The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: g3v - Histories, p. 80

Left Column


The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth. Fal.
[725]

Glasses, glasses, is the onely drinking: and for

thy walles a pretty slight Drollery, or the Storie of the

Prodigall, or the Germane hunting in Waterworke, is

worih worth a thousand of these Bed‑hangings, and these Fly‑

bitten Tapistries. Let it be tenne pound (if thou canst.)

[730]

Come, if it were not for thy humors, there is not a better

Wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy

Action: Come, thou must not bee in this humour with

me, come, I know thou was't set on to this.

Host.

Prethee (Sir Iohn) let it be, but twenty Nobles,

[735]

I loath to pawne my Plate, in good earnest la.

Fal.

Let it alone, Ile make other shift: you'l be a fool

still.

Host.

Well, you shall haue it although I pawne my

Gowne. I hope you'l come to Supper: You'l pay me al­

[740]

together?

Fal.

Will I liue? Go with her, with her: hooke‑on,

hooke‑on.

Host.

Will you haue Doll Teare‑sheet meet you at sup­ per ?

Fal.

No more words. Let's haue her.

Ch. Iust.
[745]

I haue heard bitter newes.

Fal

What's the newes (my good Lord?)

Ch. Iu.

Where lay the King last night?

Mes.

At Basingstoke my Lord.

Fal.

I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the newes

[750]

my Lord?

Ch. Iust. Come all his Forces backe? Mes. No: Fifteene hundred Foot, fiue hundred Horse Are march'd vp to my Lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland, and the Archbishop. An ink mark follows the end of this line. Fal.
[755]

Comes the King backe from Wales, my noble L Lord ?

Ch. Iust. You shall haue Letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good M. Gowre. Fal.

My Lord.

Ch. Iust.

What's the matter?

Fal.
[760]

Master Gowre, shall I entreate you with mee to

dinner?

Gow. I must waite vpon my good Lord heere. I thanke you, good Sir Iohn. Ch. Iust.

Sir Iohn, you loyter heere too long, being you

[765]

are to take Souldiers vp, in Countries as you go.

Fal.

Will you sup with me, Master Gowre?

Ch. Iust.

What foolish Master taught you these man‑

ners, Sir Iohn?

Fal.

Master Gower, if they become mee not, hee was a

[770]

Foole that taught them mee. This is the right Fencing

grace (my Lord) tap for tap, and so part faire.

Ch. Iust.

Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great

Foole.

Exeunt
Scena Secunda. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page. Prin.

Trust me, I am exceeding weary.

Poin.
[775]

Is it come to that? I had thought weariness durst

not haue attach'd one of so high blood.

Prin.

It doth me: though it discolours the complexion

Of my Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth it not shew

vildely in me, to desire small Beere?

Poin.
[780]

Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied,

Image


[full image]

Right Column


as to remember so weake a Composition.

Prince.

Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely

got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore Crea­

ture, Small Beere. But indeede these humble considera­

[785]

tions make me out of loue with my Greatnesse. What a

disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know

thy face tomorrow? Or to take note how many paire of

Silk stockings y u hast: (Viz. these, and those that were thy

peach‑colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inuentorie of thy

[790]

shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other, for vse. But

that the Tennis‑Court‑keeper knowes better then I, for

it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st

not Racket there, as thou hast not done a great while, be­

cause the rest of thy Low Countries, haue made a shift to

[795]

eate vp thy Holland.

Poin.

How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so

hard, you should talke so idlely? Tell me how many good

yong Princes would do so, their Fathers lying so sicke, as

yours is?

Prin.
[800]

Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz?

Poin.

Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing.

Prin.

It shall serue among wittes of no higher breed­

ing then thine.

Poin.

Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that

[805]

you'l tell.

Prin.

Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I should be

sad now my Father is sicke: albeit I could tell to thee (as

to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend)

I could be sad, and sad indeed too.

Poin.
[810]

Very hardly, vpon such a subiect.

Prin.

