Being men of such great leading as you are, Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, Hot. So are the horses of the enemy, Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours: For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. [The trumpet sounds a parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt. Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; and would to God You were of our determination! Some of us love you well; and even those some Envy your great deservings, and good name, Because you are not of our quality, But stand against us like an enemy. Blunt. And God defend but still I should stand so, So long as out of limit and true rule, You stand against anointed majesty. But, to my charge. The king hath sent to know You conjure from the breast of civil peace Have any way your good deserts forgot, Which he confesseth to be manifold, He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed, And pardon absolute for yourself, and these, Herein misled by your suggestion. Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the king Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. My father, and my uncle, and myself1, My father, AND my uncle, and myself,] The folio, 1623, spoils the line by omitting the conjunction before "my uncle." |