Gads. We four fet upon some dozen.

Fal. Sixteen, at least, my Lord.
Gads. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or i am a Jew elfe, an Ebrew Jew.

Gads. As we were fharing, fome fix or feven fresh men fet upon us.

Fal. And unbound the reft, and then came in the other.

P. Henry. What, fought ye with them all?

Fal. All! I know not what you call all: but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish. If there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two legg'd creature.

Poins. Pray heav'n, you have not murthered fome of them.

Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I have pepper'd two of them; two, I am fure, I have pay'd, two rogues in buckram-fuits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lye, fpit in my face, call me herfe; thou know'ft my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four rogues in buckram let drive at me.

P. Henry. What, four? thou faidit but two, even

now.

Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four.

Poins. Ay, ay, he faid four.

Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me; I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

P. Henry. Seven' why there were but four, even now. Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram-fuits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
P. Henry. Pr'ythee let him alone, we shall have more

anon.

Fal. Doft thou hear me, Hal?

P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do fo, for it is worth the lift'ning to. Thefe nine in buckram that I told thee of

P. Henry. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points being broken

Poins. Down fell his hofe.

Fal. Began to give me ground; but I follow'd me clofe, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, feven of the eleven I pay'd.

P. Henry. O monftrous! eleven buckram-men grown

out of two!

Fal. But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at my back, and let drive at me; (for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not fee thy hand).

P. Henry. Thefe lyes are like the father that begets them, grofs as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brain'd guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whor fon obfcene greafy tallow-catch

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

P. Henry. Why, how could'ft thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was fo dark thou could't not fee thy hand? Come tell us your reason: what fay'ft thou to this?

Poins. Come, your reafon, Jack, your reason.

Fal. What, upon compulfion? no; were I at the ftrappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell. you on compulfion. Give you a reafon on compulfion! if reafons were as plenty as black-berries, I would give no man a reafon upon compulfion, I.

P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this fin. This fanguine coward, this bed-preffer, this horfe-backbreaker, this huge hill of flefh,

Fal. Away, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dry'd neat's tongue, bull's-pizzel, you stock-fifh. O for breath to utter ! What is like thee? You tailor's yard, you fheath, you bow-cafe, you vile ftanding tuck,

P. Henry Well, breathe a while, and then to't again; and when thou haft tir'd thyself in base comparifons, hear me fpeak but this.

Poins. Mark Jack.

P. Henry. We two faw you four fet on four, you bound them, and were masters of their wealth; mark now how a plain tale fhall put you down. Then did we two fet on you four, and with a word outface'd you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can fhew it you

here

here in the house. And, Falstaff, you carry'd your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and ftill ran and roar'd, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy fword as thou haft done, and then fay it was in fight?-What trick? what device? what starting-hole canft thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent fhame!

Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick haft thou how?

Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my mafters; was it for me to kill the heir-apparent? Should I turn upon the true Prince? Why, thou knoweft, I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware instinct, the lion will not touch the true prince. Inftinct is a great matter. I was a coward on inftinct. I fhall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I, for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hoftefs, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, fhall we be merry? fhall we have a play extempore?

P. Henry. Content and the argument fhall be thy running away.

Fal. Ah! -no more of that, Hal, if thou lovest me. SCENE X. Enter Hofiefs.

Hoft. O Jefu! my Lord the Prince!

P. Henry. How now, my Lady the hoftefs, what fay'st thou to me?

Hoft. Marry, my Lord, there is a Nobleman of the court at door would fpeak with you; he fays he comes from your father.

P. Henry. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and fend him back again to my mother. Fal. What manner of man is he?

Hoft. An old man.

Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him his answer?

P. Henry. Pr'ythee, do, Jack.`

Fal.

Fal. 'Faith, and I'll fend him packing.

[Exit.

P. Henry. Now, Sirs, by'r Lady, you fought fair; fo did you, Peto; fo did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct; you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie!

Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I faw others run.

P. Henry. Tell me now, in earneft, how came Falstaff's fword fo hack'd?

Peto. Why, he hack'd it with his dagger, and faid, he would swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and perfuaded us to do the like.

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our nofes with fpear-grafs, to make them bleed; and then beflubber our garments with it, and fwear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not these seven years before, I blufh'd to hear his monstrous devices.

P. Henry. O villain, thou ftoleft a cup of fack eigh teen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever fince thou haft blush'd extempore; thou hadft fire and fword on thy fide, and yet thou ranneft away; what inftin&t hadft thou for it?

Bard. My Lord, do you fee thefe meteors? do you behold thefe exhalations?

P. Henry. I do.

Bard. What think you they portend?

P. Henry. Hot livers, and cold purfes.
Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken.
P. Henry. No, if rightly taken, halter.

SCENE XI. Re-enter Falftaff.

Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombaft, how long is't ago, Jack, fince thou faw'ft thy own knee?

Fal. My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the wafte; I could have crept into an alderman's thumb-ring: a plague of fighing and grief, it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villanous news abroad: here was Sir John Braby from your father; you must go to the court in the morning. That fame mad fellow of the North, Percy,→ and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the bastinado, and

made Lucifer cuckold, and fwore the devil his true Liegeman upon the crofs of a Welch hook what a plague call you him?

Pains. O, Glendower. PLE

Fal. Owen, Owen; the fame; and his fon-in-law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots Douglas, that runs a horseback up a hill perpendicular

P. Henry. He that rides at high speed, and with a piftol kills a fparrow flying.

Fal. You have hit it.

P. Henry. So did he never the fparrow.

Fal. Well; that rascal had good mettle in him, he will not run.

P. Henry. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him fo for running?

Fal. A horfeback, ye cuckow, but a-foot, he will not budge a foot.

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P. Henry Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fal. Lgrant ye, upon inftinct well, he is there too, and one Mordac, and a thousand blue-caps more. Worcester is ftoln away by night: thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news: you may buy land now as cheap as ftinking mackerel.

P. Henry. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we fhall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundred.

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou fay'ft true; it is like we fhall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horribly afeard? thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Piercy, and that devil Glendower? art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it?

P. Henry. Not a whit, i'faith; I lack fome of thy inftinct.

Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, when thou com'ft to thy father: if thou do love me, practife an answer.

P. Henry. Do thou ftand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life...

Fal.