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Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there.

[Laying down his sword]

Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothings?

FALSTAFF.

Pistol, I would be quiet.

PISTOL.

Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the seven stars.

DOLL.

For God's sake thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.

PISTOL.

Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags?

FALSTAFF.

Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling.

Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be nothing here.

BARDOLPH.

Come, get you down stairs.

PISTOL.

What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?

[Snatching up his sword]

Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!

Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds

Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!

HOSTESS.

Here's goodly stuff toward!

FALSTAFF.

Give me my rapier, boy.

DOLL.

I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.

FALSTAFF.

Get you down stairs.

[Drawing and driving PISTOL out]

HOSTESS.

Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house afore

I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now.

Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.

Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH

DOLL.

I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you

whoreson little valiant villain, you!

HOSTESS.

Are you not hurt i' th' groin? Methought 'a made a shrewd

thrust at your belly.

Re-enter BARDOLPH

FALSTAFF.

Have you turn'd him out a doors?

BARDOLPH.

Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i'

th' shoulder.

FALSTAFF.

A rascal! to brave me!

DOLL.

Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou

sweat'st! Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson

chops. Ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as

Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better

than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain!

FALSTAFF.

A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.

DOLL.

Do, an thou dar'st for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll canvass

thee between a pair of sheets.

Enter musicians

PAGE.

The music is come, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Don. A rascal

bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quick-silver.

DOLL.

I' faith, and thou follow'dst him like a church. Thou

whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave

fighting a days and foining a nights, and begin to patch up thine

old body for heaven?

Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS disguised as drawers

FALSTAFF.

Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a death's-head; do

not bid me remember mine end.

DOLL.

Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of?

FALSTAFF.

A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have made a good

pantler; 'a would ha' chipp'd bread well.

DOLL.

They say Poins has a good wit.

FALSTAFF.

He a good wit! hang him, baboon! His wit's as thick as

Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is in a mallet.

DOLL.

Why does the Prince love him so, then?

FALSTAFF.

Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a 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 join'd-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears

his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the Leg, and breeds

no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other gambol

faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the

which the Prince admits him. For the Prince himself is such

another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois.

PRINCE.

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

POINS.

Let's beat him before his whore.

PRINCE.

Look whe'er the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd like a parrot.

POINS.

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

FALSTAFF.

Kiss me, Doll.

PRINCE.

Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th'

almanac to that?

POINS.

And look whether