FALSTAFF.
Where is it? Taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us.
PRINCE.
What, a hundred, man?
FALSTAFF.
I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have ’scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler cut through and through, my sword hacked like a handsaw. Ecce signum! I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards! Let them speak. If they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.
PRINCE.
Speak, sirs, how was it?
GADSHILL.
We four set upon some dozen.
FALSTAFF.
Sixteen at least, my lord.
GADSHILL.
And bound them.
PETO.
No, no, they were not bound.
FALSTAFF.
You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
GADSHILL.
As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us.