ARCHBISHOP

  I’ll take your word as a prince that you’ll make good on these things.

  LANCASTER

  I give you my word, and I’ll keep it. And with that, I drink a toast to you.

  HASTINGS

  Go, captain. Tell the army this news of peace. Pay them, and send them away. I know it will make them happy. Hurry, captain.

  An officer exits.

  ARCHBISHOP

  Here’s to you, good Lord Westmoreland.

  WESTMORELAND

  I drink to your grace. If you knew how hard I’ve worked to bring about this peaceful resolution, you’d really drink up. But my love for you will be more apparent from now on.

  ARCHBISHOP

  I don’t doubt it.

  WESTMORELAND

  I’m glad. And here’s to your health, my gentle cousin Lord Mowbray.

  MOWBRAY

  You wish me good health at a very good moment, because for some reason I’m suddenly feeling ill.

  ARCHBISHOP

  Men are always merry in the face of bad situations, but a heavy heart predicts a happy event.

  WESTMORELAND

  So be happy, kinsman. A sudden feeling of melancholy is just a sign that says, “Something good is coming tomorrow.”

  ARCHBISHOP

  Believe me, I’m in really good spirits.

  MOWBRAY

  Which is not a good thing, if your own rule is correct.

  Shouts are heard offstage.

  LANCASTER

  The news of peace has been announced. Listen to them shout!

  MOWBRAY

  They sound like they are cheering a victory.

  ARCHBISHOP

  Peace is a victory of sorts: both sides stop fighting honorably, but neither loses.

  LANCASTER

  Go and disperse our army, too, Lord Westmoreland.

  WESTMORELAND exits.

  Good Archbishop, let’s have both our troops march past us here so that we can see the men we would have fought against.

  ARCHBISHOP

  Go, Lord Hastings, and have them march past before they’re dismissed.

  HASTINGS exits.

  LANCASTER

  I hope, sirs, that we’ll spend tonight in the same camp.

  WESTMORELAND enters.

  Cousin, why is our army still standing?

  WESTMORELAND

  The leaders have orders from you to stand fast, and they won’t disperse until they hear you give the order.

  LANCASTER

  They know how to follow orders.

  HASTINGS enters.

  HASTINGS

  Our army is already dispersed. They’ve headed off to the east, west, north, and south like young bulls whose yokes have been removed. The men are like children after school, each hurrying toward their homes or the playground.

  WESTMORELAND

  That’s good news, Lord Hastings. And hearing it, I now arrest you, traitor, for high treason. And you, Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray. I arrest you both for capital treason.

  MOWBRAY

  Is this action just and honorable?

  WESTMORELAND

  Was your rebellion just and honorable?

  ARCHBISHOP

  Will you break faith with us like this?

  LANCASTER

  I never promised you my faith. I promised to make good on the grievances you complained of. And, on my honor, I will do that as carefully as possible. But now, you rebels will get exactly what you deserve for the things you’ve done. You raised armies over nothing, brought them here stupidly, and then foolishly sent them away. Bang on our drums! Capture the soldiers who are scattering away. God, not we, has fought today and won. Guards, escort these traitors to the place of their death. That’s where treason belongs, and where they’ll draw their last breath.

  They exit.

  ACT 4, SCENE 2

  Original Text

  Alarum. Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meeting

  FALSTAFF

  What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray?

  COLEVILE

  I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the Dale.

  FALSTAFF

  Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree,

  5

  and your place the Dale. Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place, a place deep enough so shall you be still Colevile of the Dale.

  COLEVILE

  Are not you Sir John Falstaff?

  FALSTAFF

  As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I am. Do ye yield, sir, or

  10

  shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers and they weep for thy death. Therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.

  COLEVILE

  I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.

  FALSTAFF

  15

  I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. Here comes our general.

  Enter Prince John of LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, BLUNT, and others

  LANCASTER

  20

  The heat is past. Follow no further now.

  A retreat is sounded.

  Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.

  Exit WESTMORELAND

  Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?

  When everything is ended, then you come.

  These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,

  25

  One time or other break some gallows’ back.

  FALSTAFF

  I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus. I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valor. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I in my poor and old motion the expedition of thought? I have

  30

  speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility. I have foundered ninescore and odd posts, and here, travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valor taken Sir John Colevile of the Dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of that? He saw me and yielded,

  35

  that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, “There, cousin, I came, saw, and overcame.”

