Falstaff.—Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.
Bullcalf.—Here, sir.
Falstaff.—Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar again.
Bullcalf.—O Lord! Good my lord captain,—
Falstaff.—What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?
Bullcalf.—O Lord, sir! I'm a diseased man.
Falstaff.—What disease hast thou?
Bullcalf.—A terrible cold, sir, a cough, sir.
Falstaff.—Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have away with thy cold. Is here all?
Shallow.—Here is two more than your number. You must have but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.