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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 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 bis 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!


SCENE 111. 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 beur 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 í 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. 0, 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.

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

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 sitst 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' ransom, 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 babbles 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?
Serv. It is, my lord.

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.

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

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.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title ; and hath sent for you,
To line his enterprise : But if you go-

Hot. So far a-foot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady P. 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 wouldst thou have with

me? Lady P. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed ? 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 intinitely. But hark you, Kate;
I must not have you benceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabont :
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, geutle 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 further. But bark 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 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 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

into my hand by an underskinker; 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 prythee, do thou stand in some bye-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.

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

[Exit Poins. Enter FRANCIS. Frun. Anon, anon, sir.—Look down into the Pomegranate, Ralph.

P. Hen. Come hither, Francis. Fran. My lord. P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis ? Fran. Forsooth, five year, and as much as toPoins. [Within) Francis? Fran. Anon, anon, sir. P. Hen. Five years ! by’r lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and to show it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?

Fran. O lord, sir! I'll be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heart

Poins. [Within] Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

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