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For from his metal was his party steeld;
North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.
Mor. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er To stormy passion, must perforce decay. You cast the event of war, my noble lord, And summ'd the account of chance, before you said, Let us make head. It was your presurmise, That, in the dole of blows your son might drop: You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, More likely to fall in, than to get o’er: You were advis'd, his flesh was capable Of wounds, and scars; and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd ; Yet did you say,—Go forth; and none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action: What hath then befallen, Or what hath this bold enterprize brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss,
Mor. "Tis more than time: And, my most noble lord,
North. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth,
This present grief had wip'd it from my mind.
SCENE II. London. A Street.
Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his Page bearing his
Sword and Buckler. Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?
Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water : but, for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to vent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow, that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now: but I will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for a jewel; the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his
cheek; and yet he will not stick to say, his face is a face-royal: God may finish it when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him. -What said master Dumbleton about the satin for my short cloak, and slops?
Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his bond and yours; he liked not the security.
Fal. Let him be damned like the glutton! may his tongue be hotter !-A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security !—The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is thorough with them in honest taking up, then they must stand uponsecurity. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth, as offer to stop it with security. I looked he should have sent me two-and-twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lantern to light him. Where's Bardolph?
Page. He's gone into Smithfield, to buy your worship a horse.
Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.