alstaff!--kind
Jack Falstaff!--sweet Jack Falstaff!--has enlarged the boundaries of
human enjoyment; he has added vast regions of wit and good humour, in
which the poorest man may revel; and has bequeathed a never-failing
inheritance of jolly laughter, to make mankind merrier and better to the
latest posterity."

The very name of the "Boar's Head," Eastcheap, recalls a thousand
Shakespearian recollections; for here Falstaff came panting from
Gadshill; here he snored behind the arras while Prince Harry laughed
over his unconscionable tavern bill; and here, too, took place that
wonderful scene where Falstaff and the prince alternately passed
judgment on each other's follies, Falstaff acting the prince's father,
and Prince Henry retorts by taking up the same part. As this is one of
the finest efforts of Shakespeare's comic genius, a short quotation from
it, on the spot where the same was supposed to take place, will not be
out of place.

"_Fal._ Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time,
but also how thou art accompanied; for though the camomile, the more
it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is
wasted the more it wears. That thou art my son, I have partly thy
mother's word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly a villainous trick
of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth
warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point;--why,
being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of
heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries? a question not to be
asked. Shall a son of England prove a thief, and take purses? a
question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often
heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch.
This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile: so doth the
company thou keepest; for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in
drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words
only, but in woes also;--and yet there is a virtuous man, whom I
have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.

"_P. Hen._ What manner of man, an it like your Majesty?

"_Fal._ A good portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful
look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think,
his age some fifty, or, by 'r Lady, inclining to three score. And,
now I remember me, his name is Falstaff. If