name you the day, when the hear of a fine tall Bona-Roba would make me, I should ha' hop'd you God bless my heart, why what, Davy-it is not all brew'd-hath become of the Pocket from Hinchley market-the Pocket of Hops, new hops, Davy, bought at the Wake, marry, of Hugh Ryecrop?- -You can't chuse want hops, Davy-certain you can't.- -Marry for the yoke, let it be had; but the hurdles, Davy, must be stak'd and bound-You-a' began all in a moment to sing don't give range, you don't give scope, Davy, to the flock.-Let them have an half acre turnip-they'll not level fences.Look to my Cousin Slender.-I shall tend him myself, Davy, soon, Davy. one, at the crow of the cock.-I thought how it was with him; for a' talk'd as quick, aye, marry, as glib as your Worship; and a' smiled, and look'd at his own nose, and call'd "Sweet Ann Page." I ask'd him if a' would eat-so a' bade us commend him to his Cousin Robert (a' never call'd your Worship so before) and bade us get hot meat, for a' would not say nay to Ann again.'-But a' never liv'd to touch it ROBERT SHALLOW.1 DAVY TO SHALLOW. MASTER Abram is dead, gone, your Worship-dead! Master Abram! Oh! good your Worship, a's gone.-A' never throve, since a' came from Windsor-'twas his "Lovers all, a Madrigal." 'Twas the Alice Shortcake craves, she may make his shroud.-Ah! had your Worship but never ha' taken him to Windsor! I knew Mistress Alice's mind, marry, and Master Abram's too-they'd ha' coupled, your Worship, and never dreamt of love, any more than all their forefathers, and grandfathers did afore them. death. I call'd him a rebel, your Worship -but a' was all subject-a' was subject to any baby, as much as a King-a' turn'd like as it were the latter end of a lover's lute-a' was all peace and resignment-a' took delight in nothing but his book of songs and sonnets-a' would go to the Stroud side under the large beech tree, and sing, till 'twas quite pity of our lives to mark him; for his chin grew as long as a muscle Old Sir Simon's vault must be opened, -Oh! a' sung his soul and body quite away I humbly conceit, your Worship; and -a' was lank as any greyhound, and had Master Abram's effigy placed by his side such a scent! I hid his love-songs among in the Chancelry, in armour, marry, with your Worship's law-books; for I thought, his hands folded on his breast, by way of if a' could not get at them, it might be to his denoting his death's-wound! for I humbly quiet; but a' snuff'd 'em out in a moment. think, with your Worship's leave, it may -Good your Worship, have the wise woman tend to warn all such, as have not shrewd of Brentford secured-Master Abram may heads, from entering into love-matters.have been conjured-Peter Simple says, a' An your Worship will specify time and never look'd up, after a' sent to the wise place, I'll bring the horses to meet and carry woman-Marry, a' was always given to look down afore his elders; a' might do it, a' tions about Master Abram's funeral. your Worship home, in order to have direcwas given to it-your Worship knows it; but then 'twas peak and pert with him-a' was a man again, marry, in the turn of his heel. A' died your Worship, just about 1 Here is an air of pleasantry throughout, that I have never observed in Shallow before. Through all his affected anger, 'tis easy enough to discover, that his vanity is not a little fed by Davy's anticipating officiousness.-No matter to Robert in what cause they had assembled, he had a corps of soldiers training in his service! | Your Worship's serving man, DAVY. The following fragment appears among Sir part of a Letter to the Prince; but being 1 Vide Merry Wives of Windsor-Latter part of the 1st Scene 1st Act. very mutilated, the Editor was for some 'haviour and manners.- -He is not the time irresolute as to granting it admission Gentleman, peradventure, in his interamong his more perfect MS.- -How-courses, that I might observe of other his ever, an innate reverence to every the most relatifes.There was Ulysses the Greek trifling relique of the good Knight, at had occasions and matters to discuss with length determined him to present it to the Pluto-'hy, he was received, look'e, pelow, as his rank merited-O, Death had a goot pattern in Pluto!-I have had readings apout Death-You shall hear— publick. * * * * made up of the shreds and clippings of the several arts and sciences.He hath made much progress in Italian, doth begin to wax villainously nasal in his pronunciation of French; and for dancing, Hal! he would fit ye to and fro like a shadow * * * * * * * * * * And when he 'ould pc merry, he doth chuse Put I will end with this solemn mockery. You see, Mistress 'Ickly, that Death hath his vlouts, and his freaks, and his merri * In height he is about 5 foot 11, or by'r lady, inclining to six foot; but the face, the face, is the Trumpeter to this aspiring inclination of Master Slender's; the dis-ments, maugre what all the antient writers tance from chin to brow being a common may afer; tho', o' my conscience, I cannot pace, or geometrically speaking, is to the say, I did ever in any my pattles and skirmishes see him, look'e, so much as on a whole upright system as 4 to 16-one- proad grin.I am forget the lineage and fourth, if we omit fractions. With all this family of the author; put it pe Irish. majesty of * * CAPTAIN FLUELLIN TO MRS. QUICKLY. * Hath Captain Falstaff left any creat matters in the way of estate? Put that's no matter at all-send me the pill of his funeral charges, and I will pe three crowns in his debt to puy him a pound of lead to lay in.