_Falstaff_ is, indeed, so far from appearing to my eye in the light of a _Miles Gloriosus_, that, in the best of my taste and judgment, he does not discover, except in consequence of the robbery, the least _trait_ of such a character. All his boasting speeches are humour, mere humour, and carefully spoken to persons who cannot misapprehend them, who cannot be imposed on: They contain indeed, for the most part, an unreasonable and imprudent ridicule of himself, the usual subject of his good humoured merriment; but in the company of ignorant people, such as the Justices, or his own followers, he is remarkably reserved, and does not hazard any thing, even in the way of humour, that may be subject to mistake: Indeed he no where seems to suspect that his character is open to censure on this side, or that he needs the arts of imposition.—“_Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day_” is spoken, whilst he breathes from action, to the Prince in a tone of jolly humour, and contains nothing but a light ridicule of his own inactivity: This is as far from real boasting as his saying before the battle, “_Wou’d it were bed-time, __HAL__, and all were well_,” is from meanness or depression. This articulated wish is not the fearful outcry of a _Coward_, but the frank and honest breathing of a _generous fellow_, who does not expect to be seriously reproached with the character. Instead, indeed, of deserving the name of a vain glorious _Coward_, his modesty perhaps on his head, and whimsical ridicule of himself, have been a principal source of the imputation. But to come to the very serious reproach thrown upon him by that _cold blooded_ boy, as he calls him, _Lancaster_.—_Lancaster_ makes a solemn treaty of peace with the _Archbishop of York, Mowbray_, &c. upon the faith of which they disperse their troops; which is no sooner done than _Lancaster_ arrests the Principals, and pursues the _scattered stray_: A transaction, by the bye, so singularly perfidious, that I wish _Shakespeare_, for his own credit, had not suffered it to pass under his pen without marking it with the blackest strokes of Infamy.—During this transaction, _Falstaff_ arrives, joins in the pursuit, and takes Sir _John Coleville_ prisoner. Upon being seen by _Lancaster_ he is thus addressed:— “Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When every thing is over, then you come: These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows’ back.”