Fal. Let them play;-play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver. Doll, 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. Doll. Sirrah, what humor is the prince of? Fal. A good shallow young fellow he would have made a good pantler; he would have chipped bread well. Doll. They say, Poins has a good wit. Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit is as thick as Tewkesbury mustard; there is no more conceit in him than is in a mallet. Doll. 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 joint-stools; 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 hath, 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 wheel1 have his ears cut off? Poins. Let's beat him before his whore. P. Hen. Look, if 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? 2 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. Doll. Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a most constant heart. Fal. I am old, I am old. Doll. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all. Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle 3 of? I shall receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song; come: it grows So called from his rotundity. 2 An astronomical term, when the upper planets meet in a |