# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The First Part of King Henry the Fourth/Act 3 Scene 3

Scena Tertia.
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
Falst.
Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well, Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking: I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no strength to repent. And i haue not forgotten what the in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper-Corne, a Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villanous Company hath beene the spoyle of me.
Bard.
Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue long.
Falst.
Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song, make me merry; I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of compasse.
Bard.
Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable compasse, Sir Iohn.
Falst.
Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the Knight of the burning Lampe.
Bard.
Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme.
Falst.
No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning, burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire: But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede, but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse. When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it.
Bard.
I would my Face were in your Belly.
Falst.
So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.
Enter Hostesse.
Hostesse.
Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn? doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a hayre was neuer lost in my house before.
Falst.
Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd: goe to, you are a Woman, goe.
Hostesse.
Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so in mine owne house before.
Falst.
Goe to, I know you well enough.
Hostesse.
No, Sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn: I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe.
Falst.
Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of them.
Hostesse.
Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn, for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, foure and twentie pounds.
Falst.
Hee had his part of it, let him pay.
Hostesse.
Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing.
Falst.
How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne, but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke.
Hostesse.
I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that Ring was Copper.
Falst.
How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe: and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge, if hee would say so.
Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his Trunchion like a Fife.
Falst.
How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore? Must we all march?
Bard.
Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.
Hostesse.
My Lord, I pray you heare me.
Prince.
What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest man.
Hostesse.
Good, my Lord, heare mee.
Falst.
Prethee let her alone, and list to mee.
Prince.
What say'st thou, Iacke?
Falst.
The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets.
Prince.
What didst thou lose, Iacke?
Falst.
Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers.
Prince.
A Trifle, some eight-penny matter. Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee would cudgell you.
Prince.
What hee did not?
Host.
There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me else.
Falst.
There's no more faith in thee then a stn'de Prune; nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go.
Host.
Say, what thing? what thing?
Falst.
What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on.
Host.
I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so.
Falst.
Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.
Host.
Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?
Fal.
What beast? Why an Otter.
Prin.
An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?
Fal.
Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes not where to haue her.
Host.
Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou.
Prince.
Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee most grossely.
Host.
So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other day, You ought him a thousand pound.
Prince.
Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Falst.
A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue.
Host.
Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee would cudgell you.
Fal.
Did I, Bardolph?
Bar.
Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so.
Fal.
Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper.
Prince.
I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as thy word now?
Fal.
Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the roaring of the Lyons Whelpe.
Prince.
And why not as the Lyon?
Fal.
The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon: Do'st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay if I do, let my Girdle breake.
Prin.
O, if it should, how would thy guttes fall about thy knees. But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth, nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses, and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with anie other iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not asham'd?
Fal.
Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty. You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?
Prin.
It appeares so by the Story.
Fal.
Hostesse, I forgiue thee: Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband, Looke to thy Seruants, and cherish thy Guests: Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: Thou seest, I am pacified still. Nay, I prethee be gone. Exit Hostesse. Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad? How is that answered?
Prin.
O my sweet Beefe: I must still be good Angell to thee. The Monie is paid backe againe.
Fal.
O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double Labour.
Prin.
I am good Friends with my Father, and may do anything.
Fal.
Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with vnwash'd hands too.
Bard.
Do my Lord.
Prin.
I haue procured thee Iacke, A Charge of Foot.
Fal.
I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde one that can steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and twentie, or thereabout: I am heynously vnprouided. Wel God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them.
Prin.
Bardolph.
Bar.
My Lord.
Prin.
Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland, Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I, Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time. Iacke, meet me tomorrow in the Temple Hall At two a clocke in the afternoone, There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue Money and Order for their Furniture. The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye, And either they, or we must lower lye.
Fal.
Rare words! braue world. Hostesse, my breakfast, come: Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.
Exeunt omnes.
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