- -So Got me 'udge, I affection'd the man, as a man, peradventure, might estimate of a prother, where there was only Gor pless my heart! Captain Falstaff. one in the family, look'e, peside the father dead! Mistress 'Ickly, I hope he departed and his ownself.- -He was the fery person with the fear of his Majesty in poth his eyes, of all the 'orld to keep th' universal army marry, and of Got too? His Majesty, to pe in goot glee, when the athversary, o' my sure, was repukings and gallings to him, conscience, approach'd with his pike as far when his Majesty, look'e, was King upon off as the jerk of half a stone.- -Hath he the death of his father; but that is nought left sons and daughters to represent and ty -If he used his goot pleasures in the pify him in the 'orld? Let me pe advised matter, look'e, Mistress 'Ickly, he might de-o this matter, Mistress 'Ickly. I will grade, and create a trummer, or a fifer, or what is 'orse, the sutler's paggagebearer o' the camp, of me, or of any captain. Sir John was old, most certain, and his preed might pe a matter pigger than I can recollection to have seen; put that, look'e, should not kill him a whit the more sudden. 'hy, I did have letters from him-when was Put Death is fery ill and moody in his promotion and make them as pig men under King Harry, as he that peget them of 'omen; that is, Mistress 'Ickly, upon the well fouchment, and pelief, and credit too, that they pe honest and goot subjects, and pe not given to porrowings and sackings.did get advance of me py way of possets, O' my credit, there is three pounds Sir John which is no petter than dross-Put that, look'e, is a matter of affapility petween us, that I'ould not discuss to an own prother. -He is dead, and I am three crowns in his debt, and there's the finish. Got bless you, Mistress Quickly! FALSTAFF IN HADES. [Nor content with his knowledge of Falstaff in the present life, one illustrious writer has, in imagination, followed him to the spirit world. For the following hint touching the Fat Knight's behaviour in Hades, we are indebted to OLIVER GOLDSMITH'S Reverie at the Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap.] THE character of old Falstaff, even with all his faults, gives me more consolation than the most studied efforts of wisdom: 1 here behold an agreeable old fellow, forgetting age, and shewing me the way to be young at sixty-five. Sure I am well able to be as merry, though not so comical as he Is it not in my power to have, though not so much wit, at least as much vivacity?-Age, care, wisdom, reflection, be gone-I give you to the winds. Let's have t' other bottle: here's to the memory of Shakspeare, Falstaff, and all the merry men of Eastcheap. Such were the reflections that naturally arose while I sat at the Boar's Head tavern, still kept at Eastcheap. Here, by a pleasant fire, in the very room where old Sir John Falstaff cracked his jokes, in the very chair which was sometimes honored by Prince Henry, and sometimes polluted by his immoral, merry companions, I sat and ruminated on the follies of youth; wished to be young again; but was resolved to make the best of life while it lasted, and now and then compared past and present times together. I considered myself as the only living representative of the old knight, and transported my imagination back to the time when the prince and he gave life to the revel, and made even debauchery not disgusting. The room also conspired to throw my reflections back into antiquity: the oak floor, the gothic windows, and the ponderous chimneypiece, had long withstood the tooth of time; the watchman had gone at twelve; my companions had all stolen off; and none now remained with me but the landlord. From him I could have wished to know the history of a tavern, that had such a long succession of customers; I could not help thinking that an account of this kind would be a pleasing contrast of the manners of the different ages; but my landlord could give me no information. He continued to doze and sot, and tell a tedious story, as most other landlords usually do; and, though he said nothing, yet was never silent: one good joke followed another good joke; and the best joke of all was generally begun towards the end of a bottle. I found at last, however, his wine and his conversation operate by degrees: he insensibly began to alter his appearance. His cravat seemed quilled into a ruff, and his breeches swelled out into a fardingale. I now fancied him close in slumber, I imagined my fat landchanging sexes; and, as my eyes began to lord actually converted into as fat a landlady. However, sleep made but few changes in my situation: the tavern, the apartment, and the table, continued as before; nothing suffered mutation but my host, who was fairly altered into a gentlewoman, whom I knew to be dame Quickly, mistress of this tavern in the days of Sir John; and the liquor we were drinking, which seemed converted into sack and sugar. My dear Mrs. Quickly," cried I, (for I knew her perfectly well at first sight) "I am heartily glad to see you. How have you left Falstaff, Pistol, and the rest of our friends below stairs! Brave and hearty, I hope?" "In good sooth," replied she, he did deserve to live for ever; but he maketh foul work on 't where he hath flitted. Queen Proserpine and he have quarrelled for his attempting a rape upon her divinity; and were it not that she still had bowels of compassion, it more than seems probable he might have been now sprawling in Tartarus.” CONCLUSION OF FALSTAFF. A FAMOUS judge came late to court, One day in busy session, Whereat his clerk, in great surprise, Inquired of him the reason. "A child was born," his honor said, "And I'm the happy sire." "An infant judge ?" "Oh, no," said he, "As yet he's but a crier." REGULAR AND STEADY.