File:Pictures from English literature (1870) (14781487712).jpg

Identifier: picturesfromengl00wall (find matches)
Title: Pictures from English literature
Year: 1870 (1870s)
Authors: Waller, John Francis, 1810-1894 Horsley, John Callcott, 1817-1903 Yeames, William Frederick, 1835-1918 Barnard, Frederick, 1846-1896 Barnes, Robert, 1840-1895 Browne, Hablot Knight, 1815-1882 Du Maurier, George, 1834-1896 Faed, John, 1819-1902 Fildes, Luke, Sir, 1844-1927 Gilbert, John, Sir, 1817-1897 Green, Charles, 1840-1898 Lawson, Francis Wilfred, 1842-1935 Small, William, 1843-1929 Stone, Marcus, 1840-1921 Swain, Joseph, 1820-1909 Cobb, Thomas, fl.1863-1878 Wentworth, Frederick, fl. 1865-1894 Pannemaker, Stéphane, 1847-1930 Sulman, T., fl. 1855-1900 Dalziel Brothers Belle Sauvage Works (printer)
Subjects: English literature Authors, English Gift books
Publisher: London New York : Cassell, Petter and Galpin
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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eir merry meetings were held, awaitingFalstaff and his gang. The knight enters, heated and weary, yet withhis angry swagger. Poins bids him welcome, but he does not condescenda reply. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry,and amen ! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, Illsew nether stocks, and mend them and foot them too. A plague of allcowards ! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant ? Thenhe drinks, and scorns to notice the banter of the Prince, so full is he of virtuousindignation. Fal. You rogue, heres lime in this sack, too : there is nothing but roguery to be found invillanous man—yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it—a villanous coward !Go thy ways, old Jack ; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot uponthe face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhangedin England ; and one of them is fat, and grows old : heaven help the while ! A bad world,
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Falstafp* 25 I say. I would I were a weaver ; I could sing psalms or anything. A plague of all cowards,1 say still. P. II. How now,woolsack ! what mutter you? Fal. A kings sou! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, Ill never wear hair on my facemore. You Prince Of Wales ! I. II. Why, you rascal round man, whats the matter? Fa I.. Are you not a coward ? answer me to that : and 1oins there ? Ioins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me a coward, Ill stab thee. Fal. I call thee a coward ! Ill sec thee hanged ere I call thee coward : but I wouldgive a thousand pounds I could run as fast as thou canst . . . call you that backingof your friends ? A plague upon such backing. And so he goes on muttering and drinking, and cursing all cowards ;till, to the Princes query, he tells how four of them took a thousand pounds,which was taken again from them by a hundred—how he was at half-swordwith a dozen of

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