Page 777 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

FALSTAFF

Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear [30] the shot here. Here’s no
scoring but upon the pate. Soft! who are you? Sir Walter Blunt. There’s
honour for you! Here’s no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy

too. God keep lead out of me. I need no more weight than mine own bowels.
I have led my rag-of-muffins [35] where they are peppered. There’s not three
of my hundred and fifty left alive, and they are for the town’s end, to beg
during life. But who comes here?

Enter the Prince.

PRINCE

What, stand’st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword.
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff [40]
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are yet unrevenged. I prithee
Lend me thy sword.

FALSTAFF

O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such
deeds in arms as I [45] have done this day. I have paid Percy; I have made
him sure.

PRINCE
He is indeed, and living to kill thee.

I prithee lend me thy sword.

FALSTAFF

Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou [50] get’st not my sword; but
take my pistol, if thou wilt.

PRINCE
Give it me. What, is it in the case?

FALSTAFF
Ay, Hal. ’Tis hot, ’tis hot. There’s that will sack a city.

The Prince draws it out and finds it to be a bottle of sack.