Falstaff /Chimes at Midnight (1965)

[bunniefuu]

Jesus, the days that we have seen!

(both chuckling)

Do you remember
since we lay all night in the windmill

in St. George's field?

No more of that, Master Shallow.

(Shallow laughs)

'Twas a merry night!

Is Jane Nightwork alive?

She lives, Master Shallow.

Doth she hold her own well?

Old.

Old, Master Shallow.

Oh, no, she must be old.

She cannot choose but be old.

- (sighs)
- Certain she's old.

And had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork
before I came to Clement's Inn.

Jesus, the days that we have seen!

Ha, Sir John? Said I well?

We have heard the chimes at midnight,

Master Robert Shallow.

That we have! That we have! That we have!

In faith, Sir John, we have.

(bell tolling)

Jesus, the days that we have seen.

(tolling continues, fades)

NARRATOR: King Richard II was m*rder*d,

some say at the command
of the Duke Henry Bolingbroke,

in Pomfret Castle

on February the th, .

Before this, the duke Henry
had been crowned king,

though the true heir to the realm
was Edmund Mortimer,

who was held prisoner by the Welsh rebels.

The new king was not hasty
to purchase his deliverance,

and to prove this,
Mortimer's cousins, the Percys,

came to the king unto Windsor.

There came Northumberland,

his son, Henry Percy, called Hotspur,

and Worcester,

whose purpose was ever
to procure malice and set things in a broil.

Shall our coffers then be emptied
to redeem a traitor home?

- My liege ‒
- No, on the barren mountain let him starve.

For I shall never hold that man my friend

whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
to ransom home revolted Mortimer.

"Revolted Mortimer"? He never did fall off
my sovereign liege but by the chance of w*r.

My blood hath been too cold and temperate,

unapt to stir at these indignities.

And you have found me,
for accordingly you tread upon my patience.

Our house, my sovereign liege,

little deserves the scourge of greatness
to be used on it.

And that same greatness too,

which our own hands have helped
to make so portly.

Worcester, get thee gone,

for I do see danger
and disobedience in thine eye.

My lord ‒

Henceforth let me not hear you
speak of Mortimer,

or you shall hear in such a kind from me
as will displease you.

My good lord, hear me.

My Lord Northumberland,
we license your departure.

With your son.

"Speak of Mortimer."

Zounds, I will speak of him.

And let my soul want mercy
if I do not join with him.

Hear you, cousin, a word.

Hark you, Uncle, did not King Richard

then proclaim my brother, Edmund Mortimer,
heir to the crown?

NORTHUMBERLAND:
He did. Myself did hear it.

Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king that
wished him on the barren mountains starve.

Shall it for shame be spoken in these days,
or fill up chronicles in time to come,

that men of your nobility and power

did gage them both in an unjust behalf ‒

as both of you, God pardon it, have done ‒

to put down Richard,
that sweet, lovely rose,

and plant this thorn,
this canker Bolingbroke?

Peace, cousin.

By heavens, methinks it were an easy leap

to pluck bright honor
from the pale-faced moon

or dive into the bottom of the deep where
fathom line could never touch the ground,

and pluck up drowned honor by the locks.

But out upon this half-faced fellowship!

Farewell, kinsman. I'll talk to you
when you are better tempered to attend.

Why, look, you, I am whipped
and scourged with rods,

nettled and stung with pismires when I hear
of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.

In Richard's time ‒

What do you call the place
where I first bowed my knee

unto this king of smiles,
this Bolingbroke?

'Sblood! When you and he
came back from Ravenspurgh!

- At Berkeley Castle.
- Ah! You say true.

Why, what a candy deal of courtesy
this fawning greyhound then did proffer me.

"Look, gentle Harry Percy."
And "Kind cousin."

Ah! The devil take such cozeners!

(bell tolling, faint)

God forgive me.
Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

Nay, if you have not, to it again.
We will stay your leisure.

I've done, i'faith.

You, my lord, shall secretly
into the bosom creep

of that same noble prelate well-beloved,
the archbishop.

York, is it not?

I smell it. Upon my life, it will do well.

And then the powers of Scotland and of York
to join with Mortimer's.

And so they shall.

Brother, farewell. No further go in this
than I by letter shall direct our course.

Farewell, good brother.
We shall thrive, I trust.

All studies here I solemnly defy,
save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke

and that same sword-and-buckler
Prince of Wales.

But that I think his father loves him not and
would be glad he met with some mischance,

I would have him poisoned
with a pot of ale.

- (bell tolling)
- (whistles)

(laughing)

(kisses, continues laughing)

Where's Falstaff?

- Fast asleep.
- And snoring like a horse.

I picked his pocket.

- (Falstaff snoring)
- (whispering) What hast thou found?

Nothing but this, my lord.

(snoring continues)

- (Falstaff snorts)
- (laughs)

FALSTAFF: How now, Hal?
What time of day is it, lad?

What the devil hast thou to do
with the time of day?

Unless hours were cups of sack,

clocks the tongues of bawds,
dials the signs of leaping houses

and the blessed sun himself
a fair, hot wench in flame-colored taffeta,

I see no reason
why thou shouldst be so superfluous

as to demand the time of the day.

Indeed you come near me now, Hal,

for we that take purses go by the moon.

How now! Who picked me pocket?

Hostess! Hostess!

- Sir John!
- I fell asleep here and had me pocket picked!

- (laughing)
- You think I keep thieves in my house?

My lord, I pray you, hear me!

Go to! I know you well enough!

- I know you, Sir John.
- (grumbles)

You owe me money, Sir John,

and now you pick a quarrel with me
to beguile me of it.

FALSTAFF:
This house is turned bawdy house!

- Bawdy house?
- Picked me pocket!

(all laughing)

We cannot lodge and board
a dozen or gentlewomen

who live honestly
by the prick of their needles,

but it's thought we keep a bawdy house!

(laughing continues)

Shall I not take my knees in mine inn,
but I shall have my pocket picked?

You owe me money, Sir John!

What didst thou lose, Jack?

Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Some pounds.

- What?
- (grunts)

And a gold seal ring of me grandfather's
worth some mark.

You owe mine hostess money, Jack.

You lost the reckoning.

Item: a capon, two shillings and tuppence.

Item: sauce, fourpence. Item: sack,
two gallons, five shillings and eightpence.

Item: anchovies and sack after supper,
two and sixpence.

Item: bread, ha'pence.

- O monstrous.
- Hostess, come.

Thou must not be in this humor with me.

I forgive thee.

Fetch me a quart of sack.

- (cheering, laughing)
- Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal.

God forgive you for it.

Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing,

and now am, if a man should speak truly,
little better than one of the wicked.

(laughing)

I was as virtuously given
as a gentleman need to be ‒ virtuous enough.

Swore a little.
Diced not above seven times a week.

Went to a bawdy house
not above once in a quarter... of an hour.

Villainous company hath been the spoil of me.

If I have not forgotten
what the inside of a church is made of,

call me a peppercorn, a brewer's horse.

(Hal continues laughing)

Well...

I'll repent.

- Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?
- Where thou wilt, lad. I'll make one.

I see a good amendment of life in him ‒
from praying to purse-taking.

'Tis my vocation, Hal.
'Tis no sin for a man to labor at his vocation.

My lads, my lads,

tomorrow morning early at Gad's Hill

there are pilgrims going to Canterbury
with rich offerings,

and traders riding to London with fat purses.

- Hal, wilt thou make one?
- Who, I, rob? I, a thief? Not I, by my faith.

There's neither manhood, honesty,
nor good fellowship in thee.

Nor com'st thou not of the royal blood
if thou darest not stand for shillings.

- I'll tarry at home.
- (chuckles)

- I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
- I care not!

Ride with us, my lord.

(whispering) I have a jest.
A jest I cannot execute alone.

(Falstaff, Hal laughing)

O my sweet honey lord,
come ride with us tomorrow!

I'll go with thee.

We can stuff our purses full of crowns.

Well then, provide us all things necessary.

- Farewell, my lord.
- And meet me here in Eastcheap.

- Farewell.
- Hal.

When thou art king, let not us
that are squires of the night's body

be called thieves of the day's beauty.

Let us be Diana's foresters,
gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon,

men of good government
being governed as the sea is,

by our noble and chaste mistress the moon,
under whose countenance we steal.

I know you all, and will a while uphold
the unyoked humor of your idleness.

And herein will I imitate the sun,

who doth permit
the base, contagious clouds

to smother up his beauty from the world,

that when he please again to be himself,
being wanted he may be more wondered at.

If all the year were playing holiday,
to sport would be as tedious as to work.

But when they seldom come,
they wished-for come.

So when this loose behavior I throw off
and pay the debt I never promisèd,

my reformation, glittering o'er my fault,

shall show more goodly
and attract more eye

than that which hath no foil to set it off.

I'll so offend to make offense a skill,

redeeming time
when men think least I will.

