further. An 'twere not as good a deed as to drink, to turn true-man, and to leave these rogues, I am the verieft varlet that ever chew'd with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threefcore and ten miles a-foot with me and the ftony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true one to another. [They whistle.] Whew! -a plague upon you all. Give me my horfe; you rogues, give me my horse, and be hang'd. P. Henry. Peace, ye fat guts, lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and lift if thou canst hear the tread of travellers. Fal. Have you any leavers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far a-foot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a pleague mean ye to colt me thus ? P. Henry. Thou lyeft, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. Fal. I pr'ythee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horfe, good King's fon. P. Henry. Out, you rogue! fhall I be your oftler? Fal. Go hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent garters; if I be ta'en, I'll peach for this; an' I have not ballads made on you all, and fung to filthy tunes, let a cup of fack be my poison ; when a jest is so forward, and a-foot too! I hate it. Enter Gads-hill and Bardolph. Gads. Stand!.. Fal. So I do against my will. Poins. O, 'tis our fetter, I know his voice. Bardolph, what news? Bard. Cafe ye, cafe ye; on with your vizards; there's money of the King's coming down the hill, 'tis going to the King's exchequer. Fal. You lye, you rogue, 'tis going to the King's tavern. Gads. There's enough to make us all. Fal. To be hang'd. P. Henry. Sirs, you four shall front them in the nar row lane; Ned Poin and I will walk lower; if they 'fcape from your encounter, then they light on us. Peto. But how many be of them? Gads. Some eight or ten. Fal. Zounds! will they not rob us? P. Henry. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal. P. Henry. Well, we'll leave that to the proof. Poins. Sirrah, Jack, thy horfe ftands behind the hedge; when thou need'ft him, there fhalt thou find him; farewel, and ftand faft. Fal. Now cannot I strike him if I should be hang'd. P. Henry. Ned, where are our disguises? Poins. Here hard by: stand close. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, fay I; every man to his business. SCENE IV. Enter Travellers. Trav. Come, neighbour; the boy fhall lead our horfes down the hill: we'll walk a-foot a while, and ease our legs. Thieves. Stand! Trav. Jefu bless us! Fal. Strike; down with them, cut the villains' throats; ah! whorfon caterpillars; bacon-fed knaves; they hate us youth; down with them, fleece them. Trav. O, we are undone both we and ours for ever. Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are you undone? no, ye fat chuffs, I would your store were here. On, bacons, on! what, ye knaves! young men muft live; you are grand jurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, i'faith.. [Here they rob and bind them. Exeunt. Enter Prince Henry and Poins. P. Henry. The thieves have bound the true men: now could thou and I rob the thieves, and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. Poins. Stand clofe, I hear them coming. Enter thieves again. Fal. Come, my mafters let us fhare, and then to horse before day; an' the Prince and Poins be not two arrant arrant cowards, there's no equity ftirring. There's no more valour in that Poins, than in a wild duck. P. Henry. Your money. Poins. Villains! [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins fet upon them. They all run away; and Falstaff, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them. P. Henry. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horfe : The thieves are fcatter'd, and poffefs'd with fear SCENE V. Lord Percy's houfe. Enter Hot-fpur folus, reading a letter. [Exeunt. But for mine own part, my Lord, I could be well contented to be there, in refpect of the love I bear your houfe. He could be contented to be there; why is he not then? In refpect of the love he bears our houfe! he fhews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me fee fome more. The purpofe you undertake is dangerous. Why, that's certain: 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to fleep, to drink: but I tell you, my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower fafety. The purpofe you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have named uncertain, the time itfelf unforted, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoife of fo great an ppofition. Say you fo, fay you fo? I fay unto you again, you are a fhallow cowardly hind, and you lye. What a lackbrain is this? By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and conftant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frofty-fpirited rogue this is? Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, and the general courfe of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rafcal, I could could brain him with his Lady's fan *. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myfelf, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? is there not, befides, the Douglas? have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month and are there not fome of them fet forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this? an infidel. Ha! you fhall fee now, in very fincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myfelf, and go to buffets, for moving fuch a difh of skimm'd milk with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will fet forward to-night. SCENE VI. Enter Lady Percy. How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two hours. Lady. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence have I this fortnight been A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, fweet Lord, what is't that takes from thee Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; Cry, Courage! To the field! and thou haft talk'd "Of fallies, and retires; of trenches, tents; "Of palifadoes, fortins, parapets; "Of bafilifks, of cannon, culverin; "Of prifoners' ranfom, and of foldiers flain, "And all the current of a heady fight." Thy fpirit within thee hath been so at war, And thus hath so beftirr'd thee in thy fleep, That beads of fweet have ftood upon thy brow. Like bubbles in a late-difturbed ftream: And in thy face ftrange motions have appear'd, * The fans then in fashion, had very long handles. Such Such as we fee when men restrain their breath O, what portents are Some heavy business hath my Lord in hand, [these ? And I must know it, elfe he loves me not. Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone? Enter Servant. Serv. He is, my Lord, an hour agone. [riff? Hot. Hath Butler brought thefe hortes from the SheServ. One horfe, my Lord, he brought ev'n now. Hot. What horfe? a roan, a crop-car, is it not? Serv. It is, my Lord. Hot. That roan fhall be my throne. Well, I will back him ftrait. O Esperance! Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Servant. Lady. But hear you, my Lord. Hot. What fay'ft thou, my Lady? Lady. What is it carries you away? Hot. Why, my horfe, my love, my horfe. Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! a weazel hath not Such a deal of fpleen as you are tofs'd with. In faith, I'll know your business, that I will. About his title, and hath fent for you Hot. So far a-foot, I fhall be weary, love. I'll break thy little finger, Harry, An' if thou wilt not tell me all things true. Hot. Away, away, you trifler :-love! I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate; this is no world To play with mammets *, and to tilt with lips. i. c. girls. And |