ACT 1
Scene 1
...he is wronged.
Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol.
...comes Sir John.
Now, Master Shallow, you’ll complain of me
to the King?
...open my lodge.
But not kissed your keeper’s daughter.
...shall be answered.
I will answer it straight: I have done all this.
That is now answered.
...shall know this.
’Twere better for you if it were known in
counsel. You’ll be laughed at.
...John, good worts.
Good worts? Good cabbage!—Slender, I
broke your head. What matter have you against
me?
...as we can.
Pistol.
...it is affectations.
Pistol, did you pick Master Slender’s purse?
...by these gloves.
Is this true, Pistol?
...altogether an ass.
What say you, Scarlet and John?
...a virtuous mind.
You hear all these matters denied, gentlemen.
You hear it.
...now, Mistress Ford?
Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well
met. By your leave, good mistress.
He kisses her.
...down all unkindness.
All but Slender, Shallow, and Sir Hugh exit.
Scene 3
...cheese to come.
Enter Sir John Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and Robin, Falstaff’s Page.
Mine Host of the Garter!
...scholarly and wisely.
Truly, mine Host, I must turn away some of
my followers.
...wag; trot, trot.
I sit at ten pounds a week.
...well, bully Hector?
Do so, good mine Host.
...a word. Follow.
Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good
trade. An old cloak makes a new jerkin, a withered
servingman a fresh tapster. Go. Adieu.
...the humor conceited?
I am glad I am so acquit of this tinderbox.
His thefts were too open. His filching was like an
unskillful singer; he kept not time.
...for the phrase!
Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.
...let kibes ensue.
There is no remedy. I must cony-catch, I
must shift.
...must have food.
Which of you know Ford of this town?
...of substance good.
My honest lads, I will tell you what I am
about.
...yards and more.
No quips now, Pistol. Indeed, I am in the
waist two yards about, but I am now about no
waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make
love to Ford’s wife. I spy entertainment in her. She
discourses; she carves; she gives the leer of invitation.
I can construe the action of her familiar style;
and the hardest voice of her behavior, to be Englished
rightly, is “I am Sir John Falstaff’s.”
...that humor pass?
Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of
her husband’s purse. He hath a legion of angels.
...me the angels.
showing two papers
I have writ me here a
letter to her; and here another to Page’s wife, who
even now gave me good eyes too, examined my
parts with most judicious oeillades. Sometimes
the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes
my portly belly.
...for that humor.
O, she did so course o’er my exteriors with
such a greedy intention that the appetite of her
eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass.
Here’s another letter to her. She bears the purse
too; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty.
I will be cheaters to them both, and they shall be
exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West
Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go bear thou
this letter to Mistress Page—and thou this to Mistress
Ford. We will thrive, lads, we will thrive.
...havior of reputation.
giving papers to Robin
Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly;
Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.—
Rogues, hence, avaunt, vanish like hailstones, go,
Trudge, plod away i’ th’ hoof, seek shelter, pack!
Falstaff will learn the humor of the age:
French thrift, you rogues—myself and skirted page.
Falstaff and Robin exit.
ACT 2
Scene 2
...labor well bestowed.
Enter Sir John Falstaff and Pistol.
I will not lend thee a penny.
...sword will open.
Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you
should lay my countenance to pawn. I have grated
upon my good friends for three reprieves for you
and your coach-fellow Nym, or else you had
looked through the grate like a gemini of baboons.
I am damned in hell for swearing to gentlemen my
friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows.
And when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her
fan, I took ’t upon mine honor thou hadst it not.
...not fifteen pence?
Reason, you rogue, reason. Think’st thou I’ll
endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more
about me. I am no gibbet for you. Go—a short
knife and a throng—to your manor of Pickt-hatch,
go. You’ll not bear a letter for me, you rogue? You
stand upon your honor? Why, thou unconfinable
baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the
terms of my honor precise. Ay, ay, I myself sometimes,
leaving the fear of God on the left hand
and hiding mine honor in my necessity, am fain to
shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue,
will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain
looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold beating
oaths under the shelter of your honor! You will
not do it? You?
...speak with you.
Let her approach.