FALSTAFF (laughing):
I prithee, sweet wag,

shall there be gallows standing in England
when thou art king?

Do not thou, when thou art king,
hang a thief.

No, thou shalt have
the hanging of the thieves,

and so become a rare hangman.

(Falstaff chuckling)

♪♪ (fanfare)

"The purpose you undertake is dangerous"?

Ha! Why, that's certain!

'Tis dangerous to take a cold,
to sleep, to drink.

- Harry!
- But I tell you this, my lord fool.

Out of this nettle, danger,
we pluck this flower, safety.

- Harry.
- "The purpose you undertake is dangerous,

the friends you have named uncertain,

the time itself unsorted

and the whole plot too light"?

Say you so?

I say unto you again, you are a shallow,
cowardly hind, and you lie!

♪♪ (continues)

By the lord, our plot is a good plot
as ever was laid.

Our friends true and constant.

A good plot, good friends.
I'm full of expectation.

An excellent plot, very good friends.

- Leave us.
- I must leave you, Kate.

Oh, what a frosty, spirited rogue is this?

"I could be well content to be with you,
in the respect I love your house."

He shows in this he loves his own barn
better than he loves our house!

- ♪♪ (continues)
- What ho!

Hath Butler brought those horses
from the sheriff?

- What horse, my lord?
- A roan, a crop ear, is it not?

It is, my lord!

That roan shall be my throne!

- (Hotspur cackles)
- (laughs)

- How now! What news?
- From your father!

Letters from him?
Why comes he not himself?

It seems that he is grievous sick.

Zounds! How has he the leisure to be sick
in such a justling time? Huh?

You will see now in very sincerity
of fear and cold heart

will he to the king
and lay open all our proceedings.

- Well, hang him. Let him tell the king.
- ♪♪ (continues)

For what offense have I this fortnight been

a banished woman from my husband's bed?

- What ho!
- My lord?

In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched

and heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,

speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,

cry "Courage! To the field!"

And thou has talked of sallies and retires,
of trenches, tents, of palisadoes,

frontiers, parapets,

of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,

of prisoners' ransom and of soldiers ‒

Hear you, my lord!

- My lord!
- What sayest thou, my lady?

- What is it carries you away?
- Why, my horse, my love, my horse.

Out, you mad-headed ape!
I'll know your business, Harry!

If you go ‒

So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.

Faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
if thou wilt not tell me all things true.

Away, away, you trifler! Ow!

Love? I love thee not!

I care not for thee, Kate.

This is no world to play with mammets
and to tilt with lips.

We must have bloody noses
and cracked crowns.

- ♪♪ (continues)
- Gods me, my horse!

Do you not love me? Do you not indeed?

Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.

Come. Wilt thou see me ride?

And when I am a-horseback,
I will swear I love thee infinitely.

But hark you, Kate.

I know you wise, but yet no further wise
than Harry Percy's wife.

(laughs)

Constant... you are.

But yet a woman.

And for secrecy, no lady closer,

for I well believe thou wilt not utter
of what thou dost not know,

and so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

- How so far?
- Not an inch further.

♪♪ (continues)

But hark you, Kate.
Whither I go, thither shall you go too.

Will this content you, Kate?

It must of force.

How long is it, Jack,
since thou saw'st thine own knee?

- Mine own knee?
- (grunts)

When I was about thy years, Hal.

I was not an eagle's talon in the waist.

A plague of sighing and grief,
it blows a man up like a bladder.

There's money of the king's coming.

'Tis going to the king's exchequer.
We may do it as secure as sleep.

Shh! They come.

- You four shall front them there.
- We four?

- How many be there of them?
- Ah, some eight or .

- Zounds, will they not rob us?
- (laughing)

(whistling)

Give me me horse, my masters.
Every man to his business.

If they scape from your encounter,
they shall light on ours.

- (whispering) Shelter. Shelter.
- (Falstaff grumbles)

Eight yards of uneven ground
is threescore and mile afoot with me!

(whispering)
I've removed Falstaff's horse.

(both laughing)

(grumbles) If I go four foot further afoot,
I shall break me wind.

(laughing continues)

I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further!

Peace, you fat guts!
What a brawling dost thou keep!

- Lie down!
- Lie down?

Lay thine ear close to the ground

and list if thou can hear the tread of travelers.

Have you any levers to lift me up again,
being down?

- (laughing)
- They come! They come!

I prithee, good Prince Hal,
help me to my horse, good king's son.

Shall I be your ostler?

Go hang thyself
in thine own heir-apparent garters.

Now, lads. Come.

MAN: Come, neighbor.
The boy shall lead our horses.

We'll walk afoot a while
and ease our legs.

(all mumbling nonsense chant)

(mumbling continues)

(both laughing)

- Strike!
- Down with them!

- Cut the villains' throats!
- Down with them!

- MAN: Please stop!
- (horse whinnying)

- Bind them!
- Where are our disguises?

(Falstaff shouting)
Young man must live!

- (shouting continues)
- (horses whinnying)

(laughing) Come. Come.

Come, my masters. Let us share.

The prince and Poins
be not two errant cowards.

There's no equity stirring.

There's no more valor in that Poins
than in a wild duck.

(Hal, Poins shouting)

(shouting continues)

(grunting, shouting)

Jesus!

The thieves are scattered!

(Hal, Poins laughing)

- Each takes his fellow for an officer.
- Away, good Ned!

HAL: Falstaff sweats to death

and lards the lean earth
as he walks along.

POINS: How the rogue roared!

HAL: Were it not for laughing,
I should pity him!

(men murmuring)

Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son?

(murmuring quiets)

'Tis full three months
since I did see him last.

- My liege!
- Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you?

I have, my liege.

Then you perceive the body of our kingdom,
how foul it is, what rank diseases grow.

They say young Percy and Lord Worcester
are , strong.

(murmuring resumes)

Here is Sir Walter Blunt, my lord,
new lighted from his horse.

My liege, Northumberland lies sick,

but a great power of English and of Scots
follow young Henry Percy.

Yea, there thou mak'st me sad

and mak'st me sin in envy

that my Lord Northumberland
should be the father to so blest a son.

A son that is the theme of honor's tongue.

Whilst I, in looking on the praise of him,
see riot and dishonor stain the brow

of my young Harry.

O, that it could be proved
that some night-tripping fairy

had exchanged in cradle clothes
our children where they lay.

Then would I have his Harry

and he mine.

Where does the Prince of Wales?

We do not know, my lord.

I would to God, my lords,
he could be found.

Inquire at London
'mongst the taverns there,

for there, they say, he daily doth frequent

with unrestrained, loose companions.

Even such, they say,
as stand in narrow lanes

and beat our watch and rob our passengers,

which he, young, wanton and effeminate boy,
takes on the point of honor

to support so dissolute a crew.

Got with much ease! (laughs)

The virtue of this jest will be
the incomprehensible lies

this same fat rogue will tell us now ‒

how at least he fought with,

what wards, what blows ‒
(laughing continues)

what extremities he endured!

(groaning)

A plague on all cowards!

(groaning continues)

A plague on all cowards, still say I.

And a vengeance too.

Give me a cup of sack.

How now, Jack! Where hast thou been?

A plague on all cowards!

FALSTAFF: Go thy ways, old Jack.

Die when I wilt.

If manhood, good manhood,
be not forgot upon the face of the earth,

then I'm a shotten herring.

There lives not three good men
unhanged in England,

and one of them is fat and grows old,
God help the while.

How now, woolsack?

- A king's son.
- (bells pealing)

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 me face more,
you Prince of Wales.

- Why, you whoreson round man!
- POINS: You fat guts!

What's the matter?

Are you not a coward?
Answer that! And Poins there.

Call me coward? You fat paunch!

I call thee coward? I'll see thee damned
ere I call thee coward.

But I'd give a thousand pounds
if I could run as fast as thou canst.

- What's the matter?
- What's the matter?

There be four of us here
have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.

A thousand pound? Where is it?

- Where is it, Jack?
- Where is it? Taken from us, it is.

- A hundred upon poor four of us.
- What, a hundred men?

I was at half-sword with a dozen of them
two hours together.

I have 'scaped by a 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!

Ecce signum. Let them speak.

- Speak, sirs!
- We four set upon some dozen.

Sixteen, at least.

And bound them. And as we were sharing,
some six or seven fresh men set upon us.

- What, fought you with them all?
- All? I know not what you call "all."

But if I fought not with of them,
then I'm a bunch of radish.

If there were not upon poor old Jack,
then I'm no two-legged creature.

Pray God
you have not m*rder*d some of them.

Nay, that's... past praying for.

I have peppered two of them.
Two I'm sure I've paid for.

Two rogues in buckram cloaks.

I tell thee what, Hal ‒ I tell thee a lie,
spit in me face, call me "horse."

Thus I bore me point. Four rogues
in buckram cloaks let drive at me.

- Four?
- Four? Thou said but two even now.

Four, Hal. I told thee four.

