Falst. All's one for that.

He drinkes.

A plague of all Cowards still, say I

Prince. What's the matter?
Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue
ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning

Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?
Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred
vpon poore foure of vs

Prince. What, a hundred, man?
Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with
a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by
miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,
foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and
through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum.
I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe.
A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake
more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes
of darknesse

Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?
Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen

Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord