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 't were not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man, and to 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. [Coming forward.] 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.

P. Hen. Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostier? 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, 't is our setter: I know his voice.

[Coming forward with BARDOLPH and PETO.

Bard. What news?

Gads. Case ye, case ye: on with your visards: there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 't is going to the king's exchequer.

Fal. You lie, ye rogue: 't is 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 needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.

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

P. Hen. [Aside to POINS.] Ned, where are our disguises?

Poins. Here, hard by: stand close.

[Exeunt Prince HENRY and POINS.

Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I: every man to his business.

Enter the Travellers.

1 Trav. Come, neighbour;

The boy shall lead our horses down the hill;
We'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs.

Thieves. Stand!

Travellers. Jesu bless us !

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats. Ah, whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed

knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them.

Travellers. 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 FALSTAFF, &c., driving the Travellers out.

Re-enter Prince HENRY and POINS, in buckram

suits.

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.

Enter the Thieves again.

[They retire.

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!

[As they are sharing, the PRINCE and POINS set upon them. They all run away, and FALSTAFF, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.

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

horse:

The thieves are scattered, and possessed 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:
Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poins. How the rogue roared!

[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