Of reputation. And theres the humor of it.
65 Fal. Here sirrha beare me these Letters titely,
Saile like my pinnice to the golden shores:
Hence slaues, avant. Vanish like hailstones, goe.
Falstaffe will learne the humor of this age,
French thrift you rogue, my selfe and scirted Page.
Exit Falstaffe, and the Boy.
70 Pis. And art thou gone? Teaster Ile haue in pouch
When thou shalt want, bace Phrygian Turke,
Nym. I haue operations in my head, which are humors of reuenge.