Falstaffe.

Sirrah, you Giant, what says the Doctor to my Water?

Boy.

He says the Water it self was a good healthy Water, but for the Party who made it, he might have more Diseases than he knew of.

Fal.

Men of all sorts take a Pride to gird at me. I am not only Witty my self, but the Cause of Wit in other Men. I do here walk before thee like a Sow that has o'rewhelm d all her Litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my Service for any other

reason than to set me off, then I have no Judgment; thou Whorson Mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my Cap, than to wait at my Heels. What said Mr. Doubledown about the Sattin for my Doublet, and Breeches?

Boy.

He said Sir you should secure him a better Man than Bardolfe, he would not take his Bond and yours; he liked not the Security.

Fal.

Let him be Damn'd like the Glutton, and may his Tongue be hotter! A Whorson Achitophel! A Rascally, Yea-forsooth Knave, to bear a Gentleman in hand, and then stand upon Security! I had as lief he should put Ratsbane in my Mouth, as offer to stop it with Security. I looked he should have sent me Two and Twenty Yards of Sattin (as I am a true Knight) and he sends me Security. Well he may sleep in Security, for he has the Horn of abundance, and the Lightness of his Wife shines through it, and yet cannot he see, tho' he has his own Lanthorn to light him—Where's Bardolfe?

Boy.

He's gone to Smithfield to buy your Worship a Horse.

Fal.

I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a Horse in Smithfield, if I cou'd get me a Wife in the Stews; I were Man'd, Hors'd, and Wiv'd.

Boy.

Sir, here comes the Nobleman, who committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolfe.

Fal.

Sirrah, stand between us, I won't be seen.

C. Just.

What's he that goes before there?

Gent.

Falstaffe, an't please your Lordship.

C. Just.

He that was question'd for the Robbery?

Gent.

The same my Lord. But he has since done good Service at Shrewsbury, and as I hear is now going with some Forces to Lord John of Lancaster.

C. Just.

O, to York! Go, call him back again.

Gent.

Sir John Falstaffe.

Fal.

Boy, tell him I am deaf.

Boy.

You must speak louder Sir, my Master's deaf.

C. Just.

I am sure he is to the hearing any thing that's good. Go pluck him by the Sleeve, I must speak with him.

Gent.

Sir John.

Fal.

What! a young Knave and beg; are there not Wars? Is there not Employment? does not the King lack Subjects? do not the Rebels want Souldiers? tho' it be a Shame to be on any side but one, it is worse Shame to beg, than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of Rebellion can tell how to make it.

Gent.

Sir, you mistake me.

Fal.

Why Sir did I say you were an Honest Man? setting my Knighthood and my Souldiership aside, I lyed in my Throat if I had said so.

Gent.

Then pray Sir set your Knighthood and your Souldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, you do lye in your Throat if you say I am any other than an Honest Man.

Fal.

I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that which grows to me? if thou get'st any leave of me, hang me, if thou tak'st leave, thou wert better be hang'd; you hunt-counter, hence! Avaunt!

Gent.

Sir, my Lord would speak with you.

C. Just.

Sir John Falstaffe, a Word with you.

Fal.

My good Lord, give your Lordship the good time of the Day. I am glad to see your Lordship abroad. I heard your Lordship was Sick. I hope your Lordship goes abroad by Advice. Your Lordship (tho' not clean past your Youth) has yet some smatch of Age in you; Some relish of the Saltness

Time, and I most humbly beseech your Lordship to have a reverend care of your Health.

C. Just.

Sir John, I sent to speak with you before your Expedition to Shrewsbury.

Fal.

If it please your Lordship, I hear his Majesty has brought some Indisposition from Wales—

C. Just.

I talk not of his Majesty. You would not come when I sent for you.

Fal.

And I hear moreover that his Highness is fallen into this same Whorson Apoplexy—

C. Just.

Well! Heaven mend him. Pray let me speak with you.

Fal.

This Apoplexy is (as I take it) a kind of Lethargy, a Sleeping of the Blood, a Whorson tingling—

C. Just.

Be't as it is, but answer me Sir John.

