Act 2, Scene 3: London. Before a tavern

SCENE III. London. Before a tavern.

    Enter PISTOL, Hostess, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy

Hostess

    Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.

PISTOL

    No; for my manly heart doth yearn.
    Bardolph, be blithe: Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins:
    Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead,
    And we must yearn therefore.

BARDOLPH

    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 man went to Arthur's bosom. A' made
    a finer end and went away an it had been any
    christom child; a' parted even just between twelve
    and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after
    I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with
    flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew
    there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as
    a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. 'How now,
    sir John!' quoth I 'what, man! be o' good
    cheer.' So a' cried out 'God, God, God!' three or
    four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a'
    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 as cold as any stone, and so upward and
    upward, and all was as cold as any stone.

NYM

    They say he cried out of sack.

Hostess

    Ay, that a' did.

BARDOLPH

    And of women.

Hostess

    Nay, that a' did not.

Boy

    Yes, that a' did; and said they were devils
    incarnate.

Hostess

    A' could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he
    never liked.

Boy

    A' said once, the devil would have him about women.

Hostess

    A' did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then
    he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon.

Boy

    Do you not remember, a' saw a flea stick upon
    Bardolph's nose, and a' said it was a black soul
    burning in hell-fire?

BARDOLPH

    Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire:
    that's all the riches I got in his service.

NYM

    Shall we shog? the king will be gone from
    Southampton.

PISTOL

    Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips.
    Look to my chattels and my movables:
    Let senses rule; the word is 'Pitch and Pay:'
    Trust none;
    For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
    And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck:
    Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor.
    Go, clear thy c rystals. Yoke-fellows in arms,
    Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys,
    To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!

Boy

    And that's but unwholesome food they say.

PISTOL

    Touch her soft mouth, and march.

BARDOLPH

    Farewell, hostess.

    Kissing her

NYM

    I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but, adieu.

PISTOL

    Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command.

Hostess

    Farewell; adieu.

    Exeunt

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