...Worship good morrow.
Good morrow, goodwife.
...please your Worship.
Good maid, then.
...I was born.
I do believe the swearer. What with me?
...word or two?
Two thousand, fair woman, and I’ll vouchsafe
thee the hearing.
...Master Doctor Caius.
Well, on. “Mistress Ford,” you say—
...nearer this ways.
I warrant thee, nobody hears. Mine own
people, mine own people.
...them His servants!
Well, “Mistress Ford”—what of her?
...us, I pray!
“Mistress Ford”—come, “Mistress Ford”—
...one with her.
But what says she to me? Be brief, my good
she-Mercury.
...ten and eleven.
Ten and eleven?
...him, good heart.
Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to
her. I will not fail her.
...Yes, in truth.
Not I, I assure thee. Setting the attraction of
my good parts aside, I have no other charms.
...heart for ’t!
But I pray thee, tell me this: has Ford’s wife
and Page’s wife acquainted each other how they
love me?
...page, no remedy.
Why, I will.
...know the world.
Fare thee well. Commend me to them both.
There’s my purse. (He gives her money.)
I am yet
thy debtor.—Boy, go along with this woman.
This news distracts
me.
...whelm them all!
Sayst thou so, old Jack? Go thy ways. I’ll
make more of thy old body than I have done. Will
they yet look after thee? Wilt thou, after the expense
of so much money, be now a gainer? Good
body, I thank thee. Let them say ’tis grossly done;
so it be fairly done, no matter.
...draught of sack.
(He hands Falstaff the wine.)
Brook is his name?
... Ay, sir.
Call him in. Such Brooks are welcome to
me that o’erflows such liquor.
Ah ha, Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, have I encompassed
you? Go to. Via!
...bless you, sir.
And you, sir. Would you speak with me?
...preparation upon you.
You’re welcome. What’s your will?—Give us
leave, drawer.
...name is Brook.
Good Master Brook, I desire more acquaintance
of you.
...do lie open.
Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on.
...of the carriage.
Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your
porter.
...me the hearing.
Speak, good Master Brook. I shall be glad
to be your servant.
...such an offender.
Very well, sir. Proceed.
...name is Ford.
Well, sir.
...flying what pursues.”
Have you received no promise of satisfaction
at her hands?
... Never.
Have you importuned her to such a
purpose?
... Never.
Of what quality was your love, then?
...I erected it.
To what purpose have you unfolded this to
me?
...and learned preparations.
O, sir!
...soon as any.
Would it apply well to the vehemency of
your affection that I should win what you would
enjoy? Methinks you prescribe to yourself very
preposterously.
...’t, Sir John?
taking the bag
Master Brook, I will first
make bold with your money; next, give me your
hand; and, last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if
you will, enjoy Ford’s wife.
...O, good sir!
I say you shall.
...shall want none.
Want no Mistress Ford, Master Brook; you
shall want none. I shall be with her, I may tell you,
by her own appointment. Even as you came in to
me, her assistant or go-between parted from me. I
say I shall be with her between ten and eleven, for
at that time the jealous, rascally knave her husband
will be forth. Come you to me at night. You
shall know how I speed.
...know Ford, sir?
Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I know
him not. Yet I wrong him to call him poor. They
say the jealous wittolly knave hath masses of
money, for the which his wife seems to me well-favored.
I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly
rogue’s coffer, and there’s my harvest home.
...you saw him.
Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I
will stare him out of his wits. I will awe him with
my cudgel; it shall hang like a meteor o’er the
cuckold’s horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know I
will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt
lie with his wife. Come to me soon at night. Ford’s
a knave, and I will aggravate his style. Thou, Master
Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold.
Come to me soon at night.
Falstaff exits.
ACT 3
Scene 3
...turtles from jays.
Enter Sir John Falstaff.
“Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel?”
Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough.
This is the period of my ambition. O, this blessèd
hour!
...sweet Sir John!
Mistress Ford, I cannot cog. I cannot prate,
Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish: I would
thy husband were dead. I’ll speak it before the best
lord: I would make thee my lady.
...a pitiful lady.
