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sweet Piflol! away, Bardolph: come, Piftol, utter more to me; and withal devise something to do thy self good. Boot, boot, master Shallow. I know, the young King is fick for me.
Let us take any man's horses : the Laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they which have been my friends ; and wo to my Lord Chief Justice!
Pif. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! Where is the life that late I led, say they ? Why, here it is, welcome this pleasant day. [Exeunt.
SCEN E changes to a Street in London.
Enter Hoflefs Quickly, Doll Tear-sheet, and Beadles. Hoft.
o, thou arrant knave, I would I might die,
that I might have thee hang'd; thou hart drawn
shoulder out of joint. Bead. The constables have deliver'd her over to me; and she shall have whipping cheer enough, I warrant her. There hath been a man or two kill'd about her.
Dol Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie: come on, I'll tell thee what, thou damn'd tripe-visag'd rasca!, if the child, I go with, do miscarry, thou had'ft better thou hadít struck thy mother, thou paper-facéd villain.
Hoft. O the Lord, that Sir John were come, he would make this a bloody day to fome body. But I pray God, the fruit of her womb miscarry.
Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again, you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me ; for the man is dead, that you and Pistol beat among you.
Dol. I'll tell thee what, thou thin man in a Censer ! I will have you as foundly swindg'd for this, you bluebottle rogue! you filthy famith'd correctioner ! if you be not swindg'd, I'll forswear half-kirtles.
Bead. Come, come, you she-Knight-arrant, come. Hof. O, that Right should thus, o'ercome Might! Well, of sufferance comes ease.
Dol. Come, you rogue, come ; bring me to a Justice.
SCENE, a publick Place near Westminster-Abbey.
Enter two Grooms, firewing rubes.
ORE rushes, more rushes.
[Exeunt Grooms. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and the Boy.
Fal. Stand here by me, master Robert Shallow, I will make the King do you grace: I will leer upon him as he comes by, and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.
Pijt. Bless thy lungs, good Knight.
Fal. Come here, Piftol, stand behind me. O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have beftow'd the thousand pound I borrow'd of you. But it is no matter, this poor Show doth better ; this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.
Shal. It doth fo.
Fal. As it were, to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me.
Shal. It is most certain.
Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting
all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him.
Pift. 'Tis semper idem; for absque hoc nihil eft. 'Tis all in every part.
Shal. 'Tis fo, indeed.
Pift. My Knight, I will enflame thy noble liver, and
Fal. I will deliver her.
Pift. There roar'd the sea; and trumpet-clangour
Pift. The heav'ns thee guard and keep, moft royal imp of fame!
Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy!
King. I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers.:
Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou waft,
[Ex. King, &c. Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
Shal. Ay, marry, Sir John, which I beseech you to let me have home with me.
Fal. That can hardly be, Mr. Shallow. Do not you grieve at this ; I shall be sent for in private to him: look you, he must seem thus to the world.
Fear not your advancement, I will be the man yet that shall make you great.
Shal. I cannot perceive how, unless you give me your doublet, and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of my thousand.
Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This, that you heard, was but a colour,
Shal. A colour, I fear, that you will die in, Sir John.
Fal. Fear no colours : go with me to dinner: come, lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph. I shall be sent for foon at night.
Enter Chief Justice and Prince John.
Fal. My lord, my lord,
Cb. Juft. I cannot now speak, I will hear you soon. Take them away.
Pij. Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento. (20)
Lan. I will lay odds, that ere this year expire,
(20) Si Fortuna me tormento, Spera ne contento.) This falte Italian is not from the Editors, but purposely from the Author. Pistol, as an ignorant Fellow, but an Affecter of Languages, quotes a Scrap he has heard, at all Adventures; not knowing whether he is right, or believing that any of the Company know. It seems to me a Fragment from some Chanson, or Madrigal; and, perhaps, food thus in the Oris ginal,
Si Fortuna me tormenta,
La Speranza me contenta, If Fortune affi& me, I'll wrap my self up contented in the hope of her growing kinder.