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Gads. We four fet upon some dozen.
Fal. Sixteen, at least, my Lord.
Gads. And bound them.
Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or i am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.

Gads. As we were sharing, some fix or seven fresh men set upon us.

Fal. And unbound the rest, and then came in the other.

P. Henry. What, fought ye with them all ?

Fal. All ! I know not what you call all : but if I fo!ight not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish. If there were not two or three and fifty úpon poor old Jack, then am I no two legg'd creature.

Poins. Pray heav'n, you have not murthered some of them.

Fal. Nay, that's pait praying for. I have pepper'd two of them; two, I am sure, I have pay'd, two rogues in buckram-suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thée a lye, spit in my face, call me horfe; thou know'st my old ward ; here I lay, and thus i bore my point; four rogues

in buckram let drive at me. P. Henry. What, four? thou faidīt but two, even


Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four.
Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal. Theie four came all a-front, and mainly thruf at me; I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

P. Henry. Seven' why there were but four, even now.
Fal. In buckram.
Poins. Ay, four, in buckram-fnits.
Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
P. Henry. Prythee let him alone, we shall have more


Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?
P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do so, for it is worth the list ning to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of

P. Henry. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points being broken

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Poins. Down fell his hofe.

Fal. Began to give me ground; but I follow'd me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, feven of the eleven I pay’d.

P. Henry. O monstrous! eleven buckram-men grown out of two!

Fal. But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at my back, and let drive at me; (for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldīt not see thy hand).

P. Henry. These lyes are like the father that begets them, grofs as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brain'd guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whorfon obscene greaty tallow-catch

Fal. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

P. Henry. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou could it not see thy hand ? Comé tell us your reason : what say'st thou to this?

Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.

Fal. What, upon compulfion? no; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulfion! if reasons were as plenty as black-berries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.

P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this fin. This fanguine coward, this bed-preifer, this horse-backbreaker, this huge hill of fleih,

Fal. Away, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dry'd neat's tongne, bull's-pizzel, you stock-fith. O for breath to utter! What is like thee? You tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-cate, you vile standing tuck,

P. Henry Well, breathe a while, and then to't again; and when thou hast tir'd thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this,

Poins. Mark Jack.

P. Henry. We two saw you four set on four, you bound them, and were masters of their wealth ; mark now how a plain tale fhall put you down. Then did we two set on you four, and with a word outface'd you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can shew it you


made ye.

here in the house. And, Falstaff, you carry'd your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and itill ran and roar'd, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight?-What trick? what device? what starting-hole canit thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame!

Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick hast thou now? Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that

Why, hear ye, my masters; was it for me to kill the heir-apparent? Should I turn upon the true Prince? Why, thou knoweit, I am as valiant as Hercules; bui beware instinct, the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I, for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.

Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry Thall we have a play extempore?

P. Henry. Content :—and the argument shall be thy running away. Fal. Ah!--no more of that, Hal, if thou lovelt me. S CE N E X.

Enter Hoftefs. Hoft. O Jesu! my Lord the Prince !

P. Henry. How now, my Lady the hostess, what fay'st thou to me?

Hoft. Marry, my Lord, there is a Nobleman of the court at door would speak with you; he says he comes from your

father. P. Henry. Give him as much as will make him

royal man, and send him back again to my mother.

Fal. What manner of man is he ?
Hoft. An old man.

Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?
Shall I give him his answer?
P. Henry. Priythee, do, Jack,


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Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. [ Exit.

P. Henry. Now, Sirs, by'r Lady, you fought fair; fo did you, Peto; fo did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct; you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie!

Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run.

P. Henry. Tell menow, in earnest, how came Falstaff's fword so hack'd ?

Peto. Why, he hack'd it with his dagger, and said, he would swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and persuaded us to do the like.

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grafs, to make them bleed; and then beslubber our garments with it, and swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not these seven years before, I blush'd to hear his monstrous devices.

P. Henry. O villain, thou stolest a cup of fack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou haft blush'd extempore; thou hadít fire and sword on thy fide, and yet thou rannelt away; what inftinét hadft thou for it?

Bard. My Lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations ?

P. Henry. I do.
Bard. What think you they portend?
P. Henry. Hot livers, and cold purses.
Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken.
P. Henry. No, if rightly taken, halter.

S CE N E XI. Re-enter Falstaff.
Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How
now, my sweet creature of bombast, how long is't ago,
Jack, since thou saw'st thy own knee?

Fal. My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waste; I could have crept into an alderman's thumb-ring: a plague of fighing and grief, it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villanous news abroad: here was Sir John Braby from your father; you muit go to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the North, Percy, and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the bastinado, and



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made Lucifer cuckold, and fwore the devil this true Liegeman upon the crofs of a Welch hook: what a plague calt


Pains. 0, Glendower. "Lei

Fal. Owen, Owen; the fame; and his son-in-law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly
Scot of Scots Douglas, that runs a horseback up a
hill perpendicular

P. Henry. He that rides at high speed, and with a pistol kills a sparrow Aying.

Fal. You have hit it. P. Henry. So did he never the sparrow. Fal. Well; that rafcal had good mettle in him, he will not run. WP. Henry. Why,what a rafcal art thou then, to praise him fo for running?

Fal. A horseback, ye cuckow,--but a-foot, he will not budge a foot.

P. Henry. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. - Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct well, he is there too, and one Mordac, and a thousand blue-caps more. Worcester is stoln away by night: thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news : you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel.

P. Henry. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundred.

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou say'st true ; it is like we shall bave good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horribly afeard? thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Piercy, and that devil Glendower ? art thou not horribly afraid ? doth not thy blood thrill at it?

P. Henry. Not a whit, i'faith ; I lack some of thy instinct.

Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, when thou com'it to thy father : if thou do love me, practise an answer.

P. Henry. Do thou stand for my father, and examine
me upon the particulars of my life..


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