Let the court of France show me such
another. I see how thine eye would emulate the
diamond. Thou hast the right arched beauty of the
brow that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant,
or any tire of Venetian admittance.
...that well neither.
Thou art a tyrant to say so. Thou wouldst
make an absolute courtier, and the firm fixture of
thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait
in a semicircled farthingale. I see what thou wert,
if Fortune thy foe were not, Nature thy friend.
Come, thou canst not hide it.
...thing in me.
What made me love thee? Let that persuade
thee. There’s something extraordinary in thee.
Come, I cannot cog and say thou art this and that
like a many of these lisping hawthorn buds that
come like women in men’s apparel and smell like
Bucklersbury in simple time. I cannot. But I love
thee, none but thee; and thou deserv’st it.
...love Mistress Page.
Thou mightst as well say I love to walk by
the Counter gate, which is as hateful to me as the
reek of a lime-kiln.
...day find it.
Keep in that mind. I’ll deserve it.
...with you presently.
She shall not see me. I will ensconce me behind
the arras.
...very tattling woman.
Falstaff stands behind the arras.
...shall I do?
Falstaff comes forward.
Let me see ’t, let me see ’t! O, let me see ’t! I’ll
in, I’ll in. Follow your friend’s counsel. I’ll in.
...your letters, knight?
aside to Mistress Page
I love thee. Help me
away. Let me creep in here. I’ll never—
Falstaff goes into the basket; they cover him with dirty clothes.
...it shall appear.
Robert and John exit with the buck-basket.
Scene 5
...to slack it!
Enter Sir John Falstaff.
Bardolph, I say!
... Here, sir.
Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in ’t.
Have I lived to be carried in a basket like a barrow
of butcher’s offal, and to be thrown in the Thames?
Well, if I be served such another trick, I’ll have my
brains ta’en out and buttered, and give them to a
dog for a New Year’s gift. ’Sblood, the rogues
slighted me into the river with as little remorse as
they would have drowned a blind bitch’s puppies,
fifteen i’ th’ litter! And you may know by my size
that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom
were as deep as hell, I should down. I had
been drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and
shallow—a death that I abhor, for the water swells
a man, and what a thing should I have been when
I had been swelled! By the Lord, I should have
been a mountain of mummy.
...speak with you.
Come, let me pour in some sack to the
Thames water, for my belly’s as cold as if I had
swallowed snowballs for pills to cool the reins. He drinks.
Call her in.
...Worship good morrow.
to Bardolph
Take away these chalices. Go
brew me a pottle of sack finely.
...With eggs, sir?
Simple of itself. I’ll no pullet sperm in my
brewage.
How now?
...from Mistress Ford.
Mistress Ford? I have had ford enough. I
was thrown into the ford, I have my belly full of
ford.
...mistook their erection.
So did I mine, to build upon a foolish
woman’s promise.
...I warrant you.
Well, I will visit her. Tell her so. And bid her
think what a man is. Let her consider his frailty,
and then judge of my merit.
...will tell her.
Do so. Between nine and ten, say’st thou?
...and nine, sir.
Well, be gone. I will not miss her.
...with you, sir.
I marvel I hear not of Master Brook. He
sent me word to stay within. I like his money well.
Enter Ford disguised as Brook.
O, here he comes.
...bless you, sir.
Now, Master Brook, you come to know
what hath passed between me and Ford’s wife.
...is my business.
Master Brook, I will not lie to you. I was at
her house the hour she appointed me.
...sped you, sir?
Very ill-favoredly, Master Brook.
...change her determination?
No, Master Brook, but the peaking cornuto
her husband, Master Brook, dwelling in a continual
’larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of
our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed,
protested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of
our comedy, and, at his heels, a rabble of his companions,
thither provoked and instigated by his
distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for
his wife’s love.
...you were there?
While I was there.
...not find you?
You shall hear. As good luck would have it,
comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of
Ford’s approach, and, in her invention and Ford’s
wife’s distraction, they conveyed me into a
buck-basket.
... A buck-basket!
By the Lord, a buck-basket! Rammed me
in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings,
greasy napkins, that, Master Brook, there
was the rankest compound of villainous smell that
ever offended nostril.
...lay you there?
Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I
have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your
good. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple
of Ford’s knaves, his hinds, were called forth by
their mistress to carry me in the name of foul
clothes to Datchet Lane. They took me on their
shoulders, met the jealous knave their master in
the door, who asked them once or twice what they
had in their basket. I quaked for fear lest the lunatic
knave would have searched it, but fate, ordaining
he should be a cuckold, held his hand.
Well, on went he for a search, and away went I for
foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master Brook.
I suffered the pangs of three several deaths: first,
an intolerable fright to be detected with a jealous
rotten bellwether; next, to be compassed, like a
good bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt to
point, heel to head; and then, to be stopped in, like
a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that fretted
in their own grease. Think of that, a man of my
kidney—think of that—that am as subject to heat
as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw.
It was a miracle to ’scape suffocation. And in
the height of this bath, when I was more than half-stewed
in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown
into the Thames and cooled, glowing hot, in that
surge, like a horseshoe! Think of that—hissing
hot—think of that, Master Brook.
...her no more?
Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna,
as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her
thus. Her husband is this morning gone a-birding.
I have received from her another embassy of meeting.
’Twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master
Brook.
...eight already, sir.
Is it? I will then address me to my appointment.
Come to me at your convenient leisure,
and you shall know how I speed; and the conclusion
shall be crowned with your enjoying her.
Adieu. You shall have her, Master Brook. Master
Brook, you shall cuckold Ford.
Falstaff exits.
ACT 4
Scene 2
...stay too long.
Enter Sir John Falstaff and Mistress Ford.
Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up
my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your
love, and I profess requital to a hair’s breadth, not
only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love,
but in all the accoutrement, compliment, and ceremony
of it. But are you sure of your husband now?
...chamber, Sir John.
Falstaff exits.
...the basket again?
Enter Sir John Falstaff.
No, I’ll come no more i’ th’ basket. May I not
go out ere he come?
...make you here?
What shall I do? I’ll creep up into the
chimney.
...into the kiln-hole.
Where is it?
...in the house.
I’ll go out, then.
...and so escape.
Good hearts, devise something. Any extremity
rather than a mischief.
...gown the while.
Falstaff exits.
...the old woman.
Enter Mistress Page and Sir John Falstaff disguised as an old woman.
...I’ll pratt her.
(He beats Falstaff.)
...I’ll fortune-tell you!
Falstaff exits.
Scene 5
...thine Ephesian, calls.
within
How now, mine Host?
...Fie! Privacy? Fie!
Enter Sir John Falstaff.
There was, mine Host, an old fat woman
even now with me, but she’s gone.
...woman of Brentford?
Ay, marry, was it, mussel-shell. What would
you with her?
...chain or no.
I spake with the old woman about it.
...I pray, sir?
Marry, she says that the very same man that
beguiled Master Slender of his chain cozened him
of it.
...too from him.
What are they? Let us know.
...her or no.
’Tis; ’tis his fortune.
... What, sir?
To have her or no. Go. Say the woman told
me so.
...say so, sir?
Ay, sir; like who more bold.
...woman with thee?
Ay, that there was, mine Host, one that hath
taught me more wit than ever I learned before in
my life. And I paid nothing for it neither, but was
paid for my learning.
...I am undone.
I would all the world might be cozened, for I
have been cozened and beaten too. If it should
come to the ear of the court how I have been transformed,
and how my transformation hath been
washed and cudgeled, they would melt me out of
my fat drop by drop, and liquor fishermen’s boots
with me. I warrant they would whip me with their
fine wits till I were as crestfallen as a dried pear. I
never prospered since I forswore myself at
primero. Well, if my wind were but long enough, I
would repent.
Enter Mistress Quickly.
Now, whence come you?
...two parties, forsooth.
The devil take one party, and his dam the
other, and so they shall be both bestowed. I have
suffered more for their sakes, more than the villainous
inconstancy of man’s disposition is able to
bear.
...spot about her.
What tell’st thou me of black and blue? I was
beaten myself into all the colors of the rainbow,
and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of
Brentford. But that my admirable dexterity of wit,
my counterfeiting the action of an old woman, delivered
me, the knave constable had set me i’ th’
stocks, i’ th’ common stocks, for a witch.
