That makes a ftill-ftand, running neither way. Enter two Drawers. [Exeunt. I Draw. What the devil haft thou brought there? Apple-Johns? thou know'st Sir John cannot endure an Apple-John. 2 Draw. Mafs! thou fay'ft true; the Prince once fet a difh of Apple-Johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, said, I will now take my leave of these fix dry, round, old, wither'd knights. It anger'd him to the heart; but he hath forgot that. 1 Draw. Why then cover, and fet them down; and fee if thou can't find out Sneak's noife; Mrs. Tear-fheet would fain hear fome mufick. Difpatch! the room where they fup is too hot, they'll come in strait, 2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be the Prince, and Master Poins anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word. I Draw. Then here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent ftratagem. 2 Draw. I'll fee if I can find out Sneak. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. Enter Hoftefs and Dol. Hoft. Sweet heart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality; your pulfidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would defire: and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rofe; but you have drank too much canary, and that's a marvellous fearching wine; and it perfumes the blood ere we can say what's this. How do you now? Dol. Better than I was: hem! Hoft. Why, that was well faid: a good heart's worth gold. Look, here comes Sir John. Enter Enter Falstaff. Fal. When Arthur firft in court empty the jordan · and was a worthy King: how now, Mrs. Dol? Hoft. Sick of a calm: yea, good footh. Fal. So is all her fect, if they be once in a calm they are fick. Dol. You muddy rafcal, is that all the comfort you give me ? Fal. You make fat rafcals, Mrs. Dol. Dol. I make them! gluttony and diseases make them, I make them not. Fal. If the cook make the gluttony, you help to make the difeafes, Dol; we catch of you, Dol, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that. Dol. Ay marry, our chains and our jewels. Fal. Your brooches, pearls and owches; for to serve bravely, is to come halting off, you know; to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to furgery brave, ly; to venture upon the charg'd chambers bravely. Dol. Hang your self, you muddy Conger, hang your felf! Hoft. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet but you fall to fome difcord; you are both, in good troth, as * rheumatick as two dry toafts, you can, not one bear with another's confirmities, What the goujeres! one must bear, and that must be you: you are the weaker veffel, as they say, the emptier veffel. [To Dol. Dol. Can a weak empty veffel bear fuch a huge full hogfhead? there's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux ftuff in him; you have not feen a hulk better stuft in the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars, and whether I fhall ever fee thee again or no, there is no body cares. SCENE IX. Enter Drawer, Draw. Sir, Ancient Piftol is below, and would speak with you. Dol. Hang him, swaggering rascal, let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth’dft rogue in England. She means to fay fplenstick Hoft. Hoft, If he fwagger, let him not come here: no, by my faith: I must live amongst my neighbours, I'll no fwaggerers: I am in good name and fame with the very beft: fhut the door, there comes no swaggerers here: I have not liv'd all this while to have (waggering now: shut the door, I pray you. Fal. Do'st thou hear, hostess Hoft. Pray you, pacifie your self, Sir John; there comes no fwaggerers here. Fal. Do'st thou hear-it is mine Ancient. Hoft. Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me, your ancient fwaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before mafter Tifick the deputy the other day; and as he said to me→→→ it was no longer ago than Wednesday laft-neighbour Quickly, fays he; mafter Domb our minifter was by then: neighbour Quickly, fays he, receive those that are civil; for, faith he, you are in an ill name: now he faid fo, I can tell whereupon; for, fays he, you are an honeft woman, and well thought on, therefore take heed what guests you receive; receive, fays he, no fwaggering companions.- -There come none here. You would bless you to hear what he faid. No, I'll no fwaggerers. Fal. He's no fwaggerer hoftefs; a tame cheater, i'faith; you may ftroak him as gently as a puppey-grey-hound; he will not fwagger with a Barbury hen, if her feathers turn back in any fhew of refiftance. Call him up, drawer. Hoft. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honeft man my house, nor no cheater; but I do not love fwaggering; I am the worfe when one fays fwagger: feel, masters, how I shake, look you, I warrant you. Dol. So you do, hoftefs. Hoft. Do I? yea, in very truth do I, as if it were an afpen leaf: I cannot abide fwaggerers. SCENE X. Enter Pistol, Bardolph and Page. Fal. Welcome, Ancient Piftol. Here, Piftol, I charge you with a cup of fack: do you discharge upon mine hoftefs. Pift. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets. Fal Fal. She is piftol proof, Sir, you shall hardly offend her. Hoft. Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets: I will drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I. Pift. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy, I will charge you. Dol. Charge me! I fcorn you, fcurvy companion! what? you poor, base, rafcally, cheating, lack-linnen mate; away, you mouldy rogue, away, I am meat for your mafter. Pift. I know you, miftrefs Dorothy. Dol. Away, you cut-purfe rafcal, you filthy bung, away by this wine, I'll thruft my knife in your mouldy chaps if you play the fawcy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rafcal, you basket-hilt ftale jugler you. Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two points on your shoulder? march! Pift. I will murther your ruff for this. Fal. No more Piftol; I would not have you go off here: discharge your felf of our company, Piftol. Hoft. No, good captain Piftol: not here, fweet captain. Dol. Captain! thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not asham'd to be call'd captain? if captains were of my mind they would truncheon you out of taking their names upon you, before you have earn'd them. You a captain! you flave! for what? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy house ? he a captain! hang him, rogue, he lives upon mouldy ftew'd prunes and dry'd cakes. A captain! thefe villains will make the word captain as odious as the word occupy; which was an excellent good word before it was ill forted: therefore captains had need look to it, Bard. Pray thee, go down, good Ancient. Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Dol. Pift. Not I: I tell thee what, corporal Bardolph, I could tear her: I'll be reveng'd on her. Page. Pray thee, go down. Pift. I'll fee her damn'd first: to Pluto's damned lake, to the infernal deep, to Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, fay I: down? down, dogs; down, fates : have we not Hiren here? A name he gives to his sword. ̧ Hoft. Hoft. Good captain Peefel, be quiet, it is very late: I beseech you now, aggravate your choler. Pift. These be good humours indeed. Shall pack-horfes And hallow-pamper'd jades of Afia, Which cannot go but thirty miles a day, And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with Shall we fall foul for toys? Hoft. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words. Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a brawl anon. Pift. Die men, like dogs; give crowns like pins : have we not Hiren here? Hoft. On my word, captain, there's none fuch here. What the goujeres? do you think I would deny her? I pray, be quiet. Pift. Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis; come, give me fome fack. Si fortuna me tormenta, il fperare me contenta. Fear we broad fides? no, let the fiend give fire: Give me fome fack: and, sweet-heart, lye thou there: Come we to full points here, and are & cetera's nothing? Fal. Piftol, I would be quiet. Pift. Sweet knight, I kifs thy neif: what! we have feen the seven stars. Dol. Thruft him down ftairs, I cannot endure fuch a fuftian rafcal. Pift. Thruft him down stairs? know we not galloway nags ? Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a fhove-groat fhilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here. Bard. Come, get you down stairs. Pift. What fhall we have incifion? fhall we embrew ? then death rock me afleep, abridge my doleful days: why then let grievous, ghaftly, gaping wounds, untwine the fifters three: come, Atropos, I fay. [Drawing bis fword. Thefe lines are in part a quotation out of an old abfurd fuftian Play intitled Tamburlain's Conquefts or The Scythian Shepherd. Heft, |