not good-wife Keech the butcher's wife come in then, and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar; telling us the had a good dish of prawns whereby thou did defire to eat some; whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound? and didst nor thou, when she was gone down stairs, defire me to 'be no more so familiarity with fuch poor people, saying that ere long they should call me Madam? and didit thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath, deny it if thou can'st.

Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad foul; and she says up and down the town, that her eldest son is like you. She hath been in good cafe, and the truth is, poverty' hath distracted her, but for these foolish officers, I beseech you I may have redress against them.

Ch. Just. Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words that come with such more than impudent sawciness from you, can thrust me from a level consideration. I know you have practis'd upon the eafie-yielding spirit of this woman.

Hoft. Yes in troth, my lord.

Ch. Just. Pr'ythee, peace; pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villany you have done her; the one you may do with sterling mony, and the other with currant repentance.

Fal. My lord. I will not undergo this † sneap without reply. You call honourable boldness impudent sawci ness: If a man will court'sie and say nothing, he is virtuous. No, my lord, my humble duty remember'd, I will not be your futor: I say to you, I desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hafty employment in the King's affairs.

Ch. Juft. You speak, as having power to do wrong: but answer in the effect your reputation, and satisfie the poor woman.

Fal. Come hither, hostess.

[Afide.

N 4

SCENE

† sneap, a yorkshire word for rebuke.

Ch. Just. Master Gower, what news?

Gower. The King, my lord, and Henry Prince of

Wales

Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells.

it

Fal. As I am a gentleman

Hoft. Nay, you faid so before.

Fal. As I am a gentleman, come, no more words of

Hoft. By this heav'nly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate, and the tapestry of my dining chambers.

Fal. Glaffes, glasses, is the only drinking; and for thy walls, a pretty flight drollery, or the story of the prodigal, or the German hunting in water work, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings, and these fly-bitten tapestries: let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, if it were not for thy humours, there is not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy action: come, thou must not be in this humour with me; come, I know thou wast set on to this.

Hoft. Pr'ythee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles, I am loth to pawn my plate, in good earnest la.

Fal. Let it alone, I'll make other shift; you'll be a fool still.

Hoft. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you'll come to supper; you'll pay me all together?

Fal. Will I live? go with her, with her; hook on, hook on. Hoft. Will you have Doll Tear-Sheet meet you at supper?

Fal. No more words. Let's have her.

[Exeunt Host. and Serjeant.

Ch. Just.

Ch. Just. I have heard better news.
Fal. What's the news, my good lord?
Ch. Just. Where lay the King last night?
Gower. At Basingstoke, my lord.

Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well.

my lord?

Ch. Just. Come all his forces back?

What is the news,

Gower. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred

horse,

Are march'd up to my lord of Lancaster,

Against Northumberland and the Arch-bishop.

Fal. Comes the King back from Wales, my noble

lord?

Ch. Juft. You shall have letters of me presently.

Come, go along with me, good Mr. Gower.

Fal. My lord.

Ch. Just. What's the matter?

Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to

dinner?

Gower. I must wait upon my good lord here,

I thank you, good Sir John.

Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in the countreys as you go..

Fal. Will you fup with me, master Gower? Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you these man-ners, Sir John?

1.

Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me. This is the right fencing grace, my lord, tap for tap, and so part fair.

-Ch. Just. Now the lord lighten thee, thou art a great fool.

[Exeunt.

P. Henry.

SCENE IV.

Continues in London.

Enter Prince Henry and Poinsa

T

RUST me, I am exceeding weary.
Poins. Is it come to that? I had

thought weariness durft not have attach'd one of so high blood.

P. Henry. It doth me, though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Dotr it not shew vilely in me, to desire small beer?

Poins. Why a Prince should not be so loosely studied, as to remember so weak a composition.

P. Henry. Belike then my appetite was not princely got; for in troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But indeed these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name? or to know thy face to morrow? or to take note how many pair of filk stockings thou hast ? (viz. these, and those that were the peach-colour'd ones;) or to bear the inventory of thy shirts, as one for fuperfluity, and one other for ufe; but that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than Is for it is a low ebb of linnen with thee, when thou keepest not racket there, as thou haft not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countreys have made a shift to eat up thy holland. † And God knows whether those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linnen shall inherit his kingdom: but the midwives say the children are not in the fault, whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened..

Poins. How ill it follows, after you have labour'd so hard, you should talk so idely? tell me how many good young Princes should do fo, their fathers lying so fick as yours is.

P.Henry.

+ This period is fupply'd out of the old edition.

P. Henry. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?
Poins. Yes and let it be an excellent good thing.
P. Henry. It shall serve among wits of no higher

breeding than thine.

Poins. Go to; I stand the push of your one thing, that you'll tell.

P. Henry. Why I tell thee, it is not meet that I should be sad now my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee, (as to one it pleases me for fault of a better, to call my friend) I could be sad and sad indeed too.. Poins. Very hardly upon such a subject.

P. Henry. Thou think'it me as far in the devil's book, as thou and Falstaff, for obduracy and persistency. Let' the end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds' inwardly that my father is sick; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from me all oftentation of forrow.

Poins. The reason?

P. Henry. What would'st thou think of me if I should weep?

Poins. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite P. Henry. It would he every man's thought; and thou art a blessed fellow, to think as every man thinks; never a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way better than thine ; every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what excites your most worshipful thought to think so ?

Poins. Why, because you have b seemed so lewd, and so much ingraffed to Falstaff.

P. Henry. And to thee.

Poins. Nay by this light I am well spoken of, I can hear it with mine own ears; the worst they can say of me is, that I am a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands: and those two things I' confess I cannot help. Look, look, here comes Bardolph.

P. Henry. And the boy that I gave Falstaff; he had him from me christian, and fee if the fat villain have not transform'd him ape.