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further. An 'twere not as good a deed as to drink, to turn true-man, and to leave these


I am the verielt varlet that ever chew'd with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threescore and ten miles a-foot with me: and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true one to another. [They whistle.] Whew! plague upon you all. Give me my horse ; 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 list 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-loot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer, What a pleague mean ye to colt me thus ?

P. Henry. Thou lyeit, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal. I pr’ythee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good King's son.

P. Henry. Out, you rogue ! shall I be your oftler ?

Fal. Go hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent garters; if I be ta’en, l'll peach for this; an' I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of fack be my poison; when a jelt 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. 0, 'tis our setter, I know his voice.
Bardolph, what news ?

Bard. Case ye, cafeye; 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. Tow lane; Ned Poin and I will walk lower; if they 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us.


N 2

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 horse stands behind the hedge ; when thou need's him, there shalt thou find him, farewel, and stand fast.

Fal. Now cannot I ftrike 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 businefs.

SCENE IV. Enter Travellers. Trav. Come, neighbour ; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk a-foot a while, and ease our legs.

Thieves. Stand ! Trav. Jesu bless us !

Fal. Strike; down with them, cut the villains throats; ah! whorson 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 must 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 close, I hear them coming.

Enter thieves again. Fal. Come, my masters let us share, and then to horse before day; an’the Prince and Poins be not two


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 Maring, the Prince and Poins set up

on them. They all run away ; and Falstaff, af. ter a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the

booty behind them. P. Henry. Got with much ease. Now merrily to

horse :
The thieves are scatter'd, and poffefs’d with fear
So strongly that they dare not meet each other;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Now Falstatf sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along :
Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poins. How the rogue roar’d!

[Exeunt. SCENE. V. Lord Percy's house.

Enter Hot-spur folus, reading a letter. But for mine own part, my Lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house. He could be contented to be there; why is he not then? In respect of the love he bears our houfe! he shews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you'undertake is dangerous. Why, that's certain : 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink: but I tell you, my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower safety. The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have named uncertain, the time itself unforted, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoife of so great an oppofition. Say you fo, say you fo? I say unto you again, you are a shallow 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 frosty-spirited rogue this is? Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I



could brain him with his Lady's fan *. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? is there not, besides, the Douglas ? have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month ? and are there not some of them fet forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this? an infidel. Ha !

shall fee now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimm’d milk with so Honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will set 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, sweet Lord, what is't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thy eyes upon the earth, And start so often when thou fittft alone ? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ? And given my treasures and my rights of thee, To thick-ey'd musing, and curs’d melancholy? “ In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, “ And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars; “ Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;

Cry, Courage ! To the field! and thou hast talk'd “ Of fallies, and retires; of trenches, tents; " Of palisadoes, fortins, parapets; “ Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin; Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers sain, so And all the current of a heady fight.” Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweet have stood upon thy brow. Like bubbles in a late-difturbed stream: And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, * The fans then in fashion, had very long handles,


Such as we fee when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste. 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 these hortes from the She-
Serv. One horie, my Lord, he brought ev'n now.
Hot. What horse ? a roan, a crop-car, is it not ?
Serv. It is, my Lord.
Hot. That roan shall be


throne. Well, I will back him strait. O Esperance ! Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Servant.

Lady. But hear you, my Lord.
Hot. What fay'st thou, my Lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away

Hot. Why, my horfe, my love, my horse.

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! a weazel hath not
Such a deal of spleen as you are toss’d with.
In faith, I'll know your business, that I will.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title, and hath sent for you
To line his enterprise. But if you go

Hot. So far a-foot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question I shall ask.
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.
We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns,
And pass them current too-Gods me! my horse! [me?
What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have with

Lady. Do ye not love me? do you not indeed ?
Well, do not then. For, since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest or no.
Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
i, 6. girls.


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