No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, God shorten Harry’s happy life one day! [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Gloucestershire. Shallow’s orchard. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy, Bardolph and the Page. SHALLOW. Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year’s pippin of mine own graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth. Come, cousin Silence. And then to bed. FALSTAFF. Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich. SHALLOW. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John. Marry, good air. Spread, Davy, spread, Davy. Well said, Davy. FALSTAFF. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-man and your husband. SHALLOW. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John. By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper. A good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down. Come, cousin. SILENCE. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall [_Singing._] _Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, And praise God for the merry year, When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there So merrily, And ever among so merrily._ FALSTAFF. There’s a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I’ll give you a health for that anon. SHALLOW. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. DAVY. Sweet sir, sit. I’ll be with you anon. Most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit. Proface! What you want in meat, we’ll have in drink, but you must bear; the heart’s all. [_Exit._] SHALLOW. Be merry, Master Bardolph, and, my little soldier there, be merry. SILENCE. [_Singing._] _Be merry, be merry, my wife has all, For women are shrews, both short and tall. ’Tis merry in hall when beards wag all, And welcome merry Shrove-tide. Be merry, be merry._ FALSTAFF. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle. SILENCE. Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now. Enter Davy. DAVY. [_To Bardolph_.] There’s a dish of leather-coats for you. SHALLOW. Davy! DAVY. Your worship? I’ll be with you straight. [_To Bardolph_] A cup of wine, sir? SILENCE. [_Singing._] _A cup of wine that’s brisk and fine, And drink unto thee, leman mine, And a merry heart lives long-a._ FALSTAFF. Well said, Master Silence. SILENCE. An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o’ th’ night. FALSTAFF. Health and long life to you, Master Silence. SILENCE. [_Singing._] _Fill the cup, and let it come, I’ll pledge you a mile to th’ bottom._ SHALLOW. Honest Bardolph, welcome! If thou want’st anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief, [_to the Page_] and welcome indeed too. I’ll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cabileros about London. DAVY. I hope to see London once ere I die. BARDOLPH. An I might see you there, Davy,— SHALLOW. By the mass, you’ll crack a quart together, ha! will you not, Master Bardolph? BARDOLPH. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.