Thou think'st me as farre in the Diuels Booke, as

thou, and Falstaffe, for obduracie and persistencie. Let the

end try the man. But I tell thee, my hart bleeds inward­

ly, that my Father is so sicke: and keeping such vild com­

[815]

pany as thou art, hath in reason taken from me, all osten­

tation of sorrow.

Poin.

The reason?

Prin.

What would'st thou think of me, if I shold weep?

Poin.

I would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite.

Prin.
[820]

It would be euery mans thought: and thou art

a blessed Fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes: neuer a

mans thought in the world, keepes the Rode‑way better

then thine: euery man would thinke me an Hypocrite in­

deede. And what accites your most worshipful thought

[825]

to thinke so?

Poin.

Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so

much ingraffed to Falstaffe.

Prin.

And to thee.

Pointz.

Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it with

[830]

mine owne eares: the worst that they can say of me is, that

I am a second Brother, and that I am a proper Fellowe of

my hands: and those two things I confesse I canot helpe.

Looke, looke, here comes Bardolfe.

Prince.

And the Boy that I gaue Falstaffe, he had him

[835]

from me Christian, and see if the fat villain haue not trans­

form'd him Ape.

Enter Bardolfe. Bar.

Saue your Grace.

Prin.

And yours, most Noble Bardolfe.

Poin.

Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull Foole,

[840]

must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now ? what

a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it such a

matter to get a Pottle‑pots Maiden‑head ?

Page.

He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red

Lattice, and I could discerne no part of his face from the window:

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Scena Secunda. [Act 2, Scene 2] Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page. Prin.

Trust me, I am exceeding weary.

Poin.
[775]

Is it come to that? I had thought weariness durst

not haue attach'd one of so high blood.

Prin.

It doth me: though it discolours the complexion

Of my Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth it not shew

vildely in me, to desire small Beere?

Poin.
[780]

Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied,

as to remember so weake a Composition.

Prince.

Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely

got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore Crea­

ture, Small Beere. But indeede these humble considera­

[785]

tions make me out of loue with my Greatnesse. What a

disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know

thy face tomorrow? Or to take note how many paire of

Silk stockings y u hast: (Viz. these, and those that were thy

peach‑colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inuentorie of thy

[790]

shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other, for vse. But

that the Tennis‑Court‑keeper knowes better then I, for

it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st

not Racket there, as thou hast not done a great while, be­

cause the rest of thy Low Countries, haue made a shift to

[795]

eate vp thy Holland.

Poin.

How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so

hard, you should talke so idlely? Tell me how many good

yong Princes would do so, their Fathers lying so sicke, as

yours is?

Prin.
[800]

Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz?

Poin.

Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing.

Prin.

It shall serue among wittes of no higher breed­

ing then thine.

Poin.

Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that

[805]

you'l tell.

Prin.

Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I should be

sad now my Father is sicke: albeit I could tell to thee (as

to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend)

I could be sad, and sad indeed too.

Poin.
[810]

Very hardly, vpon such a subiect.

Prin.

Thou think'st me as farre in the Diuels Booke, as

thou, and Falstaffe, for obduracie and persistencie. Let the

end try the man. But I tell thee, my hart bleeds inward­

ly, that my Father is so sicke: and keeping such vild com­

[815]

pany as thou art, hath in reason taken from me, all osten­

tation of sorrow.

Poin.

The reason?

Prin.

What would'st thou think of me, if I shold weep?

Poin.

I would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite.

Prin.
[820]

It would be euery mans thought: and thou art

a blessed Fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes: neuer a

mans thought in the world, keepes the Rode‑way better

then thine: euery man would thinke me an Hypocrite in­

deede. And what accites your most worshipful thought

[825]

to thinke so?

Poin.

Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so

much ingraffed to Falstaffe.

Prin.

And to thee.

Pointz.

Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it with

[830]

mine owne eares: the worst that they can say of me is, that

I am a second Brother, and that I am a proper Fellowe of

my hands: and those two things I confesse I canot helpe.

Looke, looke, here comes Bardolfe.

Prince.

