I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon h.e.l.l fire, and Diues that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning, burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire: But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede, but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse.
When thou ran"st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there"s no Purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue maintain"d that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it
Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly
Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn"d.
Enter Hostesse.
How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir"d yet who pick"d my Pocket?
Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn?
doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue search"d, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a hayre was neuer lost in my house before
Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau"d, and lost many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick"d: goe to, you are a Woman, goe
Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call"d so in mine owne house before
Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough
Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn: I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe
Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of them
Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn, for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, foure and twentie pounds
Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay
Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing
Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne, but I shall haue my Pocket pick"d? I haue lost a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke
Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that Ring was Copper
Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe: and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge, if hee would say so.
Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his Trunchion like a Fife.
Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore?
Must we all march?
Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion
Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me
Prince. What say"st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest man
Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee
Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee
Prince. What say"st thou, Iacke?
Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn"d Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets
Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke?
Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers
Prince. A Trifle, some eight-penny matter
Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of you, like a foule-mouth"d man as hee is, and said, hee would cudgell you
Prince. What hee did not?
Host. There"s neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me else
Falst. There"s no more faith in thee then a stu"de Prune; nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go
Host. Say, what thing? what thing?
Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on
Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so
Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise
Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?
Fal. What beast? Why an Otter
Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?
Fal. Why? She"s neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes not where to haue her
Host. Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou
Prince. Thou say"st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee most grossely
Host. So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other day, You ought him a thousand pound
Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Falst. A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is worth a Million: thou ow"st me thy loue
Host. Nay my Lord, he call"d you Iacke, and said hee would cudgell you
Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so
Fal. Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper
Prince. I say "tis Copper. Dar"st thou bee as good as thy word now?
Fal. Why Hal? thou know"st, as thou art but a man, I dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the roaring of the Lyons Whelpe
Prince. And why not as the Lyon?
Fal. The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon: Do"st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay if I do, let my Girdle breake
Prin. O, if it should, how would thy guttes fall about thy knees. But sirra: There"s no roome for Faith, Truth, nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill"d vppe with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses, and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich"d with anie other iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not asham"d?
Fal. Do"st thou heare Hal? Thou know"st in the state of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty.
You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?