Hot Liuers, and cold Purses
Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken
Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.
Enter Falstaffe.
Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How
now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe,
Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee?
Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres
(Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could
haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague
of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder.
There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn
Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in
the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy;
and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado,
and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true
Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a
plague call you him?
Poin. O, Glendower
Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly
Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a
Hill perpendicular
Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll
kills a Sparrow flying
Falst.
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