And the Boy that I gaue Falstaffe, he had him

[835]

from me Christian, and see if the fat villain haue not trans­

form'd him Ape.

Enter Bardolfe. Bar.

Saue your Grace.

Prin.

And yours, most Noble Bardolfe.

Poin.

Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull Foole,

[840]

must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now ? what

a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it such a

matter to get a Pottle‑pots Maiden‑head ?

Page.

He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red

Lattice, and I could discerne no part of his face from the

[845]

window: at last I spy'd his eyes, and me thought he had

made two holes in the Ale‑wiues new Petticoat, & pee­

ped through.

Prin.

Hath not the boy profited?

Bar.

Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away.

Page.
[850]

Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away.

Prin.

Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy ?

Page.

Marry (my Lord) Althea dream'd, she was de­

liuer'd of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him hir dream.

Prince.

A Crownes‑worth of good Interpretation:

[855]

There it is, Boy.

Poin.

O that this good Blossome could bee kept from

Cankers: Well, there is six pence to preserue thee.

Bard.

If you do not make him be hang'd among you,

the gallowes shall be wrong'd.

Prince.
[860]

And how doth thy Master, Bardolph?

Bar.

Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces

comming to Towne. There's a Letter for you.

Poin.

Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the

Martlemas, your Master?

Bard.
[865]

In bodily health Sir.

Poin.

Marry, the immortal part needes a Physitian :

but that moues not him: though that bee sicke, it dyes

not.

Prince.

I do allow this Wen to bee as familiar with

[870]

me, as my dogge: and he holds his place, for looke you

he writes.

Poin. Letter.

Iohn Falstaffe Knight: (Euery man must

know that, as oft as hee hath occasion to name himselfe:)

Euen like those that are kinne to the King, for they neuer

[875]

pricke their finger, but they say, there is som of the kings

blood spilt. How comes that (sayes he) that takes vpon

him not to conceiue? the answer is as ready as a borrow­

ed cap: I am the Kings poore Cosin, Sir.

Prince.

Nay, they will be kin to vs, but they wil fetch

[880]

it from Iaphet. But to the Letter: ⸺ Sir Iohn Falstaffe, Knight, to the Sonne of the King, neerest his Father, Harrie Prince of Wales, greeting.

Poin.

Why this is a Certificate.

Prin.

Peace.

[885]

I will imitate the honourable Romaines in breuitie.

Poin.

Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short‑winded.

I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leaue thee. Bee not too familiar with Pointz, for hee misuses thy Fauours so much, that he sweares thou art to marrie his Sister Nell. Re­ pent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell.

Thine, by yea and no: which is as much as to say, as thou

vsest him. Iacke Falstaffe with my Familiars:

Iohn with my Brothers and sister: & Sir

Iohn, with all Europe.

[895]

My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make him

eate it.

Prin.

That's to make him eate twenty of his Words.

But do you vse me thus Ned? Must I marry your Sister?

Poin.

May the Wench haue no worse Fortune. But I

[900]

neuer said so.

Prin.

Well, thus we play the Fooles with the time, &

the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and mocke vs: Is

your Master heere in London?

Bard.

Yes my Lord.

Prin.
[905]

Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede in

the old Franke?

Bard,

At the old place my Lord, in East‑cheape.

Prin.

What Company?

Page.

Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church.

Prin.
[910]

Sup any women with him?

Page.

None my Lord, but old Mistris Quickly, and M. Mistris

Doll Teare‑sheet.

Prin.

What Pagan may that be?

Page

A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman

[915]

of my Masters.

Prin.

Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the

Towne‑Bull?

Shall we steale vpon them (Ned) at Supper?

Poin.

I am your shadow, my Lord, Ile follow you.

Prin.
[920]

Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your

Master that I am yet in Towne.

There's for your silence.

Bar.

I haue no tongue, sir.

Page.

And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it.

Prin.
[925]

Fare ye well: go.

This Doll Teare‑sheet should be some Rode.

Poin.

I warrant you, as common as the way betweene

S. Saint Albans, and London.

Prin.

