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And, God consigning to my good intents,
BARDOLPH, and the Page. Shal. Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth: come, cousin Silence: and then to bed.
Fal. 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
SHAL. Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread, Davy: well said, Davy.
Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man and your husband.
Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John: by the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down: come, cousin.
Sil. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall
Fal. There's a merry heart ! Good Master Silence, I'll give you a health for that anon.
Shal. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.
Davy. Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon; most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master
Proface! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink: but you must bear; the heart's all.
[Exit. Shal. Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier there, be merry. Sil. Be merry,
in hall when beards wag all, And welcome
merry. Fal. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle.
Sil. Who, I? I have been merry twice and
once ere now.
Re-enter Davy. Davy. There's a dish of leather-coats for you.
[To BARDOLPH. SHAL. Davy!
Davy. Your worship! I'll be with you straight [to BARDOLPH]. A cup of wine, sir? SIL. A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, (Singing. And drink unto the leman mine ;
And a merry heart lives long-a. FAL. Well said, Master Silence.
Sil. An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' the night.
FAL. Health and long life to you, Master Silence. Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come ; [Singing.
I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. SHAL. Honest Bardolph, welcome : if thou wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief [to the Page), and welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cavaleros about London.
Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die.
SHAL. By the mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha! will you not, Master Bardolph?
Bard. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.
SHAL. By God's liggens, I thank thee: the knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that. A’ will not out; he is true bred.
Bard. And I'll stick by him, sir.
SHAL. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry. [Knocking within.] Look who's at door there, ho! who knocks?
[Exit Davy. FAL. Why, now you have done me right.
[To SILENCE, seeing him take off a bumper. SIL. Do me right,
[Singing. And dub me knight :
Samingo. Is’t not so ?
Fal. 'Tis so.
Sil. Is't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat.
Re-enter DAVY. Davy. An't please your worship, there's one Pistol come from the court with news. Fal. From the court ! let him come in.
Pist. Sir John, God save you !
Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.
Sil. By’r lady, I think a' be, but goodman Puff of Barson.
Fal. I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world.
Pist. A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys.
Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Sil. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. [Singing.
Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ? And shall good news be baffled ?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
Sil. Honest gentleman, I know notyour breeding. Pist. Why then, lament therefore.
SHAL. Give me pardon, sir : if, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there 's but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, sir, under the king, in some authority.
Pist. Under which king, Besonian ? speak, or die.
Harry the Fourth? or Fifth?
A foutre for thine office !
Fal. What, is the old king dead ?
Fal. Away, Bardolph ! saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will doublecharge thee with dignities.
Bard. O joyful day !
fortune. Pist. What! I do bring good news.
FAL. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow,-be what thou wilt; I am fortune's steward-get on thy boots : we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! [Exit Bard.] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and