I hope to see London, once ere I die
Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie
Shal. You'l cracke a quart together? Ha, will you not
M[aster]. Bardolfe?
Bar. Yes Sir, in a pottle pot
Shal. I thanke thee: the knaue will sticke by thee, I
can assure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred
Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir
Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry.
Looke, who's at doore there, ho: who knockes?
Fal. Why now you haue done me right
Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't
not so?
Fal. 'Tis so
Sil. Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somwhat
Dau. If it please your Worshippe, there's one Pistoll
come from the Court with newes
Fal. From the Court? Let him come in.
Enter Pistoll.
How now Pistoll?
Pist. Sir Iohn, 'saue you sir
Fal. What winde blew you hither, Pistoll?
Pist. Not the ill winde which blowes none to good,
sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men in
the Realme
Sil. Indeed, I thinke he bee, but Goodman Puffe of
Barson
Pist.
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