SCENE X.
Enter Hostess.
Host.
O Jesu! my lord the Prince!
P. Henry.
How now, my lady the hostess, what
say'st thou to me?
Host.
Marry, my lord, there is a Nobleman of the
Court at door would speak with you; he says, he
comes from your father.
P. Henry.
1 noteGive him as much as will make him a
royal man, and send him back again to my mother.
Fal.
What manner of man is he?
Host.
An old man.
Fal.
What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?
Shall I give him his answer?
P. Henry.
Pry'thee, do, Jack.
Fal.
Faith, and I'll send him packing.
[Exit.
P. Henry.
Now, Sirs, by'r lady, you fought fair; so
did you, Peto; so did you, Bardolph; you are Lions
too, you ran away upon instinct; you will not touch
the true Prince; no. Fie!
Bard.
'Faith, I ran when I saw others run.
P. Henry.
Tell me now in earnest; how came Falstaff's
sword so hackt?
Peto.
Why, he hackt it with his dagger, and said,
he would swear truth out of England, but he would
-- 163 --
make you believe it was done in fight, and persuaded
us to do the like.
Bard.
Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear grass,
to make them bleed; and then beslubber our garments
with it, and swear it was 2 notethe blood of true men. I did
that I did not these seven years before, I blush'd to
hear his monstrous devices.
P. Henry.
O villain, thou stollest a cup of sack eighteen
years ago, and wert 3 note
taken with the manner, and
ever since thou hast blush'd extempore. Thou hadst 4 note
fire
and sword on thy side, and yet thou rannest away;
what instinct hadst thou for it?
Bard.
My lord, do you see these meteors? do you
behold these exhalations?
P. Henry.
I do.
Bard.
What think you they portend?
P. Henry.
5 noteHot livers, and cold purses.
Bard.
Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
P. Henry.
No, if rightly taken, halter.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].