Doll.-A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver.

Dol. I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o' days, and foining o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?

Enter behind, Prince HENRY 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 chipped 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 does the prince love him so then?

Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness; 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 jointstools; and swears with a good grace; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other gambol faculties he 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. P. Hen. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?

8

Poins. Let's beat him before his whore.

and drinks off candles' ends for FLAP-DRAGONS ;] See Vol. ii. p. 346, and Vol. iii. p. 484.

9

and rides the wild mare with the boys ;] The game of see-saw, Douce informs us, was formerly called "riding the wild mare.”

P. Hen. Look, whether1o the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot.

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

Fal. Kiss me, Doll.

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

Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon', his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.

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 of3? I shall receive money on Thursday; thou shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song! come: it grows late; we'll to bed. 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.

[Advancing.

Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's.-And art not thou Poins his brother?

10 Look, whether -] Folio, "Look if:" the quarto, where for "whether." Below, both editions have "Look, whether."

- the FIERY TRIGON, &c.] "Trigonum igneum (says Steevens) is the astronomical term when the upper planets meet in a fiery sign. The fiery Trigon, I think, consists of Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius."

2

- his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper.] Meaning Hostess Quickly, to whom Bardolph was whispering.

3 What stuff wilt have a KIRTLE of?] It does not seem at all settled what was a kirtle: our lexicographers say that it means "a gown, a jacket, a petticoat, a mantle, a cloak," and passages in our old authors may be produced to show that it was each of these. Some authors, including Shakespeare, also mention half-kirtles. The word very old in our language, and at one time was applied also to a sort of gown worn by men. It has been derived from the Saxon cyrtel.

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.

Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by my troth, welcome to London.-Now, the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu! are you come from Wales?

Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty,-by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. [Placing his hand upon DOLL.

Dol. How, you fat fool? I scorn 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. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?

Host. God's blessing of 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 Gad's-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. Not to dispraise me, and call me pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what?

Fal. No abuse, Hal.

Poins. No abuse !

Fal. No abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised 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, 'faith boys, none.

P. Hen. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is thy boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy,there is a good angel about him, but the devil outbids him too3.

P. Hen. For the women?

Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns, poor souls. For the other, I owe her money, and whether she be damned for that, I know not.

Host. 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 suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

Host. All victuallers do so: what's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Hen. You, gentlewoman,
Dol. What says your grace?

Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. [Knocking heard.

4

that the wicked might not fall in love with HIм ;] So the folio, 1623: the quarto, 1600, has thee for " him.”

5—

- but the devil OUT-BIDS him too.] The quarto has "but the devil blinds him too," which, as Malone remarks, may be right, but hardly so intelligible or so forcible as 66 out-bids," ," the reading of the folio.

poor soul," as if the words

6 she is IN hell already,] We ought probably to read a for "in ;" but the old editions are uniform. Sir T. Hanmer prints " applied to Doll.

Host. Who knocks so loud at door?? look to the

door there, Francis.

Enter PETO.

P. Hen. Peto, how now! what news?

Peto. The king your father is at Westminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts,
Come from the north; and as I came along
I met, and overtook, a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for sir John Falstaff.

P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame, So idly to profane the precious time,

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

Give me my sword, and cloak.-Falstaff, good night.

[Exeunt Prince HENRY, POINS, PETO, and

BARDOLPH.

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. [Knocking heard.] More knocking at the door?

Re-enter BARDOLPH.

How now? 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. [To the Page.]— Farewell, hostess ;-farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go.

? Who knocks so loud at door?] The old stage-direction in the quarto here is "Peto knocks at door;" but when he comes upon the stage, his entrance is not marked in the folio we have only "Enter Peto."