FALSTAFF. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking. And for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in waterwork, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an ’twere not for thy humours, there’s not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw the action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me; dost not know me? Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this. HOSTESS. Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles. I’ faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, la! FALSTAFF. Let it alone, I’ll make other shift: you’ll be a fool still. HOSTESS. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you’ll come to supper. You’ll pay me all together? FALSTAFF. Will I live? [_To Bardolph_.] Go, with her, with her. Hook on, hook on. HOSTESS. Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper? FALSTAFF. No more words, let’s have her. [_Exeunt Hostess, Fang, Snare, Bardolph and Page._] CHIEF JUSTICE. I have heard better news. FALSTAFF. What’s the news, my lord? CHIEF JUSTICE. Where lay the King tonight? GOWER. At Basingstoke, my lord. FALSTAFF. I hope, my lord, all’s well. What is the news, my lord? CHIEF JUSTICE. Come all his forces back? GOWER. No, fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse Are march’d up to my Lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland and the Archbishop. FALSTAFF. Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord? CHIEF JUSTICE. You shall have letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. FALSTAFF. My lord! CHIEF JUSTICE. What’s the matter? FALSTAFF. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner? GOWER. I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir John. CHIEF JUSTICE. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go. FALSTAFF. Will you sup with me, Master Gower? CHIEF JUSTICE. What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John? FALSTAFF. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me. This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair. CHIEF JUSTICE. Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great fool. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. London. Another street. Enter Prince Henry and Poins. PRINCE. Before God, I am exceeding weary. POINS. Is ’t come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood. PRINCE. Faith, it does me, though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer? POINS. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition.