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A Room in the Castle.
Enter Hotspur, 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,—why is he not, then? In respect of the love he bears our house!-he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. pose 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 unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.-Say you so? say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the lord, our plot is a good plot, as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frostyspirited rogue is this! 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 they not, some of them, set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all our proceedings. Oh, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action! Hang him ! let him tell the king, we are prepared : I will set forward to-night.
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 thine eyes upon the earth; And start so often, when thou sitt'st alone? 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 prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, And all the 'currents of a heady fight. Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it, else he loves me not. Hot. What, ho !
Rab. He is, my lord, an hour ago.
Hot. That roan shall be my throne.
Lady. But hear you, my lord.
Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape!
Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
I know you wise; but yet no further wise,
Lady. How! so far?
Hot. Not an inch further. But hark
The Boar's Head Tavern, in Eastcheap.
Enter HenrY, PRINCE OF WALES.
amongst three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them by all their Christian names, as—Toni, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff; but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy,--by the lord so they call me,-and, when I am King of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language, during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned,- to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now into my hand by an under-skinker; one that never spake other English in his life, than—“ Eight shillings and sixpence,”—and " You are welcome;" with this shrill addition, “ Anon, anon, sir,"
6 Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon," or so. But, Ned, to drive away
the time till Falstaff come, I pr’ythee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my puny drawer to what end he
the do thou never leave calling-Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but-anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent, Poins. Francis !
[Exit Poins. P. Hen. Thou art perfect. Poins. Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon, sir.-Look down into the Pomgranate, Ralph.
P. Hen. Come hither, Francis.
sir. P. Hen. Five years ! by'r-lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter! But, Francis, dar'st thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, and show it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?