The truth, Will—the truth in the mouth of a suckling! They all want an English play and Falstaff. Without him, my lad, the spirit’s out of the sack—all stale and flat.
Shakespeare:
Would you have onions with every dish, Chettle, even with the sweets?
Chettle:
In faith ’tis a seasoning and healthy weed—and provokes thirst, go to! But why can’t you be gay, lad, gay as you used to be and write us another comedy with Falstaff and his atomy page?
Shakespeare:
Laughter and youth go together, Chettle, and I am too old for comedies.
Chettle:
It makes my flesh creep to hear you; but I’ll not be sad: I’ll not think of age and the end, I’ll not—. Ah, lad, you’ll never be popular without Falstaff.
Shakespeare: