down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far a-foot 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 prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's son.

P. Hen. Out, ye 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 a-foot too!-I hate it. Enter GADSHILL.

Gads. Stand!

Fal. So I do, against my will.

Pointz. O, 'tis 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; 'tis going to the king's exchequer.

Fal. You lie, ye 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 Pointz 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.

Pointz. 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 Pointz] Ned, where are our disguises? Pointz. [aside to P. Hen.] Here, hard by: stand close. [Exeunt P. Henry and Pointz. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I: every man to his business.

Enter Travellers.

First Trav. Come, neighbour:

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

Fal., Gads., &c. Stand!

Sec. Trav. 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.

First Trav. 0, we're 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 grandjurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, i'faith.

[Exeunt Fal., Gads., &c. driving the Travellers out.

Re-enter Prince HENRY and POINTZ, 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.

Poin. Stand close: I hear them coming.

[They retire. Re-enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO.

Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. An the Prince and Pointz be not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring: there's no more valour in that Pointz than in a wild-duck.

[As they are sharing, the Prince and Pointz set upon them.

P. Ilen. Your money!

Poin. Villains!

[Gadshill, Bardolph, Peto, and (after a blow or two) Falstaff, run away, leaving the 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:
Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poin. How the rogue roar'd!

SCENE III. Warkworth. A room in the Castle.

Enter HOTSPUR, reading a letter.

-

[Exeunt.

Let

Hot. "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. 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 sitt'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 ransom'd, and of soldiers slain,
And all the 'currents of a heady fight.

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thou hast so bestirr'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 hest. 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!

Enter a Servant.

Is Gilliams with the packet gone?

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.

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 thou, my lady?

Lady.

What is it carries you away?

- that I will.

A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
As you are toss'd with. In faith,
I'll know your business, Harry,
I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title, and hath sent for you
To line his enterprize: but if you go,

love.

Hot. So far a-foot, I shall be weary,
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 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: