Fal.

Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown^{5 note}
; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in

some liking^{6 note}

Bard.

Why, sir John, my face does you no harm.

Fal.

No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire^{2 note}: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou had'st been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph^{3 note}

Bard.

'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly.

Fal.

God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned.

How now, dame Partlet^{6 note} the hen? have you inquired yet, who picked my pocket?

Host.

Why, sir John! what do you think, sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

Fal.

You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go.

Host.

Who I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.

Fal.

Go to, I know you well enough.

Host.

No, sir John; you do not know me, sir John: I know you, sir John: you owe me money, sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.

Fal.

Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them.

Host.

Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell^{7 note}. You owe money here besides,

sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings^{6 note}, and money lent you, four and twenty pound.

Fal.

He had his part of it; let him pay.

Host.

He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing.

Fal.

How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich^{7 note}? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me^{8 note}

Host.

My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen.

What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.

Host.

Good my lord, hear me.

Fal.

Pry'thee let her alone, and list to me.

P. Hen.

What sayest thou, Jack?

Fal.

The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked: this house is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Hen.

What didst thou lose, Jack?

Fal.

Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal ring of my grandfather's.

P. Hen.

A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

Host.

So I told him, my lord; and I said I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks

most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Hen.

What! he did not?

Host.

There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.

Fal.

There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune^{4 note}

a drawn fox^{5 note}

Host.

Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal.

What thing? why, a thing to thank God on.

Host.

I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

Fal.

Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host.

Say, what beast, thou knave thou?

Fal.

What beast? why an otter.

P. Hen.

An otter, sir John! why an otter?

Fal.

Why? she's neither fish nor flesh^{7 note}; a man knows not where to have her.

Host.

Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!

P. Hen.

Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.

Host.

So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound.

P. Hen.

Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

Fal.

A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love.

Host.

Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

Fal.

Did I, Bardolph?

Bard.

Indeed, sir John, you said so.

Fal.

Yea; if he said, my ring was copper.

P. Hen.

I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as good as thy word now?

Fal.

Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Hen.

And why not, as the lion.

Fal.

The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God, my girdle break^{8 note}

P. Hen.

O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal^{9 note}

Fal.

Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.—You confess then, you picked my pocket?

P. Hen.

It appears so by the story.

Fal.

Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.—Still? —Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad,— How is that answered?

P. Hen.

O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:—The money is paid back again.

Fal.

O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.

P. Hen.

I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal.

Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too^{3 note}

Bard.

Do, my lord.

P. Hen.

I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

Fal.

I would, it had been of horse. Where shall

I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.

P. Hen.

Bardolph—

Bard.

My lord.

P. Hen.
Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster,
My brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland.—
Go, Poins, to horse^{4 note}