And how doth thy master, Bardolph?

Prince Hal
And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
Bardolph
Well, my good lord. He heard of your
Grace’s coming to town. There’s a letter for you.
 He gives the Prince a paper.
Poins
Delivered with good respect. And how doth the
Martlemas your master?
Bardolph
In bodily health, sir.

Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and
the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.

Poins
Marry, the immortal part needs a physician, but
that moves not him. Though that be sick, it dies not.
Prince Hal
I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as
my dog, and he holds his place, for look you how he
writes. He shows the letter to Poins.
Poins reads the superscription
John Falstaff, knight.
Every man must know that as oft as he has occasion
to name himself, even like those that are kin to the
King, for they never prick their finger but they say
“There’s some of the King’s blood spilt.” “How
comes that?” says he that takes upon him not to
conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower’s
cap: “I am the King’s poor cousin, sir.”
Prince Hal
Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it
from Japheth. But to the letter:  Reads.
Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the King
nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting.
Poins
Why, this is a certificate.
Prince Hal
Peace!
 Reads.
I will imitate the honorable Romans in brevity.
Poins
He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded.
Prince Hal reads
I commend me to thee, I commend thee,
and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins, for he
misuses thy favors so much that he swears thou art to
marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou
mayst, and so farewell.
Thine by yea and no, which is as much as
to say, as thou usest him,
Jack Falstaff with my familiars,
John with my brothers and sisters, and
Sir John with all Europe.
Poins
My lord, I’ll steep this letter in sack and make
him eat it.
Prince Hal
That’s to make him eat twenty of his words. But do
you use me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister?
Poins
God send the wench no worse fortune! But I
never said so.
Prince Hal
Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and
the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.
 To Bardolph.  Is your master here in London?
Bardolph
Yea, my lord.
Prince Hal
Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the
old frank?
Bardolph
At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.
Prince Hal
What company?
Page
Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.
Prince Hal
Sup any women with him?
Page
None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and
Mistress Doll Tearsheet.
Prince Hal
What pagan may that be?
Page
A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of
my master’s.
Prince Hal
Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town
bull.—Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?
Poins
I am your shadow, my lord. I’ll follow you.
Prince Hal
Sirrah—you, boy—and Bardolph, no word to
your master that I am yet come to town. There’s for
your silence.  He gives money.
Bardolph
I have no tongue, sir.
Page
And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
Prince Hal
Fare you well. Go.  Bardolph and Page exit.
This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.
Poins
I warrant you, as common as the way between
Saint Albans and London.
Prince Hal
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself
tonight in his true colors, and not ourselves be seen?
Poins
Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and
wait upon him at his table as drawers.
Prince Hal
From a god to a bull: a heavy descension. It
was Jove’s case. From a prince to a ’prentice: a low
transformation that shall be mine, for in everything
the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.
 They exit.