A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe

Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes,
A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere.
Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King?
Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats

Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,
Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece,
Vntill I meet the King

Hot. Vp, and away,
Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.

Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear
the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon 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 heauy
too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more
weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of
Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my
150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg during
life. But who comes heere?
Enter the Prince