Act 2, Scene 1

Rochester. An Inn-Yard.

[Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.]
First Carrier
600 Heigh-ho! an't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd:
601 Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse' not
602 pack'd.—What, ostler!
[within.]
Ostler
603 Anon, anon.
First Carrier
604 I pr'ythee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the
605 point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.
[Enter another Carrier.]
Second Carrier
606 Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the
607 next way to give poor jades the bots; this house is turned
608 upside down since Robin ostler died.
First Carrier
609 Poor fellow! never joyed since the price of oats rose; it was
610 the death of him.
Second Carrier
611 I think this be the most villainous house in all London road
612 for fleas: I am stung like a tench.
First Carrier
613 Like a tench! by the Mass, there is ne'er a king in Christendom
614 could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.—What,
First Carrier
615 ostler! come away and be hang'd; come away.
Second Carrier
616 I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be
617 delivered as far as Charing-cross.
First Carrier
618 'Odsbody! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved.—What,
619 ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy head?
620 canst not hear? An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to break
621 the pate of thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hang'd:
622 hast no faith in thee?
[Enter Gadshill.]
Gadshill
623 Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock?
First Carrier
624 I think it be two o'clock.
Gadshill
625 I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding in the
626 stable.
First Carrier
627 Nay, soft, I pray ye; I know a trick worth two of that, i'faith.
Gadshill
628 I pr'ythee, lend me thine.
Second Carrier
629 Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth a? marry, I'll
630 see thee hang'd first.
Gadshill
631 Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?
Second Carrier
632 Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee.—
633 Come, neighbour Muggs, we'll call up the gentlemen: they will
634 along with company, for they have great charge.
[Exeunt Carriers.]
Gadshill
635 What, ho! chamberlain!
[Within.]
Chamberlain
636 At hand, quoth pick-purse.
Gadshill
637 That's even as fair as—at hand, quoth the chamberlain; for
638 thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving
639 direction doth from labouring; thou lay'st the plot how.
[Enter Chamberlain.]
Chamberlain
640 Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told
641 you yesternight: there's a franklin in the wild of Kent hath
642 brought three hundred marks with him in gold: I heard him
643 tell it to one of his company last night at supper; a kind of
644 auditor; one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what.
645 They are up already, and call for eggs and butter; they will away
646 presently.
Gadshill
647 Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll give
648 thee this neck.
Chamberlain
649 No, I'll none of it: I pr'ythee, keep that for the hangman; for
650 I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of
651 falsehood may.
Gadshill
652 What talkest thou to me of the hangman? if I hang, I'll make
653 a fat pair of gallows; for, if I hang, old Sir John hangs with
654 me, and thou know'st he is no starveling. Tut! there are other
655 Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for sport-sake,
656 are content to do the profession some grace; that would, if
657 matters should be look'd into, for their own credit-sake, make
658 all whole. I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff
659 sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued
660 malt-worms; but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters and
661 great oneyers; such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner
662 than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than
663 pray: and yet, zwounds, I lie; for they pray continually to their
664 saint, the Commonwealth; or, rather, not pray to her, but prey on
665 her, for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots.
Chamberlain
666 What, the Commonwealth their boots? will she hold out water
667 in foul way?
Gadshill
668 She will, she will; justice hath liquor'd her. We steal as in a
669 castle, cock-sure; we have the receipt of fernseed,—we walk
670 invisible.
Chamberlain
671 Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night
672 than to fern-seed for your walking invisible.
Gadshill
673 Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a share in our purchase, as
674 I am a true man.
Chamberlain
675 Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.
Gadshill
676 Go to; homo is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler
677 bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave.
[Exeunt.]

