Shakespeare's First Folio Part 323

Dau. Your Worship: Ile be with you straight. A cup of Wine, sir?

Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's briske and fine, & drinke vnto the Leman mine: and a merry heart liues long-a

Fal. Well said, M[aster]. Silence

Sil. If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweete of the night

Fal. Health, and long life to you, M[aster]. Silence

Sil. Fill the Cuppe, and let it come. Ile pledge you a mile to the bottome

Shal. Honest Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want'st any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome my little tyne theefe, and welcome indeed too: Ile drinke to M[aster]. Bardolfe, and to all the Cauileroes about London

Dau. I hope to see London, once ere I die

Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie

Shal. You'l cracke a quart together? Ha, will you not M[aster]. Bardolfe?

Bar. Yes Sir, in a pottle pot

Shal. I thanke thee: the knaue will sticke by thee, I can a.s.sure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred

Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir

Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry.

Looke, who's at doore there, ho: who knockes?

Fal. Why now you haue done me right

Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't not so?

Fal. 'Tis so

Sil. Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somwhat

Dau. If it please your Worshippe, there's one Pistoll come from the Court with newes

Fal. From the Court? Let him come in.

Enter Pistoll.

How now Pistoll?

Pist. Sir Iohn, 'saue you sir

Fal. What winde blew you hither, Pistoll?

Pist. Not the ill winde which blowes none to good, sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men in the Realme

Sil. Indeed, I thinke he bee, but Goodman Puffe of Barson

Pist. Puffe? puffe in thy teeth, most recreant Coward base. Sir Iohn, I am thy Pistoll, and thy Friend: helter skelter haue I rode to thee, and tydings do I bring, and luckie ioyes, and golden Times, and happie Newes of price

Fal. I prethee now deliuer them, like a man of this World

Pist. A footra for the World, and Worldlings base, I speake of Affrica, and Golden ioyes

Fal. O base a.s.syrian Knight, what is thy newes?

Let King Couitha know the truth thereof

Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and Iohn

Pist. Shall dunghill Curres confront the h.e.l.licons?

And shall good newes be baffel'd?

Then Pistoll lay thy head in Furies lappe

Shal. Honest Gentleman, I know not your breeding

Pist. Why then Lament therefore

Shal. Giue me pardon, Sir.

If sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there is but two wayes, either to vtter them, or to conceale them. I am Sir, vnder the King, in some Authority

Pist. Vnder which King?

Bezonian, speake, or dye

Shal. Vnder King Harry

Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fift?

Shal. Harry the Fourth

Pist. A footra for thine Office.

Sir Iohn, thy tender Lamb-kinne, now is King, Harry the Fift's the man, I speake the truth.

When Pistoll lyes, do this, and figge-me, like The bragging Spaniard

Fal. What, is the old King dead?

Pist. As naile in doore.

The things I speake, are iust

Fal. Away Bardolfe, Sadle my Horse, Master Robert Shallow, choose what Office thou wilt In the Land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee With Dignities

Bard. O ioyfull day: I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune

Pist. What? I do bring good newes

Fal. Carrie Master Silence to bed: Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortunes Steward.

Get on thy Boots, wee'l ride all night. Oh sweet Pistoll: Away Bardolfe: Come Pistoll, vtter more to mee: and withall deuise something to do thy selfe good. Boote, boote Master Shallow, I know the young King is sick for mee. Let vs take any mans Horsses: The Lawes of England are at my command'ment. Happie are they, which haue beene my Friendes: and woe vnto my Lord Chiefe Iustice

Pist. Let Vultures vil'de seize on his Lungs also: Where is the life that late I led, say they?

Why heere it is, welcome those pleasant dayes.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.