Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass to make them
bleed, and then to beslubber our
garments
with it and swear it
was the blood of true men.
Shakespeare
Prithee do, Jack.
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.
Prince. Tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's sword so
hack'd?
Peto. Why, he hack'd 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.
Bard.
Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass to make them
bleed, and then to beslubber our
garments
with it and swear it
was the blood of true men.
I did that I did not this seven year
before- I blush'd to hear his monstrous devices.
Prince. O villain! thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago
and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blush'd
extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou
ran'st away. What instinct hadst thou for it?
Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these
exhalations?
Prince. I do.
Bard. What think you they portend?
Prince. Hot livers and cold purses.
