Bard. Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must[3582]
you be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What a70
maidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is't such a[3583]
matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead?
Page. A' calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red[3584]
lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the
window: at last I spied his eyes; and methought he had75
made two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat and so[3585]
peeped through.
Prince. Has not the boy profited?[3586][3587]
Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away![3586][3588]
Page. Away, you rascally Althæa's dream, away!80
Prince. Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy?
Page. Marry, my lord, Althæa dreamed she was[3589]
delivered of a fire-brand; and therefore I call him her dream.
Prince. A crown's worth of good interpretation: there
'tis, boy.[3590]85
Poins. O, that this good blossom could be kept from[3591]
cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
Bard. An you do not make him hanged among you,[3592]
the gallows shall have wrong.[3593]