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but 8 answer in the effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman. Fal. Come hither, hostess.
Enter a Messenger.
tells. Fal. As I am a gentleman Hoft. Nay, you said fo before.
Fal, As I am a gentleman ;-come, no more words of it.
Hoft. By this heav'nly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate, and the capestry of my dining chambers.
Fel. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking; and for thy walls, a pretty night drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German Hunting in water-work, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings, and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, if it were not for thy humours, there is not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me; do'st not know me? Come, come, I know, thou wast set on to this.
Hoft. Pr’ythee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles; I am loth to pawn my plate, in good earnest, la.
8 A fwer in the effect of your faded.
WARBURTON. reputation. That is, answer in I think the present reading a manner suitable to your character. may well stand. He recommends
9 German Hunting in water- painted paper instead of tapestry, work,] i, e. in water-colours. which he calls bed-bangings, in
WARBURTON. contempt, as fitter to make curThese Bed-hangings, ] We tains than to hang walls. fhould read DEA D-bangings, i.e.
Fal. Let it alone, I'll make other shift ; you'll be a fool ftill
Hot. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope, you'll come to supper.
You'll pay me all together?
Fal. Will I live ? - Go with her, with her : hook on, hook on.
[to the Officers. Hof. Will you have Doll Tear.bext meet you ac
Fal. No more words. Let's have her.
(Exeunt Hostess and Serjeant. Ch. Just. I have heard better news. Fal. What's the news, my good lord ? Ch. Just. Where lay the King last night? Gower. At Basingstoke, my lord. Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well. What is the news,
my lord ?
Cb. Juft. Come all his forces back?
Gower. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse Are march'd up to my lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland and the Arch-bishop. Fol
. Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord ?
Cb. Just. You shall have letters of me presently.
Fal. My lord,
Fal. Master Gower, shall I intreat you with me to dinner?
Gower. I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir John.
Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in the countries as you go. Fal
. Will you sup with mé, master Gower ? Cb. Juft. What 'foolish master taught you these manners, Sir Jobn?
Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was
a fool that taught them me. This is the right fencing grace, my lord, tap for tap, and so part fair. Ch. Juft . Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a
great fooi !
Enter Prince Henry and Poins. P. Henry. TRUST me, I am exceeding weary.
Poins. Is it come to that? I had thought, weariness durit not have attach'd one of so high blood.
P. Henry. It doth me, though it discolours the complexion of my Greatness to acknowledge it. Doch it not shew vilely in me to desire finall beer?
Poins. Why, a Prince should not be so loosely studied, as to remember so weak a composition.
P. Henry. Belike then, my appetite was not princely got; for, in troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But, indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love with my Greatness
. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name? or to know thy face to morrow ? or to take note how many pair of filk stockings thou hast? (viz. these, and those that were the peach-colour'd ones ;) or to bear the inventory of thy shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other for use; but that the tennis court-keeper knows better than I, for it is a low ebb of linnen with thee, when thcu keepest not racket there ; as thou halt not done a great while, because the rest of thy low Countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland. 2
2 The quarto of 1600 adds, but the midwives say, the children
And God knows, wetler these, are not in the fault; aberentan that bawl cut of the ruins of thy the world increases, and kindreds linen, fall inherit his Kingdomí are mightily strengthened.] This
Poins. How ill it follows, after you have labour'd fo hard, you should talk so idly? tell me, how many good young Princes would do so, their fathers lying fo sick as yours at this time is.
P. Henry. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins ?
P. Henry. It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.
Poins. Go to; I stand the push of your one thing, that you'll tell.
P. Henry. Why, I tell thee, it is not meet that I should be sad now my father is sick ; 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 in
Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject.
P. Henry. By this hand, thou think'st me as far in the Devil's book, as thou and Falstaff, for obduracy and persistency. Let the end try the man. But, I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so fick; and keeping such vile company, as thou art, hath in reason taken from me : all oftentation of forrow.
Poins. The reason ?
Poins. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
P. Henry. It would be every man's thought; and thou art a blessed fellow, to think as every man thinks. Never a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way
passage Mr. Pope restored from of Shakespeare's, not only insert the firit edition. I think it may what he has added, but recal as well be omitted, and therefore what he has rejected. have degraded it to the margin. 3 All oftentation of Sorrow.) It is omitted in the first folio, and Oftentation is here not boastful in all subsequent editions before her, but simply few. MerMr. Pope's, and was perhaps ex chant of Venice. punged by the authour. The edi -On will
fudied in a sad ostent tors, unwilling to lose any thing To please lis Grandame.
better than thine. Every man would think me an hypocrite, indeed. And what excites your most worshipful thought to think so ?
Poins. Why, because you have seemed so lewd, and fo much ingraffed to Falstaff.
P. Henry. And to thee.
Poins. Nay, by this light, I am well spoken of, I can hear it with mine own ears ; the worst they can fay of me is, that I am a second brother, and that I am a * proper fellow of my hands; and those two things, I confess, I cannot help. Look, look, here comes Bardolph.
P. Henry. And the Boy that I gave Falstaff; he had him from me christian, and, see, if the fat villain have not transform’d him ape.
Enter Bardolph and Page.
Bard. [to the Boy] - Come, you virtuous ass, and bashful fool, must you be blushing? wherefore blush you now; what a maidenly man at arms are you become ? Is it such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maiden-head?
Page. He call’d me even now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window ; at last, I spy'd his eyes, and, methought,
* Proper fellow of my hands } callid to the Boy from an AleA tall or proper man of his hands house, and, 'tis likely, made was a stout fighting man.
him half-drunk: and, the Boy 5 Poins. Come, you virtuous being alhamd of it, 'tis natural af, &c.] Tho' all the Editions for Bardolph, a bold unbred give this Speech to Poins, it seems Fellow, to banter him on his evident by the Page's immediate aukward Bashfulness. Repły, that it must be placed to
THEOBALD. Bardolph. For Bardolph had