Prin. And yours, most Noble Bardolfe
Poin. Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull Foole, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? what a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it such a matter to get a Pottle-pots Maiden-head? Page. He call'd me euen now (my Lord) through a red Lattice, and I could discerne no part of his face from the window: at last I spy'd his eyes, and me thought he had made two holes in the Ale-wiues new Petticoat, & peeped through
Prin. Hath not the boy profited?
Bar. Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away
Page. Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away
Prin. Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy?
Page. Marry (my Lord) Althea dream'd, she was deliuer'd
of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him hir dream
Prince. A Crownes-worth of good Interpretation:
There it is, Boy
Poin. O that this good Blossome could bee kept from
Cankers: Well, there is six pence to preserue thee
Bard. If you do not make him be hang'd among you,
the gallowes shall be wrong'd
Prince. And how doth thy Master, Bardolph?
Bar. Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces
comming to Towne. There's a Letter for you
Poin. Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the
Martlemas, your Master?
Bard. In bodily health Sir