Dol. Why does the prince loue him fo then?

Fal. Because their legges are both of a bigneffe, and a plaies at quoites well, and eates cunger and fennel, and drinkes off candles endes for flappe-dragons, and rides the wilde mare with the boyes, and iumpes vpon ioynd-ftooles, and fweares with a good grace, and weares his bootes very fmoothe like vnto the figne of the legge, and breedes no bate with telling of difcreet ftories, and fuch other gambole faculties a has that fhow a weake minde, and an able bodie, for the which the prince admits him for the prince himself is fuch another, the weight of a haire wil turne fcales between their haber de poiz.

Prince. Would not this naue of a wheele haue his eares cut off?

Poynes. Lets beate him before his whore.

Prince. Looke where the witherd elder hath not his poule clawd like a parrot.

Poynes. Is it not strange that defire should so many yeeres out liue performance.

Falt. Kifle me Doll.

Prince. Saturne and Venus this yeere in coniunction? what faies th'almanacke to that?

Poyns. And look whether the fierie Trigon his man be not lifping to his mafter, old tables, his note booke, his counsel keeper?

Falft. Thou doft giue me flattering buffes.

Dol. By my troth I kiffe thee with a moft conftant heart. Falt. I am old, I am old.

Dol. I loue thee better then I loue, ere a fcuruy yong boy of them all.

Fal. What ftuffe wilt haue a kirtle of? I fhall receiue mony a Thursday, fhalt haue a cap to morrow: a merry fong, come it growes late, weele to bed, thou't forget me when I am gone.

Dol.

Dol. By my troth thou't fet me a weeping and thou saist so, proue that euer I dreffe my felfe handfome til thy returne, wel hearken a'th end.

Fal. Some facke Francis.

Prince. Poynes. Anon anon fir.

Falft. Ha a baftard fonne of the kings? and arte not thou Poynes his brother?

Prince. Why thou globe of finfull continents, what a life doft thou leade?

Falft. A better then thou, I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.

Prince. Very true fir, and I come to drawe you out by the

eares.

Hoft. O the lord preferue thy grace: by my troth welcom to London, now the Lord bleffe that fweete face of thine, O Iefu, are you come from Wales?

Falst. Thou horfon madde compound of maieftie, by this light, flesh, and corrupt bloud, thou art welcome.

Doll. How you fat foole I fcorne you.

Poynes. My lorde, he will driue you out of your reuenge, and turne all to a merriment if you take not the heate.

Prince. You horfon candlemine you, how vildly did you fpeake of me now, before this honeft, vertuous, ciuill gentle

woman?

Hoft. Gods bleffing of your good heart, and fo fhe is by my troth.

Falft. Didft thou heare me?

Prince. Yea and you knew me as you did, when you ranne away by GadЛbil, you knew I was at your backe, and spoke it, on purpose to trie my patience.

Falft. No, no, no, not fo, I did not thinke thou waft within hearing.

Prince. I fhall driue you then to confeffe the wilfull abuse, and then I know how to handle you.

Falft. No abuse Hall a mine honour, no abuse.

Prince. Not to dispraise me, and cal me pantler and breadchipper, and I know not what?

Fal. No abufe Hall.

Poynes. No abuse?

Falft. No abufe Ned 'th worlde, honeft Ned, none, I difpraifde him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in loue with thee: in which doing, I have done the part of a carefull friend and a true fubiect, and thy father is to giue me thankes for it, no abuse Hall, none Ned, none, no faith boyes

none.

Prince. See now whether pure feare and intire cowardize, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to clofe with vs is the of the wicked, is thine hofteffe here of the wicked, or is thy boy of the wicked, or honeft Bardolfe whofe zeal burnes in his nofe of the wicked?

Poines. Anfwer thou dead elme, answer.

Falt. The fiend hath prickt down Bardolfe irrecouerable, and his face is Lucifers priuy kitchin, where he doth nothing but roft mault-worms, for the boy there is a good angel about him, but the diuell blinds him too.

Prince. For the weomen.

Falft. For one of them fhees in hell already, and burnes poore foules for th'other I owe her mony, and whether she be damnd for that I know not.

Hoft. No I warrant you.

Falst. No I thinke thou art not, I thinke thou art quit for that, mary there is another inditement vpon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy houfe contrary to the law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle.

Hoft. Al vitlars do fo, whats a ioynt of mutton or twoo in a whole Lent?

Prince. You gentlewoman.

Dol. What faies your grace?

Fal

Fal. His grace faies that which his flesh rebels againft.
Peyto knockes at the doore.

Hoft. Who knockes fo lowd at doore? looke too'th doore there Francis.

Prince. Peyto, how now, what newes?

Peyto. The king your father is at Westminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied postes,
Come from the North, and as I came along,
I met and ouertooke a dozen captaines,
Bareheaded, fweating, knocking at the tauernes,
And a king euery one for fir Iohn Falstaffe.

Prince. By heauen Poines, I feele me much too blame,

So idely to prophane the precious time,

When tempeft of commotion like the fouth.

Borne with blacke vapour doth begin to melt,
And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads,

Giue me my fword and cloke: Falstaffe good night.

Exeunt prince and Poynes.

Fal. Now coms in the fweetest morfell of the night, and we muft hence, and leaue it vnpickt: more knocking at the doore, how now, whats the matter?

Bar. You must away to court fir presently,

A dozen captaines ftay at doore for you.

Fal. Pay the mufitions, firra, farewel hofteffe, farewel Dol, you fee my good wenches how men of merrite are fought after, the vndeferuer may fleepe, when the man of action is cald on, farewell good wenches, if I be not fent away poste, I will fee you againe ere I goe.

Doll. I cannot speake, if my hart be not ready to burst: wel fweete lacke, haue a care of thy felfe.

Fal. Farewell, farewell.

Hoft. Wel, fare thee wel, I haue knowne thee these twentie nine yeeres, come peafe-cod time, but an honefter, and truer hearted man: wel, fare thee wel.

Bard.

Bard. Miftris Tere-fbeete.

Hoft. Whats the matter?

Bard. Bid miftris Tere-fbeete come to my maister.

Hoft. O runne Doll, runne, runne good Doll, come, shee comes blubberd, yea? wil you come Doll?

Enter iuftice Shallow, and iuftice Silens.

Exeunt.

Sha. Come on, come on, come on, giue me your hand fir, giue me your hand fir, an early ftirrer, by the roode: and how doth my good coofin Silence?

Si. Good morrow good coofine Shallow.

Sha. And how doth my coofin your bedfellow? and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

Si. Alas, a blacke woofel, coofin Shallow.

Sha. By yea, and no, fir, I dare fay my coofin William is become a good fcholler, he is at Oxford ftil, is he not? Si. Indeede fir to my cost.

Sha. A must then to the innes a court fhortly: I was once of Clements inne, where I thinke they wil talke of mad Shallow yet.

Si. You were calld lufty.Shallow then, coofin.

Sha. By the maffe I was calld any thing, and I would hane done any thing indeede too, and roundly too: there was I and little John Doyt of Staffordshire, and blacke George Barnes and Francis Pickebone, and Will Squeele a Cotfole man, you had not foure fuch fwinge-bucklers in all the innes a court againe, and I may fay to you, wee knewe where the bona robes were, and had the belt of them all at commaundement: then was lacke Falstaffe, now fir Iohn, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray duke of Norfolke.

Si. This fir Iohn, coofin, that comes hither anone about fouldiers?

Sha. The fame fir Iohn, the very fame, I fee him breake Skoggins head at the court gate, when a was a cracke, not

thus