第 7 节
作者:冥王      更新:2021-02-19 19:23      字数:9322
  Prince。 Ned; prithee come out of that fat…room and lend me thy hand
  to laugh a little。 Poins。 Where hast been; Hal? Prince;。 With three or four
  loggerheads   amongst   three   or   fourscore   hogsheads。   I   have   sounded   the
  very   bass…string   of   humility。   Sirrah;   I   am   sworn   brother   to   a   leash   of
  drawers and can call them all by their christen names; as Tom; Dick; and
  Francis。   They   take   it   already   upon   their   salvation   that;   though   I   be   but
  Prince of Wales; yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell me flatly I am no
  proud Jack like Falstaff; but a Corinthian; a lad of mettle; a good boy (by
  the   Lord;   so   they   call   me!);   and   when   I   am   King   of   England   I   shall
  command   all   the   good   lads   Eastcheap。   They   call   drinking   deep;   dying
  scarlet;   and   when   you   breathe   in   your   watering; they  cry  'hem!'   and   bid
  you play it off。 To conclude; I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an
  hour that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life。 I
  tell thee; Ned; thou hast lost much honour that thou wert not with me in
  this action。 But; sweet Ned… to sweeten which name of Ned; I give thee
  this   pennyworth   of   sugar;   clapp'd   even   now   into   my   hand   by   an   under…
  skinker; one that never spake other English in his life than 'Eight shillings
  and   sixpence;'   and   'You   are   welcome;'   with   this   shrill   addition;   'Anon;
  anon;  sir!   Score a   pint  of   bastard   in the   Half…moon;'   or   so…   but;   Ned;   to
  drive away the time till Falstaff come; I prithee do thou stand in some by…
  room while I question my puny drawer to what end be gave me the sugar;
  and   do   thou   never   leave   calling   'Francis!'   that   his   tale   to   me   may   be
  nothing   but   'Anon!'   Step   aside;   and   I'll   show   thee   a   precedent。   Poins。
  Francis! Prince。 Thou art perfect。 Poins。 Francis! 'Exit Poins。'
  Enter 'Francis; a' Drawer。
  Fran。 Anon; anon; sir。… Look down into the Pomgarnet; Ralph。 Prince。
  Come hither; Francis。 Fran。 My lord? Prince。 How long hast thou to serve;
  Francis?   Fran。   Forsooth;   five   years;   and   as   much   as   to…   Poins。   'within'
  Francis! Fran。 Anon; anon; sir。 Prince。 Five year! by'r Lady; a long lease
  for the clinking of Pewter。 But; Francis; darest thou be so valiant as to play
  the coward with thy indenture and show it a fair pair of heels and run from
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  it? Fran。 O Lord; sir; I'll be sworn upon all the books in England I could
  find in my heart… Poins。 'within' Francis! Fran。 Anon; sir。 Prince。 How old
  art   thou;   Francis?   Fran。   Let   me   see。 About   Michaelmas   next   I   shall   be…
  Poins。 'within' Francis! Fran。 Anon; sir。 Pray stay a little; my lord。 Prince。
  Nay;     but   hark   you;    Francis。    For   the   sugar    thou   gavest    me…    'twas   a
  pennyworth; wast not? Fran。 O Lord! I would it had been two! Prince。 I
  will give thee for it a thousand pound。 Ask me when thou wilt; and; thou
  shalt   have   it。   Poins。   'within'   Francis!   Fran。   Anon;   anon。   Prince。   Anon;
  Francis? No; Francis; but to…morrow; Francis; or; Francis; a Thursday; or
  indeed; Francis; when thou wilt。 But Francis… Fran。 My lord? Prince。 Wilt
  thou   rob   this   leathern…jerkin;   crystal…button;   not…pated;   agate…ring;   puke…
  stocking; caddis…garter; smooth…tongue; Spanish…pouch… Fran。 O Lord; sir;
  who   do   you   mean?   Prince。   Why   then;   your   brown   bastard   is   your   only
  drink;   for   look   you;   Francis;   your   white   canvas   doublet   will   sully。   In
  Barbary; sir; it cannot come to so much。 Fran。 What; sir? Poins。 'within'
  Francis! Prince。 Away; you rogue! Dost thou not hear them call? Here they
  both call him。 The Drawer stands amazed; not knowing which way to go。
  Enter Vintner。
  Vint。 What; stand'st thou still; and hear'st such a calling? Look to the
  guests   within。   'Exit   Francis。'   My   lord;   old   Sir   John;   with   half…a…dozen
  more; are at the door。 Shall I let them in? Prince。 Let them alone awhile;
  and then open the door。 'Exit Vintner。' Poins! Poins。 'within' Anon; anon;
  sir。
  Enter Poins。
  Prince。   Sirrah;   Falstaff   and   the   rest   of   the   thieves   are   at   the   door。
  Shall we be merry? Poins。 As merry as crickets; my lad。 But hark ye; what
  cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? Come; what's
  the issue? Prince。 I am now of all humours that have showed themselves
  humours   since   the   old   days   of   goodman Adam   to   the   pupil   age   of   this
  present this twelve o'clock at midnight。 'Enter Francis。'
  What's   o'clock;   Francis?   Fran。 Anon;   anon;   sir。   'Exit。'   Prince。   That
  ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot; and yet the son of
  a woman! His industry is upstairs and downstairs; his eloquence the parcel
  of a reckoning。 I am not yet of Percy's mind; the Hotspur of the North; he
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  that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast; washes his
  hands; and says to his wife; 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work。' 'O my
  sweet Harry;' says she; 'how many hast thou kill'd to…day?' 'Give my roan
  horse   a   drench;'   says   he;   and   answers   'Some   fourteen;'   an   hour   after;   'a
  trifle;   a   trifle。'   I   prithee   call   in   Falstaff。   I'll   play   Percy;   and   that   damn'd
  brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife。 'Rivo!' says the drunkard。 Call
  in ribs; call in tallow。
  Enter   Falstaff;   'Gadshill;   Bardolph;   and   Peto;   Francis   follows   with
  wine'。 Poins。 Welcome; Jack。 Where hast thou been? Fal。 A plague of all
  cowards; I say; and a vengeance too! Marry and amen! Give me a cup of
  sack; boy。 Ere I lead this life long; I'll sew nether…stocks; and mend them
  and foot them too。 A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack; rogue。
  Is there no virtue extant? He drinketh。 Prince。 Didst thou never see Titan
  kiss a dish of butter? Pitiful…hearted butter; that melted at the sweet tale of
  the sun! If thou didst; then behold that compound。 Fal。 You rogue; here's
  lime in this sack too! There is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous
  man。 Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it… a villanous
  coward!   Go   thy   ways;   old   Jack;   die   when   thou   wilt;   if   manhood;   good
  manhood;   be   not   forgot   upon   the   face   of   the   earth;   then   am   I   a   shotten
  herring。 There lives not three good men unhang'd in England; and one of
  them is fat; and grows old。 God help the while! A bad world; I say。 I would
  I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or anything。 A plague of all cowards I
  say still! Prince。 How now; woolsack? What mutter you? Fal。 A king's son!
  If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath and drive all
  thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese; I'll never wear hair on
  my   face   more。 You   Prince   of Wales?   Prince。   Why;   you   whoreson   round
  man; what's the matter? Fal。 Are not you a coward? Answer me to that…
  and Poins there? Poins。 Zounds; ye fat paunch; an ye call me coward; by
  the Lord; I'll stab thee。 Fal。 I call thee coward? I'll see thee damn'd ere I
  call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as
  thou   canst。 You   are   straight   enough   in   the   shoulders;   you   care   not   who
  sees Your back。 Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such
  backing! Give me them that will face me。 Give me a cup of sack。 I am a
  rogue if I drunk to…day。 Prince。 O villain! thy lips are scarce wip'd since
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  thou drunk'st last。 Fal。 All is one for that。 (He drinketh。) A plague of all
  cowards   still   say   I。   Prince。   What's   the   matter?   Fal。   What's   the   matter?
  There be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day  morning。
  Prince。 Where is it; Jack? Where is it? Fal。 Where is it; Taken from us it is。
  A hundred upon poor four of us! Prince。 What; a hundred; man? Fal。 I am
  a   rogue   if   I   were   not   at   half…sword   with   a   dozen   of   them   two   hours
  together。   I   have   scap'd   by   miracle。   I   am   eight   times   thrust   through   the
  doublet; four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my
  sword hack'd like a handsaw… ecce signum! I never dealt better since I was
  a man。 All would not do。 A plague of all cowards! Let them speak; If they
  speak more