FALSTAFF.
Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar again.
BULLCALF.
O Lord! good my lord captain—
FALSTAFF.
What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?
BULLCALF.
O Lord, sir, I am a diseased man.
FALSTAFF.
What disease hast thou?
BULLCALF.
A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught with ringing in the King’s affairs upon his coronation day, sir.
FALSTAFF.
Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown; we will have away thy cold, and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is here all?
SHALLOW.
Here is two more called than your number; you must have but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.
FALSTAFF.
Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW.
O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George’s Field?