These four came all afront
and mainly thrust at me.

I made me no more ado but took
all seven of their points in me target, thus.

Seven? Why, there were
but four even now.

- Uh, in buckram?
- Aye. Four in buckram cloaks.

Seven, by these hilts,
or I'm a villain else!

(whispers)
Let him alone. We shall have more anon.

Dost thou hear me, Hal?

- Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
- Do so, for it is worth the listening to.

These, uh, nine in buckram
that I told thee of ‒

Two more already.

began to give me ground.

I followed me close,
came in, foot and hand,

and with a thought,
seven of the I paid.

(murmuring) O monstrous!
Eleven buckram men grown out of two.

But as the devil would have it,
three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green

came at me back and let drive at me.

For it was so dark, Hal,
I couldst not see the hand.

These lies are like their father
that begets them.

Why, thou clay-brained guts,
thou knotty-pated fool,

thou whoreson obscene,
greasy tallow-catch!

Art thou mad? Is not the truth the truth?

Why, how couldst thou know
these men in Kendal green

when it was so dark
thou couldst not see thy hand?

Come, tell us your reason!
What sayest thou to this?

Come, your reason, Jack. Your reason.

Upon compulsion?

Zounds, and I were at the strappado
or all the racks of the world,

I would not tell you on compulsion.

I'll be no longer guilty of this sin!

This sanguine coward,
this horseback-breaker,

this huge hill of flesh ‒

'Sblood, you starveling,

you eel-skin, you dried neat's tongue,
you stockfish!

O for breath to utter what is like to thee!

You tailor's yardstick,
you sheath, you bowcase,

you vile standing tuck!

Well, breathe a while,
and then to it again.

Yet hear me speak but this.

We two saw you four set on four.

Mark now how a plain tale
shall put you down.

And, Falstaff, you carried yourself away

as nimbly, with as quick dexterity
and roared for mercy,

and still run and roared
as ever I heard bullcalf.

What a sl*ve to hack thy sword
and say it was in fight.

What trick, what device,
what starting hole canst thou now find out

to hide thee from this open
and apparent shame?

Come, Jack. Let's hear.
What trick hast thou now?

By the Lord, lads,
I know you as well as he that made you.

- (both laughing)
- Was it for me to k*ll the heir apparent?

Should I turn upon the true prince?

Thou knowest I'm as valiant as Hercules,
but beware instinct.

The lion will not touch the true prince.
I was now a coward upon instinct.

By the Lord, lads,
I'm glad you have the money.

HOSTESS: My lord the prince!

There's a nobleman of the court at the door.
He would speak with you!

- How now, my lady hostess?
- He says he comes from your father.

Give him as much as will make him a royal man
and send him back again to my mother.

- (laughs)
- What manner of man is he?

(laughs) An old man.

What does gravity out of his bed at midnight?

- Shall I give him his answer?
- Prithee do, Ned.

Clap to the doors.
Watch tonight, pray tomorrow.

Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold!

What, shall we be merry?
Shall we have a play extempore?

A play?

Thou will be horribly cheered when
thou com'st to thy father in the morning.

And thou lovest me, practice an answer.

Do thou stand for my father?

(chuckles) Gents.

This chair shall be me state,
this cushion my crown.

(laughing)

(laughing continues)

Here was Sir Thomas Bracy from your father.
There's villainous news abroad.

- That same mad fellow of the North ‒
- Percy?

He that kills me some six or seven dozen
of Scots at a breakfast,

washes his hands and says to his wife,
"Fie upon this quiet life. I want work!"

Hal, could the world pick you out
such an enemy again

as that fiend Percy,
the Hotspur of the North?

Does not thy blood thrill of it?
Art not thou horrible afeared?

Not a whit, i'faith.
I lack some of thy instinct.

(laughing continues)

Give me a cup of sack
to make the eyes look red

that it may be thought I have wept,
for I must speak in a passion.

- (laughing continues)
- (dogs barking)

(grunting)

Harry!

I do not only marvel
where thou spendest thy time,

but also how thou art accompanied.

(laughing) He doth it just like one
of these harlotry players, as ever I see!

Peace, good pint pot.
Peace, good tickle-brain.

That thou art my son
I have partly thy mother's word,

partly mine own opinion,

but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye

and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip
that doth warrant me.

If then thou be a son to me,
here lies the point!

Why, being son to me,
art thou so pointed at?

There is a thing, Harry, which thou
hast heard of by the name of pitch.

Pitch doth defile.
So doth the company thou keepest.

(whimpers)

And yet there is a virtuous man
who I have often noted in thy company,

but I know not his name.

What manner of man,
and it like Your Majesty?

A goodly, portly man, i'faith,
and a corpulent,

of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye
and a most noble carriage.

And, as I think, his age some ‒

- (Hal hoots)
- Or by'r lady, inclining to threescore.

And now I remember me, his name ‒

Falstaff!

If that man should be lewdly given,
he deceiveth me,

for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks.

Him keep with!

The rest... banish.

Dost thou speak like a king?
Do thou stand for me?

- (laughter, applause)
- I'll play my father!

- Depose me?
- (laughs)

HAL: Here I am set.
FALSTAFF: And here I stand.

- Now, Harry, whence comes you?
- My noble lord, from Eastcheap.

(wails) The complaints
I hear of thee are grievous.

'Sblood, my lord, they are false!

(mutters) Nay, I'll tickle ye
for a young prince.

HAL: There is a devil haunts thee
in the likeness of an old, fat man.

A tun of man is thy companion.

Why dost thou converse
with that trunk of humors,

that bolting-hutch of beastliness,

that swollen parcel of dropsies,

that huge bombard of sack,
that stuffed cloakbag,

that roasted Manningtree ox,

that reverend Vice, that gray iniquity,
that father ruffian,

that vanity in years?

Wherein is he good,
but to taste sack and drink it?

Wherein neat and cleanly,
but to carve a capon and eat it?

Wherein cunning, but in craft?
Wherein crafty, but in villainy?

Wherein villainous, but in all things?

Wherein worthy, but in nothing?

(laughing continues)

I would Your Grace would take me with you.

Who means Your Grace?

That villainous, abominable
misleader of youth!

- Falstaff!
- Falstaff!

That old, white-bearded Satan.

- My lord, the man I know.
- I know thou dost.

But to say I know more harm in him
than I know in myself

- (knocking)
- is to say more than I know.

That he is old, the more's the pity.

His white hairs do witness it.

But that he is, saving your reverence,
an old Satan, that I utterly deny!

(knocking continues)

If sack and sugar be a fault,
then God help the wicked!

If to be old and merry be a sin,

then many an old host that I know
is damned.

And if to be fat is to be hated,
then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved.

No, my good lord, banish Peto,
banish Bardolph, banish Poins,

but for sweet Jack Falstaff,

kind Jack Falstaff,

true Jack Falstaff,

- valiant Jack Falstaff ‒
- (laughing)

and therefore more valiant being,
as he is, old Jack Falstaff,

banish not him thy Harry's company.

Banish not him thy Harry's company.

Banish plump Jack,
and banish all the world.

- (laughter, applause)
- I do!

I will.

- O Jesu, my lord, my lord!
- What's the matter?

The sheriff and all the watch
are at the door!

Play out the play. Play out the play!

I have much to say
on behalf of that Falstaff.

(women screaming)

(dogs barking)

Go hide thee, Jack. Now, my masters,
for a true face and a good conscience.

Both of which I have had,
but their date is out.

Therefore, I'll hide me.

- Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me?
- (clears throat)

Pardon me, my lord.

A hue and cry have followed
certain men into this house.

- What men?
- One of them is well known, my gracious lord.

- A gross, fat man.
- As fat as butter!

The man, I do assure you, is not here.

And so, let me entreat you leave the house.

I will, my lord.

(laughing)

(bells pealing)

There are two gentlemen
have in this robbery lost marks.

If he have robbed these men,
he shall be answerable.

And so farewell.

Good night, my noble lord.

(dogs barking)

I'll to the court in the morning.
We must all to the walls.

Good night, my noble lord.

(groans)

I think it be good morrow, is it not?

Indeed, my lord. I think it be : .

FALSTAFF:
We must all to the wars, eh, lad?

- Hostess, my breakfast!
- You owe me money, Sir John!

And money lent you, four and pounds.

Oh, you thing.

What thing? I am no thing.
I am an honest man's wife.

And setting thy knighthood aside,
thou art a knave to call me so.

Setting thy womanhood aside,
thou art a beast to say otherwise.

- (laughing)
- Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?

What beast? Why... an otter.

An otter, Sir John? Why an otter?

O, she's neither fish nor flesh.
A man knows not where to have her.

O, thou art an unjust man for saying so!

Thou or any man knows
where to have me, thou knave, thou!

Thou sayest true, Hostess,
and he slanders thee most grossly.

So he doth you, my lord,
and said you owed him a thousand pounds.

Jack, do I owe thee a thousand pounds?

A thousand pounds, Hal? A million.

Thy love is worth a million.

Thou owest me thy love.

(laughing)

Well, my sweet beef,
I must still be good angel to thee.

My lord, he called you a jack
and a sneak-cup

and said he would cudgel you.

- Darest thou be as good as thy word now?
- Well, Hal, as a man I dare.

But as a prince,

I fear thee as I fear
the roaring of a lion's whelp.

- And why not as the lion?
- The king himself is to be feared as the lion.

Dost though think that I'll fear thee
as I fear thy father?

The money shall be paid back again,
with advantage.

I like not that paying back.
'Tis a double labor.

Thou whoreson...

- little, tidy Bartholomew boar-pig.
- How now, Doll.

Come.

I'll be friends with thee, Jack.

Thou art going to the wars,

and whether I shall ever
see thee again or not,

there's nobody cares.

(hoofbeats)

(bell tolling)

Hal!

Farewell, blown Jack!

Farewell, All-hallown summer!

(bell continues tolling)

Percy, Northumberland,
the Archbishop's grace of York,

Douglas, Mortimer...

capitulate against us and are up.

But wherefore do I tell this news to thee.

Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
base inclination and the start of spleen,

to fight against me under Percy's pay,

to dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns,

to show how much thou art degenerate.

Lords, give us leave.

The Prince of Wales and I
must have some needful conference alone.

I know not whether God will have it so

that in his secret doom,

out of my blood he'll breed revengement

and a scourge for me
to punish my mistreadings.

Tell me else.

Could such inordinate and low desires,

such barren pleasures, rude society,

accompany the greatness of thy blood?

So please Your Majesty ‒

Had I so lavish of my presence been,

so stale and cheap to vulgar company,

opinion, that did help me to the crown,

had left me in reputeless banishment.

(bell tolling)

The skipping king, he ambled up and down,
with shallow jesters and rash bavin wits

mingled his royalty with capering fools,

grew a companion to the common streets.

So when he had occasion to be seen,

he was but as the cuckoo is in June,
heard, not regarded ‒

seen, but with such eyes
as sick and blunted with community,

afford no extraordinary gaze,

such as is bent on sunlike majesty.

And in that very line, Harry, stands thou.

For thou has lost thy princely privilege

with vile participation.

Not an eye but is aweary
of thy common sight,

save mine,

that hath desired to see thee more.

I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,
be more myself.

Harry, for all the world
as thou art to this hour was Richard then,

when I from France
set foot in Ravenspurgh.

And even as I was then is Percy now.

Now, by my scepter and my soul to boot,

he hath more worthy interest
to the state than thou.

Do not think so!

You shall not find it so.

I will redeem all this on Percy's head

and, in the closing of some glorious day,
be bold to tell you that I am your son.

And that shall be the day,
whene'er it lights,

that this same child of honor and renown,
this gallant Hotspur, this all-praisèd knight,

and your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.

Then will I make this Northern youth
exchange his glorious deeds

for my indignities!

This in the name of God...

I promise here.

The Earl of Westmoreland sets forth today.

On Wednesday next, Harry,
you shall set forth.

Our hands are full of business.
Let's away.

(bells tolling)

(onlookers gasping)

(chattering, laughing)

Pish!

"Pish" for thee,
thou prick-ear'd cur of Iceland.

We must to the wars together.

Why the devil should we keep knives
to cut one another's throats?

O viper vile, now p*stol's cock is up.

And flashing fire will follow.

p*stol, pay me the eight shillings
I won of you at betting.

- Base is the sl*ve that pays.
- Shog off!

(excited shouting)

(cackling, chattering)

What's he that goes there?

- Falstaff, an't please Your Lordship.
- He that is in question for the robbery?

DOLL: Jack!

My Lord Chief Justice.

I heard say Your Lordship was sick.
I hope Your Lordship goes abroad by advice.

Your Lordship, while not
clean past his youth, has yet some...

smack of age in him,
some relish of the saltness of time.

I most humbly beseech Your Lordship
to have a reverent care of your health.

Ah, my Lord Westmoreland.

I heard say Your Lordship
had already been at Shrewsbury.

- 'Tis more than time I were there, and you too.
- What, the king encamped?

He is, Sir John.
I fear we should all stay too long.

Sir John, methinks your soldiers
are exceeding poor and bare.

No eye has seen such scarecrows.

FALSTAFF: If I'm not ashamed of me soldiers,
I'm a sous'd gurnet.

I've misused the king's purse damnably.

I pressed me none but good householders.

They've bought out their services,

and now me whole charge consists
of younger sons to younger brothers,

revolted tapsters and ostlers trade-fallen,

the cankers of a calm world
and a long peace.

- We must away all night, Falstaff.
- The king, I can tell you, looks for us all.

- Goes the prince with you?
- The prince?

You follow him up and down
like his ill angel.

- Falstaff, you have misled the youthful prince.
- The young prince has misled me.

The truth is, you live in great infamy.

Your means are very slender,
and your waste is great.

I would it were otherwise.

I would my means were greater
and my waist slender.

There is not a white hair on your face
but should have his effect on gravity.

His effect on gravy, gravy, gravy.

My lords, you that are old consider not
the capacities of us that are young.

Falstaff!

You do measure the heat of our livers
with the bitterness of your galls.

Do you set down your name
in the scroll of youth?

You that are written down old
with all the characters of age?

Have you not a moist eye,
a dry hand, a yellow cheek?

- A white beard?
- A decreasing leg?

- An increasing belly?
- Is not your voice broken, your wind short?

- Your chin doubled?
- Your wit singled?

And every part about you blasted with antiquity?
And will you yet call yourself young?

My lord, I was born about : in the afternoon
with a white head and something a round belly.

My voice, I've lost it
with hallowing and singing of anthems.

Sir John, Sir John,
you loiter here too long,

being as we're to take
more soldiers in counties as we go.

On, Corporal Nym.

Well, be honest, be honest,
and God bless your expedition.

Could Your Grace lend me a thousand pound
to furnish me forth?

Not a penny. Not a penny. Fare you well.

- My lord?
- Not a penny.

Bardolph, go thee before
and fetch me a bottle of sack.

Will you give me money, Captain?

Well, God send the prince
a better companion.

(Falstaff laughs)

God send the companion a better prince!

How now!

The Earl of Westmoreland, , strong,
is marching hitherwards. With him, Prince John.

No harm. What more?

Further, we have learned
the king himself in person is set forth.

He shall be welcome too.

Where is his son,

the nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales,

and his comrades
that daffed the world aside and bid it pass?

All furnished, all in arms.

For God's sake, cousin,
stay till all come in.

O gentlemen, the time of life is short.

To spend that shortness basely
were too long

if life did ride upon a dial's point,
still ending at the arrival of an hour.

And if we live, we live to tread on kings.

If die,

brave death when princes die with us.

Justice Shallow?

I am Robert Shallow, sir,
a poor esquire of this county

and one of the king's
justices of the peace.

My captain commends him to you.

My captain, sir, Sir John Falstaff,

a tall gentleman, by heaven,
and a most gallant leader.

He greets me well, sir.
He greets me well, sir!

- Davy?
- He's come hither.

- (stammering)
- Let me see. Let me see. Where's the roll?

- The soldiers.
- Mmm!

Use these men well, Davy, for they
are arrant knaves and will backbite.

No worse than they are backbitten, sir,
for they have marvelous foul linen.

Oh, well conceited, Davy!

Look. Here comes Sir John.
About thy business, Davy.

Give me your good hand!

Give me Your Worship's good hand!

Welcome, good Sir John.

Good master Robert Shallow.
I'm glad to see you well.

'Fore God, you have here
a goodly dwelling and a rich, rich...

Oh, barren, barren, barren.

Nay, you shall see my orchard

where, in an arbor, we will eat
a last year's pippin of my own grafting.

With a dish of caraways!

Have you provided me here
with a half a dozen... sufficient... men?

We have! We have, sir.

Come, sir. Will you sit?

Let me see, let me see. Where's the roll?

Davy!

Robert Shallow. (chuckles)

I 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 forked radish,

with a head fantastically
carved upon it with a knife.

Was the very genius of famine,
yet lecherous as a monkey.

And now is this vice's dagger
become a squire,

and has lands and beeves.

Hmm.

Well, I'll be acquainted with him.

I will use him well, Davy,

for a friend in the court
is better than a penny in the purse.

Let me see, let me see.

(stammering)
Let them appear as you call, cousin.

Master Surecard, as I think?

- Silence!
- (stammering)

Oh, Sir John, it is my cousin Silence,
in commission with me.

Master Silence, it well befits you
should be of the peace.

The same, Sir John.
The very same. (chuckles)

- (grumbles)
- Your g ‒

good... worship is w-w ‒

Ah, 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.

O Jesu, Jesu!

- The mad days that I have seen.
- (Falstaff chuckles)

Master Silence.
Let me see your men, Master Silence.