How might we see Falstaffe bestow him selfe to

[930]

night, in his true colours, and not our selues be seene ?

Poin.

Put on two Leather Ierkins, and Aprons, and

waite vpon him at his Table, like Drawers.

Prin.

From a God, to a Bull? A heauie declension: It

was Ioues case. From a Prince, to a Prentice, a low trans­

[935]

formation, that shall be mine: for in euery thing, the pur­

pose must weigh with the folly. Follow me Ned.

Exeunt
 

Download the digital text of the play

        
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<div type="scene" n="2">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Secunda.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 2]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe,
      <lb/>and Page.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="774">Trust me, I am exceeding weary.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="775">Is it come to that? I had thought weariness durst
      <lb n="776"/>not haue attach'd one of so high blood.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="777">It doth me: though it discolours the complexion
      <lb n="778"/>Of my Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth it not shew
      <lb n="779"/>vildely in me, to desire small Beere?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="780">Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied,<cb n="2"/>
         
      <lb n="781"/>as to remember so weake a Composition.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prince.</speaker>
      <p n="782">Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely
      <lb n="783"/>got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore Crea­
      <lb n="784"/>ture, Small Beere. But indeede these humble considera­
      <lb n="785"/>tions make me out of loue with my Greatnesse. What a
      <lb n="786"/>disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know
      <lb n="787"/>thy face tomorrow? Or to take note how many paire of
      <lb n="788"/>Silk stockings y<c rend="superscript">u</c>hast: (Viz. these, and those that were thy
      <lb n="789"/>peach‑colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inuentorie of thy
      <lb n="790"/>shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other, for vse. But
      <lb n="791"/>that the Tennis‑Court‑keeper knowes better then I, for
      <lb n="792"/>it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st
      <lb n="793"/>not Racket there, as thou hast not done a great while, be­
      <lb n="794"/>cause the rest of thy Low Countries, haue made a shift to
      <lb n="795"/>eate vp thy Holland.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="796">How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so
      <lb n="797"/>hard, you should talke so idlely? Tell me how many good
      <lb n="798"/>yong Princes would do so, their Fathers lying so sicke, as
      <lb n="799"/>yours is?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="800">Shall I tell thee one thing,<hi rend="italic">Pointz</hi>?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="801">Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="802">It shall serue among wittes of no higher breed­
      <lb n="803"/>ing then thine.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="804">Go to: I stand the push of your one thing, that
      <lb n="805"/>you'l tell.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="806">Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I should be
      <lb n="807"/>sad now my Father is sicke: albeit I could tell to thee (as
      <lb n="808"/>to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend)
      <lb n="809"/>I could be sad, and sad indeed too.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="810">Very hardly, vpon such a subiect.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="811">Thou think'st me as farre in the Diuels Booke, as
      <lb n="812"/>thou, and<hi rend="italic">Falstaffe</hi>, for obduracie and persistencie. Let the
      <lb n="813"/>end try the man. But I tell thee, my hart bleeds inward­
      <lb n="814"/>ly, that my Father is so sicke: and keeping such vild com­
      <lb n="815"/>pany as thou art, hath in reason taken from me, all osten­
      <lb n="816"/>tation of sorrow.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="817">The reason?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="818">What would'st thou think of me, if I shold weep?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="819">I would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="820">It would be euery mans thought: and thou art
      <lb n="821"/>a blessed Fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes: neuer a
      <lb n="822"/>mans thought in the world, keepes the Rode‑way better
      <lb n="823"/>then thine: euery man would thinke me an Hypocrite in­
      <lb n="824"/>deede. And what accites your most worshipful thought
      <lb n="825"/>to thinke so?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="826">Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so
      <lb n="827"/>much ingraffed to<hi rend="italic">Falstaffe</hi>.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="828">And to thee.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Pointz.</speaker>
      <p n="829">Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it with
      <lb n="830"/>mine owne eares: the worst that they can say of me is, that
      <lb n="831"/>I am a second Brother, and that I am a proper Fellowe of
      <lb n="832"/>my hands: and those two things I confesse I canot helpe.
      <lb n="833"/>Looke, looke, here comes<hi rend="italic">Bardolfe</hi>.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prince.</speaker>
      <p n="834">And the Boy that I gaue<hi rend="italic">Falstaffe</hi>, he had him
      <lb n="835"/>from me Christian, and see if the fat villain haue not trans­
      <lb n="836"/>form'd him Ape.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Bardolfe.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bar.</speaker>
      <p n="837">Saue your Grace.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="838">And yours, most Noble<hi rend="italic">Bardolfe</hi>.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="839">Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull Foole,
      <lb n="840"/>must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now<c rend="italic">?</c>what
      <lb n="841"/>a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it such a
      <lb n="842"/>matter to get a Pottle‑pots Maiden‑head<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-pag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Page.</speaker>
      <p n="843">He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red
      <lb n="844"/>Lattice, and I could discerne no part of his face from the<pb facs="FFimg:axc0403-0.jpg" n="81"/>
         <cb n="1"/>
         
