Imatges de pÓgina
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pray you, sir?-What, with two points' on your shoulder? much?!

Pist. I will murder your ruff for this.

Fal. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here: discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.

Host. No, good captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.

Dol.Captain! thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not asham'd to be call'd-captain? If cap- 10 tains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earn'd them. You a captain, you slave! for what? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdyhouse?-He a captain! Hang him, rogue! He 15 lives upon mouldy stew'd prunes, and dry'd cakes'. A captain! these villains will make the word captain as odious as the word occupy'; which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted: therefore captains had need look to it.

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Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Doll.

Pist. Not I: I tell thee what, corporal Bardolph;-I could tear her :--I'll be reveng'd on her.

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Page. Pray thee, go down.

Pist. I'll see her damn'd first;—To Pluto's damned lake, to the infernal deep, where Erebus and torturers vile also. Hold hook and line', say I. Down! down, dogs! down, faitors"! Have we 30| not Hiren' here?

Host. O' my word, captain, there's none such here. What the good-jere! do you think I would deny her? I pray, be quiet.

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Pist. Then Feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis11: · Come, give's some sack.

Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is very late: I beseek you now, aggravate your choler. Pist. These be good humours, indeed! Shall pack-horses,

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And hollow-pamper'd jades of Asia",
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Cæsars, and with Cannibals',
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?

Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.

Bard. Be gone, good ancient: this will a brawl anon.

Pist. Die men, like dogs; give crowns like pins; Have we not Hiren here?

grow to

-Si fortuna me tormenta, sperato me contenta.— Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire: Give me some sack;-and, sweetheart, lye thou there. [Laying down his sword. Come we to full points here; and are et ceterus nothing?

Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet.

Pist, Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif": What! we have seen the seven stars.

Dol. Thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.

Pist. Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags ?

Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shovegroat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.

Bard. Come, get you down stairs.

Pist. What! shall we have incision? shall we
imbrew--Then death
Rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, I say!
[Snatching up his sword.
Host. Here's goodly stuff toward!
Fal. Give me my rapier, boy.

Dol. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.

Fal. Get thee down stairs.

[Drawing, and driving Pistol out. Host. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear' keeping house, before I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; nurther, I warrant now.-Alas, Jalas! put up your naked weapons, put up your 40 naked weapons.

Dol. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal is gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you! Host. Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought he made a shrewd thrust at your belly.

[Re-enter Bardolph.

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'As a mark of his commission. 2 Much was a common expression of disdain at that time, of the same sense with that more modern one, Marry come up. Meaning, that he liv'd on the refuse provisions of bawdy-houses and pastry-cooks' shops. The allusion to stew'd prunes, and all that is necessary to be known on that subject, has been already explained in our notes on other passages of these Plays. Occupant seems to have been formerly a term for a woman of the town, as occupier was for a wencher. These words are introduced in ridicule of some absurd and fustian passages from plays, in which Shakspeare had been a performer, and from which the greater part of Pistol's character seems to be composed. i. e. traitors, rascals. 'Hiren was sometimes a cant term for mistress or harlot ; Pistol may therefore mean, "Have we not a strumpet here? and why am I thus used by her?" These lines are in part a quotation out of an old absurd fustian play, entitled, Tamburlain's Conquests; · or, The Scythian Shepherd. Cannibal is used by a blunder for Hannibal. 10 Mr. Steevens observes, that as Hiren was sometimes used to denote a mistress or harlot, Pistol may be supposed to give it on this occasion, as an endearing name, to his sword, in the same spirit of fondness that he presently calls it-sweet-heart. Pistol delights in bestowing titles on his weapon. In this scene he also calls itAtropos. A burlesque on a line in an old play, called The Battle of Alcazar, &c. 12 That is, shall we stop here? 13i. e. I kiss thy fist. That is, common hackneys." Mr. Steevens supposes this expression to mean a piece of polished metal made use of in the play of shovel-board. iThis is a fragment of an ancient song, supposed to have been written by Anne Boleyn; for which see Sir John Hawkins's General History of Music, vol. III. p. 31.

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Fal.

Fal. Have you turn'd him out of doors? Bard. Yes, sir, the rascal's drunk: you have burt him, sir, in the shoulder.

faculties he hath, that shew a weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince admits him: for the prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the scale between their aver dupois.

P. Henry. Would not this nave of a wheel' have his cars cut off?

Fal. A rascal! to brave me!

Dol. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, 5 poor ape, how thou sweat'st? Come, let me wipe thy face;-come on, you whoreson chops:-Ah, rogue! I love thee.-Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the nine worthies: Ah, vil-10 lain !

Fal. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.

Dol. Do, if thou dar'st for thy heart: if thou do'st, I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets. Enter Musick.

Poins. Let's beat him before his whore.

P. Henry. Look, if the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd like a parrot.

Poins. Is it not strange, that desire should so many years out-live performance? Ful. Kiss me, Doll.

P. Henry. Saturn and Venus this year in con15 junction! what says the almanack to that?

Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables1o; his note book, his counsel-keeper.

Page. The musick is come, sir.

Fal. Let them play;-Play, sirs.-Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me, like quicksilver.

Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses.

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Dol. Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a'most constant heart.

Fal. I am old, I am old.

Dol. I'faith, and thou followd'st him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig', when wilt thou leave fighting o'days, thine and foining of nights, and begin to patch up old body for heaven? Enter,behind, Prince Henry and Poins, disguised like drawers.

Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all.

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Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle" of? I shall receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have acap to-morrow. A merry song, come: it grows late, we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me, when I am gone.

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Dol. By my troth, thou'lt set me a weeping, an thou say'st so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome 'till thy return.-Well, hearken the end. Fal. Some sack, Francis.

P. Henry. Poins. Ánon, anon, sir.

Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's?—and art

Fal. Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's head'; do not bid me remember mine end. Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of? Fal. A good shallow young fellow: he would have made a good pantler, he would have chipp'd bread well.

Dol. They say, Poins had a good wit. Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon!-his 35 not thou Poins, his brother? wit is as thick as Tewksbury' mustard; there is no more conceit in him, than is in a mallet.

Dol. Why doth the prince love him so then? Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness; and he plays at quoits well; and eats conger and 40 fennel and drinks off candles' ends for flapdragons'; and rides the wild mare with the boys; and jumps upon joint-stools; and swears with a good grace: and wears his boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with 45 telling of discreet stories: and such other gambol

P. Henry. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead?

Fal. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.

P. Henry. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.

Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! -Now heaven bless that welcome to London.sweet face of thine! what, are you come from Wales?

Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of ma

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For tidy Sir Thomas Hanmer reads tiny; but they are both words of endearment, and equally proper. Bartholomew boar-pig is a little pig made of paste, sold at Bartholomew-fair, and given to chil dren for a fairing. Mr. Steevens says it was the custom for the bawds of that age to wear a death's head in a ring, upon their middle finger. Tewksbury, a market-town in Gloucestershire, was formerly noted for mustard-balls made there, and sent into other parts. Conger with fennel was formerly regarded as a provocative. A flap-dragon is some small combustible body, fired at one end, and put afloat in a glass of liquor. It is an act of a toper's dexterity to toss off the glass in such a manner as to prevent the flap-dragon from doing mischief Ben Jonson speaks of those who eat candles' ends, as an act of love and gallantry. But perhaps our author, by Poins swallowing candles' ends by way of flap-dragons, meant to indicate no more than that the prince loved him because he was always ready to do any thing for his amusement, however absurd or unnatural. This expression may not perhaps be improperly elucidated by a passage in The Merry Wives of Windsor, where Mrs. Quickly, enumerating Alluding to the roundthe virtues of John Rugby, adds, that he is no tell-tale, no breed-bate." Meaning, that this was indeed a ness of Falstaff, who was called round man in contempt before. prodigy; astrologers having remarked, that Saturn and Venus are never conjoined. Trigonum igneum 10 Dr. Warburton thinks, we Is the astronomical term when the upper planets meet in a fiery sign. should read, clasping too his master's old tables, i. e. embracing his master's cast-off whore, and now his jesty,bawd [his note-book, his counsel-keeper]. "Mr.Steevens conjectures, that kirtle here means a petticoat.

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jesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou
art welcome.
[Leaning his hand upon Doll.
Dol. How! you fat fool, I scorn you.
Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of
your
revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take
not the heat.

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P. Henry. You whoreson candle-mine', you, how vilely did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?

Host. 'Blessing o' your good heart! and so she 10 is, by my troth.

Fal. Didst thou hear me?

P.Henry. Yes; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by Gads-hill: you knew, I was at your back; and spoke it on purpose, to try 15 my patience.

Ful No, no, no; not so: I did not think thou wast within hearing.

P. Henry. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle you. [20] Ful. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no abuse. P. Henry. No! to dispraise me; and call me-pantler, and bread chipper, and I know not what? Fal. No abuse, Hal. Poins. No abuse!

Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I disprais'd him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him:-in| which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true subject, and thy father is to give 30 me thanks for it. No abuse, Fal;-none, Ned none;-no, boys, none.

P. Henry. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is She of the 35 wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is the boy of the wicked? or honest Bardolph,| whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. Fal. The fiend hath prick'd down Bardolph irre-40 coverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him; but the devil out-bids him too.

P. Henry. For the women,

Ful. For one of them,-she is in hell already,] and burns, poor soul! For the other,-I owe her money; and whether she be damn'd for that, I know not.

Host. No, I warrant you.

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Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art quit for that: Marry, there is another indict

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ment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

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So idly to profane the precious time;
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. [night.
Give me my sword and cloak:-Falstaff, good
[Exeunt Prince and Poins.

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Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick'd. More knocking at the door?-How now? "what's

the matter?

Host. All victuallers do so: What's a joint of
mutton or two, in a whole Lent?
P. Henry. You, gentlewoman,—
Dol. What says your grace?

ACT

Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

Host. Who knocks so loud at door? look to the door there, Francis.

Enter Peto.

P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?

Peto. The king your father is at Westminster;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
Come from the north: and, as I came along,
I met, and overtook, a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
P.Henry. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much
to blame,

Fal. Farewel, farewel. [Exeunt Fal. and Bard. Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee 45 these twenty-nine years, come pescod-time; but in honester and truer-hearted man,-Well, fare hee well,

Bard. You must away to court, sir, presently; A dozen captains stay at door for you.

Ful. Pay the musicians, sirrah [To the Page.]Farewel, hostess;-farewel, Doli.—You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is call'd on.-Farewel, good wenches:-If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. Dol. I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready o burst :-Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyelf.

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III.

And well consider of them: Make good speed.-[Exit Page. 60 How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep!-O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Meaning, thou inexhaustible magazine of tallow,

Why

Why, rather, sleep, ly'st thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-ilies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why ly'st 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 deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Can'st 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 down3!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Enter Warwick and Surrey.

War. Many good-morrows to your majesty!
K. Henry. Is it good-morrow, lords?
War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
K. Henry. Why then, good morrow to you.
Well, my lords,

Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you?
Wor. We have, my liege.
[kingdom

K. Henry. Then you perceive, the body of our
How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.

War. It is but as a body, yet distemper'd1;
Which to its former strength may be restor❜d,
With good advice, and little medicine :-
My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.
K. Henry. O heaven! that one might read the
book of fate;

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 atter, 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, 10Gave him defiance. But which of you was by, (You, cousin Nevil', as I may remember) [To Warwick. When Richard',-with his eye brim-full of tears, Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,15 Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy? Northumberland, thou iadder, by the which My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne; Though then, heaven knows, I had no such intent; But that necessity so bow'd the state, 20That 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, 25 And the division of our amity.

War. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd:
The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
30 As yet not come to life; which in their seeds,
And weak beginnings, lie entreasured,

Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And, by the necessary form of this,
King Richard might create a perfect guess,
35 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.

K. Henry. Are these things then necessities?-
40 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;

45 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 yon already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily,

50To comfort you the more, l'have receiv'd

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,-

1 This alludes to the watchman set in garrison-towns upon some eminence attending upon an alarumbell, which he was to ring out in case of fire, or any approaching danger. He had a case or box to shelter him from the weather, but at his utmost peril he was not to sleep whilst he was upon duty. These alarum-bells are mentioned in several other places of Shakspeare. Hurly means noise, from the French hurler, to howl. 3 Warburton thinks this passage to be evidently corrupted from happy lowly clown; these two lines making the just conclusion from what preceded: "If sleep will fly a king and consort itself with beggars, then happy the lowly clown, and uneasy the crown'd head." Dr. Johnson observes, that distemper (which, according to the old physic, is a disproportionate mixture of humours, or inequality of innate heat and radical humidity) is less than actual disease, being only the state which foreruns or produces diseases; and that the difference between distemper and disease seems to be much the same as between disposition and habit. 5 Mr. Steevens observes, that Shakspeare has mistaken the name of this nobleman. The earldom of Warwick was at this time in the family of Beauchamp, and did not come into that of the Nevils till the latter end of the reign of king Henry VI. when it descended to Anne Beauchamp, (the daughter of the earl here introduced), who was married to Richard Nevil, earl of Salisbury. He refers to King Richard, Act V. Scene II.; but Warwick was pot present at that conversation: Meaning, necessity. A cer

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A certain instance, that Glendower is dead.
Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill;
And these unseasoned hours, perforce, must add
Unto your sickness.

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

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV,

Sil. Dead, sir.

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Shal. Dead!--See, see!--he drew a good bow -And dead he shot a fine shoot:-John of Gaunt lov'd him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead!-he would have clapp'd i' the clout' at twelve score; and carry'd you a fore-hand 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?

[10]

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good
ewes may be worth ten pounds.
Shal. And is old Double dead?

Justice Shallow's Scat in Gloucestershire. Enter Shallow meeting Silence. Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bull-calf, Servants, &c.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 15 cousin Silence?

Sit. Good-morrow, good cousin Shallow.

Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my goddaughter Ellen?

Enter Bardolph and his Boy.
Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men,
as I think.

Bard. Good-morrow, honest gentlemen: I be-
seech 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 20 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.

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Shal. He greets me well, sir: I knew him a good back-sword man: How doth the good knight? nay 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, 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 coa mendable. Accommodated! -it comes of accommodo: very good; a good phrase.

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow,
Shul. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin
William is become a good scholar: Ile is at Ox-
ford 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 call'd-lusty Shallow, then, cousin. Shal. I was call'd any thing; and I would have 30 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 inus of court again:35 and, I may say to you, we knew where the bonarobas were; and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk.

T

Bard. 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. Accommodated; that 40s, 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,

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

I

Enter Falstaff.

Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate, when he was a crack, not thus high: and the 45 very same day I did 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 acquaintances are dead!

Shal. It is very just:-Look, here comes good SirJohn.-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.

Sil. We shall all follow, cousin.

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Shal. 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?

Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there.

Shal. Death is certain.-Is old Double of your town living yet?

Ful. 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 55 should be of the peace.

Sit. Your good worship is welcome.

Ful. Fie! this is hot weather.-Gentlemen,

For an account of the Cotswold games, so famous in Shakspeare's time, see 1i. e. the cross. We learn from a masque of Ben Jonson's, note, p. 46. Swinge-bucklers and stash-bucklers were words implying rakes or rioters, in the time of Shakspeare. i. e. ladies of pleasure, or harlots. that Scogan was "a fine gentleman, and a master of arts of Henry the fourth's times, that made dis › Accommodate was guises for the king's sons, and writ in ballad royal daintily well.” This is an old Islandic word signifying a boy or child. i. e. hit the white mark. i. e. fourteen score of yards. modish terin of that time, as Ben Jonson informs us.

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