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and doe neuer leaue calling Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but, anon: steppe afide, and Ile shew thee a present.
Prince. Come hither Francis.
Prince. Fiue yeares; berlady a long lease for the clincking of pewter : but Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and shew it a faire paire of heeles, and runne from it?
Francis. O lord fir, Ile besworne vpon all * bookes in Eng. land, I could find in my heart.
gauest me, t'was a + peony worth, wast not?
Francis. O lord, I would it had been two.
Prince. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound, aske mee when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it.
Prince. Anone Francis? no Francis, but to morrow Frana cis : or Francis, on Thurfeday: or indeed Francis, when thou wilt : but Francis.
Francis. My lord.
Prince. Wilt thou rob this leatherne jerkin, christall button, not-pated, agat ring, puke stocking, caddice garter, smooth tongue, Spanis pouch,
Francis. O lord sir, who do you meane?
Prince. Why then your browne bastarde is your onely drinke: for looke you Francis, your white canuasse doublet will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much.
Francis. What fir;
Prince. Away yon rogue, dost thou not heare them call ? Heere they both call him, the drawer ftandes amazed, not
knowing which way to goe.
Vint. What, standst thou still, and hearst such a calling? looke to the ghestes within. My lord, old sir Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore, shall I let them in ?
Prin. Let them alone a while, and then open the doore: Poines.
Poines. Anone, anone sir.
Prince. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the theeues, are at the doore, shall we be merry ?
Poin. As merry as crickets, my lad: but harke yee, what cunning match haue you made with this iest of the drawer ; come, what's the issue?
Princ. I am now of all humors, that haue Chewed themfelues humors, since the old daies of goodman Adam, to the
pupill age of this present twelue a clocke at midnight. What's a clocke Francis ?
Francis. Anone, anone sir.
Princ. That euer this fellow should haue fewer words then a parret, and yet the son of a woman. His industry is vp staires and downe staires, his eloquence the parcell of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north, he that kils me some sixe or seuen dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his handes, and sayes to his wife, fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my sweet Harry, says she ! how many hast thou kild to day? giue my roane horse a drench (sayes he) and answeres, some forteene, an houre after : a trifle, a triíle. I prethee call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damnde brawne shall play dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, faies the drunkard : cal in ribs, call in tallow.
Poines. Welcome lacke, where haft thou beene?
Fal. A plague of all cowards I say, and a vengeance to, marry and amen: giue me a cup of fack boy. E're I lead this life long, Ile sowe neatherstocks, and mend them, and foote them ton. A plague of all cowards, giue me a cup of sacke, rogue, is there no vertue extant ? *
Prin. Didit thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of butter, pittiful harted Titan that melted at the sweete tale of the sunne! if thou didít, then behold that compound.
Fal. You rogue, heres lime in this fack too, there is nothing but rogery to be found in villanous man; yet a coward is worse thē a cup of fack with lime in it. A villanous coward, go thy wayes old lacke, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpõ the face of the earth, then am I a
* He drinketh,
shotten herring: there liues not three good men vnhangd in England, and one of them is fatte, and growes old; God helpe the while, a bad world I say : I would I were a weauer, I could sing psalmes, or any thing. A plague of all cowards, I say ftill.
Prin. How now wolsacke, what mutter you?
Fall. A kings sonne ? if I due not beat thee out of thy kingdome with a dagger of lath, and driue all thy subiectes afore thee like a focke of wild-geefe, Ile neuer weare haire on my face more, you prince of Wales. Prin. Why you horson round man, what's the matter?
Fal. Are you not a coward ? answere me to that, and Poines there.
Prin. Zounds ye fat paunch, and ye call me coward, by the Lord Ile stab thee.
Fal. I call thee coward ? Ile see thee damnde eare I call thee coward, but I would giue a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoul. ders, you care nor who fees
your backe : call you that backing of your friendes? a plague vpon such backing : giue me them that will face me. Giue me a cup of sack, I am a rogue if I drunke to day.
Pri. O villaine, thy lips are scarse wip'd since thou drunkst last. Fal. All's one for that.
He drinkes. A plague of all cowards fill say I.
Prin. Whats the matter?
Fal. Whats the matter ? here be foure of vs, have tane a thousand pound this morning.
Prin. Where is it? lacke, where is it?
Fall. Where is it? taken from vs it is: a hundred vpen poore foure of vs. Prin. What, a hundred man?
Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at halfe sword, with a dozen of them two houres together. I haue fcaped by myracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, foure through the hose, my buckler cut through and through, my sword hackt like a hand-law, ecce fignum. I neuer dealt better fince I was a man, al would not doe. A plague of all cowards, let them spake ; if they speake more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes of darknelle.
Gad. Speake, firs, how was it :
Fal. You rogue they were bound, euery man of them, or I am a lew else, an Ebrew lew.
Rifs. As we were sharing, some fixe or feuen fresh men set upon vs.
Fal. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the other. Prin. What, fought yee with them all ?
Fals. All? I know not what yee call all : but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radith : if there were not two or three and fifty vpon poore old lacke, then am I no two leg'd creature.
Poines. Pray God, you haue not murthered some of them.
Fall. Nay that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd two of them, two I am sure I haue payed, two rogues in buckrom sutes : I tel thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face ; cal me horse : thou knowest my old word *: here I lay, and thus I bore my point: foure rogues in buckrom let drive at me,
Prin. What, foure? thou said'st but two, euen now,