Scilens. A firra quoth a, we shall do nothing but eate and make good cheere, and praise God for the merry yeere, when flesh is cheape and females deare, and lufty laddes roame here and there fo merely, and euer among fo merily.

Sir John. Theres a merry heart, good M. Silens, Ile giuc you a health for that anon.

Shal. Giue mafter Bardolfe fome wine, Dauy.

Dauy. Sweet fir fit, Ile be with you anon, most sweet fir fit, mafter page, good master page fit: proface, what you want in meate, weele haue in drink, but you must beare, the heart's al.

Shal. Be mery mafter Bardolfe, and my litle fouldier there, be merry.

Scilens. Be merry, be mery, my wife has all, for women are shrowes both fhort and tall, tis merry in hal when beards wags all, and welcome mery Shrouetide, be mery, be mery. Falft. I did not thinke master Scilens had bin a man of this mettall.

Scilens. Who I? I haue beene mery twice and once ere

now.

Enter Dauy.

Dauy. Theres a difh of lether-coates for you.
Shal. Dauy?

Dauy. Your worship: Ile be with you ftraight, a cup of

wine fir.

Scilens. A cup of wine thats brifke and fine, and drinke vnto the leman mine, and a mery heart liues long a.

Falft. Well faid master Scilens.

Scilens. And we shall be mery, now comes in the fweete a'th night.

Falft. Health and long life to you master Scilens.

Scilens. Fill the cuppe, and let it come, Ile pledge you a mile too'th bottome.

Shal. Honeft Bardolfe, welcome, if thou wantft any thing, and wilt not call, befhrew thy heart, welcome my little tiny theefe, and welcome indeede too, Ile drinke to mafter Bardolfe, and to all the cabileros about London.

Dauy. I hope to fee London once ere I die.

Bar. And I might fee you there Dauy.

Shal. By the mas youle cracke a quarte together, ha will you not mafter Bardolfe?

Bar. Yea fir, in a pottle pot.

Sha. By Gods liggens I thanke thee, the knaue will sticke by thee, I can affure thee that a wil not out, a tis true 'bred!

Bar. And Ile fticke by him fir.

One knockes at docre.

Sha. Why there fpoke a king: lacke nothing, be mery, Looke who's at doore there ho, who knockes ?

Falft. Why now you haue done me right.

Silens. Do me right, and dub me knight, famingo: ist not fo?

Falft. Tis fo.

Silens. Ift fo, why then fay an olde man can do fomewhat. Dauy. And't please your worship, theres one Piftoll come from the court with newes.

Enter Piftol.

Falt. From the court? let him come in, how now Piftol?
Pistol. Sir John, God faue you.

Falft. What wind blew you hither Pistol?

Pistol. Not the ill winde which blowes no man to good: fweete knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realme.

Silens. Birlady I thinke a be, but goodman Puffe of Barson. Pifto. Puffe? puffe ith thy teeth, moft recreant coward, bafe, fir Iohn, I am thy Piel and thy frend, and helter skelter,

haue

haue I rode to thee, and tidings do I bring, and luckie ioyes, and golden times, and happy news of price.

John. I pray thee now deliuer them like a man of this world.

Pifcl. A footre for the world and worldlings bafe, I speake of Affrica and golden ioyes.

John. O base Affirian knight! what is thy newes? let king Couetua know the truth thereof.

Scilens. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and Ichn.

Pistol. Shal dunghill curs confront the Helicons? and shall good newes be baffled? then Piftoll lay thy head in furies lap Shal. Honeft gentleman, I know not your breeding.

Pistol. Why then lament therefore.

Shal. Giue me pardon fir, if fir you come with newes from the court, I take it theres but two waies, either to vtter them, or conceale them, I am fir vnder the king in fome authoritie. Piftol. Vnder which king, Befonian ? fpeake, or die. Shal. Vnder king Harry.

Pito!. Harry the fourth, or fift?

Shal. Harry the fourth.

Pift. A fowtre for thine office: fir Iohn, thy tender lambkin now is king: Harry the fifts the man: I fpeake the truth: when Pistol lics, do this, and fig me, like the bragging Spaniard.

Falft. What is the old king dead ?

Pift. As nayle in doore, the things I fpeake are iuft.

Fal. Away Bardolfe, faddle my horfe, M. Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, tis thine: Pistol, I will double charge thee with dignities.

Bard. O joyful day! I would not take a knight for my for

tune.

Pistol. What? I do bring good newes.

Falft. Carry mafter Scilens to bed: mafter Shallow, my lord Shalow, be what thou wilt, I am fortunes fteward, get

on thy boots, weel ride al night: û fweet Pistol, away Bardolf, com Piftol, vtter more to me, and withall, deuife fomething to doe thy felfe good, boote, boote master Shallow, I know the yong king is ficke for me: let vs take any mans horfes, the lawes of England are at my commandement, blessed are they that haue bin my friends, and woe to my lord chicfe iuftice.

Pift. Let vultures vile feize on his lungs alfo: where is the life that late I led, fay they, why here it is, welcome these plefant dayes.

Enter Sincklo and three or foure officers.

Exit,

Hoft. No, thou arrant knaue, I would to God that I might die, that I might haue thee hangd, thou haft drawn my shoul der out of ioynt,

Sincklo. The conftables haue deliuered her ouer to mee, and shee shall haue whipping cheere I warrant her, there hath beene a man or two kild about her.

Whoore. Nut-hooke, nut-hooke, you lie, come on, Ile tell thee what, thou damnd tripe vifagde rafcall, and the child I go with, do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadft ftrook thy mother, thou paper-facde villaine.

Hoft. O the Lord, that fir Iohn were come! I would make this a bloody day to fome body: but I pray God the fruite of her wombe miscarry.

Sincklo. If it doe, you fhall haue a dozzen of cushions againe, you haue but eleuen nowe: come, I charge you both goe with mee, for the man is dead that you and Pistoll beat amongst you.

Whoore. Ile tell you what, you thin man in a cenfor, I will haue you as foundly fwingde for this, you blewbottle rogue, you filthy famifht correctioner, if you be not fwingde, lle forfweare halfe kirtles.

Sinck. Come, come, you fhee-knight-arrant, come.

Hoft.

Hoft. O God, that right should thus ouercom might! wel, of fufferance comes eafe.

Whoore. Come you rogue, come bring me to a iuftice.
Hoft. I come, you starude blood-hound.

Whoore. Goodman death, goodman bones.

Hoft. Thou atomy, thou.

Whoore. Come you thinne thing, come you rascall.
Sinck. Very well.

Enter firewers of rubes.

1 More rushes, more rushes.

2 The trumpets haue founded twice.

3 Twill be two a clocke ere they come from the coronation, dispatch, difpatch.

Trumpets found, and the king, and his traine passe ouer the Stage: after them enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolfe, and the boy.

Falft. Stand heere by me maifter Shallow, I will make the king doe you grace, I will leere vpon him as a comes by, and do but marke the countenaunce that he will giue me.

Pift. God bleffe thy lungs good knight.
Falft. Come heere Piftoll, ftand behindemee.

O if I had

had time to haue made new liueries: I woulde haue bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you, but tis no matter, this poore fhew doth better, this doth inferre the zeale I had to fee him.

Pift. It doth fo,

Falft. It fhewes my earneftneffe of affection,

Pift. It doth fo.

Falft. My deuotion.

Pift. It doth, it doth, it doth.

Fal. As it were to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to haue pacience to shift me.