Falst.

Bardolph, am I not faln away vilely, since this last action? Do I not hate? do I not dwindle? Why my skin hangs about me like an old Ladies loose Gown: I am withered like an old Apple John. Well I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking: I shall be out of Heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. And I have not forgotten what the in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper Corn, a Brewers Horse: The in-side of a Church. Company, villanous Company hath been the spoil of me.

Bard.

Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Falst.

Why there it is: Come, sing me a bawdy Song, make me merry: I was as virtuously given, as a Gentleman need to be; virtuous enough, swore little, Dic'd not above seven times a week, went to a Bawdy-house not above once in a quarter of an hour, paid money that I borrowed three or four times: lived well, and in good compass: And now I live out of all order, out of compass.

Bard.

Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

Falst.

Do thou amend thy Face, and I'll amend my Life. Thou art our Admiral, thou bearest the Lantern in the Poop, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the Knight of the burning Lamp.

Bard.

Why, Sir John, my Face does you no harm.

Falst.

No, I'll be sworn: I make as good use of it, as many a Man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I never see thy Face, but I think upon Hell Fire, when thou rann'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my Horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetual Triumph, an everlasting Bone-fire-light, thou hast saved me a thousand Marks in Links and Torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt Tavern and Tavern: But the Sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me light as good cheap, at the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years, Heaven reward me for it.

Bard.

I would my Face were in your belly.

Falst.

So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.

Enter Hostess. How now, Dame Parlet the Hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my Pocket?

Hostess.

Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think I keep Thieves in my House? I have search'd, I have enquir'd, so has my Husband. Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Servant by Servant: The tight of a Hair was never lost in my House before.

Falst.

Ye lye, Hostess: Bardolph was shav'd, and lost many a Hair; and I'll be sworn my Pocket was pick'd; go to, you are a Woman, go.

Hostess.

Who I? I defie thee. I was never so call'd so in mine own House before.

Falst.

Go to, I know you well enough.

Hostess.

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.

Falst.

Dowlas, filthy Dowlas: I have given them away to Bakers Wives, and they have made Boulters of them.

Hostess.

Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir John, for your Diet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Falst.

He had his part of it, let him pay.

Hostess.

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

Falst.

How? poor? look upon his face: What call you rich? Let him coyn his Nose, let him coyn his Cheeks, I'll not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Yonker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inn, but I shall have my Pocket pick'd? I have lost a Seal-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth forty Mark.

Hostess.

I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that Ring was Copper.

Falst.

How? the Prince is a Jack, a Sneak-Cup: and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a Dog, if he would say so.

Falst.

How now, Lad? is the wind in that Door? Must we all march?

Bard.

Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion.

Host.

My Lord, I pray you hear me.

Prince.

What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How does thy Husband? I love him well, he is an honest Man.

Hostess.

Good, my Lord, hear me.

Falst.

Prethee let her alone, and list to me.

Prince.

What say'st thou, Jack?

Falst.

The other night I fell asleep here behind the Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: This House is turn'd Bawdy-house, they pick Pockets.

Prince.

What didst thou lose, Jack?

Falst.

Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four Bonds of forty pound a piece, and a Seal-Ring of my Grand-fathers.

Prince.

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-mouth'd Man as he is, and said he would cudgel you.

Prince.

What, he did not?

Host.

There's neither Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me else.

Fal.

There's no more faith in thee than in a stude Prune; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn Fox: and for Woman-hood, Maid-Marian may be the Deputies Wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing, go.

Host.

Say, what thing? what thing?

Falst.

What thing? why a thing to thank Heaven on.

Host.

I am nothing to thank Heaven on, I would thou shouldst know it: I am an honest Man's Wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou art a Knave to call me so.

Falst.

Setting thy Womanhood aside, thou art a Beast to say otherwise.

Host.

Say, what Beast, thou Knave thou?

Fal.

What Beast? Why an Otter.

Prin.

An Otter, Sir John, why an Otter?

Fal.

Why? she's neither fish nor flesh, 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.

Prin.

Thou say'st true, Hostess, and he slanders thee most grosly.

Host.

So he doth you, my Lord, and said this other day, you ow'd him a thousand pound.

Prince.

Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

Fal.

A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million: thou ow'st me thy love.

Host.

Nay, my Lord, he call'd you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

Fal.

Did I, Bardolph?

Bar.

Indeed, Sir John, you said so.

Fal.

Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper.

Prin.

I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou be as good as thy word now?

Fal.

Why, Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I dare; but as thou art a Prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the Lyons Whelp.

Prin.

And why not as the Lyon?

Fal.

The King himself is to be feared as the Lyon: Do'st thou think I'll fear thee, as I fear thy Father? nay if I do, let my Girdle break.

Prin.

O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees. Why thou horson impudent, imbost Rascal, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but Tavern Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdy-Houses, and one poor penny-worth of Sugar-candy to make thee long-winded: And yet you will stand to it, you will not Pocket up Wrongs. Art thou not asham'd?

Fal.

Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou know'st in the state of Innocency, Adam fell; and what would poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of Villany? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore, frailty. You confess then you pickt my Pocket?

Prin.

It appears so by the Story.

Fal.
Hostess, I forgive thee:
Go make ready Breakfast, love thy Husband,
Look to thy Servants, and cherish thy Guests:
Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest Reason:
Thou seest, I am pacified still.
Nay, I preethee be gone. [Exit Hostess.
Now, Hal, to the news at Court for the Robbery, Lad?
How is that answered?

Prin.
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.

Prin.

I am good Friends with my Father, and may do any thing.

Fal.

Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with un-wash'd hands too.

Bard.

Do, my Lord.

Prin.

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 two and twenty, or thereabout: I am hainously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but the Virtuous. I laud them, I praise them.

Prin.

Bardolph.

Bar.

My Lord.

Prin.

Go bear this Letter to Lord John of Lancaster, to my Brother John. This to my Lord of Westmerland:

Fal.
Rare words: brave World,
Hostess, my Breakfast, come:
Oh, I could wish this Tavern were my Drum. [Exeunt omnes.

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