FALSTAFF.
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money o’ Thursday; shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song! Come, it grows late, we’ll to bed. Thou’lt forget me when I am gone.
DOLL.
By my troth, thou’lt set me a-weeping an thou sayest so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return. Well, hearken a’ th’ end.
FALSTAFF.
Some sack, Francis.
PRINCE & POINS.
Anon, anon, sir.
[Coming forward.]
FALSTAFF.
Ha! A bastard son of the King’s? And art thou not Poins his brother?
PRINCE.
Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!
FALSTAFF.
A better than thou. I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.
PRINCE.
Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears.
HOSTESS.
O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome to London. Now, the Lord bless that sweet face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?