...will say somewhat.
She gives him a paper.
...are so crossed.
Come up into my chamber.
They exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...a present recompense.
Enter Sir John Falstaff and Mistress Quickly.
Prithee, no more prattling. Go. I’ll hold. This
is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers.
Away, go. They say there is divinity in odd
numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.
Away.
...pair of horns.
Away, I say! Time wears. Hold up your head,
and mince.
Enter Ford disguised as Brook.
How now, Master Brook! Master Brook, the
matter will be known tonight or never. Be you in
the park about midnight, at Herne’s oak, and you
shall see wonders.
...you had appointed?
I went to her, Master Brook, as you see,
like a poor old man, but I came from her, Master
Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave
Ford, her husband, hath the finest mad devil of
jealousy in him, Master Brook, that ever governed
frenzy. I will tell you, he beat me grievously,
in the shape of a woman; for in the shape of man,
Master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver’s
beam, because I know also life is a shuttle. I am in
haste. Go along with me; I’ll tell you all, Master
Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, and
whipped top, I knew not what ’twas to be beaten
till lately. Follow me. I’ll tell you strange things of
this knave Ford, on whom tonight I will be revenged,
and I will deliver his wife into your hand.
Follow. Strange things in hand, Master Brook!
Follow.
They exit.
Scene 5
...come; trib, trib.
Enter Sir John Falstaff wearing a buck’s head.
The Windsor bell hath struck twelve. The
minute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist
me! Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy
Europa; love set on thy horns. O powerful love,
that in some respects makes a beast a man, in
some other a man a beast! You were also, Jupiter,
a swan for the love of Leda. O omnipotent love,
how near the god drew to the complexion of a
goose! A fault done first in the form of a beast; O
Jove, a beastly fault! And then another fault in the
semblance of a fowl; think on ’t, Jove, a foul fault.
When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men
do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag, and the fattest,
I think, i’ th’ forest. Send me a cool rut-time,
Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow?
Enter Mistress Page and Mistress Ford.
Who comes here? My doe?
...my male deer?
My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain
potatoes, let it thunder to the tune of “Greensleeves,”
hail kissing-comfits, and snow eryngoes; let there
come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me
here.
He embraces her.
...with me, sweetheart.
Divide me like a bribed buck, each a haunch.
I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for
the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath
your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like
Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of
conscience; he makes restitution. As I am a true
spirit, welcome.
...forgive our sins!
What should this be?
... Away, away.
I think the devil will not have me damned,
lest the oil that’s in me should set hell on fire. He
would never else cross me thus.
...sluts and sluttery.
aside
They are fairies. He that speaks to them shall die.
I’ll wink and couch. No man their works must eye.
He crouches down and covers his eyes.
...of Middle Earth.
aside
Heavens defend me from that Welsh
fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese.
...wood take fire?
Sir Hugh puts a taper to Falstaff’s finger, and he starts.
O, O, O!
...moonshine be out.
A noise of hunting is made within, and all the fairies run away from Falstaff, who pulls off his buck’s head and rises up. Enter Page, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford and Ford.
...you my deer.
I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
...proofs are extant.
And these are not fairies. I was three or four
times in the thought they were not fairies; and yet
the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of
my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into
a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all
rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now
how wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent when ’tis upon
ill employment.
...in good English.
Have I laid my brain in the sun and dried it,
that it wants matter to prevent so gross o’erreaching
as this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too?
Shall I have a coxcomb of frieze? ’Tis time I were
choked with a piece of toasted cheese.
...is all putter.
“Seese” and “putter”? Have I lived to stand at
the taunt of one that makes fritters of English?
This is enough to be the decay of lust and late
walking through the realm.
...pribbles and prabbles?
Well, I am your theme. You have the start of
me. I am dejected. I am not able to answer the
Welsh flannel. Ignorance itself is a plummet o’er
me. Use me as you will.
...sold by fate.
I am glad, though you have ta’en a special
stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath
glanced.
...must be embraced.
When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chased.
...with Mistress Ford.
They exit.