PAGE.
A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master’s.
PRINCE.
Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?
POINS.
I am your shadow, my lord, I’ll follow you.
PRINCE.
Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. There’s for your silence.
BARDOLPH.
I have no tongue, sir.
PAGE.
And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
PRINCE.
Fare you well; go.
[Exeunt Bardolph and Page.]
This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.
POINS.
I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans and London.