Hos.

Pry'thee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.

Pis.
No; for my14Q0740 manly heart doth yern.—
Bardolph, be blith;—Nym, rouze thy vaunting veins;—
Boy, bristle thy courage up;
For Falstaff he is dead, and we must yern therefore.

Bar.

'Would, I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven, or in hell.

Hos.

Nay, sure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a fine ^note end; and went away, an it had been any chryssom' ^note child; 'a parted just ^note between twelve and one, e'en at turning ^note of the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers ^note, and smile upon his fingers' ends ^note, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbl'd of ^note green fields. How now, sir John? quoth I: what, man! be o' good cheer: So 'a cry'd out—God, God, God! three or four times: now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hop'd, there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet: So 'a bad me lay more cloaths on his feet: I put my hand into the bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and they were as cold as any stone; ^note and so upward, and ^note upward, and all was as cold as any stone.

Nym.

They say, he cry'd out of sack ^note.

Hos.

Ay, that 'a did.

Bar.

And of ^note women.

Hos.

Nay, that 'a did not.

Boy.

Yes, that 'a did; and said, they were devils ^note incarnate.

Hos.

'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never lik'd.

Boy.

'A said once, the devil would have him about women.

Hos.

'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women: but then he was rheumatick; and talk'd of the whore of Pabylon.

Boy.

Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose; and 'a said, it was a black soul burning in hell-fire. ^note

Bar.

Well, the fuel is gone, that maintain'd that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.

Nym.

Shall we shog? the king will be gone from Southampton.

Pis.
Come, let's away.—My love, give me thy lips. [kissing her.
Look to my chattels, and my moveables:
Let senses rule; the word ^note is, Pitch and pay:
Trust none;
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck;
Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor.
Go, clear thy crystals.—Yoke-fellows in arms,
Let us to France! like horse-leeches, my boys;
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!

Boy.
And that's but unwholsome food, they say.

Pis.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Bar.
Farewel, hostess. [kissing her.

Nym.
I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu.

Pis.
Let huswif'ry appear; keep close, I thee command.

Hos.
Farewel; adieu. [Exeunt.

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