P. Henry. What manner of man, an it like your majesty?
Falstaff. A goodly portly man, i'faith, and a corpulent; of a
cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I
think, his age some fifty, or, by'r-lady, inclining to threescore;
and now I do remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man should
be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his
looks. If then the fruit may be known by the tree, as the tree by
the fruit, then peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that
Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou
naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month?
P. Henry. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and
I'll play my father.
Falstaff. Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely, so
majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a
rabbit-sucker, or a poulterer's hare.
P. Henry. Well, here I am set.
Falstaff. And here I stand:--judge, my masters.
P. Henry. Now, Harry, whence come you?
Falstaff. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
P. Henry. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.
Falstaff. S'blood, my lord, they are false:--nay, I'll tickle ye for
a young prince, i'faith.
P. Henry. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look on
me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: there is a devil
haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man; a tun of man is thy
companion.
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