Bar.

Save your Grace.

Prin.

And yours most noble Bardolfe.

Poin.

Come, you pernicious Ass? You bashful Fool must you be Blushing? What a Maidenly Man at Arms are you become?

Boy.

He call'd to me even now my Lord thro' a red Lettice, and I could discern no part of his Face from the Window, at last I spy'd his Eyes, and methought he had made two Holes thro' the Alewives red Petticoat, and peep'd thro'.

Prin.

Has not the Boy profited?

Bar.

Away, you whorson upright Rabbet, away.

Boy.

Away, you Rascally Althea's Dream away.

Prin.

What Dream Boy, ha?

Boy.

Marry my Lord. Althea Dream'd she was deliver'd of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him her Dream.

Prin.

A Crowns worth of good Interpretation, there it is Boy.

Poin.

O that this Blossom could be kept from Cankers! well, there's Six-pence to preserve thee.

Bar.

If you do not make him be hang'd among you, the Gallows shall be wrong'd.

Prin.

And how does thy Master, Bardolfe?

Bar.

Well, my good Lord, he heard of your Graces coming to Town; there's a Letter for you.

Prin.

I allow this Wen to be as Familiar with me as my Dog. Look how he writes.

Poin. reads.]

John Falstaffe Knight—Every Man must know That as often as he has occasion to name himself: like those who are Kin to the King, they never prick their Finger, but they say there's some of the Royal Blood spilt. How so, Says a Standerby. Marry (says he) I am the King's poor Cozen Sir.

Prin.

Nay, they will be Kin to us, tho' they fetch it from Japhet—but to the Letter.

Poin. reads.]

Sir John Falstaffe Knight, to the Son of the King nearest his Father, Henry Prince of Wales, Greeting.—Why this is a Certificate.

Prin.

Read on.

Poin. reads on.]

I will imitate the honourable Romans in Brevity, I commend me to thee, I commend thee and I leave thee. Be not so familiar with Poinsz, for he misuses thy favour so much, that he swears thou art to marry his Sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou may'st, and so—Farewel.

Thine by Yea, and nay, which is as
much as to say, as thou usest him.
Jack Falstaffe with my Familiars;
John with my Brothers and Sisters;
and Sir John with all Europe.

—My Lord I will steep this Letter in Sack and make him eat it.

Prin.

That's to make him eat Twenty of his Words, but do you use me thus Ned? Must I marry your Sister?

Poin.

May the Girl have no worse Fortune—But I never said so.

Prin.

Well, thus we play the Fool with the time, and the Spirits of the Wise sit in the Clouds and mock us—Is your Master here in London?

Bar.

Yes my Lord.

Prin.

Where sups he?

Bar.

At the old place in East-cheap.

Prin.

What Company?

Boy.

Ephesians my Lord of the old Church.

Prin.

Sup any Women with him?

Boy.

None my Lord but old Mrs. Quickly, and Mrs. Doll Tearsheet.

Prin.

What Pagan may that be?

Boy.

A proper Gentlewoman Sir, and a Kinswoman of my Masters.

Prin.

Just such a Kin as the Parish Heifers are to the Town Bull. Shall we steal on them Ned at Supper?

Poin.

I am your Shadow, my Lord, I'll follow you.

Prin.

Sirrah you Boy and Bardolfe, no Words to your Master that I'm in Town, there's for your Silence.

Bar.

I have no Tongue.

Boy.

And I will govern mine my Lord.

Prin.
Go then. [Exeunt Bar. and Boy.
This Doll Tearsheet must be some Common thing.

Poin.

As common as the way between St. Albans and London.

Prin.

How might we behold Falstaffe in his true Colours, and not be seen our selves?

Poin.

Put on two ordinary Coats and Aprons, and wait on him like Drawers.

Prin.

From a Prince to a Prentice, a low Transformation, but now it shall be mine, for in every thing the purpose must weigh with the Folly. Come Ned follow me.