| [Enter FALSTAFF, Host, BARDOLPH, NYM, PISTOL, and ROBIN] |
|
| FALSTAFF | Mine host of the Garter! |
| Host | What says my bully-rook? speak scholarly and wisely. |
| FALSTAFF | Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my followers. |
| Host | Discard, bully Hercules; cashier: let them wag; trot, trot. |
| FALSTAFF | I sit at ten pounds a week. |
| Host | Thou'rt an emperor, Caesar, Keisar, and Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph; he shall draw, he shall tap: said I well, bully Hector? |
| FALSTAFF | Do so, good mine host. |
| Host | I have spoke; let him follow. |
| [To BARDOLPH] | |
| Let me see thee froth and lime: I am at a word; follow. | |
| [Exit] | |
| FALSTAFF | Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade: an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a withered serving-man a fresh tapster. Go; adieu. |
| BARDOLPH | It is a life that I have desired: I will thrive. |
| PISTOL | O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield? |
| [Exit BARDOLPH] | |
| NYM | He was gotten in drink: is not the humour conceited? |
| FALSTAFF | I am glad I am so acquit of this tinderbox: his thefts were too open; his filching was like an unskilful singer; he kept not time. |
| NYM | The good humour is to steal at a minute's rest. |
| PISTOL | 'Convey,' the wise it call. 'Steal!' foh! a fico for the phrase! |
| FALSTAFF | Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. |
| PISTOL | Why, then, let kibes ensue. |
| FALSTAFF | There is no remedy; I must cony-catch; I must shift. |
| PISTOL | Young ravens must have food. |
| FALSTAFF | Which of you know Ford of this town? |
| PISTOL | I ken the wight: he is of substance good. |
| FALSTAFF | My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about. |
| PISTOL | Two yards, and more. |
| FALSTAFF | No quips now, Pistol! Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife: I spy entertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer of invitation: I can construe the action of her familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behavior, to be Englished rightly, is, 'I am Sir John Falstaff's.' |
| PISTOL | He hath studied her will, and translated her will, out of honesty into English. |
| NYM | The anchor is deep: will that humour pass? |
| FALSTAFF | Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her husband's purse: he hath a legion of angels. |
| PISTOL | As many devils entertain; and 'To her, boy,' say I. |
| NYM | The humour rises; it is good: humour me the angels. |
| FALSTAFF | I have writ me here a letter to her: and here another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes too, examined my parts with most judicious oeillades; sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly. |
| PISTOL | Then did the sun on dunghill shine. |
| NYM | I thank thee for that humour. |
| FALSTAFF | O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass! Here's another letter to her: she bears the purse too; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheater to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go bear thou this letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford: we will thrive, lads, we will thrive. |
| PISTOL | Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, And by my side wear steel? then, Lucifer take all! |
| NYM | I will run no base humour: here, take the humour-letter: I will keep the havior of reputation. |
| FALSTAFF | [To ROBIN] Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go; Trudge, plod away o' the hoof; seek shelter, pack! Falstaff will learn the humour of the age, French thrift, you rogues; myself and skirted page. |
| [Exeunt FALSTAFF and ROBIN] | |
| PISTOL | Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and fullam holds, And high and low beguiles the rich and poor: Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk! |
| NYM | I have operations which be humours of revenge. |
| PISTOL | Wilt thou revenge? |
| NYM | By welkin and her star! |
| PISTOL | With wit or steel? |
| NYM | With both the humours, I: I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. |
| PISTOL | And I to Ford shall eke unfold How Falstaff, varlet vile, His dove will prove, his gold will hold, And his soft couch defile. |
| NYM | My humour shall not cool: I will incense Page to deal with poison; I will possess him with yellowness, for the revolt of mine is dangerous: that is my true humour. |
| PISTOL | Thou art the Mars of malecontents: I second thee; troop on. |
| [Exeunt] |