Host. Tilly-fally, sir John, ne'er tell me; your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before master Tisick, the deputy, t'other day: and, as he said to me, it was no longer ago than Wednesday last,-Neighbour Quickly, says he;-master Dumb, our minister, was by then ;-Neighbour Quickly, says he, receive those that are civil; for, said he, you are in an ill name ;-now he said so, I can tell whereupon ; for, says he, you are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed what guests you receive: Receive, says he, no swaggering companions. comes none here;-you would bless you to hear what he said:-no, I'll no swaggerers.

-There

Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater, he; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy-greyhound; he'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance.-Call him up, boy.

[Exit Page.

Host. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater: But I do not love swaggering; by my troth, I am the worse, when one says-swagger: feel, how I shake; look you, I warrant you.

Dol. So you do, hostess.

Host. Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an 't were an aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers.

Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and Page.

Pist. 'Save you, sir John!

Fal. Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine hostess.

Host. I'll drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.

Pist. Then to you, mistress Dorothy; I will charge

you.

Dol. Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion. What! you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen

mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your master.

Pist. I know you, mistress Dorothy.

Dol. Away, you cut-purse rascal! Away, you bottle-ale raseal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you !— Since when, I pray you, sir?—

Pist. I will murder your ruff for this.

Fal. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. Host. No, good captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.

Dol. Captain! thou abominable cheater, art thou not asham'd to be call'd-captain? If captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earn'd them. You a captain! for what?

Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.

Pist. I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damned lake, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down? Down, dogs! down faitors! Have we not Hiren here?

Host. Good captain, be quiet; it is very late: I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.

Pist. These be good humours, indeed! Shall pack-horses,

And hollow-pamper'd jades of Asia,

Which cannot go but thirty mile a day,

Compare with Cæsars, and with Cannibals,

And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.

Shall we fall foul for toys?

Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words. I pray, be quiet.

Pist. Feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis:

Come, give's some sack.

-Si fortuna me tormenta, sperato me contenta.-
Fear we broad-sides? no, let the fiend give fire:
Give me some sack.

Fal. Pistol, Iwould be quiet.

Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: What! we have seen the seven stars.

Dol. Thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.

Pist. Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags ?

Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.

Bard. Come, get you down stairs.

Pist. What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrew? Then death

Rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!

Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, I say!
[Drawing his sword.

Fal. Give me my rapier, boy.
Dol. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
Fal. Get you down stairs.

[FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and Page, drive

PISTOL out.

Host. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murther, I warrant now.

Re-enter FALSTAFF.

Fal. A rascal! to brave me!

Dol. Ah, you sweet rogue, you!-Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the nine worthies.

Fal. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver.

Dol. When wilt thou leave fighting, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?

Enter, behind, HENRY, Prince of WALES, and POINS, disguised like Drawers.

Fal. Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's head; do not bid me remember mine end.

Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of?

Fal. A good shallow young fellow: he would have made 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 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 so then?

Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness; and he plays at quoits well; and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons; and jumps upon joint-stools; and swears with a good grace; and such other gambol fa culties he hath, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince admits him; forthe prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.

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

Poins. Let's beat him before his wench.

P. Hen. Look, if the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd like a parrot.

Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses.

Dol. Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a most constant heart.

Fal. I am old, I am old.

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

Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive 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 say'st so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy 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 not thou Poins, his brother?

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

Fal. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou art 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. Dol. How, you fat fool, I scorn you.

come.

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 mepantler, 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