Fal. A good shallow young fellow: he would have nade a good pantler, he would have chipp'd bread well. Dol. They say, Poins has a good wit.

Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon ! his wit s as thick as Tewksbury mustard; there is no more onceit in him than is in a mallet.

Dol. Why doth the prince love him so then? Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness; and e plays at quoits well; and drinks off candles' ends or flap-dragons; and jumps upon joint-stools; and wears with a good grace; and such other gambol faulties he hath, that show a weak mind and an able ody, for the which the prince admits him; forthe prince imself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn he scales between their avoirdupois.

P. Hen. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ars cut off?

Poins. Let's beat him before his wench.

P. Hen. Look, if the wither'd elder hath not his

Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy oung boy of them all.

Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall reeive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap tomorrow. -Thou 'lt forget me, when I am gone.

Dol. By my troth, thou 'lt set me a weeping, an thou ay'st so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome till. my return, Well, hearken the end.

Fal. Some sack, Francis.

P. Hen. Poins. Anon, anon, sir.

Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's?-and art ot thou Poins, his brother?

P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, hat a life dost thou lead?

Fal. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou rt a drawer.

P. Hen. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears. [They throw off their disguises. Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! welcome to London. Now heaven bless that sweet face of thine! what, are you come from Wales?

Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art wel[Leaning his hand upon Doll.

come.

Dol. How, you fat fool, I scorn you.

Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.

:

P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman ?

Host. 'Blessing o' your good heart! and so she is, by my troth.

Fal. Didst thou hear me?

P. Hen. Yes; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by Gads-Hill: you knew I was at your back; and spoke it on purpose, to try my patience.

Fal. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing.

P. Hen. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle you.

Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no abuse. P. Hen, No? to dispraise me; and call me pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what? Fal. No abuse, Hal. Poins. No abuse?

Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I disprais'd him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him:-in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal ;-none, Ned, none; -no, boys,

none.

P. Hen. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous

entlewoman to close with us? Is she of the wicked?

s thine hostess here of the wicked ?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

P. Hen. Gower, how now? what news? Gow. The king your father is at Westminster : And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, Come from the north: and, as I came along, met, and overtook, a dozen captains, -are-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, and asking every one for sir John Falstaff.

P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to

o idly to profane the precious time;
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Corne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,
and drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

Give me my sword, and cloak:-Falstaff, good night.
[Exeunt the Prince, Poins, and Gower.

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, nd we must hence, and leave it unpick'd.

[More knocking at the door without. More knocking at the door?-How now? what's me matter?

Bard. You must away to court, sir, presently; a
Lozen captains stay at door for you.

Fal. Farewell, hostess; -farewell, Doll. - You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: he undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is all'd on. Farewell, good wenches:-If I be not ent away post, I will see you again ere I go.

Dol. I cannot speak:-If my heart be not ready to burst,-Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewell, farewell.

Justice Shallow's Seat in Glostershire.
Enter SHALLOW meeting SILENCE.

Shal. COME on,

come on, come on; give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my goddaughter Ellen ?

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin William is become a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not

Sil. Indeed, sir; to my cost.

Shal. He must then to the inns of court shortly: I was once of Clement's Inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were call'd-lusty Shallow, then, cousin. Shal. By the mass, I was call'd any thing; and I ould have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too. 'here was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, nd Black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Vill Squele a Cotswold man,-you had not four such vinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again: and, may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas ere; and had the best of them all at commandment. 'hen was Jack Falstaff, now sir John, a boy; and age to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk.

Sil. This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon bout soldiers ?

Shal. The same sir John, the very same. I saw im break Skogan's head at the court gate, when he as a crack, not thus high: and the very same day I id fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, beind Gray's Inn. O, the mad days that I have spent! nd to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead! Sil. We shall all follow, cousin.

Shal Certain, 't is certain; very sure, very sure: eath, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall ie. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair ? Sil, Truely, cousin, I was not there.

Shal. Death is certain. -Is old Double of your own living yet? Sil. Dead, sir.

Shal. Dead! See, see!-he drew a good bow ;And dead!-he shot a fine shoot:-John of Gaunt ov'd him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! - he would have clapp'd i' the clout at twelve core; and carry'd you a fore-hand shaft a fourteen, nd fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes now? Sil. Thereafter as they be a score of good ewes

may be worth ten pounds.

Shal. And is old Double dead!

Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstaff's men, as think.