Let them appear as you call, cousin.
Let them do so. Let them do so.

(stuttering) M ‒ M ‒ M ‒

- Moldy.
- FALSTAFF: Moldy?

- Aye, sir.
- 'Tis the more time thou art used.

(Shallow laughing) Oh, dear!

Things that are moldy lack use.

- Eh, Sir John?
- Prick him.

- You could have let me alone!
- O, prick him!

My old dame will be undone now for one
to do her husbandry and her drudgery.

- Prick him.
- SHALLOW: O, prick him!

SILENCE: P-P-Prick him.

- Thomas Wart.
- Yes, sir?

- There are other men fitter to go than I.
- Stand aside, Moldy.

- (objects crashing)
- Shall I pick Wart, sir?

It were superfluous.
The whole frame stands upon frames.

Prick him no more.

- FALSTAFF: Who's next?
- Simon Shadow.

FALSTAFF: Shadow?
Let me have him to sit under.

You can do it, sir. You can do it!

Prick him.

FALSTAFF: Who's next?

F-F ‒ F-F ‒

(stuttering)

- Francis Feeble.
- (exhales)

- FALSTAFF: What trade art thou, Feeble?
- A woman's tailor, sir.

Wilt thou make as many holes
in an enemy's battle

as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?

I will do my good will, sir.
You can have no more.

Well said, good woman's tailor!

Well said, courageous Feeble.

I will be as valiant as the wrathful dove
or most magnanimous mouse.

Prick me the woman's tailor well,
Master Silence.

Deep, Master Silence.

- (objects crashing)
- FALSTAFF: Who's next?

Peter Bullcalf of the green.

- O Lord, good me lord ‒
- Dost thou roar before thou art pricked?

O Lord sir, I'm a diseased man.

- What disease hast thou?
- A cold, sir.

A cough, sir, which I caught
with ringing in the king's affairs

upon his coronation day.

We will have away thy cold,

and I will give such orders
thy friends shall ring for thee.

- Prick him. Is here all?
- Here is more called than your number, sir.

- Good Master Corporate Captain, sir ‒
- Go to!

I had as lief be hanged, sir,
as go to the wars.

Good Master Captain.

Four Harry shillings
in French crowns for you.

Outside.

You shall have , sir,
for my old dame's sake.

She has nobody to do anything
about her when I'm gone.

- She is old and cannot help herself.
- Stand aside!

Let it go which way it will.

He that dies this year is quit of the next.

Sir, a word with you.

I have three pounds
to free Moldy and Bullcalf.

Moldy, stay at home
till you are past service.

Bullcalf, grow until you come into it.
I'll none of you.

They are your likeliest men.

Will you tell me, Master Shallow,
how to choose a man?

Now, here's Wart.

I shall charge you and discharge you
with the motion of a pewterer's hammer.

- And this same half-faced fellow ‒
- Shadow.

Give me this fellow.
He presents no mark to the enemy.

And for a retreat, how swiftly will
this Feeble, this woman's tailor, run off?

(chuckles)

Give me the spare man
and spare me the great ones.

Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.
I thank you.

- SHALLOW: Sir John, God keep you!
- Farewell!

Bardolph, give the soldiers coats!

- BARDOLPH: Coats?
- FALSTAFF: 'Tis no matter.

They'll find linen enough on every hedge.

- SHALLOW: Sir John!
- Keep well, Master Shallow!

SHALLOW: The Lord bless you!

God prosper your affairs!

God send us peace!

♪♪ (trumpets: fanfare)

How now, my Lord of Worcester.

'Tis not well that you and I
should meet upon such terms.

You have deceived our trust

and made us doff our easy robes of peace

to crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.

- This is not well, my lord.
- My liege, I do protest.

I have not sought the day of this dislike.

You have not sought it, sir?
How comes it then?

Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

Peace, chewet, peace.

Go tell your nephew the Prince of Wales
doth join with all the world

in praise of Henry Percy.

I do not think a braver gentleman,
more daring or more bold, is now alive.

For my part, I may speak it to my shame.
I have a truant been to chivalry.

But yet, before my father's majesty,

I will, to save the blood on either side,
try fortune with him in a single fight.

No, we love our people well,

even those we love that are misled
upon your cousin's part.

And, will they take the offer of our grace,

both he and they and you,

yea, every man shall be my friend again,
and I'll be his.

We offer fair.

Take it advisedly.

♪♪ (trumpets: fanfare)

It will not be accepted,

on my life.

Then God befriend us,

as our cause is just.

Good cousin, let not Harry know,
in any case, the offer of the king.

HOTSPUR: Uncle, what news?

WORCESTER:
There is no seeming mercy in the king.

He calls us rebels, traitors,

and will scourge with haughty arms
this hateful name in us.

Arm! Arm with speed!

And fellows, soldiers, friends,
let each man do his best.

And here draw I a sword
whose temper I intend to stain

with the best blood
that I can meet withal.

The Prince of Wales
stepped forth before the king

and, nephew, challenged you
to single fight.

Now by my soul, I would that the quarrel
lay upon our heads

and that no man
might draw short breath today

but I and Harry Monmouth.

I would 'twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.

Why? Thou owest God a death.

'Tis not due yet.

I would be loath to pay him
before his day.

What need I be so forward with him
that calls not on me?

Well, no matter. Honor pricks me on.

Yea, but how if honor prick me off
when I come on? How then?

Can honor set to a leg? No.
Or an arm? No.

Or take away the grief of a wound? No.
Honor hath no skill in surgery then, no.

What is honor?

Air. A trim reckoning.

Who hath it? He that died a-Wednesday.

Doth he feel it? No.

'Tis he insensible then? Yea, to the dead.

But will it not live with the living? No.

Why? Detraction will not suffer it.
Therefore, I'll none of it.

Honor is a mere scutcheon.

And so ends my catechism.

HOTSPUR: Come, let me taste my horse,

that is to bear me like a thunderbolt
against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.

Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,

meet and ne'er part

till one drop down a corse.

(armor crashing)

(horse whinnies)

(whinnying continues)

(men shouting)

MAN: St. George and England!

(all shouting)

(shouting continues)

- (groans)
- (gasps)

(whinnying)

Ride! (shouts)

(whistles)

(whistles)

(ferocious shouting)

(man shouts)

(men shouting)

(horse whinnies)

(man screams)

(man shouts)

(groans)

Mercy! Mercy!

(ferocious shouting)

(men shouting)

(grunts)

(all shouting)

(whinnying)

(shouting)

(men roaring)

(screaming)

Aaah!

(men roaring)

(shouting)

(roaring)

What, stand'st thou idle here?

Give me leave to breathe a while.

Turk Gregory never did such deeds
as I have done this day.

I have paid Percy.
I have made him sure.

He is indeed, and living to k*ll thee.

If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.

Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.

My name is Harry Percy.

Two stars keep not their motion
in one sphere,

nor can one England brook a double reign
of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.

Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
to end the one of us.

(whinnying)

(swords clashing)

To it! (laughs) To it!

FALSTAFF:
Here's no boys' play, I warrant you.

Oh, Harry,

thou hast robbed me of my youth.

I better brook the loss of brittle life
than these proud titles thou hast won of me.

They wound my thoughts worse
than thy sword my flesh.

But thought's the sl*ve of life,

and life time's fool,

and time, that makes survey
of all the world,

must have a stop.

O, I could prophesy,

but that the earthy and cold hand
of death lies on my tongue.

No, Percy, thou art dust and food for ‒

For worms, brave Percy.

Fare thee well, great heart.

Ill-weaved ambition,
how much art thou shrunk.

When that this body did contain a spirit,
a kingdom for it was too small a bound.

But now two paces of the vilest earth
is room enough.

This earth that bears thee dead
bears not alive so stout a gentleman.

Adieu.

What, old acquaintance!

Could not all this flesh
keep in a little life?

Poor Jack, farewell.

I could have better spared a better man.

Emboweled will I see thee by and by.

Emboweled?

If thou embowel me today, I'll give you leave
to powder me and eat me tomorrow.

'Twas time to counterfeit.

The better part of valor is discretion,

in the which part I have saved my life.

Zounds, this gunpowder Percy.

I'll swear I k*lled him.

♪♪ (trumpets: fanfare)

The trumpet sounds retreat!

The day is ours!

Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.

Ill-spirited Worcester,

did we not send grace, pardon
and terms of love to all of you?

What I have done my safety urged me to.

Bear Worcester to the death.

Other offenders we will pause upon.

Come, brother,
let us to the highest of the field,

to see what friends are living,
who are dead.

There's your Percy. (exhales)

If your father will do me any honor, so.

If not, let him k*ll the next Percy himself.

- HAL: Why, Percy I k*lled.
- Didst thou?

And saw thee dead.

Lord, Lord,
how this world is given to lying.

I grant you I was down and out of breath,
and so was he.

