K. Hen.

Are these things then necessities?

Then let us meet them like necessities:

And that same word even now cries out on us;
They say, the bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.

War.

It cannot be, my lord;
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd: Please it your grace,
To go to bed; upon my life, my lord,

The powers that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.

To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain instance, that Glendower is dead.
Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill;
And these unseason'd hours, perforce, must add
Unto your sickness.

K. Hen.
I will take your counsel:
And, were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Court before Justice Shallow's House in Gloucestershire.

Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULL-CALF, and Servants behind.

Shal. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir; an early stirrer, by the rood.· And how doth my good cousin Silence?

2

Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

2 Cross.

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin William is become a good scholar: He is at Oxford, still, is he not?

Sil. Indeed, sir; to my cost.

Shal. He must then to the inns of court shortly: I was once of Clement's-inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were called-lusty Shallow, then, cousin.

Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotswold man, -you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again and I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were. Then was Jack Falstaff, now sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk.

Sil. This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon, about soldiers?

Shal. The same sir John, the very same, I saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate, when he was a crack 3, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer; behind Gray's-inn. O, the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead!

Sil. We shall all follow, cousin.

Shal. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure; death is certain to all; all shall die.

yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?
Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there.

How a good

Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of

town living yet?

Sil. Dead, sir.

your

3 Boy.

Shal. Dead!-See, see! - he drew a good bow; And dead! He shot a fine shoot:- John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! he would have clapped i' the clout at twelve score *; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes now?

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.

Shal. And is old Double dead!

Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him.

Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstaff's men, as I think.

Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which is justice Shallow?

Shal. I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this county, and one of the king's justices of the peace: What is your good pleasure with me?

Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you: my captain, sir John Falstaff: a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.

Shal. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good backsword man: How doth the good knight? may I ask, how my lady his wife doth?

Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated, than with a wife.

Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed too. Better accommodated!—it is good; yea, indeed, it is: good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated ! — it comes from accommodo: very good; a good phrase. Bard. Pardon me, sir! I have heard the word. Phrase, call you it? By this good day, I know not the phrase: but I will maintain the word with my s Brave.

♦ Hit the white mark at twelve score yards.

sword, to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command. Accommodated; That is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or, when a man is, -being, - whereby, he may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

/

Enter FALSTAff.

Shal. It is very just:-Look, here comes good sir John.-Give me your good hand, give me your worship's good hand: By my troth, you look well, and bear your years very well: welcome, good sir John.

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master Robert Shallow:-Master Sure-card, as I think. Shal. No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.

Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

Sil. Your good worship is welcome.

Fal. Fye! this is hot weather.-Gentlemen, have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you.

Shal. Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll? Let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so: Yea, marry, sir-Ralph Mouldy:-let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so. see; where is Mouldy?

Moul. Here, an't please you.

Let me

Shal. What think you, sir John? a good limbed fellow young, strong, and of good friends.

Fal. Is thy name Mouldy?

Moul. Yea, an't please you.

Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, things that are mouldy, lack use: Very singular good!-well said, sir John; very well said.

Fal. Prick him.

[TO SHALLOW.

Moul. My old dame will be undone now, for one to do her husbandry, and her drudgery: you need not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go out than I.

Fal. Go to; peace, Mouldy, you shall go, Mouldy.

Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; Know you where you are? For the other, sir John:— let me see; Simon Shadow !

Fal. Ay marry, let me have him to sit under: he's like to be a cold soldier.

Shal. Where's Shadow?

Shad. Here, sir.

Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou?

Shad. My mother's son, sir.

Fal. Thy mother's son! like enough; and thy father's shadow.

Shal. Do you like him, sir John?

Fal. Shadow will serve for summer,-prick him; -for we have a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book.

Shal. Thomas Wart!

Fal. Where's he?

Wart. Here, sir.

Fal. Is thy name Wart?

Wart. Yea, sir.

Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart.
Shal. Shall I prick him, sir John.

Fal. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins prick him no more.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha!-you can do it, sir; you can do it: I commend you well. Francis Feeble! Fee. Here, sir.

Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble?

Fee. A woman's tailor, sir.

Shal. Shall I prick him, sir?