1 Draw. Why then cover, and set them down; and fee if thou canst find out Sneak's Noife; Mistress Tear-fheet would fain have fome Mufick.

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 muft not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.

1 Draw. Then here will be old Utis: it will be an ex cellent Stratagem.

2. Draw. I'll fee if I can find out Sneak

Enter Hoftefs and Dol.

[Exeunt.

Hoft. Sweet Heart, methinks now you are in an excel-lent 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 Falftaff.

Fal. When Arthur first in Court -----empty the Jordan--and was a worthy King: How now, Miftrefs Dol? Hoft. Sick of a Calm: Yea, good-footh.

Fal. So is all her Sect, if they be once in a Calm they are fick.

最

Dol. You muddy Rafcal, is that all the comfort you give me?

Fal. You make fat Rafcals, Mistress Dol.

Dol. I make them! Gluttony and Difeafes make them, I make them not.

Fal. If the Cook make the Gluttony, you help to make the Diseases, Dol, we catch of you, Dol, we catch of you 3 Grant that, my poor Virtue, grant that.

Dol. Ay marry, our Chains, and our Jewels.

Fal. Your Brooches, Pearls, and Owches: For to ferve bravely, is to come halting off, you know; to come off the Breach with his Pike bent bravely, and to Surgery bravely; to venture upon the charg'd Chambers bravely

Hoft. Why, 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 cannot one bear with anothers Confirmities. What the good-year? One muft bear, and that must be you: you are the weaker Veffel, as they fay, the emptier Veffel. [To Doĺ. Dol. Can a weak empty Veffel bear fuch a huge full Hogshead? there's a whole Merchants Venture of Bourdeaux stuff 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.

Enter Drawer.

Draw. Sir, Ancient Piftol is below, and would fpeak with you.

Dol. Hang him, fwaggering Rafcal, let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth'dft Rogue in England.

Hoft. If he fwagger let him not come here: I must live amongst my Neighbours, I'll no Swaggerers: I am in good. Name and Fame with the very Beft: Shut the Door, there comes no Swaggerers here: I have not liv'd all this while to have fwaggering now: Shut the Door, I pray you. Fal. Do'ft thou hear, Hoftefs

Hoft. 'Pray you pacifie your felf, Sir John, there comes no Swaggerers here.

Fal. Do'st thou hear.

it is mine Ancient.

Hoft. Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me, your ancient Swaggerer comes not in my Doors, I was before Mafter Tifick the Deputy the other day; and as he faid to me--it was no longer ago than Wednesday laft; Neighbour Quickly, fays he; Matter Domb our Minifter was by then: Neighbour Quickly, fays he, receive thofe 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 blefs you to hear what he said.. No, I'll no Swaggerers.

Fal. He's no Swaggerer, Hoftefs; a tame. Cheater, he; you may ftroak him as gently as a Puppey-Grey-Hound; he

will not fwagger with a Barbary 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, Mafters, how I fhake; look you, I warrant you.

Dol. So you do, Hoftefs.

Hoft. Do I yea, in very Truth do I, if it were an Afpen Leaf: I cannot abide Swaggerers.

Enter Piftol, Bardolph and Page.:

Pift. 'Save you, Sir John.

Fal. Welcome, ancient Piftol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a Cup of Sack: Do you discharge upon mine Hostess.

Pift. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two Bullets.

Fal. She is Piftol proof, Sir, you fhall 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, bafe, rafcally, cheating, lack-Linnen-Mate; away, you mouldy Rogue, away, I am Meat for your

Mafter..

Pift. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.

Dol. Away, you cut-purfe Rafcal, you filthy Bung a way: 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? much.

Pift. I will murther your Ruff for this.

Hoft. No, good Captain Piftol: Not here, fweet Cap

tain.

Dol. Captain! thou abominable damn'd Cheater, art thou not afham'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! you Slave! for what? for tearing a poor Whore's Ruff in a Bawdy Houfe? He a Captain! hang him, Rogue, he lives upon mouldy few'd Prunes and dry'd Cakes. A Captain! Thefe Villains will make the word Captain odious: There fore Captains had need look to it.

Bard. Pray thee go down, good Ancient.

Fal. Hark thee hither, Miftrefs 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 firft: To Pluto's damned Lake, to the Infernal Deep, where Erebus and Tortures vile also. Hold Hook and Line, fay 1: Down! Down Dogs, down Fates: Have we not Hiren here?

Hoft. Good Captain Peefel be quiet, it is very late: I be feech you now, aggravate your Choler.

Pift. These be good Humours indeed. Shall Pack-Horses, and hallow pamper'd Jades of Afia, which cannot go but thirty Miles a Day, compare with Cafar, and with Cannibal, and Trojan Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roar: Shall we fall foul for Toys?

Hoft. By my troth, Captain, thefe are very bitter Words.

Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: This will grow to a Brawli

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 good-year do you think I would deny her? I pray be quiet.

Pift. Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis; come, give me fome Sack. Si fortune me tormente, fperato me contente. Fear we broad-fides? No, let the Fiend give Fire: Give me fome Sack: And Sweet-heart, lye thou there: Come we to full Points here; and are catera's nothing?

Fal. Piftol, I would be quiet.

Pift. Sweet Knight, kifs thy Neaffe: What! we have feen the feven Stars.

Del. Thrust him down Stairs, 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 Shil ling: Nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he fhall 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 Sifters three: Come, Atropos, I fay. [Drawing his Swords

Hoft. Here's good Stuff toward.
Fal. Give me my Rapier, Boy.

Dol. I prithee, Jack, I prithee do not draw.
Fal. Get you down Stairs.

[Drawing, and driving Piftol out. Hoft. Here's a goodly Tumult; I'll forfwear keeping Houfe, before I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; Murther, I warrant now. Alas, alas, put up your naked Weapons, put up your naked Weapons.

Dol. 1 prithee, Jack, be quiet, the Rafcal is gone: Ah you whorfon, little valiant Villain, you.

Hoft. Are you not hurt 'th' Groin? Methought he made a fhrewd thruft at your Belly.

Fal. Have you turn'd him out of Doors?

Bard. Yes, Sir, the Rascal's drunk: You have hurt him, Sir, in the Shoulder.

Fal. A. Rafcal to brave me!

Dol. Ah, you fweet little Rogue you: Alas, poor Ape, how thou sweat'ft? come. let me wipe thy Face-Come on you whorfon Chops--- Ah Rogue, 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.

Fal. A rafcally Slave! I will tofs the Rogue in a Blanket. Dol. Do, if thou dar'ft for thy Heart: If thou do'st I'll canvass thee between a pair of Sheets.

Enter