ACT III. 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 thousands of my poorest subjects     Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,     Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee,     That thou no more will 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 perfum'd 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 leav'st 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 deafing 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    WARWICK. Many good morrows to your Majesty!   KING. Is it good morrow, lords?   WARWICK. '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?   WARWICK. We have, my liege.   KING. Then you perceive the body of our kingdom     How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,     And with what danger, near the heart of it.   WARWICK. It is but as a body yet distempered;     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-     [To WARWICK]  You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember-     When Richard, with his eye brim full of tears,     Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,     Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?     'Northumberland, thou ladder by the which     My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne'-     Though then, God knows, I had no such intent     But that necessity so bow'd the state     That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss-     'The time shall come'- thus did he follow it-     'The time will come that foul sin, gathering head,     Shall break into corruption' so went on,     Foretelling this same time's condition     And the division of our amity.   WARWICK. There is a history in all men's lives,     Figuring the natures of the times deceas'd;     The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,     With a near aim, of the main chance of things     As yet not come to life, who in their seeds     And weak beginning lie intreasured.     Such things become the hatch and brood of time;     And, by the necessary form of this,     King Richard might create a perfect guess     That great Northumberland, then false to him,     Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness;     Which should not find a ground to root upon     Unless on you.   KING. 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.   WARWICK. It cannot be, my lord.     Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,     The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace     To go to bed. Upon my soul, 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 unseasoned hours perforce must ad     Unto your sickness.   KING. 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. Gloucestershire. Before Justice, SHALLOW'S house  Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and servants behind    SHALLOW. 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?   SILENCE. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.   SHALLOW. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest     daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?   SILENCE. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!   SHALLOW. By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin William is become     a good scholar; he is at Oxford still, is he not?   SILENCE. Indeed, sir, to my cost.   SHALLOW. 'A must, then, to the Inns o' Court shortly. I was once of     Clement's Inn; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet.   SILENCE. You were call'd 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin.   SHALLOW. By the mass, I was call'd anything; and I would have done     anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little     John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis     Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsole 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, and had the best of them     all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, boy,     and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.   SILENCE. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about     soldiers?   SHALLOW. The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break     Scoggin's head at the court gate, when 'a was a crack not thus     high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson     Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad     days that I have spent! and to see how many of my old     acquaintance are dead!   SILENCE. We shall all follow, cousin.   SHALLOW. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the     Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke     of bullocks at Stamford fair?   SILENCE. By my troth, I was not there.   SHALLOW. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?   SILENCE. Dead, sir.   SHALLOW. Jesu, Jesu, dead! drew a good bow; and dead! 'A shot a     fine shoot. John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on     his head. Dead! 'A would have clapp'd i' th' 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?   SILENCE. Thereafter as they be- a score of good ewes may be worth     ten pounds.   SHALLOW. And is old Double dead?                      Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him    SILENCE. Here come two of Sir John Falstaffs men, as I think.   SHALLOW. Good morrow, honest gentlemen.   BARDOLPH. I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?   SHALLOW. 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?   BARDOLPH. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir     John Falstaff- a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant     leader.   SHALLOW. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good back-sword man.     How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth?   BARDOLPH. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a     wife.   SHALLOW. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed     too. 'Better accommodated!' It is good; yea, indeed, is it. Good     phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable.     'Accommodated!' It comes of accommodo. Very good; a good phrase.   BARDOLPH. Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. 'Phrase' call you it?     By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word     with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding     good command, by heaven. Accommodated: that is, when a man is, as     they say, accommodated; or, when a man is being-whereby 'a may be     thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.                                Enter FALSTAFF    SHALLOW. 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 like well and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir     John.   FALSTAFF. I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow.     Master Surecard, as I think?   SHALLOW. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with    me.   FALSTAFF. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the     peace.   SILENCE. Your good worship is welcome.   FALSTAFF. Fie! this is hot weather. Gentlemen, have you provided me     here half a dozen sufficient men?   SHALLOW. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?   FALSTAFF. Let me see them, I beseech you.   SHALLOW. Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Let     me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so,- so, so- yea,     marry, sir. Rafe Mouldy! Let them appear as I call; let them do     so, let them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy?   MOULDY. Here, an't please you.   SHALLOW. What think you, Sir John? A good-limb'd fellow; young,     strong, and of good friends.   FALSTAFF. Is thy name Mouldy?   MOULDY. Yea, an't please you.   FALSTAFF. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd.   SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! Things that are     mouldy lack use. Very singular good! In faith, well said, Sir     John; very well said.   FALSTAFF. Prick him.   MOULDY. I was prick'd well enough before, an you could have let me     alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry     and her drudgery. You need not to have prick'd me; there are     other men fitter to go out than I.   FALSTAFF. Go to; peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is time     you were spent.   MOULDY. Spent!   SHALLOW. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; know you where you are?     For th' other, Sir John- let me see. Simon Shadow!   FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's like to be     a cold soldier.   SHALLOW. Where's Shadow?   SHADOW. Here, sir.   FALSTAFF. Shadow, whose son art thou?   SHADOW. My mother's son, sir.   FALSTAFF. Thy mother's son! Like enough; and thy father's shadow.     So the son of the female is the shadow of the male. It is often     so indeed; but much of the father's substance!   SHALLOW. Do you like him, Sir John?   FALSTAFF. Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him; for we have a     number of shadows fill up the muster-book.   SHALLOW. Thomas Wart!   FALSTAFF. Where's he?   WART. Here, sir.   FALSTAFF. Is thy name Wart?   WART. Yea, sir.   FALSTAFF. Thou art a very ragged wart.   SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, Sir John?   FALSTAFF. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his     back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more.   SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! You can do it, sir; you can do it. I commend     you well. Francis Feeble!   FEEBLE. Here, sir.   FALSTAFF. What trade art thou, Feeble?   FEEBLE. A woman's tailor, sir.   SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, sir?   FALSTAFF. You may; but if he had been a man's tailor, he'd ha'     prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as     thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?   FEEBLE. I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.   FALSTAFF. Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, courageous     Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most     magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor- well, Master     Shallow, deep, Master Shallow.   FEEBLE. I would Wart might have gone, sir.   FALSTAFF. I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst mend     him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private     soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that     suffice, most forcible Feeble.   FEEBLE. It shall suffice, sir.   FALSTAFF. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?   SHALLOW. Peter Bullcalf o' th' green!   FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.   BULLCALF. Here, sir.   FALSTAFF. Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till     he roar again.   BULLCALF. O Lord! good my lord captain-   FALSTAFF. What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd?   BULLCALF. O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man.   FALSTAFF. What disease hast thou?   BULLCALF. A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught with     ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir.   FALSTAFF. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have     away thy cold; and I will take such order that thy friends shall     ring for thee. Is here all?   SHALLOW. Here is two more call'd than your number. You must have     but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.   FALSTAFF. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry     dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.   SHALLOW. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the     windmill in Saint George's Field?   FALSTAFF. No more of that, Master Shallow, no more of that.   SHALLOW. Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive?   FALSTAFF. She lives, Master Shallow.   SHALLOW. She never could away with me.   FALSTAFF. Never, never; she would always say she could not abide     Master Shallow.   SHALLOW. By the mass, I could anger her to th' heart. She was then     a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?   FALSTAFF. Old, old, Master Shallow.   SHALLOW. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old;     certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork, by old Nightwork,     before I came to Clement's Inn.   SILENCE. That's fifty-five year ago.   SHALLOW. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this     knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?   FALSTAFF. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.   SHALLOW. That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, Sir     John, we have. Our watchword was 'Hem, boys!' Come, let's to     dinner; come, let's to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have seen!     Come, come.                                 Exeunt FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES   BULLCALF. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and     here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very     truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd, sir, as go. And yet, for     mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am     unwilling and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my     friends; else, sir, I did not care for mine own part so much.   BARDOLPH. Go to; stand aside.   MOULDY. And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame's sake,     stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when I     am gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself. You shall have     forty, sir.   BARDOLPH. Go to; stand aside.   FEEBLE. By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God     a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An't be my destiny, so;     an't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's Prince; and, let     it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the     next.   BARDOLPH. Well said; th'art a good fellow.   FEEBLE. Faith, I'll bear no base mind.                      Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES    FALSTAFF. Come, sir, which men shall I have?   SHALLOW. Four of which you please.   BARDOLPH. Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to free Mouldy     and Bullcalf.   FALSTAFF. Go to; well.   SHALLOW. Come, Sir John, which four will you have?   FALSTAFF. Do you choose for me.   SHALLOW. Marry, then- Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.   FALSTAFF. Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home till     you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow you come     unto it. I will none of you.   SHALLOW. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your     likeliest men, and I would have you serv'd with the best.   FALSTAFF. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man?     Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big     assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit, Master Shallow. Here's     Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is. 'A shall charge you     and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer, come     off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket.     And this same half-fac'd fellow, Shadow- give me this man. He     presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim     level at the edge of a penknife. And, for a retreat- how swiftly     will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give me the     spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a caliver into     Wart's hand, Bardolph.   BARDOLPH. Hold, Wart. Traverse- thus, thus, thus.   FALSTAFF. Come, manage me your caliver. So- very well. Go to; very     good; exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old,     chopt, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; th'art a good scab.     Hold, there's a tester for thee.   SHALLOW. He is not his craft's master, he doth not do it right. I     remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn- I was     then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show- there was a little quiver     fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus; and 'a would     about and about, and come you in and come you in. 'Rah, tah,     tah!' would 'a say; 'Bounce!' would 'a say; and away again would     'a go, and again would 'a come. I shall ne'er see such a fellow.   FALSTAFF. These fellows will do well. Master Shallow, God keep you!     Master Silence, I will not use many words with you: Fare you     well! Gentlemen both, I thank you. I must a dozen mile to-night.     Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.   SHALLOW. Sir John, the Lord bless you; God prosper your affairs;     God send us peace! At your return, visit our house; let our old     acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye to the     court.   FALSTAFF. Fore God, would you would.   SHALLOW. Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you.   FALSTAFF. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.  [Exeunt JUSTICES]  On,     Bardolph; lead the men away.  [Exeunt all but FALSTAFF]  As I     return, I will fetch off these justices. I do see the bottom of     justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this     vice of lying! This same starv'd justice hath done nothing but     prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath     done about Turnbull Street; and every third word a lie, duer paid     to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at     Clement's Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring.     When 'a was naked, he was for all the world like a fork'd radish,     with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. 'A was so     forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invisible. 'A     was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the     whores call'd him mandrake. 'A came ever in the rearward of the     fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutch'd huswifes that     he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his fancies or     his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire,     and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn     brother to him; and I'll be sworn 'a ne'er saw him but once in     the Tiltyard; and then he burst his head for crowding among the     marshal's men. I saw it, and told John a Gaunt he beat his own     name; for you might have thrust him and all his apparel into an     eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a     court- and now has he land and beeves. Well, I'll be acquainted     with him if I return; and 't shall go hard but I'll make him a     philosopher's two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait for     the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap     at him. Let time shape, and there an end.               Exit