Fal. Some sack, Francis.
Prince. } Anon, anon, sir. [Coming forward.[3774]265
Poins. }
Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's? And art not
thou Poins his brother?[3775]
Prince. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what
a life dost thou lead!
Fal. A better than thou: I am a gentleman; thou270
art a drawer.
Prince. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out
by the ears.
Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by my[3776][3777]
troth, welcome to London. Now, the Lord bless that[3777][3778]275
sweet face of thine! O Jesu, are you come from Wales?[3779]
Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by[3780]
this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.[3781]
Dol. How, you fat fool! I scorn you.
Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge280
and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.