790Enter the Prince, Poynes, sir Iohn Russel, with other.
¶Prince Before God, I am exceeding weary.
¶Poynes I
st come to that? I had thought wearines dur
st not
¶haue attacht one of
so hie bloud.
795Prince Faith it does me, though it di
scolors the complexi-
¶on of my greatnes to acknowledge it: doth it not
shew vildly
¶in me, to de
sire
small beere?
¶Poynes Why a Prince
should not be
so loo
sely
studied, as
¶to remember
so weake a compo
sition.
800Prince Belike then my appetite was not princely gote, for
¶by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature
smal beere.
¶But indeed the
se humble con
siderations make me out of loue
¶with my greatne
sse. What a di
sgrace is it to mee to remember
¶thy name? or to know thy face to morow? or to take note how
805many paire of
silke
stockings thou ha
st with the
se, and tho
se
¶that were thy peach colourd once, or to beare the inuentorie of
¶thy
shirts, as one for
superfluitie, and another for v
se. But that
¶the Tennis court keeper knows better than I, for it is a low eb
810of linnen with thee when thou keepe
st not racket there, as thou
¶ha
st not done a great while, becau
se the re
st of the low Coun-
¶tries haue eate vp thy holland: and God knows whether tho
se
812.1that bal out the ruines of thy linnen
shal inherite his kingdom:
¶but the Midwiues
say, the children are not in the fault where-
¶vpon the world increa
ses, and kinreds are mightily
strengthe-
¶Poynes How ill it followes, after you haue labored
so hard,
815you
should talke
so ydlely! tell me how many good yong prin-
¶ces woulde doe
so, their fathers being
so
sicke, as yours at this
¶Prince Shall I tel thee one thing Poynes?
¶Poynes Yes faith, and let it be an excellent good thing.
820Prince It
shall
serue among wittes of no higher breeding
¶Poynes Go to, I
stand the pu
sh of your one thing that you
¶Prince Mary I tell thee it is not meete that I
should bee
sad
825now my father is
sicke, albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it
¶plea
ses me for fault of a better to call my friend, I could be
sad,
¶Poynes Very hardly, vpon
such a
subiect.
¶Prince By this hand, thou thinke
st me as farre in the diuels
830booke, as thou and Fal
staffe, for obduracie and per
si
stancie,
¶let the end trie the man, but I tel thee, my heart bleeds inward-
¶ly that my father is
so
sick, and keeping
such vile company as
¶thou arte, hath in rea
son taken from me all o
stentation of
sor-
¶Prince What would
st thou thinke of me if I
should weep?
¶Poynes I woulde thincke thee a mo
st princely hypocrite.
¶Prince It would bee euery mans thought, and thou arte
¶a ble
ssed felow, to thinke as euery man thinkes, neuer a mans
840thought in the world, keepes the rode way better then thine,
¶euerie man would thinke me an hypocrite indeede, and what
¶accites your mo
st wor
shipfull thought to thinke
so?
¶Poynes Why becau
se you haue been
so lewd and
so much
845engraffed to Fal
staffe.
Prince And to thee.
¶Poynes By this light I am well
spoke on, I can heare it with
¶mine owne eares, the wor
st that they can
say of me is that I am
¶a
second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands,
850and tho
se two things I confe
sse I cannot helpe: by the ma
sse
¶Prince And the boy that I gaue Fal
staffe, a had him from
¶me Chri
stian, and looke if the fat villaine haue not tran
sformd
¶Bard. God
saue your grace.
¶Prince And yours mo
st noble Bardolfe.
¶Poynes Come you vertuous a
sse, you ba
shfull foole, mu
st
¶you be blu
shing, wherefore blu
sh you now? what a maidenly
860man at armes are you become? i
st
such a matter to get a pottle-
¶Boy A calls me enow my Lord, through a red lattice, and I
¶could di
scerne no part of his face from the window, at la
st I
¶spied his eies, and me thought he had made two holes in the ale
865wiues peticote and
so peept through.
¶Prince Has not the boy profited?
¶Bard. Away you hor
son vpright rabble, away.
¶Boy Away you ra
scally Altheas dreame, away.
870Prince In
struct vs boy, what dreame boy?
¶Boy Mary my lord, Althear dreampt
she was deliuered of
¶a firebrand, and therefore I call him her dreame.
¶Prince A crownes worth of good interpretation there tis boy.
875Poines O that this blo
ssome could be kept from cankers!
¶well, there is
sixpence to pre
serue thee.
¶Bard. And you do not make him hangd among you, the gal-
¶Prince And how doth thy ma
ster Bardolfe?
880Bard. Well my Lord, he heard of your graces comming to
¶towne, theres a letter for you.
¶Poynes Deliuerd with good re
spect, and how doth the mar-
¶Bard. In bodily health
sir.
885Poynes Mary the immortall part needes a phi
sitian, but that
¶moues not him, though that be
sicke, it dies not.
¶Prince I do allow this Wen to be as familiar with me, as my
¶dogge, and he holds his place, for looke you how he writes.
¶Poynes Iohn Fal
staffe Knight, euery man mu
st know that
¶as oft as he has occa
sion to name him
selfe: euen like tho
se that
¶are kin to the King for they neuer pricke their finger, but they
¶saye, theres
some of the Kings bloud
spilt: how comes that
895(
saies he) that takes vppon him not to conceiue the an
swer is as
¶ready as a borowed cap: I am the Kings poore co
sin,
sir.
¶Prince Nay they will be kin to vs, or they will fetch it from
¶Iaphet, but the letter, Sir Iohn Fal
staffe knight, to the
sonne of
900the king, neare
st his father, Harry prince of Wales, greeting.
¶Poynes Why this is a certificate.
¶I will imitate the honourable Romanes in breuitie.
905Poynes He
sure meanes breuity in breath,
short winded,
¶I commend mee to thee, I commend thee, and, I leaue
¶thee, be not too familiar with Poynes, for he mi
su
ses thy fa-
¶uours
so much, that he
sweares thou art to mary his
si
ster Nel,
¶repent at idle times as thou mai
st, and
so farwel.
910Thine by yea, and no, which is as much as to say, as
¶thou vsest him, Iacke Falstaffe with my family,
¶Iohn with my brothers and sisters, and sir Iohn
¶Poynes My Lord, Ile
steep this letter in
sacke and make him
¶Prince Thats to make him eate twenty of his words, but do
¶you v
se me, thus Ned? mu
st I marrie your
si
ster?
¶Poynes God
send the wench no wor
se fortune, but I neuer
920Prince Wel, thus we play the fooles with the time, and the
¶spirits of the wi
se
sit in the clowdes and mocke vs, is your ma-
¶Prince Where
sups he? doth the old boare feede in the old
¶Bard. At the old place, my lord, in Ea
stcheape.
¶Boy Ephe
sians, my lord, of the old church.
¶Prince Sup any women with him?
930Boy None my lord, but old mi
stris Quickly, and mi
stris Dol
¶Prince VVhat Pagan may that be?
¶Boy A proper gentlewoman
sir, and a kin
swoman of my
935Prince Euen
such kinne as the pari
sh Heicfors are to the
¶towne bull,
shall we
steale vpon them Ned at
supper?
¶Poynes I am your
shadow my Lord, ile follow you.
¶Prince Sirra, you boy and Bardolfe, no worde to your ma-
ster that I am yet come to towne; theres for your silence.
¶Bar. I haue no tongue
sir.
Boy And for mine sir, I will gouerne it.
¶Prince Fare you well: go, this Doll Tere-
sheete
should be
¶Poyns I warrant you, as common as the way between S. Al-
¶Prince How might we
see Fal
staffe be
stow him
self to night
¶in his true colours, and not our
selues be
seene?
950Poynes Put on two letherne ierkins and aprons, and waite
¶vpon him at his table as drawers.
¶Prince From a god to a bul, a heauy de
scen
sion, it was Ioues
¶ca
se, from a pince to a prenti
se, a low tran
sformation, that
shal
¶be mine, for in enery thing the purpo
se mu
st weigh with the