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Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking: and for thy walls,—a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the prodigal, or the German hunting in water-work, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings, and these flybitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an it were not for thy humours, there is not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and ’draw thy action : Come, thou must not be in this humour with me; dost not know me? Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this.
Host. Pray thee, sir John, let it be but twenty nobles; i’faith I am loath to pawn my plate, in good earnest, la.
Fal. Let it alone; I'll make other shift: you'll be a fool still.
Host. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope, you'll come to supper: You'll pay me all together?
Fal. Will I live?-Go, with her, with her ; [To BarDOLPH.] hook on, hook on.
Host. Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you at supper? Fal. No more words; let's have her.
[Exeunt Hostess, BARDOLPH, Officers, and Page. Ch. Just. I have heard better news. Fal. What's the news, my good lord ? Ch. Just. Where lay the king last night? Gow. At Basingstoke, my lord.
Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well: What's the news, my lord ?
Ch. Just. Come all his forces back?
Gow. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, Are marched up to my lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland, and the archbishop.
Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord ?
Ch. Just. You shall have letters of me presently :
Fal. My lord !
Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?
Gow. I must wait upon my good lord here: I thank you, good sir John.
Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go.
Fal. Will you sup with me, master Gower?
Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you these manners, sir John ?
Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me. This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair. Ch. Just. Now the Lord lighten thee! thou art a
SCENE II. The same,
Enter Prince HENRY and POINS, P. Hen. Trust me, I am exceeding weary.
Poins. Is it come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood.
P. Hen. 'Faith, it does me; though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show yilely in me, to desire small beer ;
Poins. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied, as to remember so weak a composition.
P. Hen. Belike then, my appetite was not princely got; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But, indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? or to know thy face to-morrow? or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast; viz. these, and those that were the peach-coloured ones? or to bear the inventory of thy shirts; as, one for superfluity, and one other for use ?—but that, the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee, when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low-countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland: and God knows, whether those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen, shall inherit his kingdom : but the midwives say, the children are not in the fault; whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened.
Poins. How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you should talk so idly? Tell me, how many good young princes would do so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is ?
P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins ?
P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.
Poins. Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that
you will tell.
P. Hen. Why, I tell thee,—it is not meet that I should be sad, now my father is sick: albeit I could tell to thee,
(as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend,) I could be sad, and sad indeed too.
Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject.
P. Hen. By this hand, thou think'st me as far in the devil's book, as thou, and Falstaff, for obduracy and persistency: Let the end try the man. But I tell thee,my heart bleeds inwardly, that my father is so sick : and keeping such vile company as thou art, hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow.
Poins. The reason?
P. Hen. What would'st thou think of me, if I should weep?
Poins. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
P. Hen. It would be every man's thought: and thou art a blessed fellow, to think as every man thinks; never a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way better than thine: every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought, to think so !
Poins. Why, because you have been so lewd, and so much engraffed to Falstaff.
P. Hen. And to thee.
Poins. By this light, I am well spoken of, I can hear it with my own ears: the worst that they can say of is, that I am a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph.
P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaff: he had him from me christian; and look, if the fat villain have not transformed him ape.
Enter BARDOLPH and Page.
Bard. Come, you virtuous ass, [To the Page.] you bashful fool, must you be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man at arms are you become? Is it such a matter to get a pottlepot's maidenhead.
Page. He called me even now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window : at last, I spied his eyes; and, methought, he had made two holes in the alewife's new petticoat, and peeped through.
P. Hen. Hath not the boy profited ?
Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed she was delivered of a fire-brand; and therefore I call him her dream.
P. Hen. A crown's worth of good interpretation.There it is, boy.
[Gives him money. Poins. O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers !Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
Bard. An you do not make him be hanged among you, the gallows shall have wrong.
P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's couning to town; there's a letter for
you. Poins. Delivered with good respect. And how doth the martlemas, your master?
Bard. In bodily health, sir.