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I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease in incurable.
(Act 1, scene 2, lines 242–44)
Throughout Henry IV, Part 2, many characters describe Falstaff in terms of sickness and disease. Here, he associates his own behavior with a kind of sickness when confronted by the Lord Chief Justice, who’s come to interrogate him about his involvement in a robbery. In his characteristic fashion, Falstaff indulges in a bit of wordplay, likening his propensity to go ever further into debt to “consumption.” In early modern England, the disease we know today as tuberculosis was called consumption. But Falstaff isn’t suffering from this malady. Instead, he’s afflicted by a gluttonous tendency to consume too much. His desire to eat more food and drink more “sack” leads him to borrow more money and go further into debt in an endless cycle. Though his wordplay is amusing, this scene makes it clear that Falstaff’s “incurable” disease continues to get him into trouble.
Peace, good Doll. Do not speak like a death’s-head; do not bid me remember mine end.
(Act 2, scene 4, lines 237–38)
During a raucous tavern scene, a sweet exchange takes place between Falstaff and his favorite prostitute, Doll Tearsheet. Showing genuine care for Falstaff, Doll asks him, “when wilt thou leave fighting a-days and foining a-nights and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?” (2.4.234–36). Falstaff responds with these words, urging Doll not to remind him of his mortality. The term “death’s-head” refers to a skull, which was commonly used in Shakespeare’s time as a memento mori, or “reminder of death.” It was thought that by drawing a person’s attention to their mortality, they would be better able to value life. But Falstaff, though he grows old, is already a prime model of vitality. In fact, his greatest virtue is his seemingly inexhaustible enjoyment of life. That said, this brief exchange brings it home that even a great vitalist such as Falstaff will eventually decline and die. The reference to mortality is thus a memento mori that points forward to the end of the play, where Harry officially banishes Falstaff from his presence—a turning point that will ultimately lead to Falstaff’s death in Henry V.
A good sherris sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the dull and crudy vapors 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. . . . 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 valor comes of sherris.
(Act 4, scene 2, lines 99–117)
This long quotation comes from a yet longer soliloquy in which Falstaff exuberantly defends the virtues of alcohol. Demonstrating a mind capable of careful and systematic thought, Falstaff outlines what he believes to be the two chief values of “a good sherris sack.” First, alcohol endows the consumer with the nimbleness of mind and tongue that “becomes excellent wit.” Second, alcohol warms the blood and prepares the body the engage in valorous “deed[s] of courage.” Falstaff delivers this defense of sack in response to an encounter with John of Lancaster, a “sober-blooded boy” (4.2.91) who privileges the power of his dukedom over the development of his wit. Falstaff has nothing but contempt for this man, whom he compares unfavorably with his elder brother, Prince Harry. Unlike the other Lancaster princes, Harry has learned to drink alcohol, and so has warmed “the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father” (4.2.122–23).
