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doft thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father; nay, if I do, let my gridle break !
P. Henry. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees ! But, Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bofom of thine; it is all fill'd up with guts and midriff. Charge an honeft woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whorson, impudent, imboss'd rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of fugarcandy to make thee long-winded; if thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but there, I am a villain ; and yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket up wrong's.
Art thou not asham'd ? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou know'st, in the state of innocency Adam fell : and what snould poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany? thou feest, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frail, ty. You confess, then, you pick'd my pocket?
P. Henry. It appears fo by the story.
Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : go make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy fervants, and cherish thy guests : thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason : thou feelt, I am pacify'd still. Nay, I pr'ythee, be gone.
[Exit Hoftefs. Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad;
-how is that answer'd ? P. Henry. O my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee. The money is paid back again.
Fal. O, I do not like that paying back; ʼtis a double labour.
P. Henry. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.
Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with unwash'd hands too.
Bard. Do, my Lord.
P. Henry. I have procur'd thee, Jack, a charge of foot.
Fal. I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? 0, for a fine thief, of two and twenty, or thereabout; I am heinously unprovided.
Well, God be thank'd for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.
P. Henry. Bardolph.
P. Henry. Go bear this letter to Lord John of Laneaster, to my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmorland. Go, Peto, to horse, for thou and I have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time. Jack, meet me to-morrow in the Temple hall at two o'clock in the afternoon, there shalt thou know thy charge, and there receive money and order for their furniture. The land is burning, Percy stands on high; And either they or we must lower lie. Fal. Rare words ! brave world! Hostess,
breakfast, come: Oh, I could wish this tavern were my drum! [Exeunt.
SCE N E
Changes to Shrewsbury. Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, and Douglas. Hot. 7 Ell said, my Scot; if speaking truth,
In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Such attribụtion should the Douglas have, As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should
go so gen'ral current through the world. By heav'n, I cannot flatter: I defy The tongues
of foothers. But a braver place In my
heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, Lord.
Doug. Thou art the King of honour :
Enter a Messenger. Hot. Do, and 'tis well. -What letters hast thou
Mel. These come from your father,
Mel. He cannot come, my Lord, he's grievous fick.
Fot. Heav'ns ! how has he the leisure to be fick
Mel. His letters bear his mind, not I.
Mej. He did, my Lord, four days ere I set forth:
Wor. I would the state of time had first been whole, Ere he by fickness had been visited ; His health was never better worth than now.
Hot. Sick now! droop now! this fickness doth infect The very
life-blood of our enterprise ; 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. He writes me here, that inward fickness And that his friends by deputation Could not so soon be drawn: nor thought he meet To lay so dangerous and dear a trust On
any soul remov’d, but on his own.
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off:
Were it good,
Doug. 'Faith, and so we should;
A comfort of retirement lives in this. ,
Hot. A rendezvous, a home to Ay unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon
the maidenhead of our affairs. Wor. But yet I would your father had been here: The quality and hair of our attempt Brooks no division : it would be thought By some, that know not why he is away, That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence, And think how such an apprehension May turn the tide of fearful faction, And breed a kind of question in our cause: For well you know, we of th' offending fide Must keep aloof from strict arbitriment; And stop all light-holes, every loop, from whence The eye
of reaton may pry in upon us. absence of your father draws a curtain, That shews the ignorant a kind of fear Before not dream'd upon.
Hot. You strain too far,
all our joints are whole. Doug. As heart can think; there is not such a word Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.
SCENE II. Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, Lord.
Hot. No harm;, what more?
Ver. And further, I have learn'd,
Hot. He Mall be welcome too: where is his fon,
Ver. All furnilh’d, all in arms,
Ver. There is more news:
Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
i.e. bewitch, charm. Mi, Pope,