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 hill; I'll go seek him. [Pretends to seek Poins.

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' 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.

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 square further afoot, 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- Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves; Are ye unand-twenty years; and yet I am bewitched with the done? No, ye fat chuffs; I would, your store were rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me here! On, bacons, on! What, ye knaves? young medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; men must live: You are grand-jurors are ye? We'll it could not be else; I have drunk medicines.-jure ye, i'faith. 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 with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threescore and ten miles afoot 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 close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.

Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot 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.

[Exeunt Fals. &c. driving the Travellers out.

Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins.

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.

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

P. Hen. Your money. [Rushing out upon them.
Poins. Villains.

[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 be-
hind them.]

P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse :

P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler? Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with fear garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An ISo strongly, that they dare not meet each other; 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 afoot 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.

Gads. There's enough to make us all.
Ful. 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.

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!

[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 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. 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 a good 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, 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 [Exeunt P. Henry and Poins. me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and

Peto. How many be there of them?
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 need'st 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.

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 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 1, 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 bestir'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
gone?

Enter Servant.

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'horse-back, 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 1 well believe,
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate!
Lady. How! so far?

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 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, as-Tom, 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 met. tle, 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, not?-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! 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 calling-Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but-anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent.

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
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.

Lady. But hear you, my lord.
Hot.

[Exit Servant.

What say'st, my lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot.

My love, my horse.

Lady.

My horse,

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.
1 fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir

About his title; and hath sent for you,
To line his enterprize 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 would'st thou have
with me?

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

Poins. Francis!

P. Hen. Thou art perfect.
Poins. Francis!

Enter Francis.

[Exit Poins.

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

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis?

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.

Fran. Let me see,- About Michaelmas next I There is nothing but roguery to be found in vilshall 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?

Fran. O lord, sir! I would, it had been two.
P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand pound:
ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.
Poins. [Within.] Francis!
Fran. Anon, anon.

P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis: but tomorrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis, Fran. My lord?

P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,Fran. O lord, sir, who do you mean?

P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink: for, look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.

Fran. What, sir?

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 showed 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, Fye 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.

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: lainous 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 still.

P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? what mutter you?

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!

P. 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 canst. 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 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
'scap'd 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 ye with them all?

Fal. All? I know not what ye 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 am I no two-legged

creature.

Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some

Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto. Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a ven-of them. geance too! marry, and amen!-Give me a cup of Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: I have pep. sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew ne-pered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid; ther-stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, Hal,-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me rogue. Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks. horse. Thou knowest my old ward;-here I lay

and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram Hercules: but beware instinct; the lion will not let drive at me,

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

Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to.
These nine in buckram, that I told thee of,-
P. Hen. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points being broken,-
Poins. Down fell their hose.

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!

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? shall we have a play extempore?

P. Hen. Content;-and the argument shall be, thy running away.

Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me.

Enter Hostess.

Host. My lord the prince,

P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? what say'st thou to me?

Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door, would speak with you: he says, he comes from your father.

P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother. Fal. What manner of man is he?

Host. An old man.

Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at mid-
P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do, Jack.
Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing.
P. Hen. Now, sirs; by'r lady, you fought fair;

Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three mis-night ?-Shall I give him his answer?
begotten 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.

[Exit.

P. Hen. These lies are like the father that-so did you, Peto;-so did you, Bardolph: you are begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpa- lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not ble. Why, thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-touch the true prince; no,-fye! pated fool: thou whores on, obscene, greasy tallowkeech,

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is 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.

Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came Falstaff''s sword so hacked?

Peto. Why, he hacked 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 speargrass, to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and to swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices.

P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blush'd extempore: Thou P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-ran'st away; What instinct hadst thou for it? breaker, this huge hill of flesh;-

Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish,-0, 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.

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

P. Hen. I do.

Bard. What think you they portend?
P. Hen. Hot livers and cold purses.
Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter.

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 sawest thine own

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 put you down.-knee? Then did we two set on you four: and, with a word, Fal. My own knee? when I was about thy years, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist; I and can show it you here in the house:-and, could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: still ran and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. here was sir John Bracy from your father; you What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou must to the court in the morning. That same mad hast done; and then say, it was in fight! What fellow of the North, Percy; and he of Wales, that trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst 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 made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it for me, to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as

gave Amaimon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook,-What, a plague, call you him?—

Poins. O, Glendower.

Fal. Owen, Owen; the same;-and his son-inlaw, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o'horseback up a hill perpendicular.