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Dol. Why doth the Prince love him so then ?

Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness: and he plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon joint-tools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boot very smooth like unto the sign of the leg, and breeds no hate with telling of indiscreet stories; and fuch other gambol faculties he hath, that shew a weak mind and an able body, for the which the Prince admits him : for the Prince himself is such another: the weight of an hair will turn the scales between their Avoirdupois.

P. Henry. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off ?

Poins. Let us beat him before his whore.

P. Henry. Look, if the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd like a parrot.

Poins. Is it not strange, that desire should fo many years out-live performance?

Fal. Kiss me, Doi.

P. Henry. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction ! what says the almanack to that?

Poins. And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not clasping too his master's old tables, his notebook, his counsel-keeper ?

Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses.

Dól. By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart

Fal. I am old, I am old.

Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all.

Fal. What stuff wilt thou have a kirtle of? I shall receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song, come: it grows late, we will to bed. Thou wilt forget me when I am gone,

Dol. By my troth, thou wilt set me a weeping if thou say'st so: prove that ever I dress myself handfome till thy return -Well, hearken the end.

Fal. Some fack, Francis.
P. Henry. Poins, Anon, anon, Sir,

Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the King's! and art not chou Poins his brother?

P. Henry.

P. Henry. Why, thou globe of finful continents, what a life dost thou lead ?

Fal. A better than thou: I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.

P. Henry. Very true, Sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.

Hosi. Oh, the Lord preserve thy good Grace! Welcome to London.- Now Heav'n bless that sweet face of thine. What, are you come from Wales ?

Fal. Thou whorson mad compound of Majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.

[Leaning his hand upon Dol. Dol. How ! you fat fool, I scorn you.

Prins. My Lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.

P. Henry. You whorfon candle-myne, you, how vilely did you fpeak of me even now, before this honeit, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?

Hoft. 'Blessing on your good heart, and fo fhe is, by my troth.

Fal. Didst thou hear me ?

P. Henry. Yes; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by Gads-hill; you knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to try my patience.

Fal. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing

P. Henry. I shall drive you then to confess the wil. ful abuse, and then I know how to handle you.

Fal. No abufe, Hal : on my honour no abuse.

P. Henry. Not to difpraise me, and call me pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what ! "Fal. No abufe, Hal. Poins. No abuse !

Fal. No abufe, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I diłprais’d him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him ; in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true fubject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; no, boys, none.

P. Henry. See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gen-, B b 2


tlewoman, to close with us? Is she of the wicked ? is thine hostess here of the wicked ? or is the boy of the wicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal buras in his nose, of the wicked ?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath prick'd down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast mault-worms : for the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil outbids him too.

P. Henry. For the women,

Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns, poor soul! for the other, I owe her

money; and whether she be damn'd for that, I know not.

Hoft. No, I warrant you.

Fal. No, I think, thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indiement upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, con trary to the law, for the which I think thou wilt howl.

Hoft. All vidtuallers do fo: what is a joint of mut. ton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Henry. You, gentlewoman,
Dol. What says your Grace?

Fal. His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

Hoft. Who knocks fo loud at door? , Look to the door there, Francis.

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P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?

Peto. The King your father is at Westminster, And there are twenty weak and wearied posts's Come from the north ; and, as I came along, ' A I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

P. Henry. By Heav'n, Poins, I feel me much to So idly to profane the precious time; [blame, When tempest of commotion, like the south Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

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Give me my fword and cloak.dFalstaff, good night...

[Exeunt Prince and Poins, * Fal. Now comes in the sweeteit mortel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick’d. More knock ing at the door? how now what's the matter?

- Bård. You must away to court, Sir, presently: a dozen captains stay at door for you. : Fal. Pay the musicians, firrahsi" Farewel, hostess; farewel, Dok. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after; the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is callid on. Farewel, good wenches ; if I be not sent away post, I will see you. again, ere I go.

Dot. I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready to burst-Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. :1 Fal. Farewel, farewel.

[Exit. - Hoft. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come pescod-time; 'but an honester and truer-hearted man-well, fare thee well. ..}"Bard. Mrs. Tear-fheet,

Hoft. What's the matter?
Bard. Bid Mrs. Tear-sheet come to my master.
Høft. O run, Dol, run, run, good Dol. (Exeunt.

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The palace in London. Enter King Henry in his night-gowns with a Page. K. Henry.

O, call the Earls of Surrey and of

Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters, And well consider of them: make good speed.

[Exit Page. How many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour afleep! O gentle Sleep, • Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, • That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, * And steep my senses in forgetfnlness ?

Why rather, Sleep, ly'lt thou in smoaky cribs,
Upon uneafy pallets stretching thee,


• And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flamber; « Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, • Under the canopies of coftly state,

And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody? • O thou dull god, why ly'st thou with the vile • In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch, " A watch-case to a common larum-bell *? • Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast, ** Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains, « In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; . And in the visitation of the winds, • Who take the ruffian billows by the top, • Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them, • With deaf'ning chamours in the flipp'ry throuds,

That, with the hurly, death itself awakes : • Can'st thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repose To the wet fea.boy in an hour fo rude; • And, in the calmeft and the ftillest night, • With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a king? Then, happy low ! lie down; Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

SCENE II. Enter Warwick and Surrey..!
War. Many good morrows to your Majesty!
K. Henry. Is it good morrow, Lords?
War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
K. Henry. Why, then, good morrow to you. Well,

my Lords,
Have you read o'er the letters I sent you?

War. We have, my Liege.

K. Henry. Then you perceive the body of our king. How foul it is; what rank diseafes grow, [dom, And with what danger, near the heart of it.

War. It is but as a body flight distemper’d, Which to its former strength may be reitorid, With good advice and little medicine

This alludes to the watchmen fet in garrison-towns upon feme e. minence, attending upon an alarum bell, which he was to ring out in cale of fire, or any approaching danger. He had a case or box 10 shelter him from the weather; but at his uimoft peril he was not to feep whilft he was upon duty. These alarum bells are mentioned in leveral other places of Shakespear. Oxford editor.'


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