But we rose both at an instant and fought
a long hour by Shrewsbury clock.

I look to be either earl or duke,
I assure you.

- (man shouts)
- (men chattering)

Rebellion in this land shall lose its sway,

meeting the check of such another day.

Falstaff, you are going with Prince John
of Lancaster against Northumberland.

There is not a dangerous action
could peep out his head

but I'm thrust upon it.

Well, I cannot last ever, but it was always
the trick of our English nation,

if they have a good thing,
to make it too common.

Well, Falstaff, the king hath
severed you and Prince Harry.

Yes, I thank your pretty wit for it.
(chuckles)

Prince John of Lancaster! Good faith.

This same sober-blooded boy
doth not love me,

nor a man cannot make him laugh.

But that's no marvel. He drinks no wine.

There's never any of these demure boys
come to any proof,

for thin drink
doth so overcool their blood

that they are generally fools and cowards,

which some of us should be too,
but for inflammation.

(laughing)

A good sherris-sack
hath a two-fold operation in it.

It ascends me into the brain
and dries me there

all the foolish, dull and cruddy vapors
which environ it,

makes it apprehensive, quick,

forgetive, full of nimble, fiery
and delectable shapes,

which, delivered o'er to the voice,
the tongue, which is the birth,

becomes excellent wit.

The second property of your excellent
sherris is the warming of the blood.

The sherris warms it
and makes it course from the inwards

to the parts extreme.

And hereof comes it
that Prince Harry is valiant,

(cheering)

for the cold blood
he did naturally inherit of his father,

he hath, like lean, sterile, bare land,
manured, husbanded and tilled

with excellent endeavor of drinking good
and good store of fertile sherris,

that he is become very hot and valiant.

If I had a thousand sons,

the first humane principle
I would teach them would be this ‒

to forswear thin potations
and to addict themselves...

to sack!

(men laughing)

NARRATOR: From the first,
King Henry's reign was troubled with rebellion.

But in the year of our Lord, ,

the last of his enemies
had been vanquished.

The king held his Christmas
this year at London,

being sore vexed with sickness.

Many good morrows to Your Majesty.

- Is it good morrow, lords?
- 'Tis : and past.

Why, then good morrow
to you all, my lords.

The Prince of Wales.

- My lord?
- Where is he?

Is he not with his brother,
John of Lancaster?

No, my good lord. He isn't present here.

Please it Your Grace to go to bed.

Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill,

and these unseasoned hours perforce
must add unto your sickness.

What would my lord and father?

- Why art thou not at Windsor with the prince?
- He is not there today.

He dines in London.

And how accompanied?
Canst thou tell me that?

With Poins
and other his continual followers.

Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds,

and he, the noble image of my youth,
is overspread with them.

Therefore, my grief stretches itself
beyond the hour of death.

The blood weeps from my heart

when I do shape, in forms imaginary,

the unguided days and rotten times
that you shall look upon

when I am sleeping with my ancestors.

My gracious lord,
you look beyond him quite.

The Prince of Wales will,
in the perfectness of time,

cast off his followers.

'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave
her comb in the dead carrion.

- (crown clatters)
- (chattering, murmuring)

Be patient, lords!

You do know these fits
are with His Highness very ordinary.

No, no, he cannot long
hold out these pangs.

The incessant care and labor of his mind

hath wrought the mure
that should confine it in so thin

that life looks through
and will break out.

The crown!

Set me the crown upon my pillow here.

Let there be no noise, my gentle friends,

unless some dull and favorable hand

will whisper music to my weary spirit.

Call for the music in the other room.

♪♪ (small band: ballad)

The people fear me,

for they do observe unfathered heirs
and loathly births of nature.

The seasons change their manners,

as the year had found some months asleep
and leaped them over.

The river hath thrice flowed,
no ebb between,

and the old folk,
time's doting chronicles,

say it did so a little time before that
our great-grandsire, Edward,

sicked and died.

How many thousands 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 would weigh mine eyelids down

and steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, sleep,
liest thou in smoky cribs,

upon uneasy pallets stretching thee

and hushed with buzzing night-flies
to thy slumber

than in the perfumed chambers
of the great,

under the canopies of costly state

and lulled with sounds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull god,

why liest thou with the vile
in loathsome beds,

and leav'st the kingly couch
a watchcase or a common larum bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
seal up the ship boy's eyes

and rock his brain in cradle
of the rude imperious surge

and in the visitation of the winds,

which take the ruffian billows by the top,
curling their monstrous heads

and hanging them with deafening clamor
in the slippery shrouds,

that, with the hurly, death itself awakes?

But 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.

Before God,

I am exceeding weary.

Is't come to that?

I had thought weariness durst not have
attached itself to one of so high blood.

Faith, it does me,

though it discolors the complexion
of my greatness to acknowledge it.

- God save Your Grace!
- Yours, most noble Bardolph.

How doth thy master?

In bodily health, sir.

"John Falstaff, knight,

to the son of the king,
nearest his father,

Harry, Prince of Wales, greeting."

(chuckling)

"Be not too familiar with" ‒

You allow this wen to be
as familiar with me as your dog.

"Be not too familiar with Poins,
for he misuses thy favors so much

that he swears thou art
to marry his sister."

My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack
and make him eat it.

"Repent at idle times as thou mayest,
and so, farewell.

Thine, by yea and no, which is as much
as to say, as thou usest him,

Jack Falstaff with my familiars,
John with my brothers and sisters

and Sir John with all Europe."

- Is he in London?
- Yes, sir. With Mistress Doll Tearsheet.

Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?

You, boy, and Bardolph,
no word to your master

that I am yet come to town.

There's for your silence.

I have no tongue, sir.

And for mine, sir, I will govern it.

Doth it now show very vilely in me
to desire small beer?

Tell me, how many
good young princes would do so,

their fathers being so sick as yours
at this time is?

What a disgrace is it to me
to remember thy name

or to know thy face tomorrow.

Do you use me thus, Ned?
Must I marry your sister?

God send the wench no worse fortune.

But I never said so.

- Come, Ned.
- I am your shadow, my lord.

I follow you.

'Sblood.

I'm as melancholy
as a gib cat or a lugged bear.

Sir John, you are so fretful,
you cannot live long.

Well, there it is.

I'll tell you what I am about.

Two yards, and more.

Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about,

but I am now about no waste.

I'm about thrift.

I must turn away some of my followers.

There's no remedy.

I will employ Bardolph.
He shall draw here for me.

A tapster is a good trade.

Lads, I am...

almost out at heels.

Hello, Doll.

- Is that all the comfort you give me?
- (knocking)

Who knocks so loud at door?

- That muddy rascal.
- You make fat rascals, Doll.

I make them?
Gluttony and diseases make them.

If the cook help to make the gluttony,

you help to make the diseases
we catch of you.

- Hmm?
- Oh!

We catch of you, for to serve bravely
is to come halting off, you know,

to come off the breach
with his pike bent bravely,

and to surgery bravely,

to venture upon
the charged chambers bravely.

Hang yourself, you muddy conger!
Hang yourself!

You two never meet
but you fall to some discord.

(groaning)

You are both, in good truth,
as rheumatic as two dry toasts.

(Doll retching)

But, in faith, sweetheart,
you have drunk too much canaries.

- How do you now?
- Better than I was.

Oh, why, that's well said.
A good heart's better than gold.

(Doll groaning)

What the goodyear!

One must bear, and that must be you.

- Sir, it's p*stol. He'd speak with you.
- (shouts) p*stol?

The foulest mouth rogue in England!

Hang him, swaggering rascal!

- Swagger?
- Empty the Jordan.

If he swagger, let him not come here.

- He's no swaggerer, hostess.
- A tame cheater, in faith.

You may stroke him as gentle
as a puppy greyhound.

- p*stol!
- God save you, Sir John!

p*stol, I charge you with a cup of sack.
You discharge upon mine hostess.

I will discharge upon her,
Sir John, with two b*ll*ts.

- (Falstaff laughing)
- (screaming)

She's p*stol-proof, sir.
You shall hardly offend her.

Then to you, Mistress Dorothy,
I will charge you.

Charge me? You filthy bung!

Get me my rapier, Bardolph.

I'll thrust my knife in your moldy chaps,
and you play the saucy cuttle with me.

God let me not live,
but I'll bury your ruff for this.

p*stol, I would not have you go off here.

- HOSTESS: Not here, sweet captain.
- Captain?

- Pray thee, go down, good captain.
- You, a captain?

For what? For tearing a poor whore's ruff
in a bawdy house?

(grunts) Shall hollow pampered jades
of Asia compare with Caesars

and with cannibals and with Trojan Greeks?

- Come.
- (screams) Nay!

Get here a judge!

p*stol: What! Shall we have incision?
Shall we imbrue?

Why, then let grievous, ghastly, gaping
wounds untwine the Sisters Three!

Come, Atropos, I say!

Jack! Are you not hurt in the groin?

