More rushes, more rushes.

The trumpets have sounded twice.

’Twill be two o’clock ere they come from the coronation. Dispatch,

dispatch.

Trumpets sound, and the King and his train pass over the stage. Enter

Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph and Page.

Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow. I will make the King do you

grace. I will leer upon him as he comes by, and do but mark the

countenance that he will give me.

God bless thy lungs, good knight!

Come here, Pistol, stand behind me. O, if I had had time to have made

new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of

you. But ’tis no matter, this poor show doth better. This doth infer

the zeal I had to see him.

It doth so.

It shows my earnestness of affection—

It doth so.

My devotion—

It doth, it doth, it doth.

As it were, to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to

remember, not to have patience to shift me—

It is best, certain.

But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to see him,

thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if

there were nothing else to be done but to see him.

’Tis _semper idem_, for _obsque hoc nihil est;_ ’tis all in every part.

’Tis so, indeed.

My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver,

And make thee rage.

Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,

Is in base durance and contagious prison,

Haled thither

By most mechanical and dirty hand.

Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto’s snake,

For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.

I will deliver her.

There roar’d the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds.

God save thy Grace, King Hal, my royal Hal!

The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame!

God save thee, my sweet boy!

My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man.

Have you your wits? Know you what ’tis you speak?

My King! My Jove! I speak to thee, my heart!

I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers.

How ill white hairs becomes a fool and jester!

I have long dreamt of such a kind of man,

So surfeit-swell’d, so old, and so profane;

But, being awaked, I do despise my dream.

Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;

Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape

For thee thrice wider than for other men.

Reply not to me with a fool-born jest.

Presume not that I am the thing I was;

For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,

That I have turn’d away my former self;

So will I those that kept me company.

When thou dost hear I am as I have been,

Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,

The tutor and the feeder of my riots.

Till then I banish thee, on pain of death,

As I have done the rest of my misleaders,

Not to come near our person by ten mile.

For competence of life I will allow you,

That lack of means enforce you not to evils.

And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,

We will, according to your strengths and qualities,

Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord,

To see perform’d the tenor of our word.

Set on.

Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds.

Yea, marry, Sir John, which I beseech you to let me have home with me.

That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve at this; I shall

be sent for in private to him. Look you, he must seem thus to the

world. Fear not your advancements; I will be the man yet that shall

make you great.

I cannot perceive how, unless you give me your doublet and stuff me out

with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of

my thousand.

Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard was but a

colour.

A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John.

Fear no colours. Go with me to dinner. Come, Lieutenant Pistol; come,

Bardolph. I shall be sent for soon at night.

Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet.

Take all his company along with him.

My lord, my lord,—

I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon.

Take them away.

I like this fair proceeding of the King’s.

He hath intent his wonted followers

Shall all be very well provided for,

But all are banish’d till their conversations

Appear more wise and modest to the world.

And so they are.

The King hath call’d his parliament, my lord.

He hath.

I will lay odds that, ere this year expire,

We bear our civil swords and native fire

As far as France. I heard a bird so sing,

Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the King.

Come, will you hence?

First my fear; then my curtsy; last my speech. My fear is your

displeasure; my curtsy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your pardons. If

you look for a good speech now, you undo me, for what I have to say is

of mine own making; and what indeed I should say will, I doubt, prove

mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it

known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end of a

displeasing play, to pray your patience for it and to promise you a

better. I meant indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an ill

venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors,

lose. Here I promised you I would be, and here I commit my body to your

mercies. Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors

do, promise you infinitely.

If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to

use my legs? And yet that were but light payment, to dance out of your

debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so

would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen

will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which

was never seen before in such an assembly.

One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloyed with fat

meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it,

and make you merry with fair Katharine of France; where, for anything I

know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with

your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the

man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good

night.