Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall
man, and send him backe againe to my Mother
Falst. What manner of man is hee?
Hostesse. An old man
Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?
Shall I giue him his answere?
Prin. Prethee doe Iacke
Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing.
Enter.
Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie
Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne
Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes Sword so hackt? Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe the like
Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse, to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare his monstrous deuices
Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene
yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and
euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire
and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what
instinct hadst thou for it?
Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you
behold these Exhalations?
Prin. I doe
Bard. What thinke you they portend?
Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses
Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken