What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place, I
pray?
What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray?
What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray?
what’s your name, sir?
Colevile appears for just a few speeches, but they're notable. He surrenders out of awe for Falstaff's name — and then, when condemned, notes that had the leaders taken his counsel, the royal army would have paid a higher price. He's the most honest rebel in the play.
I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the Dale.
I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the Dale.
I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the Dale.
knight, sir,
Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, 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.
Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, 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.
Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the Dale. Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor your degre...
well, then, colevile your
Are not you Sir John Falstaff?
Are not you Sir John Falstaff?
Are not you Sir John Falstaff?
are not you sir john
As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I am. Do ye yield, sir, or 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.
As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I am. Do ye yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of your lovers, and they weep for your death. Therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.
As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er I am. Do ye yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of your lovers, and th...
good man
I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.
I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.
I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.
think you are sir
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.
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.
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...
have whole school
The heat is past; follow no further now.
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.
The heat is past; follow no further now. Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.
The heat is past; follow no further now. Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.
the heat past; follow
The sack speech is the fullest articulation of Falstaff's worldview. It argues — in comic-medical pseudoscience — that wine is the source of all human virtue: wit, courage, creativity, vitality. Sobriety produces cowardice and foolishness. This isn't just a joke: it's a consistent philosophical position that Falstaff has been embodying throughout both plays. Against the cold political calculations of Prince John, Falstaff's argument that warm vitality is more genuinely human than calculating sobriety has a real point. The speech ends with Falstaff attributing Prince Hal's greatness to sack — claiming him as the product of his world. It's the most confident claim he makes in the play, and it is about to be catastrophically disproved.
I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus. I never knew yet but
rebuke and check was the reward of valour. 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 speeded hither with the very extremest
inch of possibility; I have foundered nine score and odd posts; and
here, travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valour,
taken Sir John Colevile of the Dale, a most furious knight and valorous
enemy. But what of that? He saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say,
with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, “I came, saw, and overcame.”
I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus. I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. 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 speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine score and odd posts; and here, travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colevile of the Dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of that? He saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, “I came, saw, and overcame.”
I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus. I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow,...
would sorry,
It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.
It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.
It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.
was more his
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, 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 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.
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, 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 does the cinders of 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.
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, or, by the Lord,...
know not. here
Thine’s too heavy to mount.
yours’s too heavy to mount.
yours’s too heavy to mount.
thine’s too heavy mount.
Let it shine, then.
Let it shine, then.
Let it shine, then.
let shine, then.
Thine’s too thick to shine.
yours’s too thick to shine.
yours’s too thick to shine.
thine’s too thick shine.
Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it
what you will.
Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will.
Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will.
let something,
Colevile is a minor character who appears for less than fifteen lines, but Shakespeare gives him something most rebels in this play don't get: a final statement that's both true and dignified. He surrendered not out of cowardice but out of recognition — he knew who Falstaff was and made a rational choice. And his parting observation — that had the rebel leaders followed his counsel, the royal army would have paid a higher price — is almost certainly correct. He was the rebel who wanted to fight. He goes to execution having noted, accurately, that the others sold themselves cheaply.
Is thy name Colevile?
Is your name Colevile?
Is your name Colevile?
thy name colevile?
It is, my lord.
It is, my lord.
It is, my lord.
is, lord.
A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.
A famous rebel Are you, Colevile.
A famous rebel Are you, Colevile.
famous rebel art thou,
And a famous true subject took him.
And a famous true subject took him.
And a famous true subject took him.
and famous true subject
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.
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.
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.
am, lord, but
I know not how they sold themselves, but thou, like a kind fellow,
gavest thyself away gratis, and I thank thee for thee.
I know not how they sold themselves, but you, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis, and I thank you for you.
I know not how they sold themselves, but you, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis, and I thank you for you.
know not how they
Now, have you left pursuit?
Now, have you left pursuit?
Now, have you left pursuit?
now, have you left pursuit?
Send Colevile with his confederates
To York, to present execution.
Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
Send Colevile with his confederates To York, to present execution. Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
Send Colevile with his confederates To York, to present execution. Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
send colevile with his confederates
Prince John has just executed one of the play's most cold-blooded acts of political deception. He arrives in this scene and is immediately confronted with Falstaff — who represents everything John is not: fat, warm, dissolute, witty, dishonest, alive. The exchange between them is a study in mutual contempt. John sees Falstaff as a fat fraud. Falstaff sees John as a sober-blooded boy who can't love and can't laugh. Falstaff is more right about John than John is about Falstaff. But in the world this play inhabits, John's coldness wins and Falstaff's warmth loses. The sack speech, delivered in John's absence, is Falstaff's rebuttal — and it changes nothing.
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.
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.
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.
lord, beseech you
Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition,
Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
fare you well, 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 these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth
so over-cool 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 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 crudy vapours which environ it, makes it
apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and 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
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 heart, who, great and puffed up with this
retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour 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 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 endeavour of drinking good and good store of
fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a
thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be
to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.
I would you had but the wit, ’twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy does not love me, nor a man cannot make him laugh; but that’s no marvel, he drinks no wine. There’s never none of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink does so over-cool 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 inflammation. A good sherris-sack has a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and 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 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 heart, who, great and puffed up with this retinue, does any deed of courage; and this valour 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 it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father he has, like lean, sterile and bare land, manured, husbanded and tilled with excellent endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.
I would you had but the wit, ’twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy does not love me, nor a man cann...
would you had but
The army is discharged all and gone.
The army is discharged all and gone.
The army is discharged all and gone.
the army discharged all
Let them go. I’ll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit
Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already tempering between my
finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away.
Let them go. I’ll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away.
Let them go. I’ll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already tempering between my fi...
let them go. i’ll through
The Reckoning
This scene does two things. First, it provides a comic corrective to the grimness of 4-2: Falstaff 'captures' a rebel who surrenders out of awe at Falstaff's name, while claiming to have fought him valiantly. Second — and more importantly — it gives us Falstaff's great soliloquy on sack, one of his finest pieces of sustained comic philosophy. The sack speech is hilarious, but it's also the key to understanding Falstaff's relationship to Prince Hal: he credits Hal's virtues to wine, and blames John's coldness on sobriety. He's not entirely wrong.
If this happened today…
A celebrity shows up at a scene of action — having done nothing — and the person they're supposed to be arresting just surrenders because they know who the celebrity is. The boss is unamused. The celebrity argues: 'You should put me in the report or I'll write my own biography about this.' Boss: 'Your biography would be too fat to rise and too dense to shine.' Celebrity, alone afterward, delivers a fifteen-minute monologue about why coffee is the source of all human greatness.