Dol. Why doth the Prince love him fo then?

Fal. Because their legs are both of a bignefs: 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-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boot very smooth like unto the fign of the leg, and breeds no hate with telling of indifcreet ftories; and fuch other gam bol faculties he hath, that shew a weak mind and an able body, for the which the Prince admits him: for the Prince himfelf is such another: the weight of an hair will turn the fcales 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 defire should so many years out-live performance?

Fal. Kifs me, Dol.

P. Henry. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what fays 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 doft give me flattering buffes.

Dol. By my troth, I kifs thee with a moft conftant 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 ftuff wilt thou have a kirtle of? I fhall receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry fong, come: it grows late, we will to bed. Thou wilt forget me when I am gone,

Dol. By my troth, thou wilt fet me a weeping if thou fay'ft fo: prove that ever I drefs myself handfome till thy return-Well, hearken the end. Fal. Some fack, Francis.

P. Henry. Poins, Anon, anon, Sir.

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

P. Henry.

P. Henry. Why, thou globe of finful continents, what a life doft 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.

Hoft. Oh, the Lord preferve thy good Grace! Welcome to London. - Now Heav'n blefs that fweet face of thine. What, are you come from Wales?

Fal. Thou whorfon mad compound of Majefty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. [Leaning his hand upon Dol.

Dol. How! you fat fool, I fcorn you.

Poins. 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 honeft, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?

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

Fal. Didft 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 fo; I did not think thou waft within hearing.

P. Henry. I fhall drive you then to confefs the wilful abuse, and then I know how to handle you.

Fal. No abuse, Hal: on my honour no abuse. P. Henry. Not to dispraise 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 difprais'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 truc fubject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abufe, 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,

tlewoman, to clofe with us? Is the of the wicked? is thine hostess here of the wicked? or is the boy of the wicked or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nofe, of the wicked?

Poins. Anfwer, thou dead elm, anfwer.

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 foul! for the other, I owe her money; and whether the 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 indictment upon thee, for fuffering flesh to be eaten in thy houfe, con trary to the law, for the which I think thou wilt howl. Hoft. All victuallers do fo: what is a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Henry. You, gentlewoman,

Dol. What fays, your Grace?

Fal. His Grace fays that which his flesh rebels againft.

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

SCENE XII.

Enter Peto.

P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?
Peto. The King your father is at Weftminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts:
Come from the north; and, as I came along,
I met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns,
And afking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

P. Henry. By Heav'n, Poins, I feel me much to

So idly to profane the precious time;
When tempeft of commotion, like the fouth

[blame,

Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

Give me my fword and cloak. Falstaff, good night... [Exeunt Prince and Poins.

Fal. Now comes in the fweetelt morfel of the night, and we muft hence, and leave it unpick'd. More knocking at the door? how now what's the matter?

Bard. You must away to court, Sir, presently: a dozen captains ftay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the musicians, firrah. Farewel, hostefs; farewel, Dol You fee, my good wenches, how men of merit are fought after; the undeferver may fleep, when the man of action is call'd on. Farewel, good wenches; if I be not fent away poft, I will fee you again, ere I go.

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

[Exit. qHoft. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee thefe twenty-nine years, come pefeod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man-well, fare thee weli.

Bard. Mrs. Tear-fheet,

Hoft. What's the matter?

Bard. Bid Mrs. Tear-fheet come to my master.
Heft. O run, Dol, run; run, good Dol. [Exeunt.

A C T III.

SCENE I.

The palace in London.

Enter King Henry in his night-gown, with a Page.

K. Henry. Go, call the Earls of Surrey and of

Warwick;

But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read thefe letters, And well confider of them: make good speed.

[Exit Page. How many thousands of my pooreft fubjects Are at this hour afleep! O gentle Sleep, Nature's foft nurfe, how have I frighted thee, • That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, And fteep my fenfes in forgetfninefs?

Why rather, Sleep, ly'st thou in fmoaky cribs,

Upon uneafy pallets ftretching thee,

• And

And hufh'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber; Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of coftly state,

And lull'd with founds of fweetest melody?

O thou dull god, why ly'ft thou with the vile
In loathfome beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch,
A watch-cafe to a common larum-bell * ?
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,
In cradle of the rude imperious furge;

And in the vifitation of the winds,

• Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them,

• With deaf'ning clamours in the flipp'ry fhrouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes:

Can't thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repofe
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; Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown.

SCENE II. Enter Warwick and Surrey.
War. Many good morrows to your Majefty!
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 fent you?

War. We have, my Liege.

[dom,

K. Henry. Then you perceive the body of our kingHow foul it is; what rank difeafes grow, And with what danger, near the heart of it. War. It is but as a body flight diftemper'd, Which to its former ftrength may be reitor'd, With good advice and little medicine

A

This alludes to the watchmen fet in garrifon-towns upon fome e minence, attending upon an alarum bell, which he was to ring out in cafe of fire, or any approaching danger. He had a cafe or box to fhelter him from the weather; but at his utmost peril he was not to fleep whilft he was upon duty. Thefe alarum bells are mentioned in feveral other places of Shakespear. Oxford editor.

My