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put a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.

Enter another Carrier.

Cham. No, I'll none of it: I pr'ythee keep that for the hangman; for, I know, thou worship'st saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may.

Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? if I hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows: for, if I hang, old sir John hangs with pie; and, thou knowest, he's no starveling. Tut! there are other Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for sport' sake, are content to do the profession some grace; that would, if matters should be looked into, for their own credit' sake, make all whole. I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, six-penny strikers; none of these mad, mustachio, purple-hued malt-worms: but with nobility, and tranquillity; burgomasters, and great oneyers; such as can hold in; such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray: and yet

1 Car. What, ostler! come away, and be hang- I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the ed, come away. commonwealth; or, rather, not pray to her, but prey on her; for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots

2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots this house is turned upside down, since Robin ostler died.

1 Car. Poor fellow! never joyed, since the price of oats rose; it was the death of him.

2 Car. I think, this be the most villainous house in all London round for fleas: I am stung like a tench.

1 Car. Like a tench? by the mass, there is ne'er a king in Christendom could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.

2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, and then we leak in your chimney; and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach.

2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as CharingCross.

1 Car. 'Odsbody! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved.-What, ostler!-A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain.-Come, and be hanged:-hast no faith

in thee?

Enter Gadshill.

Gads. Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a

Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? share in our purchase, as I am a true man. 1 Car. I think it be two o'clock.

Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.

Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding in the stable.

1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye; I know a trick worth two of that, i'faith.

Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine.

2 Car. Ay, when? canst tell?-Lend me thy lantern, quoth-a?-marry, I'll see thee hanged first.

Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?

2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee.-Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen; they will along with company, for they have great charge.

[exeunt Carriers.

Gads. What, ho! chamberlain Cham. [within.] At hand, quoth pick-purse. Gads. That's even as fair as-at hand, quoth the chamberlain: for thou variest no more from picking of purses, than giving direction doth from labouring; thou lay'st the plot how. Enter Chamberlain.

Cham. Good morrow, master Gadshill. It bolds current, that I told you yesternight: there's a franklin in the wild of Kent, hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company, last night at supper; a kind of auditor; one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are up already, and call for eggs and butter: they will away presently.

Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? will she hold out water in foul way?

Gads. She will, she will; justice hath liquored her. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible.

Cham. Nay, by my faith; I think you are more beholden to the night, than to fern-seed, for your walking invisible.

Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll give thee this neck.

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Enter Falstaff.

Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! What a brawling dost thou keep?

Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?

P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the bill; I'll go seek him. [pretends to seek Poins.

Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's company: the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the 'squire further a-foot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; it could not be else; I have drunk medicines.-Poins!-Hal!-a plague upon you both!-Bardolph!-Peto!-I'll starve, ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man, and leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed

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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 to one
another! [they whistle.] Whew!—A plague upon
you all!
Give me my horse, you rogues; give
me my horse, and be hanged.

P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.

Fal. Have ye any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far a-foot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye, to colt me thus?

P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my horse; good king's son.

P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler? Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison: when a jest is so forward, and a-foot too, I hate it. Enter Gadshill.

Gads. Stand.

Fal. So I do, against my will.

Poins. O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice.
Enter Bardolph.
Bard. What news?

Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your visors; there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer.

Fal. You lie, you rogue; 'tis going to the king's

tavern.

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 stirAn Iring: there's no more valour in that Poins, than in a wild duck.

P. Hen. Your money. [rushing out: upon them.
Poins. Villains!

Gads. There's enough to make us all.
Fal. To be hanged.

P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins, and I, will walk lower; if they 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us.

Pet. How many be there of them?

throats: Ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them.

1 Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours, for ever.

Ful. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves; are ye 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.

Gads. Some eight, or ten.

Fal. Zounds! will they not rob us?

P. Hen. What, a coward, sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather: but yet no coward, Hal.

P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof. Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge: when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged.

P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises? Poins. Here, hard by; stand close. [exit with P. Hen. Fal. Now, my masters, happy inan be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

Enter Travellers.

[ereunt Fal. &c. driving the Travellers out. Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins.

1 Trav. Come, neighbour; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk a-foot awhile, and case our legs.

Thieves. Stand.

P. Hen. 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 Re-enter Thieves.

[exeunt.

SCENE III. WARKWORTH. 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 hear 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. 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 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 as good a plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation: an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, myself? lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? is there not, beside, the

1 Trav. Jesu bless us!

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me

[As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them. Falstaff, after a blow or two, and the rest, run away, leaving their booty behind them. [horse: P. Hen. Got with much ease, Now merrily to The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with fear So strongly, that they dare not meet each other; Each takes his fellow for an officer. Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along: Wer't not for laughing, I should pity him. Poins. How the rogue roar'd!

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. O, 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 tonight.

Enter Lady Percy.

How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two hours.

Lady P. 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 sit'st 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 sallies, and retires; of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets;
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin;
Of prisoners' ransome, and of soldiers slain,
And all the 'currents 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 sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream:
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see, when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents
are these!

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet
gope?

Enter Servant. Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?

Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought, even

now.

Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? Serv. It is, my lord.

Hot. That roan shall be my throne. Well, I will back him straight: O esperance !— Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [exit Servant. Lady P. But hear you, my lord. Hot. What say'st, my lady? Lady P. What is it carries you away? Hot. My horse,

My love, my horse.

Lady P. Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen,
As
you are toss'd with.
In faith,
I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.

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Lady P. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?

1

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 where about:
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 P. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch farther. But hark you, Kate? Whither I go, thither shall you go too; To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.Will this content you, Kate?

Lady P. It must, of force.

[exeunt.

SCENE IV. EASTCHEAP. A ROOM IN THE BOAR'S HEAD TAVERN.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins.

P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Poins. Where hast thou been, Hal?

P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, 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 all by their christian names, asTom, 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. They call-drinking deep, dying scarlet: and when you breathe in your watering, they cry-hem!-and bid you play it off.-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 in 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! 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 sugar; and do thou never leave callingFrancis, that his tale to me may be nothing but-anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent.

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Fran. O lord, sir! I'll be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heartPoins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis?

Fran. Let me see,-about Michaelmas next shall be

Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, sir.-Pray you, stay a little, my lord.

P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou gavest me,-'twas a pennyworth, was't not?

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Poins. [Within] Francis!

P. Hen. Away, you rogue; dost thou not hear them call. [here they both call him; the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go. Enter Vintner.

Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? look to the guests within. [exit Fran.] My lord, old sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door; shall I let them in?

P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. [exit Vintner.] Poins! Re-enter Poins. Poins. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door; shall we be merry?

Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye: what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? come, what's the

issue?

P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have show'd themselves humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re-enter Francis with wine.] What's o'clock, Francis?

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman!-His industry is-up stairs, and down stairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife,-Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed to-day ?-Give my roan horse a drench, says he; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff! I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer, his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow. Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto. Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been?

Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance, too! marry, and amen!-Give me a cup of sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether-stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, rogue.-Is there no virtue extant?

[he drinks.

P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the son? if thou didst, then behold that compound.

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it; a villainous coward.-Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say! I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing: a plague of all cowards, I say etill!

P. Hen How now, wool-sack? what mutter | here I lay, and thus I bore my point Four you? rogues in buckram let drive at me,—

P. Hen. What, four? thou said'st but two,

even now.

Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee, like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You prince of Wales!

F. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that; and Poins there?

Poins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound, I could run as fast as thou can'st. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me.-Give me a cup of sack :-I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.

P. Hen. O, villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last.

Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I. [he drinks.

P. Hen. What's the matter?

Fal. What's the matter? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it? Fal. Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us.

P. Hen. What, a hundred, man?

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cowards !-Let them speak: if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.

P. Hen. Speak, sirs; how was it?

Gads. We four set 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 six or seven fresh men set upon us,—————

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

P. Hen. What, fought you with them all? Fal. All? I know not what you call, all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-legged

creature.

Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some of them.

Ful. Nay, that's past praying for: for I have peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal,-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me a horse. Thou knowest ny old ward;

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Fal. Began to give me ground: but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven. I paid.

P. Hen. 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 could'st not see thy hand.

P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts;-thou knotty-pated fool; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy, tallowkeech,

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

P. Hen. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendal-green, when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand? come, tell us your reason; what sayest thou to this?

Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion? 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 compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.

P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin: this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,

Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, bull's-pizzle, you stock-tish,

O, for breath to utter what is like thee!— you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing-tuck ;

P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons hear me speak but this.

Poins. Mark, Jack.

P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth.. Mark now, how plain a tale shall

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