Henry IV, Part II

Master Fang, have you filed the lawsuit?

It’s filed.

Where’s your deputy? Is he a strong deputy? Will he rise to the occasion?

Sirrah, where’s Snare?

Oh my goodness! Master Snare!

Here, here.

Snare, we’ve got to arrest Sir John Falstaff.

Yes, good Master Snare. I’ve filed the suit against him and everything.

It could cost some of us our lives: he’ll stab.

Oh my goodness! Watch out for him: he stabbed me in my own house, and it was nasty. I swear, he doesn’t care what trouble he causes. Once he’s got his weapon out, he’ll thrust it like the devil. He won’t spare man, woman, or child.

If I can get close to him, I won’t worry about his thrusting.

Me neither. I’ll be right next to you.

If I can grab him once, if he just comes within my grasp-

I’m bankrupt from his never paying. He’s run up an infinitive bill with me. Catch him, Master Fang! Don’t let him get away, Master Snare! He’s always going to Pie Corner—sorry to mention it—to buy a saddle. And every day he gets indited to lunch with Master Smooth the silk seller, at the Leopard’s Head on Lumbert Street. Please bring him to justice. I’ve been entered—I mean, my lawsuit’s been entered at court, and the whole world knows how easy I am—I mean how easy it was for him to rip me off. A hundred marks is a lot for a poor, solitary woman to take. And I’ve taken it, and taken it, and taken it. And I’ve been fobbed off and fobbed off and fobbed off, day in and day out. It’s horrible to even think about. That’s a terrible way to treat people, unless you think that every woman should be made an ass and an animal, and that she should be opened to every jerk’s molestation. Here he comes, with that notorious wine-faced crook, Bardolph. Do me a favor and do me your jobs, Master Fang and Master Snare. Do me! Do me! Do me a favor and do me your jobs!

What’s going on? Whose horse died? What’s the matter?

Sir John, you’re under arrest for charges brought by Mistress Quickly.

Get out of here, you crooks! Draw your sword, Bardolph. Cut off this rascal’s head, and throw this whore in the gutter.

Throw me in the gutter? I’ll throw you in the gutter. You will? You will? You bastardly cheat! Murder! Murder! Oh, you honeysuckle criminal! You’re going to kill God’s sheriffs, and the King’s? Oh, you honey-seed creep! You’re a honey-seed, a man-killer, and a woman-killer.

Keep them off me, Bardolph.

An escape! An escape!

Somebody, bring an escape or two! (to FALSTAFF) You will, will you? You will, will you? Go ahead, go ahead, you scoundrel! You hemp-seed!

Get off, you serving wench! You ruffian! You fat old hag! I’ll beat you on the backside!

What’s the matter? Let’s have some order here!

Good sir, be good to me. I beg you, stand up for me.

Well if it isn’t Sir John! Are you making trouble here? Is this appropriate for a man of your position, your age, and your responsibilities? You should be well on your way to York by now. (to FANG) Get off him, man. Why are you holding him?

Oh, most excellent lord, begging your pardon: I’m a poor Eastcheap widow, and he’s arrested on charges I brought against him.

What sum does he owe you?

It’s more than some, sir: it’s all, all that I have. He’s eaten me out of house and home. He’s put everything I own into that fat belly of his. (to FALSTAFF) But I’ll get some of it back again, or I’ll ride you all night like a bad dream.

I think I might just ride you, if I get the chance to mount you.

What is this, Sir John? Damn! How could any decent man put up with this storm of screaming and cursing? Aren’t you ashamed to force a poor widow to take these extreme measures simply to get what’s hers?

(to MISTRESS QUICKLY) What’s the total I owe you?

My goodness! If you were an honest man, you’d give yourself to me, as well as the money. You swore to me—over a gold-plated wine goblet, in the Dolphin Room in my tavern, at the round table, next to the fire, on the Wednesday seven weeks after Easter, when the Prince swung at your head for claiming his father was a fake—you swore, while I was cleaning your wounds, to marry me and make me a proper lady and your wife. Can you deny it? Didn’t Mrs. Baconfat, the butcher’s wife, come into the room then and ask to borrow some vinegar, saying that she had some good prawns—and you wanted to eat some, and I told you that it was a bad idea, to eat shrimp when you had a fresh wound—and when she left, didn’t you tell me to stop being friends with low types like her, because before long we’d be married and I’d be a proper lady? And didn’t you kiss me and tell me to lend you thirty shillings? Put your hand on the bible and deny it, if you dare.

Sir, this is a poor, insane soul. She’s been saying all over town that her oldest son looks just like you. She was once rich, but poverty has driven her crazy. Now, as for these two foolish officers, I would like to press charges against them.

Sir John, Sir John. I know too well how you are accustomed to turning the truth into a big lie. But neither your confident demeanor nor the storm of words that accompanies your insolent disrespect will sway me from making a just consideration. As far as I can see, you’ve taken advantage of this trusting woman, and you’ve made her give you cash and other favors.

Yes, truthfully, sir.

Quiet, please. (to FALSTAFF) Pay her what you owe her, and undo the wrongdoings you’ve done to her. You can do the first with money, and the second with a sincere apology.

Sir, I will not put up with this snub without a reply. You call my brave, honorable dealings insolent disrespect. Does a man have to stand here, silent and bowing, to be a virtuous man? No, sir. With all due respect, I won’t bow down to you. I say that I want to be set free by these officers, seeing as I have urgent work to do for the King.

You talk as though you have permission to break the law. But act appropriately to your status: satisfy this poor woman.

Come here, hostess.

Master Gower, what’s going on?

My lord, the King and Harry Prince of Wales are nearby. This letter will tell you the rest.

On my honor.

Honestly, that’s what you said before.

On my honor. Come, let’s not talk about it anymore.

By heaven above and below, I’ll have to pawn my good china and the tapestries in my dining rooms.

It’s not such a big deal. Glass is the only good thing to drink out of anyway. And as for the walls, something pretty and comical—or a depiction of the prodigal son; or maybe one of those German hunting scenes, painted on the wall to look like a tapestry—why, those are worth a thousand of those bed curtains and moth-eaten tapestries. Let me borrow just ten pounds, all right? Come on—other than your moodiness, you’re the best wench in England. Go wash your face and withdraw the lawsuit. Come on—don’t be this way with me. Don’t you know me? Come, come, I know somebody put you up to this.

Please, Sir John, let’s call it twenty nobles. I don’t want to have to pawn my china, in God’s name!

All right, forget it. I’ll figure something else out. You’ll always be a fool.

All right, I’ll lend it to you, even if I have to pawn my clothes. I hope you’ll have dinner here tonight. You’ll pay me the full amount then?

Will I live? (to BARDOLPH) Go, stick with her, stick with her. Don’t let her out of your sight.

Do you want Doll Tearsheet to meet you at dinner?

No more talking. Let’s have her.

I’ve heard better news.

What’s the news, my lord?

Where did the King spend last night?

At Basingstoke, sir.

I hope everything’s okay, sir. What’s the news?

And his armies have come back?

No. Fifteen hundred infantrymen and five hundred horsemen are marching to meet Lord Lancaster, to fight against Northumberland and the Archbishop.

Is the King back from Wales, my noble lord?

I’ll give you some letters shortly. Come with me, Master Gower.

Sir!

What’s the matter?

Master Gower, would you like to join me for lunch?

I have to attend to this noble man right here. But thank you, Sir John.

Sir John, you’ve been loitering here too long. You have to recruit soldiers in the counties you pass through on your way north.

Will you join me for supper, then, Master Gower?

What foolish teacher taught you these manners, Sir John?

Master Gower, if my manners are inappropriate, I must have indeed been taught by a fool. That’s how the game is played—tit for tat, and game over.

God help you! You are a great fool.