The First Part of Henry the Fourth
Page: 26

grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd
Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson obscene
greasie Tallow Catch

Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the
truth, the truth?
Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in
Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not
see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou
to this?
Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason

Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the
Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not
tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion?
If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would
giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I

Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine
Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker,
this huge Hill of Flesh

Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried
Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth
to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath
you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke

Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and
when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare
me speake but thus

Poin. Marke Iacke

Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound
them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how
a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set
on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your
prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House.
And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with
as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne
and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art
thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say
it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting
hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open
and apparant shame?
Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast
thou now?
Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare
ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant?
Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest
I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion