Iohn. Good morrow Cosin Warwick, good morrow
Glou. Cla. Good morrow, Cosin
Iohn. We meet, like men, that had forgot to speake
War. We do remember: but our Argument
Is all too heauy, to admit much talke
Ioh. Well: Peace be with him, that hath made vs heauy
Ch.Iust. Peace be with vs, least we be heauier
Glou. O, good my Lord, you haue lost a friend indeed:
And I dare sweare, you borrow not that face
Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your owne
Iohn. Though no man be assur'd what grace to finde,
You stand in coldest expectation.
I am the sorrier, would 'twere otherwise
Cla. Wel, you must now speake Sir Iohn Falstaffe faire,
Which swimmes against your streame of Quality
Ch.Iust. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor,
Led by th' Imperiall Conduct of my Soule,
And neuer shall you see, that I will begge
A ragged, and fore-stall'd Remission.
If Troth, and vpright Innocency fayle me,
Ile to the King (my Master) that is dead,
And tell him, who hath sent me after him
War. Heere comes the Prince.
Enter Prince Henrie.