-"How many regular boarders have you, madam ?" asked a census-taker of a lady. “Well, really, I can't say as any of 'em is any too regular. They stop out." "I mean, madam, how many steady boarders have you?” "Well, really, out of nineteen, there's not more 'n two that I'd call steady." A NEGRO once gave the following toast: "De Gubernor ob our State. He come in wid berry little opposition; he goes out wid none at all." CAPTAIN PATON. On a herring and a mutton chop, which his maid dress'd very fine, There was also a little Malmsey, and a bottle of Bourdeaux, TOUCH once more a sober measure, and let Which between me and the Captain pass'd punch and tears be shed, nimbly to and fro; For a prince of good old fellows that alack-Oh! I ne'er shall take pot-luck with Captain Now and then upon a Sunday he invited me to And we laid him by the Ram's-horn kirk,— dine 'tis the way we all must go; Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain | William a surprise, she ran over to see him Paton no mo! early in the afternoon. Of course he got a cup of coffee for her, and they were hav Join all in chorus, jolly boys, and let punch ing a pleasant chat in his sitting-room, when and tears be shed, the scout comes in with a card,' Mr. Ed For this prince of good old fellows that alack-ward Mandelay.' a-day! is dead; FOUR or five of us (says a writer in "The Whitehall Review") were enjoying our last pipe for the night in the smoking-room at Craigfalloch. We had had a long day's tramp over the moors, and the conversation lay chiefly between Jack Winstanley and Charley Vane. These two had been at Oxbridge about the same time, and discovered that, though they had never met there, they had a lot of friends in common. Of course they began telling each other who had gone into the church, who into the civil service, who was dragging out life at an up-country station in India, who had got shot in South Africa, and who had made a fortune in colored yarns. "Did you know Merton ?" asked Winstanley. "I think I've met him. Wasn't he a St. Bridget's man?" 66 Yes; a tall, pale fellow, if you remember, with a straw-colored hat and a delicate gossamer beard that he never would shave off." "Rather good family, eh?" 66 Daresay. He was a very decent fellow, if he was a little strait-laced. A parson now, of course. Did you ever hear of a visit he once got from a fine old English gentleman, all of the olden time?'" "No. Tell us the story." 66 "The gen'man sends his compliments, sir, and hopes it would be convenient for you to see his rooms. He had these rooms, he says, sir, when he was up here fifty years ago, and he has a great fancy to see them again.' 66 “Oh, no; but, you see, if the old gentleman sees you he will be tempted to sit down and talk, and we shall lose all the afternoon. Here's the scout's closet. Run in, and I'll get rid of him as soon as I can.' The fact is that Merton was so awfully afraid of being chaffed that he wouldn't have had it come to our ears on any account that a stranger had found him enter taining a lady in his rooms. Agatha was rather shy, and very glad to take refuge in the scout's closet. "Presently in comes Squire Mandelay. A fine bluff old fellow, something over seventy, a little shaky on his pins, red face, white mutton-chop whiskers, white hat, check tie-you know the style? "Happy to make your acquaintance, sir. Hope I'm not in your way. The scout told you, perhaps, that I used to have these rooms-ah! a good fifty-three years agobefore your father was born, I daresay? Dear me ! How time flies! It all looks like yesterday-like yesterday! The same old view into the master's garden. Yes, the same old view. The same old pictures, too'; and the old boy got up and tapped the frames; and I declare! the same old sofa. Dear me?' Next, he walked round the room, stop. ping at the fireplace. 'Same old mantelpiece!' Then he got to the door of the scout's room, and turned the handle. 666 'Same old- He had just opened the door, when he caught the flutter of a petticoat, and suddenly closed it. Well, Merton was really a good fellow, but he had been brought up at homecoached at the family rectory; you understand? He never got into scrapes like the rest of us, and in fact was the most irreproachable soul you ever saw. One term, Merton's eldest sister, a mature lady of "Sir!' gasps Merton, in an awful funk; some thirty summers, came down to stay'sir! that's my sister! She-that is.' with some friends near Oxbridge, and the "Well, I declare! Same old lie! Same day after her arrival, wishing to give dear old lie!'"' "Ah!' says he, shaking his head, 'same old games! same old games!' |