  LANCASTER

  It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

  FALSTAFF

  I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him. And I beseech your Grace let it be booked with the rest of this day’s deeds,

  40

  or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top on ’t, Colevile kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the clear sky of fame o’ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of

  45

  the element (which show like pins’ heads to her), believe not the word of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.

  LANCASTER

  Thine’s too heavy to mount.

  FALSTAFF

  Let it shine, then.

  LANCASTER

  50

  Thine’s too thick to shine.

  FALSTAFF

  Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will.

  LANCASTER

  Is thy name Colevile?

  COLEVILE

  It is, my lord.

  LANCASTER

  A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.

  FALSTAFF

  55

  And a famous true subject took him.

  COLEVILE

  I am, my lord, but as my betters are

  That led me hither. Had they been ruled by me,

  You should have won them dearer than you have.

  FALSTAFF

  I know not how they sold themselves, but thou, like a kind

  60

  fellow, gavest thyself away gratis, and I thank thee for thee.

  Enter WESTMORELAND

  LANCASTER

  Now, have you left pursuit?

  WESTMORELAND

  Retreat is made and execution stayed.

  LANCASTER

  Send Colevile with his confederates

  To York, to present execution.—

  65

  Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.

  Exeunt BLUNT with COLEVILE

  And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords.

  I hear the King my father is sore sick.

  Our news shall go before us to his Majesty,

  (to WESTMORELAND) Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him,

  70

  And we with sober speed will follow you.

  FALSTAFF

  My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go through Gloucestershire, and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good report.

  LANCASTER

  Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition,

  75

  Shall better speak of you than you deserve.

  Exeunt all but FALSTAFF

  FALSTAFF

  I would you had but the wit; ’twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young 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 none of

  80

  these demure boys come to any proof, for thin drink doth so overcool their blood, and making many fish meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness, and then, when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally fools and cowards, which some of us should be too, but for

  85

  inflammation. A good sherris sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crury vapors which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and

  90

  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, which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and

  95

  cowardice. But the sherris warms it and makes it course from the inwards to the parts’ extremes. It illumineth the face, which as a beacon gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the

  100

  heart, who, great and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage, and this valor comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes

  105

  it that Prince Harry is valiant, for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father he hath, like lean, sterile, and 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

  110

  sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.

  Enter BARDOLPH

  How now, Bardolph?

  BARDOLPH

  The army is discharged all and gone.

  FALSTAFF

  115

  Let them go. I’ll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already temp’ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away.

  Exeunt

  ACT 4, SCENE 2

  Modern Text

  Calls to arms are sounded. Soldiers cross the stage. FALSTAFF and COLEVILE enter and confront one another.

  FALSTAFF

  What’s your name, sir? What’s your rank, and where are you from?

  COLEVILLE

  I am a knight, sir. My name is Coleville of the Valley.

  FALSTAFF

  Well, then, Coleville is your name, your rank is knight, and the valley is where you’re from. Coleville will still be your name now that “traitor” is your rank, and the dungeon is where you’ll be. It’s a place so deep that you’ll still be in a kind of valley.

  COLEVILLE

  Aren’t you Sir John Falstaff?

  FALSTAFF

  I’m as good a man as Falstaff, whoever I am. Will you surrender? Or am I going to have to break a sweat making you surrender? If I sweat, the drops will be the tears of your loved ones, weeping over your death. So you’d better get scared and start to shake, and start praying to me for mercy.

  COLEVILLE

  I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and so I surrender.

  FALSTAFF

  My enormous belly can speak in many languages, and each language proclaims my name and my name alone. If I had a moderately sized belly, all I’d be is an anonymous but very successful soldier. But my belly, my belly, my belly blows my cover. Here comes the general.

  John of LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, BLUNT, and others enter.

  LANCASTER

  The danger’s over: let’s stop here.

  The trumpets sound a retreat.

  Call off the operation, Westmoreland.

  WESTMORELAND exits.

  Falstaff, where have you been all this time? When everything is over, that’s when you start. This habit of laziness of yours will bust a gallows to bits one of these days, mark my words.

  FALSTAFF

  I’m sorry to hear you say that: I never realized that brave behavior should be rewarded with scolding and admonishing. Do you think I’m a bird, or an arrow, or a bullet? With this old, broken-down body, do you think I can move as fast as thought? I’ve gotten here as fast as humanly possible. I’ve burned out more than 180 horses, and—even though I’m spent from all that travel—I’ve managed, with my extraordinary bravery, to capture Sir John Coleville of the Valley, a brave knight and terrible enemy. But so what? He simply saw me and surrendered. So I can say, just like Julius Caesar, that “I came, I saw, I conquered.”

  LANCASTER

  He was just being polite; it’s not as if you did something to deserve it.

  FALSTAFF

  I don’t know about that. Here he is: I turn him over to you. Please, sir, have it added to the record of things accomplished today. If you don’t, I’ll have a ballad printed about it, with a picture of Coleville kissing my foot on the cover. And if I’m forced to do that, and I don’t make you look like counterfeits next to me, and if my fame doesn’t outshine yours like the full moon outshines the stars (which look like pin pricks in the sky next to the moon)—well then, you can call me a liar. Now give me what I deserve, and let my merits mount on top of each other, in a great pile.

  LANCASTER

  Your pile would be too heavy for me to bear.

  FALSTAFF

  Let my merits shine, then.

  LANCASTER

  You’re too dense to shine.

  FALSTAFF

  Then let it do something that will do me good, whatever you want to call it.

  LANCASTER

  Is your name Coleville?

  COLEVILLE

  It is, sir.

  LANCASTER

  You’re a famous rebel, Coleville.

  FALSTAFF

  And a famous and loyal subject captured him.

  COLEVILLE

  I’m now in the same situation as my superiors, who led me here. But if I had been in charge, your victory would have cost you more than it has.

  FALSTAFF

  I don’t know how much your superiors cost us, but you, like a generous man, gave yourself away for free, and I thank you for it.

  WESTMORELAND enters.

  LANCASTER

  Have you called off the troops?

  WESTMORELAND

  The order to pull back has been given, and the slaughter has been stopped.

  LANCASTER

  Send Coleville and his confederates to York, to be put to death immediately. Blunt, lead him away, and guard him carefully.

  BLUNT exits with COLEVILLE.

  And now, let’s get going back to the royal court: I understand that the King, my father, is gravely ill. Send news of our victory ahead of us. (to WESTMORELAND) You, cousin, will bring him this news and comfort him with it. We’ll follow you as quickly as we can.

  FALSTAFF

  Sir, please give me permission to go via Gloucestershire. When you get to the court, please vouch for my good work here.

  LANCASTER

  Goodbye, Falstaff. By speaking on your behalf as a prince, I’ll be speaking better of you than you deserve.

  Everyone exits except FALSTAFF.

  FALSTAFF

  I wish you had the wit to accomplish that: it would be worth all your land. My goodness, this young, serious-minded boy doesn’t like me, and no one can make him laugh. But I guess that’s not surprising; after all, he doesn’t drink any wine. None of those prim boys ever amount to anything: weak beer and too many fish dinners makes their blood cool. They all turn anemic, like young girls. And then, when they finally get married, they can only father girls because they don’t have the stuff to produce sons. Non-drinkers are all generally fools and cowards. The rest of us would probably be the same way, except that we’re always drunk. A good sherry wine operates in two ways. First, it rises into the brain and dries out all the foolish, dull, clogged-up fogs that have gathered there. It makes the brain sharp, quick, and inventive; full of nimble, fiery, and beautiful ideas. The voice and tongue give birth to those ideas which, when they grow up, become excellent wit. The second power of good wine is the warming of the blood. Before wine, the blood is cold and sluggish, and this makes the liver—the organ of passion—chilly and pale. A chilly, pale liver is the sign of cowardice and faint-heartedness. But wine warms the blood, making it course from the inner organs to all the extremities. The blood brightens the face, and the rest of the body—which is like a little kingdom in itself—takes that brightening as a signal. Then the spirits of the blood and all the internal organs gather together behind their captain: the heart. The heart draws strength from these followers and, enlarged by them, can accomplish any courageous deed. This is the bravery that comes from wine. Without wine, skill in weaponry doesn’t matter. Wine is what sets that skill in motion. Education is nothing more than idle gold in the devil’s hands, until wine rouses it and puts it to good use. That’s how Prince Harry became valiant. He’s taken the cold blood he inherited from his father and—like unproductive farmland—he fertilized it, planted it, and cared for it, through the hard work of drinking vast amounts of good and potent wine. And so now, he’s become hot and courageous. If I had a thousand sons, the first rule of behavior I would teach them would be to avoid weak drinks, and get themselves addicted to wine.