Foretelling this same time's condition,
And the division of our amity.

War. There is a history in all men's lives,

Figuring the nature of the times deceased;
The which observed, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things.
As yet not come to life, which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured.

Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And by the necessary form of this

King Richard might create a perfect guess

80

That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness; 90
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.

King.

War.

Are these things then necessities?
Then let us meet them like necessities

And that same word even now cries out on us:

They say the bishop and Northumberland

Are fifty thousand strong.

It cannot be, my lord;

Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your grace
To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord,

The powers that you already have sent forth 100
Shall bring this prize in very easily.

To comfort you the more, I have received

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

K. Hen.

I will take your counsel

And were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

Scene II.

[Exeunt.

Gloucestershire. Before Justice Shallow's house. Enter Shallow and Silence, meeting; Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, Bullcalf, a Servant or two with them. Shal. Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter

Ellen?

Sil. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!

Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin
William is become a good scholar: he is at
Oxford still, is he not?

Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost.

Shal. A' must then, to the inns o' court shortly:
I was once of Clement's Inn, where I think
they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were called 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin.
Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I

ΙΟ

would have done any thing indeed too, and
roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit 20
of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and
Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold
man; you had not four such swinge-bucklers in
all the inns o' court again: and I may say to you,

we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the
best of them all at commandment.
Then was
Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to
Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

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

Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. I see him

break Skogan'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. Jesu, Jesu, the
mad days that I have spent! and to see how
many of my old acquaintance are dead!

Sil. We shall all follow, cousin.

Shal. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure:

30

death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; 40 all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?

Sil. By my troth, I was not there.

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

Sil. Dead, sir.

Shal. Jesu, Jesu, dead! a' drew a good bow; and dead! a' shot a fine shoot: John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! a' would have clapped i' the clout at 50 twelve score; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes now?

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.

Shal. And is old Double dead?

Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as
I think.

Enter Bardolph, and one with him.

Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech 60 you, which is Justice Shallow?

Shal. I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of
this country, and one of the king's justices of the
peace: what is your good pleasure with me?
Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my

captain, Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by
heaven, and a most gallant leader.

Shal. He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good
back-sword man. How doth the good knight?
may I ask how my lady his wife doth?

Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife.

Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed too. Better accommodated! it is good; yea, indeed, is it: good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated! it comes of accommodo': very good; a good phrase.

70

Bard. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase call you it? by this good day, I know 80 not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven. Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or when a man is, being, whereby a' may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

Shal. It is very just.

Enter Falstaff.

Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your
good hand, give me your worship's good hand: 90
by my troth, you like well and bear your years
very well welcome, good Sir John.

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert
Shallow Master Surecard, as I think?

Shal. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in com-
mission with me.

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

Sil. Your good worship is welcome.

Fal. Fie! this is hot weather, gentlemen.

Have you 100

provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?

Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?

Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you.

Shal. Where's the roll? where's the roll? where 's the roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so, so, so, so: yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy! Let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so. Let me see; where is

Mouldy?

Moul. Here, an 't please you.

Shal. What think you, Sir John? a good-limbed fellow; young, strong, and of good friends.

Fal. Is thy name Mouldy?

Moul. Yea, an 't please you.

Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! things that

are mouldy lack use: very singular good! in
faith, well said, Sir John; very well said.