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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 privykitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt
For the boy, there is a good angel about him ; but the devil outbids him too.
PRINCE. 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 arť 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?
PRINCE. You, gentlewoman,--
Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.
[Knocking within. Host. Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.
Enter Peto. PRINCE. Peto, how now! what news? Pero. The king your father is at Westminster;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts
PRINCE. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to
Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked. [Knocking within.] 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. [To the Page] Pay the musicians, sirrah. 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 go.
Dol. I cannot speak; if my heart be not ready to burst,---well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewell, farewell.
[Exeunt Falstaff and BARDOLPH. Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee
these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man,-well, fare thee well.
BARD. [Within] Mistress Tearsheet !
BARD. [Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master.
Host. O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come. [She comes blubbered.] Yea, will you come, Doll ?
ACT THE THIRD.
Westminster. The palace. Enter the King in his nightgown, with a Page. King. Go call the Earls of Surrey and of
Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters, And well consider of them : make good speed.
[Exit Page. How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how nave I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Enter WARWICK and SURREY.
read o'er the letters that I sent you? WAR. We have, my liege. King. Then you perceive the body of our
How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
War. It is but as a body yet distemper'd;
of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea ! and, other times, to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup
of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. 'Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together, and in two years after Were they at wars: it is but eight years since This Percy was the man nearest my soul, Who like a brother toil'd in