many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion; not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy companie, but I know not his Name.
Prin.
What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie?
Falst.
A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent, of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady) inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen, hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes. If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast thou beene this moneth?
Prin.
Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand for mee, and Ile play my Father.
Falst.
Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare.
Prin.
Well, heere I am set.
Falst.
And heere I stand: iudge my Masters.
Prin.
Now Harry, whence come you?
Falst.
My Noble Lord, from East-cheape.
Prin.
The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous.
Falst.
Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle ye for a young Prince.
Prin.
Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloake-bagge of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey iniquitie, that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? wherein is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie? wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?
Falst.
I would your Grace would take me with you: whom meanes your Grace?
Prince.
That villanous abhominable mis-leader of Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan.
Falst.
My Lord, the man I know.
Prince.
I know thou dost.
Falst.
But to say, I know more harme in him then in my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde (the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it: but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-ma-ster, that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault, Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd: if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe, kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Falstaffe, and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and banish all the World.
Prince.
I doe, I will.
Enter Bardolph running.
Bard.
O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most monstrous Watch, is at the doore.
Falst.
Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe.
Enter the Hostesse.
Hostesse.
O, my Lord, my Lord.
Falst.
Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddle-sticke: what's the matter?
Hostesse.
The Sherife and all the Watch are at the doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let them in?
Falst.
Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without seeming so.
Prince.
And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct.
Falst.
I deny your Maior: if you will deny the Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as another.
Prince.
Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and good Conscience.
Falst.
Both which I haue had: but their date is out, and therefore Ile hide me. Exit.
Prince.
Call in the Sherife.
Enter Sherife and the Carrier.
Prince.
Now Master Sherife, what is your will with mee?
She.
First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath followed certaine men vnto this house.
Prince.
What men?
She.
One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord, a grosse fat man.
Car.
As fat as Butter.
Prince.
The man, I doe assure you, is not heere,
For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him:
And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will by to morrow Dinner time,
Send him to answere thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg'd withall:
And so let me entreat you, leaue the house.
She.
I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen
Haue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes.
Prince.
It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable: and so farewell.
She.
Good Night, my Noble Lord.
Prince.
I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?
She.
Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke. Exit.
Prince.
This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules: goe call him forth.
Peto.
Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and snorting like a Horse.
Prince.
Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his Pockets.
