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King Henry V: Act 2 Scene 3
Scene III London. Before a tavern.
- [Enter PISTOL, Hostess, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy]
- Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.
- 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.
- Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in
- heaven or in hell!
- 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.
- They say he cried out of sack.
- Ay, that a' did.
- And of women.
- Nay, that a' did not.
- Yes, that a' did; and said they were devils
- A' could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he
- never liked.
- A' said once, the devil would have him about women.
- A' did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then
- he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon.
- 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?
- Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire:
- that's all the riches I got in his service.
- Shall we shog? the king will be gone from
- 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 crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms,
- Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys,
- To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!
- And that's but unwholesome food they say.
- Touch her soft mouth, and march.
- Farewell, hostess.
- [Kissing her]
- I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but, adieu.
- Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command.
- Farewell; adieu.