PRINCE & POINS.
Anon, anon, sir.
[Coming forward.]
FALSTAFF.
Ha! A bastard son of the King’s? And art thou not Poins his brother?
PRINCE.
Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!
FALSTAFF.
A better than thou. I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.
PRINCE.
Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears.
HOSTESS.
O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome to London. Now, the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?
FALSTAFF.
Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
DOLL.
How? You fat fool, I scorn you.
POINS.
My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.