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Prince. Faith it does me, though it difcolors the complexion of my greatnes to acknowledge it: doth it not fhew vildly in me, to defire small beere?

Poynes. Why a prince should not be fo loosely studied, as to remember fo weake a compofition.

Prince. Belike then my appetite was not princely gote, for by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature smal beere. But indeed these humble confiderations make me out of loue with my greatneffe. What a difgrace is it to mee to remember thy name? or to know thy face to morow? or to take note how many paire of filke ftockings thou hast with these, and those that were thy peach colourd once, or to beare the inuentorie of thy fhirts, as one for fuperfluitie, and another for vfe. But that the tennis court keeper knows better than I, for it is a low eb of linnen with thee when thou keepest not racket there, as thou haft not done a great while, because the reft of the low countries haue eate vp thy holland: and God knows whether those that bal out the ruines of thy linnen fhal inherite his kingdom: but the midwiues fay, the children are not in the fault wherevpon the world increases, and kinreds are mightily ftrengthened.

Poynes. How ill it followes, after you haue labored so hard, you should talke fo ydely! tell me how many good yong princes woulde doe fo, their fathers being fo ficke, as yours at this time is.

Prince. Shall I tel thee one thing Poynes?

Poynes. Yes faith, and let it be an excellent good thing. Prince. It fhall ferue among wittes of no higher breeding then thine.

Poynes. Go to, I stand the push of your one thing that you will tell.

Prince. Mary I tell thee it is not meete that I should bee fad now my father is ficke, albeit I could tell to thee, as to

one

one it pleases me for a fault of a better to call my friend, I could be fad, and fad indeede too..

Poynes. Very hardly, vpon fuch a fubiect.

Prince. By this hand, thou thinkeft me as farre in the diuels booke, as thou and Falftaffe, for obduracie and perfift ancie, let the end trie the man, but I tel thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is fo fick, and keeping fuch vile company as thou arte, hath in reafon taken from me all oftentation of forrowe.

Poynes. The reason.

Prince. What wouldst thou thinke of me if I fhould weep? Poynes. I woulde thincke thee a most princely hypocrite. Prince. It would bee euery mans thought, and thou arte a bleffed fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes, neuer a mans thought in the world, keepes the rode way better then thine, euerie man would thinke me an hypocrite indeede, and what accites your moft worshipfull thought to thinke fo?

Poynes. Why because you haue been fo lewd and fo much engraffed to Falstaffe.

Prince. And to thee.

Poynes. By this light I am well fpoke on, I can heare it with mine owne eares, the worst that they can fay of me is that I am a fecond brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands, and those two things I confeffe I cannot helpe: by the maffe here comes Bardolfe.

Enter Bardolfe and boy.

Prince. And the boy that I gaue Falstaffe, a had him from me chriftian, and looke if the fat villaine haue not transformd

him ape.

Bard. God faue your grace.

Prince. And yours most noble Bardolfe.

Poynes. Come you vertuous affe, you bafhfull foole, muft you be blushing, wherefore blush you now? what a maidenly

man

man at armes are you become? ist such a matter to get a pottlepots maidenhead?

Boy. A calls me enow my lord through a red lattice, and I could difcerne no part of his face from the window, at last I fpied his eies, and me thought he had made two holes in the ale wiues peticote and fo peept through.

Prince. Has not the boy profited?

Bard. Away you horfon vpright rabble, away.

Boy. Away you rafcally Altheas dreame, away.
Prince. Inftruct vs boy, what dreame boy?

Boy. Mary my lord, Althear dreampt fhe was deliuered of a firebrand, and therefore I call him her dreame.

Prince. A crownes worth of good interpretation there tis boy.

Poines. O that this bloffome could be kept from cankers! well, there is fixpence to preferue thee.

Bard. And you do not make him hangd among you, the gallowes fhall haue wrong.

Prince. And how doth thy mafter Bardolfe?

Bard. Well my lord, he heard of your graces comming to towne, theres a letter for

you.

Poynes. Deliuerd with good refpect, and how doth the Martlemaffe your master?

Bard. In bodily health fir.

Poynes. Mary the immortall part needes a phifitian, but that moues not him, though that be ficke, it dies not.

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Prince. I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me, as my dogge, and he holds his place, for looke you how he writes.

Poynes. Iohn Falstaffe knight, euery man must know that as oft as he has occafion to name himfelfe: euen like thofe that are kin to the king for they neuer pricke their finger, but they faye, theres fome of the kings bloud fpilt: how comes that

(faies he) that takes vppon him not to conceiue the answer is as ready as a borowed cap: I am the kings poore cofin, fir.

Prince. Nay they will be kin to vs, or they will fetch it from Iaphet, but the letter, fir Iohn Falstaffe knight, to the fonne of the king, nearest his father, Harry prince of Wales, greeting.

Poynes. Why this is a certificate.

Prince. Peace.

I will imitate the honourable Romanes in breuitie.

Poynes. He fure meanes breuity in breath, fhort winded, I commend mee to thee, I commend thee, and, I leaue thee, be not too familiar with Poynes, for he mifufes thy fauours fo much, that he fweares thou art to mary his fifter Nel, repent at idle times as thou maift, and fo farwel.

Thine by yea, and no, which is as much as to fay, as thou vsest him, Iacke Falstaffe with my family, Iohn with my brothers and fifters, and fir Iohn with all Europe.

Poynes. My lord, Ile fteep this letter in facke and make him 'eate it.

Prince. Thats to make him eate twenty of his words, but do you vfe me, thus Ned? muft I marrie your fifter?

Poynes. God fend the wench no worse fortune, but I neuer faid fo.

Prince. Wel, thus we play the fooles with the time, and the spirits of the wife fit in the clowdes and mocke vs, is your mafter here in London?

Bard. Yea my lord.

Prince. Where fups he doth the old boare feede in the old franke?

Bard. At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheape.

Prince. What companie ?

Boy. Ephefians, my lord, of the old church.

Prince. Sup any women with him?

Boy.

Boy. None my lord, but old miftris Quickly, and miftris Dol Tere-fbeet.

Prince. What Pagan may that be?

Boy. A proper gentlewoman fir, and a kinfwoman of my mafters.

Prince. Euen fuch kinne as the parish heicfors are to the towne bull, shall we steale vpon them Ned at fupper?

Poynes. I am your fhadow my lord, Ile follow you.

Prince. Sirra, you boy and Bardolfe, no worde to your mafter that I am yet come to towne; theres for your filence. Bar. I haue no tongue fir.

Boy. And for mine fir, I will gouerne it.

Prince. Fare you well: go, this Doil Tere-fbeete fhould be fome rode.

Poyns. I warrant you, as common as the way between S. Albons and London.

Prince. How might we fee Falstaffe bestow himself to night in his true colours, and not our felues be seene?

Poynes. Put on two letherne ierkins and aprons, and waite vpon him at his table as drawers.

Prince. From a god to a bul, a heauy defcenfion, it was Joues cafe, from a prince to a prentise, a low transformation, that fhal be mine, for in euery thing the purpose must weigh with the folly, follow me Ned. Exeunt.

Enter Northumberland his wife, and the wife to Harry Percie.

North. I pray thee louing wife and gentle daughter, Giue euen way vnto my rough affaires,

Put not you on the vifage of the times,

And be like them to Percy troublesome.

Wife. I haue giuen ouer, I will speake no more, Do what you wil, your wifedome be your guide. North. Alas fweete wife, my honour is at pawne, And but my going, nothing can redeeme it.

Kate.

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