PAGE.
Away, you rascally Althaea’s dream, away!
PRINCE.
Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
PAGE.
Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream.
PRINCE.
A crown’s worth of good interpretation. There ’tis, boy.
POINS.
O, that this blossom could be kept from cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
BARDOLPH.
An you do not make him be hanged among you, the gallows shall have wrong.
PRINCE.
And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
BARDOLPH.
Well, my lord. He heard of your Grace’s coming to town. There’s a letter for you.
POINS.
Delivered with good respect. And how doth the martlemas, your master?
BARDOLPH.
In bodily health, sir.