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Word definitions on hover

Notes

TLN 601archaic vocab
“Charles' wain is over the new chimney”
Charles' Wain is an older English name for what Americans call the Big Dipper — the seven bright stars of Ursa Major. The word 'wain' means a farm wagon; the stars were imagined as a wagon or plough. Its position in the sky serves as a rough clock: the First Carrier is using it to estimate the pre-dawn hour.
TLN 604archaic vocab
“beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers”
'Cut' was a common name for a horse with a docked (cut) tail. 'Flocks' are tufts of wool or cloth used to pad a saddle. The 'point' is the front arch of the saddle-tree. 'Wrung in the withers' means the horse's back has been rubbed raw and sore where the saddle sits on the ridge between its shoulder blades (the withers). The First Carrier is telling the ostler to re-stuff the saddle so it stops chafing the horse.
TLN 606archaic vocab
“Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots”
'Dank' means damp and cold — feed left wet in a badly kept stable. 'Jades' are worn-out, poor-quality horses. 'The bots' are the larvae of a botfly (Gasterophilus) that infest a horse's stomach, causing serious illness; in the period the term covered several worm-infestations of horses. Feeding horses damp grain was believed to cause or worsen such parasitic infections.
TLN 612archaic vocab
“I am stung like a tench”
A tench is a freshwater fish (Tinca tinca) notable for the thick mucus on its skin and, according to Elizabethan natural history, for being covered in spots or blemishes. The Second Carrier is comparing his flea-bitten skin to the spotted, blemished body of this fish. The First Carrier one-ups the image by insisting no king in Christendom has been more thoroughly bitten.
TLN 613cultural context
“by the Mass”
'By the Mass' is an oath swearing by the Catholic Mass — the central rite of the Roman Catholic Church in which bread and wine are consecrated as the body and blood of Christ. Such oaths were extremely common in everyday speech in England before the Reformation and persisted long afterward in colloquial use. For ordinary working men like the carriers, it was an unremarkable exclamation, not a theological statement.
TLN 616archaic vocab
“a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing-cross”
A 'gammon' is the bottom end of a side of cured pork (the haunch); it is still the word for a large smoked ham in British English. A 'raze' (also 'race' or 'razure') is a root — specifically a root of ginger, a valuable imported spice. Charing Cross was then the western edge of London, where the road from Canterbury and Dover entered the city. The Second Carrier is a commercial carrier transporting goods to London.
TLN 618archaic vocab
“'Odsbody”
'Odsbody!' is a minced oath — a politely softened version of 'God's body,' swearing by the physical body of Christ. Minced oaths shortened or garbled the divine name to avoid the sin of blasphemy. The exclamation signals sharp frustration.
TLN 636wordplay
“At hand, quoth pick-purse”
The Chamberlain sarcastically quotes a proverb: 'At hand, quoth pick-purse' — meaning that thieves are always conveniently nearby when there is something to steal. Gadshill, calling 'What, ho! chamberlain!', gets back a response that knowingly labels both of them as thieves before a word of business has been spoken. The Chamberlain is showing Gadshill that he understands exactly what kind of 'hand' is being called for.
TLN 641historical topical
“a franklin in the wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold”
A 'franklin' was a free landowner below the rank of gentleman -- prosperous but not titled, the substantial country farmer class. 'The wild of Kent' (the Weald) was a large forested region in the interior of Kent, between the North and South Downs. 'Three hundred marks' was a significant sum: a mark was two-thirds of a pound, so 300 marks = 200 pounds, roughly a comfortable craftsman's income for two decades.
historical Gad's Hill and highway robbery
TLN 647historical topical
“if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll give thee this neck”
'Saint Nicholas' clerks' was thieves' cant for highwaymen and robbers. Saint Nicholas is the patron saint of travelers and also of thieves — two interests that naturally collide on the road. Calling robbers his 'clerks' (servants) was a dark joke already current in Elizabethan rogue literature. Gadshill is saying the travellers will certainly be robbed. The Chamberlain's reply that Gadshill 'worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may' confirms that Gadshill is himself one of the saint's 'clerks.'
historical Gad's Hill and highway robbery
TLN 654wordplay
“there are other Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for sport-sake, are content to do the profession some grace”
'Trojans' here is Elizabethan slang for boon companions, rogues, or good fellows — not a reference to the ancient city of Troy. Gadshill is telling the Chamberlain that there are powerful associates in the robbery gang — meaning Falstaff and, implicitly, Prince Hal — whose identity the Chamberlain cannot guess. The irony is that actual royalty is among the 'Trojans.'
TLN 658archaic vocab
“no foot land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms”
Gadshill is boasting that his associates are not low-grade ruffians. 'Foot land-rakers' are vagabond thieves who work on foot, picking pockets or snatching purses in fields and lanes — the lowest class of petty criminal. 'Long-staff sixpenny strikers' are robbers who use a quarterstaff to knock down victims for small change. 'Mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms' are drunken, mustachioed tavern-sots — men whose faces have gone red from drinking cheap ale (malt liquor).
TLN 663rhetorical device
“they pray continually to their saint, the Commonwealth; or, rather, not pray to her, but prey on her, for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots”
Gadshill builds a sustained pun: his noble associates 'pray' to the Commonwealth as their patron saint, then corrects himself — they do not pray to her but 'prey' on her (the words were pronounced alike in Elizabethan English). 'Make her their boots' means use her as a profit, a 'booty' — but 'boots' also means riding boots, so they 'ride up and down on her' like a horse while wearing her as their footwear. The Commonwealth — the common wealth, the public good — is simultaneously worshipped, hunted, and ridden.
TLN 669historical topical
“we have the receipt of fernseed,—we walk invisible”
Fern-seed was a piece of Elizabethan folk magic: ferns reproduce by spores so tiny they were invisible to the naked eye, and popular belief held that carrying fern-seed gathered on Midsummer Eve would make the bearer invisible. Gadshill is joking that since his powerful associates would suppress any investigation, the gang effectively operates unseen — as if they had this magical seed. The Chamberlain punctures the joke at TLN 671-672: they are really invisible only because they operate at night.