SCENE VIII.
Enter Peto.
P. Henry.
Peto, how now? what news?
Peto.
The king your father is at Westminster,
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, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
P. Henry.
By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,
So idly to profane the precious time;
Give me my sword, and cloak: Falstaff, good night.
[Exeunt Prince and Poins.
Fal.
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night,
and we must hence, and leave it unpick'd. [Knocking.]
More knocking at the door? how now? what's the
matter?
Enter Bardolph.
Bard.
You must away to court, Sir, presently; a dozen
captains stay at door for you.
Fal.
Farewel, Hostess; farewel, Doll. You see, my
good wenches, how men of merit are sought after; the
undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is
-- 33 --
called on. Farewel, good wenches; if I be not sent
away post, I will see you again, ere I go.
Dol.
I cannot speak, if my heart be not ready to burst
—well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
Fal.
Farewel, farewel.
[Exeunt Falstaff and Bardolph.
Host.
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-sheet.
(Within.)
Host.
What's the matter?
Bard.
Bid mistress Tear-sheet come to my master.
Host.
O run, Dol, run; run, good Dol.
[Exeunt.* note
note
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
