The works of Shakespear [ed. by H. Blair], in which the beauties observed by Pope, Warburton and Dodd are pointed out, together with the author's life; a glossary [&c.].

Fal. Shall I content. This chair fhall be my state; this dagger my fceptre, and this cufhion my crown.

P. Henry. Thy ftate is taken for a joint-ftool, thy golden fceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown.

Fal. Well, an' the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now fhalt thou be moved:- Give me a cup of fack to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in paffion, and I will do it in King Cambyfes' vein *.

P. Henry. Well, here is my leg.

Fal. And here is my fpeech-Stand afide, nobilityHoft. This is excellent fport, i'faith:

Fal.Weep not, fweet Queen, for trickling tears are vain. Hoft. O the father! how he holds his countenance? Fal. For God's fake, Lords, convey my triftful Queen, For tears do ftop the flood-gates of her eyes.

Hoft. O rare, he doth it as like one of those harlotry players as I ever fee.

Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brainHarry, I do not only marvel, where thou spendeft thy time; but also, how thou art accompany'd: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the fafter it grows; yet youth, the more it is wasted, the fooner it wears. Thou art my fon; I have partly thy "mother's word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly a villanous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be fon to me, here lieth the point; why, being fon to me, art thou fo pointed at? Shall the bleffed fun of heaven prove a micher †, and eat black-berries? a question not to be afk'd. Shall the fon of England prove a thief and take purfes? a queftion to be afk'd. There is a thing, Harry, which thou haft often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; fo doth the company thou keep'it; for, Harry,

A bombaft play of that time, intitled, "A lamentable tragedy, "mixed full of pleasant mirth, containing the life of Cambifes King of Percia. By Thomas Prefton "

i. c. truant.

To mich, is to lurk out of fight, a hedge-creeper. -1

now

now do I not speak to thee in drink, but in tears, not in pleasure, but in paffion; not in words only, but in woes also; and yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.

P. Henry. What manner of man an' it like your Majefty?

Fal. A goodly portly man i'faith, and a corpulent; of a chearful look, a pleafing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age fome fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threefcore; and now, I re'member me his name is Falstaff. If that man should be lewdly given, he deceives me; for, Harry, I fee 'virtue in his looks. If then the fruit may be known by the tree, as the tree by the fruit, then peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff; him keep with, the reft banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where thou haft been this month? P. Henry. Doft thou speak like a King? do thou ftand for me, and I'll play my father.

Fal. Depofe me?-If thou doft it half fo gravely, fo majestically both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbet-fucker, or a poulterer's hare * P. Henry. Well, here I am fet.

Fal. And here I ftand; judge, my mafters.

P. Henry. Now, Harry, whence come you?
Fal. My Noble Lord, from East-cheap.

P. Henry. The complaints I hear of thee are grie

Vous.

Fal. 'Sblood, my Lord, they are falfe.Nay, I'll tickle you for a young prince,

way

P. Henry. Sweareft thou, ungracious boy? hence'forth ne'er look on me; thou art violently carried afrom grace; there's a devil haunts thee in the likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man is thy companion. Why doft thou converfe with that trunk of humours, that boulting hutch of beaftlinefs, that 'fwoln parcel of dropfies, that huge bombard of fack, that ftuff'd cloak-bag of guts, that roafted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly,that reverend vice, Meaning a painted hare, fhaped on a board ufed by poulterers for a fign.

P 2

• that

that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in ' years? Wherein is he good, but to tafte fack and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cunning but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? Fal. I would your Grace would take me with you: whom means your Grace?

P. Henry. That villanous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Sathan. Fal. My Lord, the man I know.

P. Henry. I know thou doft.

Fal. But to say, know more harm in him than in myfelf, were to fay more than I know. That he is old, the more is the pity, his white hairs do witness < it; but that he is (faving your reverence) a whoremafter, that I utterly deny. If fack and fugar be a fault, God help the wicked! if to be old and merry be a fin, then many an old hoft that I know, is ' damn'd: if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be lov'd. No, my good Lord, ba • nish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins; but for fweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore, more ' valiant, being as he is, old Jack Falftaff; banish not him thy Harry's company: banifh plump Jack, and banish all the world.

P. Henry. I do, I will.

[Knockings and Hoftefs goes out.

Enter Bardolph running.

Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the fheriff, with a moft monftrous watch, is at the door.

Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play: I have much to fay in behalf of that Falstaff.

Re-enter the Hoftefs.

Hoft. O, my Lord, my

Lord!

Fal. Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fidle ftick what's the matter?

Hoft. The fheriff and all the watch are at the door: they are come to fearch the house: fhall I let them in ?

Fal.

Fal. Doft thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece of gold a counterfeit thou art effentially mad, without feeming fo.

P. Henry. And thou a natural coward, without instinct.

Fal. I deny your major; if you will deny the fheif not, let him enter. If I become not a cart

riff, fo; as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up; I hope I shall as foon be ftrangled with as another.

halter

P. Henry. Go, hide thee behind the arras, the rest walk up above. Now, my matters, for a true face and good confcience.

Fal. Both which I have had; but their date is out, and therefore I'll hide me.

[Exeunt Falstaff, Bardolph, &c.

P. Henry. Call in the Sheriff.

SCENE XII. Enter Sheriff and Carrier. Now, Mafter Sheriff, what is your will with me? Sher. First, pardon me, my Lord. A hue and cry Hath follow'd certain men unto this houfe.

P. Henry. What men ?

Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious Lord, A grofs fat man.

Car. As fat as butter.

P. Henry. The man I do affure you is not here, For I myself at this time have employ'd him; And, fheriff, I engage my word to thee, That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time, Send him to answer thee, or any man, For any thing he fhall be charge'd withal: And fo let me intreat you leave the house. Sher. I will, my Lord: there are two gentlemen Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. P. Henry. It may be fo; if he have robb'd these men, He shall be answerable; and fo farewell.

Sher. Good night, my noble Lord.

P. Henry, I think it is good morrow, is it not? Sher. Indeed, my Lord, I think it be two o'clock, [Ex. Sheriff and Carrier.

P. Henry.

P. Henry. This oily rascal is known as well as Pauls:

call him forth.

Peto. Falftafffnorting like a horse.

faft afleep behind the arras, and

P. Henry. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: fearch his pockets.

[He fearches his pockets, and finds certain papers. What halt thou found?

Peto. Nothing but papers, my Lord.

P. Henry. Let's fee, what be they? read them.Peto. Item, a capon, 25. 2 d.

Item, Sauce, 4d.

Item, Sack, two gallons, 5 s. 8 d.

Item, Anchoves and fack after fupper, 2s. 6d. item, Bread, a halfpenny

P. Henry O monftrous! but one half-penny worth of bread to this intolerable deal of fack? What there is elfe, keep clofe, we'll read it at more advantage; there let him fleep till day I'll to the court in the morning we must ally to the wars, and thy place Thall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot, and I know his death will be a march of twelvescore *. The money fhall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and fo good morrow, Peto.