you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O
for breath to utter what is like thee! you
tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile
standing-tuck,--
Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and
when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons,
hear me speak but this.
Mark, Jack.
We two saw you four set on four and bound them, and
were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain
tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you
four; and, with a word, out-faced you from your
prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in
the house: and, Falstaff, you carried your guts
away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared
for mercy and still run and roared, as ever I heard
bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword
as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight!
What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst
thou now find out to hide thee from this open and
apparent shame?
Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick hast thou now?
By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye.
Why, hear you, my masters: was it for me to kill the
heir-apparent? should I turn upon the true prince?
why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but
beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true
prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was now a
coward on instinct. I shall think the better of
myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant
lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord,
lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap
to the doors: watch to-night, pray to-morrow.
Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles
of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be
merry? shall we have a play extempore?
Content; and the argument shall be thy running away.
Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me!
O Jesu, my lord the prince!
How now, my lady the hostess! what sayest thou to
me?
Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at
door would speak with you: he says he comes from
your father.
Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and
send him back again to my mother.
What manner of man is he?
An old man.
What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall
I give him his answer?
Prithee, do, Jack.
'Faith