Enter Prince Henry and Poins.

Fal. Peace, good Dol, do not speak like a death'shead, do not bid me remember mine end.

Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the Prince of?

Fal. A good fhallow young fellow; he would have made a good, Pantler, he would have chipp'd bread well.

Dol. They fay, Poins has a good wit.

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

Dol. Why doth the Prince love him fo then?

Fal. Because their legs are both of a bignefs, and he plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends for flap dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon joint-ftools, and fwears with a good grace, and wears his boot very fmooth like unto the fign of the leg, and breeds no bate with t lling of difcreet ftories; and fuch other gambol faculties he hath, that fhew a weak mind and an able body, for the which the Prince admits him, for the Prince himfelf is fuch another, the weight of an hair will turn the fcales between their Averdupois. P. Henry. Would not this Nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?

Poins. Let us beat him before his whore.

P. Henry. Look, if the wither'd Elder hath not his poll claw'd like a Parrot.

Poins. Is it not ftrange, that defire fhould fo many years out-live performance?

9 Eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends] Thefe qualifications I do not understand. difcreet flories ;] We fhould

read indifcreet.

WARB.
Nave of a wheel.] Nave

and knave are easily reconciled, but why nve of a wheel? I fuppofe for his roundness. He was called round man in contempt before.

Fal.

Fal. Kifs me, Dol.

2

P. Henry. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what fays the almanack to that?

Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lifping to his mafter's old Tables, his notebook, his counsel-keeper?

Fal. Thou doft give me flattering buffes.

Dol. By my troth, I kifs thee with a most constant heart.

Fal. I am old, I am old.

Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a fcurvy young boy of them all.

Fal. What ftuff wilt thou have a kirtle of? I fhall receive money on Thursday. Thou shalt have a cap to morrow. A merry fong, come-it grows late, we will to bed. Thou wilt forget me when I am gone.

Dol. By my troth, thou wilt fet me a weeping if thou fay'ft fo. Prove, that ever I drefs myself handfom till thy return- Well, hearken the end.

Fal. Some fack, Francis.

P. Henry. Poins. Anon, anon, Sir.

Fal. Ha! a baftard son of the King's! and art not thou Poins his brother?

P. Henry. Why, thou globe of finful continents, what a life doft thou lead?

Fal. A better than thou: I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.

P. Henry. Very true, Sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.

2 Saturn and Venus this year in conjuntion. This was indeed a prodigy. The Aftrologers, fays Facinus, remark, that Saturn and Venus are never conjoined.

3 LISPING TO his master's old Tables, &c.] We fhould read CLASPING TOO his master's old Table, &c. i. e. embracing his mafter's caft-off whore, and now

his bawd, [his note book, his coun-
fel-keeper.] We have the fame
phrafe again in Cymbaline,
You clafp young Cupid's Tables.
WARBURTON.
This emendation is very fpe-
cious. I think it right.

4 Ha! a Baftard, &c.] The improbability of this scene is fcarcely ballanced by the humour.

Hoft.

Hoft. Oh, the Lord preferve thy good Grace! Welcome to London.-Now heav'n bless that sweet face of thine. What, are you come from Wales?

Fal. Thou whorfon-mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. [Leaning his hand upon Dol.

Dol. How! you fat fool, I fcorn 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. Henry. You whorfon candle-mine, you, how vilely did you fpeak of me even now, before this honeft, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?

Hoft. 'Bleffing on your good heart, and fo fhe is, by my troth.

Fal. Didft thou hear me?

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

Fal. No, no, no; not fo; I did not think, thou waft within hearing.

P. Henry. I fhall drive you then to confefs the wilful abufe, and then I know how to handle you.

Fal. No abufe, Hal, on my honour, no abuse. P. Henry. Not to difpraise me, and call me pantler, and bread chipper, and I know not what!

Fal. No abufe, Hal.

Poins. No abuse!

Fal. No abufe, Ned, in the world; honeft Ned, none. I difprais'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 fubject.-And thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abufe, Hal, none, Ned, none; no, boys, none.

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

5 Candle-mins.] Thou inexhaustible magazine of tallow.

gentle

gentlewoman, to close with us? Is fhe of the wicked ? is thine Hostess here of the wicked? or is the boy of the wicked? or honeft Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nofe, of the wicked?

Poins. Anfwer, thou dead Elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath prickt down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roaft malt worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil out bids him too.

P. Henry. For the women,

6

Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns, poor foul! for the other, I owe her mony; and whether the be damn'd for that, I know not.

Hoft. No, I warrant you.

Fal. No, I think, thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for fuffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law, for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

Hoft. All victuallers do fo. What is a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Henry. You, gentlewoman.

Do!. What fays your Grace?

Fal. His Grace fays that, which his flesh rebels againft.

Hoft. Who knocks fo loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.

6 And burns, poor foul.] This is Sir T. Hanmer's reading. Undoubtedly right. The other editions had, be is in bell already,

and burns poor fouls. The venereal difeafe was called in these times the brennynge of burning.

SCENE

P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?
Peto. The King your father is at Westminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied pofts
Come from the North; and, as I came along,
I met and overtook a dozen captains,

Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

P. Henry. By heavens, Poins, I feel me much tá blame,

So idly to profane the precious time;

When tempeft of commotion, like the South
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

Give me my fword, and cloak. Falstaff, good night. [Exeunt Prince and Poins.

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morfel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick't. More knocking at the door?-how how? what's the matter?

Bard. You must away to Court, Sir, presently; a dozen captains stay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the musicians, Sirrah. Farewel, Hoftefs; farewel, Dol. You fee, my good wenches, how men of merit are fought after; the undeserver may fleep, when the man of action is call'd on. Farewel, good wenches; if I be not fent away poft, I will fee you again, ere I go.

Dol. I cannot fpeak; if my heart be not ready to burst-well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewel, farewel.

[Exit. Hoft. Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come pefcod-time; but an honefter and truer-hearted man-well, fare thee well.

Bard. Mrs. Tear-Sheet,

Hoft.