      <lb n="845"/>window: at last I spy'd his eyes, and me thought he had
      <lb n="846"/>made two holes in the Ale‑wiues new Petticoat, &amp; pee­
      <lb n="847"/>ped through.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="848">Hath not the boy profited?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bar.</speaker>
      <p n="849">Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-pag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Page.</speaker>
      <p n="850">Away, you rascally<hi rend="italic">Altheas</hi>dreame, away.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="851">Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-pag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Page.</speaker>
      <p n="852">Marry (my Lord)<hi rend="italic">Althea</hi>dream'd, she was de­
      <lb n="853"/>liuer'd of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him hir dream.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prince.</speaker>
      <p n="854">A Crownes‑worth of good Interpretation:
      <lb n="855"/>There it is, Boy.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="856">O that this good Blossome could bee kept from
      <lb n="857"/>Cankers: Well, there is six pence to preserue thee.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bard.</speaker>
      <p n="858">If you do not make him be hang'd among you,
      <lb n="859"/>the gallowes shall be wrong'd.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prince.</speaker>
      <p n="860">And how doth thy Master,<hi rend="italic">Bardolph</hi>?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bar.</speaker>
      <p n="861">Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces
      <lb n="862"/>comming to Towne. There's a Letter for you.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="863">Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the
      <lb n="864"/>Martlemas, your Master?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bard.</speaker>
      <p n="865">In bodily health Sir.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="866">Marry, the immortal part needes a Physitian<c rend="italic">:</c>
         
      <lb n="867"/>but that moues not him: though that bee sicke, it dyes
      <lb n="868"/>not.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prince.</speaker>
      <p n="869">I do allow this Wen to bee as familiar with
      <lb n="870"/>me, as my dogge: and he holds his place, for looke you
      <lb n="871"/>he writes.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <stage rend="italic inline" type="business">Letter.</stage>
      <p n="872">
         <hi rend="italic">Iohn Falstaffe Knight:</hi>(Euery man must
      <lb n="873"/>know that, as oft as hee hath occasion to name himselfe:)
      <lb n="874"/>Euen like those that are kinne to the King, for they neuer
      <lb n="875"/>pricke their finger, but they say, there is som of the kings
      <lb n="876"/>blood spilt. How comes that (sayes he) that takes vpon
      <lb n="877"/>him not to conceiue? the answer is as ready as a borrow­
      <lb n="878"/>ed cap: I am the Kings poore Cosin, Sir.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prince.</speaker>
      <p n="879">Nay, they will be kin to vs, but they wil fetch
      <lb n="880"/>it from<hi rend="italic">Iaphet</hi>. But to the Letter: ⸺<hi rend="italic">Sir Iohn Falstaffe,
      <lb n="881"/>Knight, to the Sonne of the King, neerest his Father, Harrie
      <lb n="882"/>Prince of Wales, greeting.</hi>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="883">Why this is a Certificate.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="884">Peace.</p>
      <p n="885">
         <hi rend="italic">I will imitate the honourable Romaines in breuitie.</hi>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="886">Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short‑winded.
      <lb n="887"/>
         <hi rend="italic">I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leaue thee. Bee
      <lb n="888"/>not too familiar with</hi>Pointz,<hi rend="italic">for hee misuses thy Fauours so
      <lb n="889"/>much, that he sweares thou art to marrie his Sister</hi>Nell.<hi rend="italic">Re­
      <lb n="890"/>pent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell.</hi>
      </p>
      <p rend="rightJustified italic" n="891">Thine, by yea and no: which is as much as to say, as thou
      <lb n="892"/>vsest him.<hi rend="roman">Iacke Falstaffe</hi>with my Familiars:
      <lb n="893"/>
         <hi rend="roman">Iohn</hi>with my Brothers and sister: &amp; Sir
      <lb n="894"/>
         <hi rend="roman">Iohn,</hi>with all Europe.</p>
      <p n="895">My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make him
      <lb n="896"/>eate it.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="897">That's to make him eate twenty of his Words.
      <lb n="898"/>But do you vse me thus<hi rend="italic">Ned</hi>? Must I marry your Sister?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="899">May the Wench haue no worse Fortune. But I
      <lb n="900"/>neuer said so.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="901">Well, thus we play the Fooles with the time, &amp;
      <lb n="902"/>the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and mocke vs: Is
      <lb n="903"/>your Master heere in London?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bard.</speaker>
      <p n="904">Yes my Lord.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="905">Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede in
      <lb n="906"/>the old Franke?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bard,</speaker>
      <p n="907">At the old place my Lord, in East‑cheape.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="908">What Company?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-pag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Page.</speaker>
      <p n="909">Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="910">Sup any women with him?</p>
   </sp>
   <cb n="2"/>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-pag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Page.</speaker>
      <p n="911">None my Lord, but old Mistris<hi rend="italic">Quickly</hi>, and<choice>
            <abbr>M.</abbr>
            <expan>Mistris</expan>
         </choice>
         
      <lb n="912"/>
         <hi rend="italic">Doll Teare‑sheet</hi>.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="913">What Pagan may that be?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-pag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Page</speaker>
      <p n="914">A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman
      <lb n="915"/>of my Masters.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="916">Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the
      <lb n="917"/>Towne‑Bull?</p>
      <p n="918">Shall we steale vpon them<hi rend="italic">(Ned)</hi>at Supper?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="919">I am your shadow, my Lord, Ile follow you.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="920">Sirrah, you boy, and<hi rend="italic">Bardolph</hi>, no word to your
      <lb n="921"/>Master that I am yet in Towne.</p>
      <p n="922">There's for your silence.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-bar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bar.</speaker>
      <p n="923">I haue no tongue, sir.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-pag">
      <speaker rend="italic">Page.</speaker>
      <p n="924">And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="925">Fare ye well: go.</p>
      <p n="926">This<hi rend="italic">Doll Teare‑sheet</hi>should be some Rode.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="927">I warrant you, as common as the way betweene
      <lb n="928"/>
         <choice>
            <abbr>S.</abbr>
            <expan>Saint</expan>
         </choice>Albans, and London.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="929">How might we see<hi rend="italic">Falstaffe</hi>bestow him selfe to
      <lb n="930"/>night, in his true colours, and not our selues be seene<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-poi">
      <speaker rend="italic">Poin.</speaker>
      <p n="931">Put on two Leather Ierkins, and Aprons, and
      <lb n="932"/>waite vpon him at his Table, like Drawers.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-2h4-hn5">
      <speaker rend="italic">Prin.</speaker>
      <p n="933">From a God, to a Bull? A heauie declension: It
      <lb n="934"/>was Ioues case. From a Prince, to a Prentice, a low trans­
      <lb n="935"/>formation, that shall be mine: for in euery thing, the pur­
      <lb n="936"/>pose must weigh with the folly. Follow me<hi rend="italic">Ned</hi>.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt</stage>
</div>

        
        

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