In the scene wherein we become first acquainted with _Falstaff_, his character is opened in a manner worthy of _Shakespeare_: We see him in a green old age, mellow, frank, gay, easy, corpulent, loose, unprincipled, and luxurious; a _Robber_, as he says, _by his vocation_; yet not altogether so:—There was much, it seems, of mirth and _recreation_ in the case: “_The poor abuses of the times_,” he wantonly and humourously tells the Prince, “_want countenance; and he hates to see resolution fobbed off, as it is, by the rusty curb of old father antic, the law_.”—When he quits the scene, we are acquainted that he is only passing to the Tavern: “_Farewell,_” says he, with an air of careless jollity and gay content, “_You will find me in East-Cheap._” “_Farewell,_” says the Prince, “_thou latter __ spring; farewell, all-hallown summer._” But though all this is excellent for _Shakespeare_’s purposes, we find, as yet at least, no hint of _Falstaff_’s Cowardice, no appearance of Braggadocio, or any preparation whatever for laughter under this head.—The instant _Falstaff_ is withdrawn, _Poins_ opens to the Prince his meditated scheme of a double robbery; and here then we may reasonably expect to be let into these parts of _Falstaff_’s character.—We shall see. Poins. “_Now my good sweet lord, ride with us tomorrow; I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. __FALSTAFF__, __BARDOLPH__, __PETO__, and __GADSHILL__ shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there; and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from off my shoulders._”