1 Draw. Then 6 here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent ftratagem.

2 Draw. I'll fee, if I can find out Sneak. [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Hoftefs and Dol.

Hoft. I'faith, fweet heart, methinks, now you are in an excellent good temperality; your pulfidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would defire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rofe: but, i'faith, you have drank too much canarys, and that's a marvellous searching wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere we can fay what's this. How do you now?

Dol. Better than I was: hem.

Hoft. Why, that was well faid: a good heart's worth gold. Look, here comes Sir John.

Enter Falftaff.

Fal. When Arthur firft in Court-empty the jourden and was a worthy King: how now, Mrs. Dol. Hoft. Sick of a calm: yea, good footh.

Fal. So is all her fect; if they be once in a calm, they are fick.

Dol. You muddy rafcal, is that all the comfort you give me?

Fal. You make fat rafcals, Mrs. Dol.

Dol. I make them! gluttony and diseases make them, I make them not.

Fal. If the cook make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Dol; we catch of you, Dol, we catch of you; grant That, my poor Vertue, grant That.

Dol. Ay, marry, our chains and our jewels.

Fal. 7 Your brooches, pearls and owches: for to

6 here will be old Utis: ] Utis, an old word yet in ufe in fome countries, fignifying a merry feftival, from the French, Huit, Octo, ab A. S. Eahta. Octava Fefti alicujus. Skinner.

7 Your brooches, pearls and owches :] Brooches gold that women wore formerly about their necks. bofies of gold fet with diamonds,

Mr. Pope.
were chains of
Owches were
Mr. Pope.

ferve bravely, is to come halting off, you know; to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to furgery bravely; to venture upon the charg'd chambers bravely

Dol. Hang your felf, you muddy Conger, hang your

felf!

Hoft. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet, but you fall to fome difcord; you are both, in good troth, as rheumatick as two dry toafts, you cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What the good-jer? one muft bear, and that must be you: you are the weaker veffel, as they fay, the emptier veffel.

[To Dol.

Dol. Can a weak empty veffel bear fuch a huge full hogfhead; there's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux ftuff in him; you have not feen a hulk better ftuft in the Hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars, and whether I fhall ever see thee again or no, there is no body cares.

SCENE IX.

Enter Drawer.

Draw. Sir, ancient Piftol is below and would fpeak with you.

Dol. Hang him, fwaggering rascal, let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth'dft rogue in England.

Hoft. If he fwagger, let him not come here: no, by my faith: I must live amongst my neighbours, I'll no fwaggerers: I am in good name and fame with the very beft: fhut the door, there comes no fwaggerers here: I have not liv'd all this while to have swaggering now: fhut the door, I pray you.

Fal. Doft thou hear, Hoftefs?

Hoft. Pray you, pacify your felf, Sir John, there comes no fwaggerers here.

Fal. Doft thou hear-
-it is mine Ancient.

Hoft. Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me ; your Ancient fwaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before mafter Tifick the deputy the other day; and, as he said it was no longer ago than Wednesday last

to me

neighbour

neighbour Quickly, fays he ;-mafter Domb our minifter was by then-neighbour Quickly, fays he, receive those that are civil; for, faith he, you are in an ill name: (now he faid fo, I can tell whereupon ;) for, fays he, you are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed, what guefts you receive: receive, fays he, no fwaggering companions. There come none here. You would bless you to hear what he faid. No, I'll no fwaggerers.

Fal. He's no fwaggerer, Hoftefs; a tame cheater, i'faith; you may ftroak him as gently as a puppeygrey-hound; he will not fwagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any fhew of refiftance. Call him up, drawer.

Hoft. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honeft man my houfe, nor no cheater; but I do not love fwaggering, by my troth; I am the worfe, when one fays, fwagger: feel, mafters, how I fhake, look you, I warrant you.

Dol. So you do, hoftefs.

Hof. Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, as if it were an afpen leaf I cannot abide fwaggerers.

SCENE X.

Enter Pistol, Bardolph and Page.

Pift. Save you, Sir John.

Fal. Welcome, ancient Piftol. Here, Piftol, I charge you with a cup of fack: do you difcharge upon mine hoftefs.

Pift. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with twobullets.

Fal. She is Piftol-proof, Sir, you fhall hardly offend her.

Haft, Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets :- I

8 I will bar no boneft man my house, nor no cheater; ] The humour of this confifts in the woman's mistaking the title of Cheater (which our ancestors gave to him whom we now, with better manners, call a Gamefter) for that officer of the exchequer called an Efcheator, well known to the common people of that time; and named, either corruptly or fatirically, a Cheater.

will drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.

Pift. Then to you, Mrs. Dorothy, I will charge you. Dol. Charge me! I fcorn you, fcurvy companion! what? you poor, bafe, rafcally, cheating, lack-linnen mate; away, you mouldy rogue, away, I'm meat for your mafter.

Pift. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.

Dol. Away, you cut-purfe rafcal, you filthy bung, away by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, if you play the fawcy cuttle with me. Away you bottle ale rascal, you basket-hilt ftale jugler, you. Since when, I pray you, Sir? 9 what, with two points on your shoulder? much!

Pift. I will murther your ruff for this.

Fal. No more, Piftol; I would not have you go off here: difcharge yourself of our company, Piftol Hoft. No, good captain Piftol: not here, sweet captain.

Dol. Captain! thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not afham'd to be call'd captain ? if Captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out of taking their names upon you, before you have earn'd them. "You a captain! you flave! for what? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy house? he a captain hang him, rogue, he lives upon mouldy ftew'd prunes and dry'd cakes. A captain! thefe villains will make the word captain as odious as the word occupy; which was an excellent good word, before it was ill forted : therefore captains had need look to it.

Bard. Pray thee, go down, good Ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither, miftrefs Dol.

Pift. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her I'll be reveng'd on her. Page. Pray thee, go down.

9 what, with two points on your shoulder? much!] Much was a common expreffion of disdain at that time, of the fame sense with that more modern one, Marry come up. The Oxford Editor not apprehending this, alters it to march.

1 No more, Piftol, &c.] This is from the old edition of 1600..

Mr. Pope.

Pift. I'll fee her damn'd firft: to Pluto's damned lake, to the infernal deep, where Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, fay I: down! down, dogs; down, fates: have we not Hiren here ?

Hoft. Good captain Peesel, be quiet, it is very late : I beseech you now, aggravate your choler.

Pift. These be good humours, indeed. Shall packhorfes

And hollow-pamper'd jades of Afia,

Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Cafars, and with Cannibals,
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar :

Shall we fall foul for toys ?

Hoft. By my troth, captain, thefe are very bitter words.

Bard. Begone, good Ancient: this will grow to a brawl anon.

Pift. Die men, like dogs; give crowns like pins: have we not 3 Hiren here?

Hoft. O' my word, captain, there's none fuch here. What the good jer? do you think, I would deny her? I pray, be quiet.

Pift. Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis; come, give me fome fack. Si fortuna me (a) tormenta, il Sperare me contenta.

Fear we broad fides? no, let the fiend give fire:

Give me fome fack: and, fweet-heart, lye thou there: Come we to full points here; and are & cætera's nothing?

Fal. Piftol, I would be quiet.

Pift. Sweet knight, I kifs thy neif: what! we have feen the seven stars.

Dol. Thruft him down ftairs, I cannot endure fuch a fuftian rafcal.

2-bollow-pamper'd jades of Afia, &c.] Thefe lines are in part a quotation out of an old abfurd fustian play intitled, Tamburlain's Conquefts, or the Scythian Shepherd. Mr. Theobald. 3 Hiren] The name of Piftol's and Amadis du Gaul's fword. Mr. Theobald.

[(a) tormenta, il fperare me contenta. Oxford Editor-Vulg. termente fperato me contente.]