« 이전계속 »
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that hears a frosty sound.
Forty let it be;
Doug; Talk not of dying; I am out of fear
SCENE II. A public Road near COVENTRY.
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack : our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night.
Bard. Will you give me money, captain?
Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain: farewell.
[Exit. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a souced gurnet.
I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glut
ton's dogs licked his sores: and such as, indeed, were never soldiers ; but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services; that you would think, that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks.
mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such
I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's ilat:-Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but á shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders, like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at St. Alban's, or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daintry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.
Enter PRINCE HENRY and WESTMORELAND. P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt?
Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?–My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy; I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.
West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already: The king, I can tell you, looks for us all; we must away all night.
Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant as a cat lo steal cream.
P. Hen. I think, to steal cream, indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack'; Whose fellows are these that come after:
Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.
Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as beiter : tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
West. Ay, but, sir Jolin, methinks, they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly.
Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty,- I know not where they bad that: and for their bareness,—I am sure, they never learned that of me.
P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste; Percy is already in the field.
Fal. What, is the king encamped ?
SCENE III. The Rebel Camp near SHREW SBURY.
It may not be.
Not a whit. Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply? Ver. So do we. Hot.
His is certain, ours is doubtful. Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night. Ver. Do not, my lord. Doug.
You do not counsel well; You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.
Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas : by my life
Yea, or to-night.
Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much, being men of such great leading, That
you foresee not what impediments
Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours:
[The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter SIR WALTER Blunt. Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, If you vouchsafe me liearing, and respect.
Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; And’would to God, You were of our determination! Some of us love yon well: and even those some Envy your great deservings, and good name; Because you are not of our quality, But stand against us like an enemy.
Blunt. And God defend, but still I should stand so, So long as, out of limit, and true rule, You stand against anointed majesty! But, to my charge.—The king bath sent to know The nature of your griefs; and whereupon You conjure from the breast of civil peace Such bold hostility, teaching this duteous land Audacious cruelty: If that the king Have any way your good deserts forgot,Which he confesseth to be manifold, He bids you name your griefs; and, with all speed, You shall have your desires, with interest; And pardon absolute for yourself, and these, Herein misled by your suggestion.
Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the king
when he was not six-and-twenty strong,
Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this.
Then, to the point.