Prince. Give him as much as will make him a
royal man, and send him back again to my mother.
Fal. What manner of man is he? 326
Host. An old man.
Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at
midnight? Shall I give him his answer?
Prince. Prithee, do, Jack. 330
Fal. Faith, and I'll send him packing. Exit.
Prince. Now, sirs: by'r lady, you fought fair;
so did you, Peto; so did you, Bardolph: you are
lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will
not touch the true prince; no, fie!
Bard. Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 336
Prince. Faith, tell me now in earnest, how
came Falstaff's sword so hacked?
Peto. Why he hacked it with his dagger, and
said he would swear truth out of England but
he would make you believe it was done in fight,
and persuaded us to do the like. 342
Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with
spear-grass to make them bleed, and then to be-
slubber our garments with it and swear it
was the blood of true men. I did that I did not
this seven year before; I blushed to hear his
monstrous devices. 348
Prince. O villain! thou stolest a cup of sack
eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the
manner, and ever since thou hast blushed ex-
tempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side,
and yet thou rannest away. What instinct
hadst thou for it.
Bard. [Pointing to his own face.] My lord, do
325 royal; cf. n.
350 taken . . . manner: taken in the act
355-362 Cf. n.
