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 thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I 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.

Gads. Stand.

Enter GADSHILL.

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.

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.

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.

[Exeunt P. HENRY and POINS. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

Enter Travellers.

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

Thieves. Stand.

Trav. Jesu bless us!

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats: Ah! whorson 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. 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.

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

Re-enter Prince HENRY and POINS.

P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men: 9 Now could thou and I rob the thieves, and go merrily

6

dole,] The portion of alms distributed at Lambeth palace gate is at this day called the dole.

7

8

gorbellied-] i. e. fat and corpulent.

ye fat chuffs:] This term of contempt is always applied to rich and avaricious people.

9

the true men:] In the old plays a true man is always set in opposition to a thief.

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.
Poins. Villains.

[Rushing out upon them.

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

[Exeunt.

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

1 argument for a week,] Argument is subject matter for conversation or a drama.

2 Enter Hotspur, reading a Letter.] This letter was from George Dunbar, earl of March, in Scotland.

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 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. 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 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.

4

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.

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?

3 Of basilisks,] A basilisk is a cannon of a particular kind. 4 And all the 'currents] i. e. the occurrences. In old language occurrent was used instead of occurrence.