Fal.

It has his Original from much Grief, from Study, and Perturbation of the Brain. I have read the cause of its effects in Gallen; it is a kind of Deafness.

C. Just.

I think you are fallen into the Disease, for you hear not what I say to you. I sent for you when there were matters against you for your Life, to speak with me.

Fal.

As I was advised then by my Learned Council in the Laws of this Land, I did not come.

C. Just.

Well the Truth is Sir John, you live in great Infamy.

Fal.

He that Buckles him in my Belt cannot live in less.

C. Just.

Your Means are slender, and your Wast is great.

Fal.

I would it were otherwise: I would my Waste were slender, and my Means were Great.

C. Just.

You have misled the Youthful Prince.

Fal.

The young Prince has misled me. I am the Fellow with the great Belly, and he my Dog.

C. Just.

Well, I am loath to gall a new heal'd Wound; your Days Service at Shrewsbury, has a little gilded over your Nights Exploit at Gads Hill, you may thank the Rebellious time, for your quiet passing o're that matter.

Fal.

You that are Old, consider not the capacities of us that are Young; you measure the heat of our Livers with the bitterness of your Galls, and we that are in the Declension of our Youth I must confess are Waggs too.

C. Just.

Do you set down your Name in the Scrowle of Youth, that are written down Old with all the Characters of Age: have you not a moist Eye? a dry Hand? a yellow Cheek? a white Beard? a decreasing Leg? an increasing Belly? is not your Voice broken? your Wind short? and every part about you blasted with Antiquity? And will you call your self Young? Fye, Sir John, Fye!

Fal.

My Lord I was born with a white Beard, and something a round Belly; for my Voice I lost it with singing Anthems; to prove my Youth further is needless. The Truth is, I am only old in Judgment and Understanding, and he that will cut a Caper with me for a Thousand Marks, let him lend me the Money, and have at him. For the box of the Ear that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude Prince, and you took it like a sensible Lord, I have check'd him for it, and the young Lion repents, marry not in Ashes and Sack-cloth, but in new Silk and old Sack.

C. Just.

Well, Heav'n send the Prince a better Companion!

Fal.

Heav'n send the Companion a better Prince. I cannot rid my Hands of him.

C. Just.

Well, the King has severed you and Prince Harry, I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.

Fal.

Yes, I thank your pretty sweet Wit for it: but look you pray (all you that kiss my Lady Peace at home) that our Armies join not in a hot Day; should the Day be hot, if I brandish any thing but my Bottle, would I might never Spit white again; there is not a dangerous Action can peep out her Head, but I am thrust upon it; well, I cannot last ever.

C. Just.

Well Sir John be Honest, be Honest, and Heaven bless your Expedition,

Fal.

Will your good Lordship lend me a Thousand Pound to set me forth?

C. Just.

Not a Penny, not a Penny, I know you too well. Commend me to my Cozen Westmorland.

Fal.

If I do: Phillup me with a three-man-Beetle. A Man can no more separate old Age and Avarice, than he can separate young Limbs and Lechery, but the Gout galls the one, and the Pox pinches the other, and so both the Disgraces prevent my Curses. Boy.

Boy.

Sir.

Fal.

What Money's in my Purse?

Boy.

Seven Groats and Two Pence.

Fal.

I can get no remedy against this Consumption of the Purse; Borrowing only lingers; and lingers it out, but the Disease is incurable—Go bear this Letter to my Lord of Lancaster—This to the Prince —This to my Lord of Westmorland, and this to old Mrs. Ursula, whom I have Weekly sworn to

Marry ever since I perceived the first white Hair on my Chin—about it, you know where to find me. [Exit Boy.] A Pox o' this Gout! or a Gout o' this Pox! for the one or the other plays the Devil with my great Toe, but 'tis no matter, if I do halt, I have the Wars for my Colour, and my Pension shall seem the more reasonable; a good Wit will make use of any thing, I will turn Diseases to Commodity.