La Salle (b. 1643, d. 1687) was a celebrated French explorer and fur trader.  He established many forts throughout the Mississippi Valley,—­ among them, Fort St. Louis, in 1683.

Tonty was an Italian, who formerly served in both the French army and navy, and afterwards joined La Salle in his explorations.

XCI.  PRINCE HENRY AND FALSTAFF. (327)

Prince Henry and Poins, in a back room, in a tavern. 
Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto.

Poins.  Welcome, Jack.  Where hast thou been?

Falstaff.  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, I’ll sew nether stocks, and mend them, and foot them, too.  A plague of all cowards!  Give me a cup of sack, rogue.  Is there no virtue extant? (He drinks, and then continues.) You rogue, here’s lime in this sack, too; there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man:  yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it.  A villainous coward!  Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt:  if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring.  There live not three good men unhanged, in England; and one of them is fat and grows old; a bad world, I say!  I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms, or anything.  A plague of all cowards, I say still.

Prince Henry.  How now, woolsack?  What mutter you?

Fal.  A king’s son!  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, I’ll never wear hair on my face more.  You, Prince of Wales!

P. Henry.  Why, you baseborn dog!  What’s the matter?

Fal.  Are you not a coward?  Answer me to that; and Poins there?

Poins.  Ye fat braggart, an ye call me coward, I’ll stab thee.

Fal.  I call thee coward?  I’ll see thee gibbeted ere I call thee coward:  but I would give a thousand pounds I could run as fast as thou canst.  You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back:  call you that backing of your friends?  A plague upon such backing!  Give me them that will face me.  Give me a cup of sack.  I am a rogue, if I have drunk to-day.

P. Henry.  O villain! thy lips ate scarce wiped since thou drunkest last.

Fal.  All’s one for that.  A plague of all cowards, still say 1. (He drinks.)

P. Henry.  What’s the matter?

Fal.  What’s the matter!  There be four of us here have ta’en a thousand pounds this morning.

P. Henry.  Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Fal.  Where is it?  Taken from us it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.

P. Henry.  What! a hundred, man?