cup of sack, rogue.—Is there no virtue extant?
Prince. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish
of butter—pitiful-hearted Titan—that melted at
the sweet tale of the sun? if thou didst, then
behold that compound. 138
Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too:
there is nothing but roguery to be found in
villainous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup
of sack with lime in it, a villainous coward! Go
thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt. If man-
hood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the
face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring.
There live not three good men unhanged in
England, and one of them is fat and grows old:
God help the while! a bad world, I say. I would
I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any-
thing. A plague of all cowards, I say still.
Prince. How now, wool-sack! what mutter
you? 152
Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out
of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive
all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild
geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more.
You Prince of Wales! 157
Prince. Why, you whoreson round man,
what's the matter?
Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to
that; and Poins there? 161
Poins. 'Zounds! ye fat paunch, an ye call
me coward, by the Lord, I'll stab thee.
Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned
134 virtue: courage
135 Titan, etc.; cf. n.
145 shotten herring: a herring that has cast its roe
149 weaver; cf. n.