I thought he made a shrewd thrust
at your belly.

A rascal sl*ve.

O you sweet little rogue.

A rascal bragging sl*ve.

You whoreson little valiant villain, you.

Poor ape, how you're sweating.

The rogue fled from me like quicksilver.

Come, let me wipe thy face.

Come on, you whoreson chops.

O rogue, i'faith, I love you.

- I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
- Do, and thou darest for thy heart.

And thou dost, I'll canvass thee
between a pair of sheets.

The music is come, sir.

FALSTAFF: Let them play.

Play, sirs!

♪♪ (small band: ballad)

What stuff will have a kirtle of?

I shall receive money Thursday.

Shalt have a cap tomorrow.

Come, sing me a bawdy song

to make me merry.

Thou wilt forget me...

when I'm gone.

You start me weeping, if you say so.

Kiss me, Doll.

Is it not strange that desire should
so many years outlive performance?

Thou dost give me...

flattering busses.

I kiss thee with a most constant heart.

I am old.

I am old.

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

- Jack?
- Hmm?

What humor's the prince made of?

- The Prince of Wales?
- Mmm.

(chuckles) A good, shallow young fellow.

(whispers) Would not this knave
have his ears cut off?

- They say Poins has a good wit.
- Poins?

(scoffs) A good wit?

Let's beat him before his whore.

The prince himself is such another.

The weight of a hair will not turn the scale
between their avoirdupois.

(clattering)

- Ha! A bastard son of the king!
- (laughing)

- And thou, art thou not Poins, his brother?
- (laughing)

My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge,
if you take not the heat.

What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?

No abuse, Hal.

Old, cold, withered
and of intolerable entrails?

Thou and art indeed
the rascaliest, sweet young Prince.

How vilely did you speak of me even now

before this honest, virtuous,
civil gentlewoman!

Why, Hal, I did not think
thou wast within hearing.

Yea, and you knew me as you did
when you ran away at the robbery.

You spoke it on purpose
to try my patience!

I dispraised thee before the wicked,
that the wicked might not fall in love with thee,

for which thy father is to thank me.

See now, whether pure and entire cowardice

doth not make thee wrong
this virtuous gentlewoman?

- Is she of the wicked?
- Is thine hostess of the wicked?

Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal
burns in his nose, of the wicked?

The fiend hath pricked down
Bardolph irrecoverable.

For the women, one of them
is in hell already and burns poor souls.

For the other, I owe her money,

and whether she be damned for that,
I know not.

But, Hal, am I not fallen away vilely

when my skin hangs about me
like an old lady's loose gown?

Sirrah, you, giant!
What says the doctor to my water?

He said, sir, the water itself
was a good water,

but for the party who owned it, he might
have more diseases than he knew of.

- (chuckles)
- Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me.

The brain of this
foolish-compounded clay man

is not able to invent anything
that tends to laughter

more than I invent or is invented on me.

I'm not only witty in meself,
but the cause that wit is in other men.

I feel me much to blame,
so idly to profane the precious time.

But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly
my father is so sick.

(laughing)

Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?

And let it be an excellent good thing.

It shall serve among wits
of no higher breeding than thine.

Go to.

I shall stand the push
of your one thing that you shall tell.

I could tell thee,
as to one for fault of a better,

it pleases me to call friend.

I could be sad, and sad indeed too.

Very hardly upon such a subject.

Thou think'st me as far in the devil's book
as thou and Falstaff.

An old lord of the council rated me
the other day in the street about you, sir,

but I marked him not.

Yet he talked very wisely,

and in the street too.

Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out
in the street and no man regards it.

It's certain that either wise bearing
or ignorant carriage is caught,

as men take diseases of one another.

- Ned.
- Yes, my lord?

Let men take heed of their company.

What wouldst thou think of me,
if I should weep?

I would think thee
a most princely hypocrite.

I have forsworn his company
hourly every time

this two-and-twenty years.

Every man would think me
a hypocrite indeed.

FALSTAFF: I am bewitched
with the rogue's company.

Ha! If the rascal hath not given me
medicines to make me love him,

I'll be hanged.

Let the end try the man.

It could not be else.
I have drunk medicines.

♪♪ (band: up-tempo)

My lord!

- ♪♪ (continues)
- (cheering)

O a pox of this gout!

Or a gout of this pox!

For one or the other
plays the rogue with me great toe.

Well, 'tis no matter.
I have the wars for me color.

Hey, lad!

And me pension shall seem
the more reasonable.

A good wit will make use of anything.

I shall turn diseases to commodity.

Falstaff!

Good night!

Now comes in
the sweetest morsel of the night,

and we must hence and leave it unpicked.

Come, boy!
We'll through Gloucestershire

to visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire.

I have him already tempering
between me finger and me thumb,

and shortly will I seal with him.

Jack!

When wilt thou leave fighting at days
and foining at nights

and begin to patch up
thy old body for heaven?

Peace, Doll.

Do not speak like a death's head.

Do not bid me remember mine end.

(crying)

Farewell, Doll.

Well, sweet Jack!

- Farewell.
- Have a care of thyself.

Who saw the Duke of Lancaster?

I am here, brother,

full of heaviness.

How now?

Rain within doors, and none abroad?

- How doth the king?
- Exceeding ill.

Why doth the crown
lie there upon his pillow,

being so troublesome a bedfellow?

O Majesty,
when thou does pinch thy bearer,

thou dost sit like a rich armor
worn in heat of day

that scald'st with safety.

My gracious lord.

(whispers) My father.

♪♪ (chanting in Latin)

♪♪ (chanting continues)

This is a sleep

that from this golden rigol
hath divorced so many English kings.

Thy due from me is tears

and heavy sorrows of the blood,

which nature, love
and filial tenderness, shall,

O dear Father,

pay thee plenteously.

My due from thee is this imperial crown,

which God shall guard.

And put the world's whole strength
into one giant arm,

it shall not force
this lineal honor from me.

♪ Amen ♪

Ha, cousin Silence,

that thou hadst seen that
that this knight and I have seen!

Ha, Sir John, said I well?

We have heard the chimes at midnight,

- Master Robert Shallow.
- (laughing)

That we have, that we have, that we have!

In faith, Sir John, we have.

Jesu, Jesu,

the mad days that I have seen.

And to think how many
of my old acquaintances are dead.

We shall all f-f-f ‒

Certain. 'Tis certain.

Death, as the psalmist saith,
is certain to all.

All shall die.

How a good yoke of bullocks
at Stamford fair?

A good yoke of ‒

Death is certain.

And is old Double of your town living yet?

(grunting)

- D-D ‒
- Dead?

Jesu, Jesu, dead.

'A drew a good bow, and dead.

'A shot a fine sh**t,

John a Gaunt loved him well

and betted much money on his head.

- Dead.
- (groans)

Dead. Dead. Dead.

How a score of ewes now?

A score of good e-e ‒

- And is old Double dead?
- Dead.

KING: My lords!

Lancaster. Westmoreland!

- Doth the king call?
- What would, Your Majesty?

- Why did you leave me here alone?
- We left the prince, my brother here, my liege.

The Prince of Wales?

He is not here.

He undertook to sit and watch by you.

Where is the crown?
Who took it from my pillow?

What! Couldst thou not forbear me
half an hour?

Then get thee gone
and dig my grave thyself

and let the merry bells ring to thine ear

that thou art crownèd, not that I am dead.

Pluck down mine officers,
break my decrees,

for now a time is come to mock at form.

Harry the Fifth is crowned.

Up, vanity. Down, royal state.

All you sage counselors, hence.

And to the English court assemble now,
from every region, apes of idleness!

You neighbor confines,
purge you of your scum.

Have you a ruffian that will swear,
drink, dance, revel the night,

rob, m*rder and commit the oldest sins
the newest kind of ways?

Be happy, he will trouble you no more.

England shall give him office,
honor, might,

for the fifth Harry from curbed license
plucks the muzzle of restraint,

and the wild dog shall flesh his tooth
in every innocent.

I never thought to hear you speak again.

Thy wish was father, Harry,
to that thought.

I stay too long by thee. I weary thee.

O, pardon me, my liege.

But wherefore did you take away the crown?

God witness with me, when I found
no course of breath within Your Majesty,

how cold it struck my heart.

Thinking you dead,
I spake unto this crown as having sense,

and thus upbraided it:

"The care on thee depending
hath fed upon the body of my father,

therefore, thou best of gold
art worst of gold.

Other, less fine in carat,
are more precious,

but thou, most fine, most honored,

most renowned, hast et thy bearer up."

Thus, my most royal liege,

accusing it, I put it on my head

to try with it, as with an enemy
that had before my face

m*rder*d my father,

the quarrel of a true inheritor.

O my son,

God put it in thy mind to take it hence,

that thou mightst win the more
thy father's love,

pleading so wisely in excuse of it.

(men murmuring)

♪♪ (chorus chanting in Latin)

Come hear, I think, the very latest counsel
that ever I shall breathe.

