FALSTAFF.
A rascal, to brave me!
DOLL.
Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou sweat’st! Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson chops. Ah, rogue! i’ faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain!
FALSTAFF.
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
DOLL.
Do, an thou darest for thy heart. An thou dost, I’ll canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
Enter Music.
PAGE.
The music is come, sir.
FALSTAFF.
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 a-days and foining a-nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
Enter, behind, Prince Henry and Poins, disguised as drawers.
FALSTAFF.
Peace, good Doll, do not speak like a death’s-head; do not bid me remember mine end.