The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (143 page)

BARDOLPH.

Be gone, good ancient:  this will grow to a brawl anon.

Go away, good fellow: this will develop into a brawl soon.

PISTOL.

Die men like dogs! give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren

here?

Let men die like dogs! Give away kingdoms like pins!

Haven't we any swords here?

HOSTESS.

O' my word, captain, there 's none such here. What the

good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be

quiet.

I swear, captain, there are none here. What the

devil! Do you think I would betray her? For God's sake,

be quiet.

PISTOL.

Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis.

Come, give 's some sack.

"Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento."

Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire:

Give me some sack:  and, sweetheart, lie thou there.

[Laying down his sword.]

Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothing?

Then eat, and be fat, my lovely Calipolis.

Come, give me some sack.

If fortune torments me, hope contents me.

Are we afraid of cannon fire? No, let the Devil shoot:

give me some sack: and, sweetheart, you lie there.

[Laying down his sword]

Have we come to a stop here, nothing to follow?

FALSTAFF.

Pistol, I would be quiet.

Pistol, I want quiet.

PISTOL.

Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif:  what! we have seen the seven

stars.

Sweet knight, I kiss your hand; what! We've had some times at night.

DOLL.

For God's sake, thrust him down stairs:  I cannot endure such a

fustian rascal.

For God’s sake, thrown him down the stairs: I can't put up with

such a foolish rascal.

PISTOL.

Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags?

Throw him down the stairs? Don't we know a tart when we see one?

FALSTAFF.

Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling:

nay, an a' do nothing but speak nothing, a' shall be nothing

here.

Throw him down, Bardolph, like a coin on a shuffleboard:

no, whatever he's going to do, he shan't do it here.

BARDOLPH.

Come, get you down stairs.

Come, down the stairs with you.

PISTOL.

What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue?

[Snatching up his sword.]

Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!

Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds

Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!

What! Are we going to have a bloodletting?

[Snatching up his sword]

Then let death put me to sleep, finish my sorrowful days!

Let horrible gaping wounds do the work

of fate! Come on fate, I say!

HOSTESS.

Here's goodly stuff toward!

Here's a nice business!

FALSTAFF.

Give me my rapier, boy.

Give me my rapier, boy.

DOLL.

I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.

Please, Jack, please don't take your sword out.

FALSTAFF.

Get you down stairs.

Get downstairs.

[Drawing, and driving Pistol out.]

HOSTESS.

Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house, afore

I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now.

Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.

Here's a nice racket! I'll give up innkeeping, before

putting up with these terrors and frights. I daresay there will be murder now.

Alas, alas! Put away your drawn weapons, put them away.

[Exeunt Pistol and Bardolph.]

DOLL.

I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you whoreson

little valiant villain, you!

Pleas, Jack, be calm; the rascal has gone. Ah,

you brave little bastard, you!

HOSTESS.

Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought a' made a shrewd

thrust at your belly.

Haven't you been hurt in the groin? I thought he made a cunning

stab at your belly.

[Re-enter Bardolph.]

FALSTAFF.

Have you turned him out o' doors?

Have you thrown him out?

BARDOLPH.

Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk:  you have hurt him, sir, i'

the shoulder.

Yes, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have wounded him, Sir,

in the shoulder.

FALSTAFF.

A rascal! to brave me!

What a rascal! To challenge me!

DOLL.

Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou

sweatest! come, let me wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops:

ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee:  thou art as valorous as Hector

of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine

Worthies:  ah, villain!

Ah, you sweet little rogue! Alas, you monkey, how you

sweat! Come, let me wipe your face; come on, you

chubby cheeked bastard: you rogue! I swear, I love you: you are as brave as

Hector of Troy, worth five Agamemnons, and ten times better

than the ten great men.

FALSTAFF.

A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.

A rascally slave! I'll roll the rogue up in a blanket.

DOLL.

Do, an thou darest for thy heart:  an thou dost, I'll canvass

thee between a pair of sheets.

Do, on the risk of your life: if you do I'll toss you about

between a pair of sheets.

[Enter Music.]

PAGE.

The music is come, sir.

The musicians have come, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal

bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quicksilver.

Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascally

arrogant slave! The rascal ran from me like lightning.

DOLL.

I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou whoreson

little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting

o' days and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body

for heaven?

Indeed, and you didn't budge an inch. You

sweet little tubby old pig, when will you stop fighting

in the day and thrusting at night, and begin to prepare your

old body for heaven?

[Enter, behind, Prince Henry and Poins, disguised as drawers.]

FALSTAFF.

Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's-head; do

not bid me remember mine end.

Peace, good Doll! Don't speak like a death's head;

don't remind me of my death.

DOLL.

Sirrah, what humour 's the prince of?

Sir, what's the Prince like?

FALSTAFF.

A good shallow young fellow:  'a would have made a good

pantler; a' would ha' chipped bread well.

He's a good worthless young fellow: he would have made a good

pantry man; he would have being good at taking the crust off the bread.

DOLL.

They say Poins has a good wit.

They say Poins is clever.

FALSTAFF.

He a good wit! hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick as

Tewksbury mustard; there 's no more conceit in him than is in a

mallet.

Him clever! Hang him, the baboon! His wit is as

thick as Tewksbury mustard; he's as much imagination

as a block of wood.

DOLL.

Why does the prince love him so, then?

Why is the Prince so fond of him, then?

FALSTAFF.

Because their legs are both of a bigness, and a' plays at quoits

well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends for

flap-dragons, and rides the wild-mare with the boys, and jumps upon

joined-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boots very

smooth, like unto the sign of the leg, and breeds no bate with telling

of discreet stories; and such other gambol faculties a' has, that show

a weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince admits him:  for

the prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the

scales between their avoirdupois.

Because their legs are the same size, and he plays quoits well,

and he has a good digestion and a  dull wit,

and performs acts of bravado, and plays leapfrog with the boys,

and dances around in taverns, and swears prettily,

and wears his boots very tight, fitting to the leg,

and delights his listeners with filthy stories;

and he has other jolly faculties, that demonstrate

a weak mind

in an able body, and that's why the Prince likes him:

for the Prince himself is just like him;

there's really nothing to choose between them.

PRINCE.

Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?

Does this fat rascal want his ears cut off?

POINS.

Let 's beat him before his whore.

Let's beat him in front of his whore.

PRINCE.

Look, whether the withered elder hath not his poll clawed

like a parrot.

Look, the shrivelled old man is having his hair rumpled by her, as if he was a parrot.

POINS.

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive

performance?

Isn't it odd that desire should live for so many years after

the ability to fulfil it has gone?

FALSTAFF.

Kiss me, Doll.

Kiss me, Doll.

PRINCE.

Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what says the

almanac to that?

Saturn and Venus have come together this year! What does the

almanac have to say about that?

POINS.

And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping

to his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.

And look, his red-faced servant is whispering to

his old confidant.

FALSTAFF.

Thou dost give me flattering busses.

You're flattering me with your kisses.

DOLL.

By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.