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A Room in the Castle.

The pur

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 !

Enter Raby.
Is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Rab. He is, my lord, an hour ago.
Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the

Rab. One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
Hot. What horse ? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
Rab. It is, my lord.

Hot. That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight.- esperance !
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Raby.

Lady. But hear you, my lord.
Hot. What say'st thou, my lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weazle hath not such a deal of spleen,
As you are toss'd with.-In faith,
I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title; and bath sent for you,
To line his enterprise: but if you go

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.

Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question that I ask.
In faith, 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!
What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have

with me?
Lady. Do you 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?
And when I am o' horseback, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate;
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout:
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.

I know you wise; but yet no further wise,
Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are;
But yet a woman : and for secrecy,
No lady closer; for I well believe,
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark
Whither I go, thither shall you go too;
Te-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.-
Will this content you, Kate?
Lady. It must, of force.


you, Kaie:


The Boar's Head Tavern, in Eastcheap.

P. Hen. Ned, pr’ythee come out of that fat room,
And lend me thy hand to laugh a little.

Enter Poins.
Poins. Where hast been, Hal?
P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, am

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

gave me

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 !

sugar; and


Fran. Anon, anon, sir.-Look down into the Pomgranate, Ralph.

P. Hen. Come hither, Francis.
Fran. My lord.
P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis ?
Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to
Poins. Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon,

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?

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