Pag.

Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for striking him about Bardolph.

Fal.

Wait close, I will not see him.

Ch. J.

What's he that goes there?

Gen.

Falstaff, an't please your lordship.

Ch. J.

He that was in question for the robbery?

Gen.

He, my lord: but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the lord John of Lancaster.

Ch. J.

What, to York? Call him back again.

Gen.

Sir John Falstaff!

Fal.

Boy, tell him, I am deaf.

Pag.

You must speak louder, my master is deaf.

Ch. J.

I am sure, he is, to the hearing of any thing good.—Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him.

Gen.

Sir John,—

Fal.

What! a young knave, and beg ^note! Is there not wars? is there not employment? Doth not the king lack subjects? do not the rebels want soldiers ^note? Though 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.

Gen.

You mistake me, sir.

Fal.

Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had ly'd in my throat if I had ^note said so.

Gen.

I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, you do lie 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 ^note, hence! avant!

Gen.

Sir, my lord would speak with you.

Ch. J.

Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.

Fal.

My good lord!—I give ^note your lordship good time of day ^note. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heard say, your lordship was sick: I hope, your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship (though not clean past your youth) hath yet some smack of age in ^note you, some relish of the saltness of time; and ^note I most humbly beseech your lordship, to have a reverend care of your health.

Ch. J.

Sir John, I sent for ^note you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.

Fal.

An't please ^note your lordship, I hear, his majesty is return'd with some discomfort ^note from Wales.

Ch. J.

I talk not of his majesty:—You would not come when I sent for you.

Fal.

And I hear moreover, his highness is fall'n into this same whorson apoplexy.

Ch. J.

Well, heaven mend ^note him! I pray, let ^note me speak with you.

Fal.

This apoplexy is (as I take it) a kind of lethargy, an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the ^note blood, a whorson tingling.

Ch. J.

What tell you me of it? be it as it is.

Fal.

It hath it's original from much grief; from study, and perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of his effects in Galen; it is a kind of deafness.

Ch. J.

I think, you are fall'n into the disease; for you hear not what I say to you.

Fal.

Very well ^note,14Q0674 my lord, very well: rather, an't please you, it is the disease of not list'ning, the malady of not marking, that I am troubl'd withal.

Ch. J.

To punish you by the heels, would amend the

inattention of your ears; and I care not, if I do become your ^note physician.

Fal.

I am as poor as Job, my lord; but not so patient: your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me, in respect of poverty; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or, indeed, a scruple itself.

Ch. J.

I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come ^note speak with me.

Fal.

As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come.

Ch. J.

Well, the truth is, sir John, you live in great infamy.

Fal.

He that buckles him in ^note my belt, cannot live in less.

Ch. J.

Your means are very ^note slender, and your waste great.

Fal.

I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater, and my waste slenderer. ^note

Ch. J.

You have mis-led the youthful prince.

Fal.

The youthful prince ^note14Q0675 hath mis-led me: I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.

Ch. J.

Well, I am loth to gall a new-heal'd wound; your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gads-hill: you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting that action.

Fal.

My lord?

Ch. J.

But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping wolf.

Fal.

To wake a wolf, is as bad as to smell ^note a fox.

Ch. J.

What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.

Fal.

A wassail candle, my lord; all tallow: if I did

say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.

Ch. J.

There is not a white hair on your ^note face, but should have his effect of gravity.

Fal.

His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.

Ch. J.

You follow the young prince up and down, like his ill ^note angel.

Fal.

Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but, I hope, he that looks upon me, will take me without weighing: and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go. I cannot tell: Virtue is of so little regard in these coster-monger ^note times ^note, that true valour is turn'd bear-herd ^note: Pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath ^note his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this ^note age shapes them, are not worth a goose-berry. You, that are old, consider not the capacities of us that are young; you measure ^note the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls: and we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too.

Ch. J.

Do you set down your name in the scrowl 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 encreasing belly? Is not your voice broken? your wind short? your chin double? ^note your wit single? and every part about you blasted with antiquity? and will you yet ^note call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, sir John!

Fal.

My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, ^note with a white head, and something a round belly: for my voice,—I have lost it with hallowing, and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further ^note, I will not: the truth is, I am only old in judgment

and understanding; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him. For the box of the ear ^note 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.

Ch. J.

Well, heaven send ^note the prince a better companion!

Fal.

Heaven send ^note the companion a better prince! I cannot rid my hands of him.

Ch. J.

Well, the king hath sever'd you and prince Harry ^note: I hear, you are going with lord John of Lancaster, against the archbishop, and the earl of Northumberland.

Fal.

Yea; I ^note 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; for, by the Lord ^note, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, an I ^note brandish any thing but my bottle ^note, I would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but I am thrust upon it: Well, I cannot last ever. [But ^note it was14Q0676 always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If you will needs say, I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God, my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten to death with a rust, than to be scour'd to nothing with perpetual motion.]

Ch. J.

Well, be honest, be honest; And God bless ^note your expedition!

Fal.

Will yonr ^note lordship lend me a thousand pound, to furnish me forth?

Ch. J.

Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: Commend me to my cousin Westmoreland.