The First Part of Henry the Fourth
Page: 43

Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villanous
Company hath beene the spoyle of me

Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue
long

Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song,
make me merry; I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman
need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not
aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not
aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I
borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good
compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of compasse

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must
needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable
compasse, Sir Iohn

Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy
Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne
in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the
Knight of the burning Lampe

Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme

Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as
many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori.
I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues
that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning,
burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would
sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire:
But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede,
but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse.
When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to
catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene
an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase
in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting
Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand
Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the
Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that
thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as
good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue
maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time
this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it

Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly

Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.
Enter Hostesse.

How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet