Obrazy na stronie
PDF
ePub

worms.

is thy boy of the wicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked ?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privykitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt

For the boy, there is a good angel about him ; but the devil outbids him too.

PRINCE. For the women?

Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns poor souls. For the other, I owe her money; and whether she be damned for that, I know not. Host. No, I warrant

you. Fal. No, I think thou arť not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which I think thou wilt howl.

Host. All victuallers do so: what's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

PRINCE. You, gentlewoman,--
Dol. What says your grace ?

Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

[Knocking within. Host. Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.

Enter Peto. PRINCE. Peto, how now! what news? Pero. The king your father is at Westminster;

And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
Come from the north : and, as I came along,
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

PRINCE. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to
So idly to profane the precious time, blame,
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good-night.
[Exeunt PRINCE HENRY, Poins, Peto, and BARDOLPH,

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked. [Knocking within.] More knocking at the door!

Re-enter BARDOLPH. How now! what's the matter?

Bard. You must away to court, sir, presently ; A dozen captains stay at door for you.

Fal. [To the Page] Pay the musicians, sirrah. Farewell, hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches: if I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I

go. Dol. I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready to burst,---well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewell, farewell.

[Exeunt Falstaff and BARDOLPH. Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee

these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man,-well, fare thee well.

BARD. [Within] Mistress Tearsheet !
Host. What's the matter?

BARD. [Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.

Host. O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come. [She comes blubbered.] Yea, will you come, Doll ?

[Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

Westminster. The palace. Enter the King in his nightgown, with a Page. King. Go call the Earls of Surrey and of

Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters, And well consider of them : make good speed.

[Exit Page. How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how nave I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,

Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull’d with sound of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch
A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them
With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Enter WARWICK and SURREY.
War. Many good morrows to your majesty!
KING. Is it good morrow, lords?
War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
King. Why, then, good morrow to you all, my

lords. Have

you

read o'er the letters that I sent you? WAR. We have, my liege. King. Then you perceive the body of our

kingdom

E

How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.

War. It is but as a body yet distemper'd;
Which to his former strength may be restored
With good advice and little medicine :
My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.
King. O God! that one might read the book

of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea ! and, other times, to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup

of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. 'Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together, and in two years after Were they at wars: it is but eight years since This Percy was the man nearest my soul, Who like a brother toil'd in

my

affairs
And laid his love and life under my foot,
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by-
You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember-

[To WARWICK.

« PoprzedniaDalej »