God knows, my son,

by what bypaths and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown.

For all my reign hath been
but as a scene acting that argument.

But now my death changes the mood,
for what in me was purchased

falls upon thee in a more fairer sort.

Yet though thou stand'st
more firm than I could do,

thou art not firm enough,
since griefs are green,

and all my friends,
which thou must make thy friends,

have but their stings and teeth
newly ta'en out,

by whose fell working I was first advanced

and by whose power
I well might lodge a fear

to be again displaced.

Therefore, my Harry, be it thy course

to busy giddy minds with foreign quarrels,

that action, hence borne out,

may waste the memory of the former days.

More would I,

but my lungs are wasted so

that strength of speech
is utterly denied me.

How I came by the crown,

O God forgive,

and grant it may with thee

in true peace live.

WARWICK: How doth the king?

He lives no more.

God save Your Majesty.

You all look strangely on me.

I shall convert those tears by number
into hours of happiness.

We hope no other from Your Majesty.

The tide of blood in me
hath proudly flowed in vanity till now.

Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea,

where it shall mingle
with the state of floods

and flow henceforth in formal majesty.

Now call we our high parliament!

♪♪ (high-pitched vocalizing)

I was once of Clement's Inn,

where I think they will talk
of mad Shallow yet.

You were called "lusty Shallow" then.

By the mass, I was called anything,

and I would have done anything too,
and roundly too.

- Oh!
- (Falstaff laughing)

Oh. Then was Jack Falstaff a boy.

Now Sir John, and page
to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

(stammers) Aye, Sir John?

O by the mass, I have had too much sack.

- We shall be merry now.
- (bell tolling)

Now comes in the sweet of the night.

Davy!

Oh! Oh!

Jesus, the days that I have seen!

FALSTAFF: Lord, Lord,

how subject we old men are

to this vice of lying.

This same starved justice
hath done nothing but prate to me

of the wildness of his youth,

and every third word a lie.

- Sir John!
- I come, Master Shallow!

I come.

I will devise matter enough
out of this Shallow

to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter

for the wearing out of six fashions.
(laughing)

You shall see him laugh!

(laughs)

Sir!

Your Worship, there's one p*stol
come from the court with news.

From the court?

Sir John!

I am thy p*stol and thy friend,

and helter-skelter have I rode to thee,
and tidings do I bring

and lucky joys and golden times

and happy news of price.

p*stol, what wind blew you hither?

Not the ill wind
that blows no man to good.

Sweet knight! (kisses)

Thou art now one
of the greatest men in the realm.

- (grunts)
- Give me pardon, sir.

If, sir, you come
with news from the court,

I am, sir, under the king,
in some authority.

Under which king, Besonian?

Speak, or die.

- Under King Harry.
- Harry the Fourth, or Fifth?

Harry the Fourth.

A foutre for thine office!

Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king.
Harry the Fifth's the man.

What? Is the old king...

dead?

As nail in door!

Away.

- Saddle my horse!
- (cheers)

I know the young king is sick for me.

Master Shallow, choose what office
thou wilt in the land. 'Tis thine.

- p*stol!
- Aye?

I will double-charge thee with dignities.

Master Silence! My Lord Silence.
Be what thou wilt.

I am fortune's steward.

Come, p*stol, utter more to me,

and withal devise something
to do thyself good.

- (bells tolling)
- Let us take any man's horses.

The laws of England are at my commandment.

Blessed are they that have been my friends

and woe to my lord chief justice!

- ♪♪ (band: stately)
- (crowd cheering)

There roared the sea,
and trumpet-clangor sounds!

(bell tolling)

♪♪ (brass band: somber)

Come with me, Master Robert Shallow.
I will make the king do you grace.

I will leer upon him as he comes by,

and do but mark the countenance
he will give me.

O, that I had time
to have made new liveries,

I would have bestowed the thousand pounds
I borrowed of you.

'Tis no matter.

This poor show doth better.

- This doth infer the zeal I had to see him.
- It doth so!

It shows my earnestness of affection.

- It doth so!
- My devotion!

It doth, it doth, it doth!

As it were, to ride day and night,
and not to deliberate,

not to remember,
not to have patience to shift me,

but to stand stained with travel
and sweating with desire to see him,

thinking of nothing else,
putting all affairs else in oblivion,

as if there were nothing else to be done
but to see him.

(bells ringing)

♪♪ (brass band continues)

- FALSTAFF: God save thee!
- (crowd murmuring)

God save thee, my sweet boy!

Have you your wits?
Know you what 'tis you say?

My king! My Jove!

I speak to thee, my heart.

I know thee not, old man.

Fall to thy prayers.

How ill white hairs
become a fool and jester.

I have long dreamed of such a kind of man,

so surfeit-swelled, so old and so profane.

But being awak'd, I do despise my dream.

Make less thy body hence
and more thy grace.

Leave gormandizing.

Know the grave doth gape for thee
thrice wider than for other men.

- (laughing)
- Reply not to me with a fool-born jest!

Presume not that I am the thing I was,

for God doth know,
so shall the world perceive,

that I have turned away my former self.

So will I those that kept me company.

When thou dost hear I am
as I have been, approach me,

and thou shalt be as thou wast,
the tutor and the feeder of my riots.

Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death,

as I have done the rest of my misleaders,

not to come near our person by mile.

For competence of life, I will allow you

that lack of means
enforce you not to evil,

and as we hear you do reform yourselves,

we will, according to
your strength and qualities,

give you advancement.

Be it your charge, my lord,
to see performed the tenor of our word.

Master Shallow?

I owe you a thousand pound.

Yes, Sir John, which I beseech you
to let me have home with me.

That can hardly be, Master Shallow.

Do not you grieve at this.

Look you, he must seem thus to the world.

I shall be sent for in private to him.

Fear not your advancements.

I shall be the man yet
that shall make you great.

I cannot well perceive how

unless you should give me your doublet
and stuff me out with straw.

I beseech you, Sir John,

let me have of my thousand.

Sir.

I will be as good...

as my word.

This that you have seen was but a color.

A color that I fear you will die in.

Fear no colors.

Come. Go with me to dinner.

I shall be sent for soon...

at night.

- I like this fair proceeding of the king's.
- But all are banished.

Until their conversations appear
more wise and modest to the world.

He hath intent his wonted followers
shall all be very well provided for.

Thou damned tripe-visaged rascal!
Jack! Jack Falstaff!

Go! Carry Sir John Falstaff to the fleet.

- The fleet?
- Come quickly!

You must come to my master!

O poor heart, sweet man,
come to him! He is very sick!

The king is a good king,

but it must be as it may.

Now, lords, for France.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky w*r.

Then forth, dear countrymen!

The signs of w*r advance!

No king of England if not king of France!

(crowd cheering, shouting)

My lord chief justice,
enlarge the man committed yesterday.

Falstaff?

Let him be punished, sovereign,

lest example breed, by his sufferance,
more of such a kind.

If little faults proceeding on distemper
shall not be winked at,

how shall we stretch our eye
when capital crimes,

chewed, swallowed and digested,
appear before us?

We consider it was
excess of wine that set him on.

Falstaff?

Falstaff is dead.

The king has k*lled his heart.

Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is,

either in heaven or in hell.

HOSTESS: Nay, sure, he's not in hell.

He's in Arthur's bosom,

if ever a man went to Arthur's bosom.

He made a finer end

and went away
and it had been any Christian child.

'A parted even just between
: and : ,

even at the turning of the tide,

for after I saw him fumble with the sheets

and play with flowers

and smile upon his finger's ends,

I knew there was but one way,

for his nose was as sharp as a pen

and he babbled of green fields.

"How now, Sir John?" quoth I.

"What, man, be of good cheer!"

So he cried out, "God, God, God!"

Three or four times.

Now I, to comfort him,
bid him he should not think of God.

I hoped there was no need to trouble himself
with any such thoughts yet.

So 'a bade me lay more clothes
on his feet.

I put my hand into the bed and felt them,

and they were as cold as any stone.

Then I felt to his knees,
and they were cold as any stone.

And so upward and upward,

and all was cold as any stone.

- He cried out of sack.
- And of women.

Nay, that 'a did not.

He said once the devil
would have him about women.

He did in some sort, indeed, handle women.

BOY: Do you not remember 'a saw a flea
once stick upon Bardolph's nose,

and 'a said it was a black soul
burning in hellfire?

BARDOLPH: Well, the fuel is gone
that maintained that fire.

That's all the riches I got in his service.

NARRATOR:
The new king, even at first appointing,

determined to put on him
the shape of a new man.

This Henry was a captain
of such prudence and such policy

that he never enterprised anything

before he had forecast the main chances
that it might happen.

So humane withal,
he left no offense unpunished,

nor friendship unrewarded.

For conclusion, a majesty was he

that both lived and died
a pattern in princehood,

a lodestar in honor

and famous to the world alway.