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have lost a seal-ring cf my grandfather's, worth forty mark.

Hojt. O, 1 have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.

Enter prince Henry marching, and Falstaff meets bim

playing on his truncheon like a fife. Fal. How now, lad ? is the wind in that door, i'faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, & Newgate fashion.
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Henry. What say’ft thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honeft


Hoft. Good my lord, hear me.
Fal. Pr’ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Henry. What say'st thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket pick’d. This house is turn'd bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Henry. What didst thou lose, Jack ?
Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four

Now in the first of these distichs the word inne is used in its ancient meaning, being spoken by a person who is about to marry a widow for the sake of a home, &c. In the two last places, inne seems to be used in the sense it bears at present.

PERCY. Gabriel Hervey, in a MS. note to Speght's Chaucer, fays, “ Some of Heywood's epigrams are supposed to be the conceits “ and devices of pleasant Sir Thomas More."

Inne, for a habitation, or recess, is frequently used by Spenfer, STEEVENS,

Neagate fashion.] As prisoners are conveyed to Newgate, faftened two and two together. JOHNSON.



bonds of forty pound a piece, and a feal-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Henry. A trifle, fome eight-penny matter.

Ect. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard your grace fay so: and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is; and faid, he would cudgel you.

P. Henry. \Vhat! he did not ?

Hoft. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman-hood in me else. Fal. 9 There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd


9 There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd prune, &c.] The propriety of these fimilies I am not sure that I fully understand. A siev'd prune has the appearance of a prune, but has no talie.

A drawn fox, that is, an exenterated fox, has the form of a fox without his powers. I think Dr. Warburton's explication wrong, which makes a drawn fox to mean, a fox often bunted; though to draw is a hunter's term for pursuit by the track. My interpretation mukes the fox fuit better to the prune. These are very ilender disquisitions, but such is the tak of a commentator. JOHNSON.

Dr. Lodge, in his pamphlet called Wit's Miserie, or the World's Madnefe, 1596, describes a buwd ihus: “ This is thee " that laies wait at all the carriers for wenches new come up

to London ; and you shall know her dwelling by a dish of fier'd prunes in the window, and two or three fleering " wenches fit knitting or fowing in her ihop.”.

In Measure for Measure, act ii. the male bawd excuses himself for having admitted Elbow's wife into his house, by saying, " that she came in great with child, and longing for stew'd prunes, which stood in a dih," &c.

Slender, who apparently wishes to recommend himself to his. mistress by a feeming propensity to love as well as war, talks of having measured weapons with a fencing-master for a dish of ftew'd prunes.

In another old dramatic piece, entitled, If this be not a good Pluy the Divel is in it, 1612, a bravo enters with money, and says, “ This is the pension of the itewes, you need not untie it; "His stew-money, “Sir, few'd-prane cath, Sir."

Among the other fins laid to the charge of the once celelebrated Gabriel Harvey, by his antagonist Nah, “ to be drunk i with the firrop or liquor of stere'd prunes,” is not the least

infifted on.

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prune; no more truth in thee than in ' a drawn fox; and for woman-hood, ? maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.

Hoft. Say, what thing? what thing?

In The Knave of Harts, a collection of fatyrical poems, 1612, a whoring knave is mentioned, as taking

“ Burnt wine, few'd prunes, a punk to folace him." In The Knave of Spades, another collection of the same kind, 1611, is the following description of a wanton inveigling a young man into her house :

He to his liquor falls,
" While she unto her maids for cakes,

Stew'd prunes, and pippins, calls."
So in Every Woman in her Humour, a comedy, 1619,
To search


house! I have no varlets, no few'd prunes, no she fiery,” &c. The passages already quoted are sufficient to shew that a dish of few'd prunes was not only the ancient designation of a brothel, but the constant appendage to it.

From A Treatise on the Lues Venerca, written by W. Clowes, one of her majesty's furgeons, 1596, and other books of the fame kind, it appears that prunes were directed to be boiled in broth for those persons already infected, and that both fiew'd prunes and roasted apples were commonly, though unsuccessfully, taken by way of prevention. So much for the infidelity of few'd prunes. Steevens.

a drawn fox ;-) A drawn fox is a fox drawn over the ground to exercise the hounds. So in B. and Fletcher's Tamer tam'd,

that drawn fox Moroso.”. Steevens.

maid Marian may be, &c.] Maid Marian is a man dressed like a woman, who attends the dancers of the morris.

JOHNSON. In the ancient Songs of Robin Hood frequent mention is made of maid Marian, who appears to have been his concubine. I could quote many pasages in my old MS. to this purpose, but Tall produce only one:

• Good Robin Hood was living then,

" Which now is quite forgot,

And so was fayre maid Marian,&c. Percy. In The Witch of Edmonton, act iii. sc. 1. is the following passage:

Have we ever a witch in the morrice? “ No, no; no woman's part, but maid Marian and the “ hobby-horse." STEEVEN3,



Fal. What thing? why a thing to thank God on.

Hoft. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should't know it. I am an honest man's wife; and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call

me fo.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Hoft. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
Fal. What beast? why, an ctter.
P. Henry. An otter, Sir John! why an otter?

Fal. Why? she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.

Hoft. Thou art an unjust man in faying fo: thou, or any man knows where to have me, thou knave, thou!

P. Henry. Thou say'st true, hostess; and he Nanders thee moft grossly.

Hoft. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ow'd him a thousand pound.

P. Henry. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

Fat. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million ; thou ow'st me thy love.

Hoft. Nay, my lord, he calld you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
Fal. Yea; if he said my ring was copper.

P. Henry. I say, 'tis copper. Dar’st thou be as good as thy word now?

Fal. Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but man, I dare ; but as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Henry. And why not as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be fear'd as the lion : doft thou think I'll fear thee, as I fear thy father? nay, an if I do, let my girdle break!

P. Henry. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees ! But, firrah, there's no room for faith, Vol. V.



truth, or honesty, in this bofom of thine; it is all filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whorson, impudent, 3 imboss'd rasca?, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded; if thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. 4 And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrongs. Art thou not alhamd ?

Fal. Doft thou hear, Hal? thou know ft in the state of innocency Adam fell: and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou leeft I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.-- You confess, then, you pick'd my pocket.

P. Henry. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: go make ready breakfast. - Love thy husband, look to thy servants, and cherish thy guests; thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason. Thou seeft I am pacify'd still.–Nay, I prythee, be gone.

[Exit Hotels. Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad, how is that answer'd ?

P. Henry. O my sweet beef, I must ftill be good angel to thee. The money is paid back again, Fal

. O, I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double labour.

P. Henry. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.


impudent, imboss'd rascal,- Imboss'd is fwolo, puffy. Johnson.

+ And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wroegs.) Some part of this merry dialogue seems to have been loft. fuppofe Falstaff in presting the robbery upon his hoftefs, had declared his resolution not to pocket up wrongs of injuries, to shich the prince alludes. JOHNSON.


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