PRINCE HENRY and POINS, in a back room, in a tavern.
Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO.
Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?
Falstaff. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and
amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew
nether stocks, and mend them, and foot them, too. A plague of all cowards!
Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? (He drinks, and
then continues.) You rogue, here's lime in this sack, too; there is
nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man: yet a coward is worse
than a cup of sack with lime in it. A villainous coward! Go thy ways, old
Jack; die when thou wilt: if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the
face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good
men unhanged, in England; and one of them is fat and grows old; a bad
world, I say! I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms, or anything. A
plague of all cowards, I say still.
Prince Henry. How now, woolsack? What mutter you?
Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger
of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese,
I'll never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of Wales!
P. Henry. Why, you baseborn dog! What's the matter?
Fal. Are you not a coward? Answer me to that; and Poins there?
Poins. Ye fat braggart, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.
Fal. I call thee coward? I'll see thee gibbeted ere I call thee coward:
but I would give a thousand pounds I could run as fast as thou canst. You
are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back:
call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me
them that will face me. Give me a cup of sack. I am a rogue, if I have
drunk to-day.
P. Henry. O villain! thy lips ate scarce wiped since thou drunkest last.
Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say 1. (He
drinks.)
P. Henry. What's the matter?
Fal. What's the matter! There be four of us here have ta'en a thousand
pounds this morning.
P. Henry. Where is it, Jack? where is it?
Fal. Where is it? Taken from us it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.
P. Henry. What! a hundred, man?
Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two
hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through
the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and through;
my sword hacked like a handsaw; look here! (shows his sword.) I never
dealt better since I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cowards!
Let them speak (pointing to GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO); if they speak
more or less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness.
P. Henry. Speak, sirs; how was it?