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rent, that thou'art heir apparent-But, I prythee, fweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic, the law? Do not thou, when thou art a King, hang a thief.
P. Henry. No; thou shalt.
Fal. Shall I, O rare, by the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.
P. Henry. Thou judgeft false already: I mean, thou shalt' have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some fort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
P. Henry. For obtaining of suits? H
Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe! . 'Sblood, 'I am as melancholy as a gib-cat, or a lugg'd bear.
P. Henry. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.
P. Henry. What says thợu tò a harė, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch !
Fal. Thou hast the most unfavoury fimilies; and art, indeed, the most incomparative, rascalliest, sweet young Prince--- But, Hal, I pr’ythçe, trouble mé no more with vanity; 'I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old Lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, Sir; but I mark'd him not, and yet he talk'd very wisely, and in the street too."*
P. Henry. Thou didft well;' for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.
Fal. O, thou 'halt damnable attraction, and art, indeed, able to corrupt a faint. Thou hast done much harm unto me, Hal, God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, 'Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an' I do not, I am a 'villain. I'll be damn’d for never a King's fon in Christendom.
P: Henry. Where fhall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack
Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an' I do not, call me villain, and baffle meg. "on - P. Henry. I feed a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purse-taking.
Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal. fin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins Now shall we know, if Gads-hill have fet a match. O, if men were to be fav’d by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him !
SC Ε Ν Ε
This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cry'd, Stand, to a true man.
Pi Henry. Good morrow, Ned. 7. Poins: Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Nonfieur Remorse? what says Sir John Sack and Sugar ? Jack ! how agree the devil and thou about thy foul, that thou foldest him on Good Friday last, for a cup of Madera, and a cold capon's leg?
P. Henry. Sir John stands to his word; the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs ; He will give the Devil his due.
Poins. Then thou art damn’d. for keeping thy word with the devil.
P. Henry. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the devil.
Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning by four o'clock, early at Gads-lill: there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses. I have vizards for
you all; you have horses for yourselves: Gads-hill lies to night in Rochester ; 1 have bespoke supper to morrow s night in East-cheap; we may do it as secure as sleep: if you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd. ac Fal. Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going,
Poins. You will, chops?
fellowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood. royal, if thou dar'lt not cry, Stand, for ten shillings,
P. Henry. Well then, once in my days I'll be a. mad-cap.
Fal. Why, that's well said.
Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then when thou art King
P. Henry. I care not.
Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the Prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.
Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speak'st may move, and what he hears may be believ'd; that the true Prince may (for recreation fake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewel, you shall find me in East-cheap.
P. Henry. Farewell, thou latter spring ! Farewell, all-hallown summer!
[Exit Fal Poins. Now, my good sweet honey Lord, ride with us to-morrow. I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, thall rob these men that we have already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there ; and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from off my
shoulders. P. Henry. But how shall we part with them in fetting forth?
Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them; and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have no sooner atchiev'd, but we'll set upon them.
P. Henry: Ay; but ’tis like they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.
Poins. Tut, our horses they shall not see; I'll tie them in the wood ; our vizards we will change after we leavę them; and, firrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments. P, Henry. But I doubt they will be too hard for us.
Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turn'd back; and for the third, .if he fights longer than he fees reason, I'll forfwear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this fame fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper; how thirty at least he fought with, what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, lies the jest.
P. Henry. Well, i'll go with thee; provide us all
the debt I never promised ;
Hot-pur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others.
And you have found me; for accordingly
T You tread upon my patience : but be fure, I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition * Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, And therefore lost that title of respect, Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud.
Wor. Our house, my fov’reign Liege, little deserves The scourge of greatness to be used on it; And that fame greatness too, which our own hands Have help'd to make so portly.
North. My good Lord,
K. Henry. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do fee Danger and disobedience in thine eye. O Sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory; And Majesty might never yet endure
ů. The moody frontlet of a servant-brow. You have good leave to leave us. When we need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.
[Exit Worcester. You were about to speak. [T. Northumberland.
North. Yes, my good Lord. Those prisoners, in your Highness' name demanded. Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were, as he says, not with such strength deny'd As was deliver'd to your Majesty. Or envy therefore, or misprision, Is guilty of this fault, and not my fon.
Hot. My Liege, I did deny no prisoners; But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil. Breathless, and faint, leaning upon niy sword ; • Came there a certain Lord, neat, trimly dress’d; • Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin, new-reap'd,
Shew'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home. * He was perfumed like a milliner; ' And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held • A pouncet-box, which ever and anon • He gave his nose;' (and took't away again; Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
* Condition, for Disposition,