yet I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the common-wealth; or, rather, not pray to her, but prey on her; for they ride up and down on and make her their boots. Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out water in foul way? Guds. She will, she will! Justice hath liquor'd her t. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible. Cham. Nay, by my faith; I think, you are more beholden to the night, than to fern-seed, for your walking invisible. Gads. Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a share in our purchase ‡, as I am a true man. Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. Gads. Go to; Homo is a common name to all Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. men. SCENE 11-The Road by Gadshill. [Exeunt. Enter Prince HENRY, and POINS; BARDOLPH and PETO, at some distance. Poins. Come, shelter, shelter; I have removed Falstaff's horse, and he frets like a gumm'd velvet. P. Hen. Stand close. Enter FALSTAFF. Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hang'd! Poins! P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal ;-what a brawling dost thou keep? Fal. Where's Poins, Hal? P. Hen. He is waik'd up to the top of the hill; I'll go seek him. [Pretends to seek Poins. Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's company the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-andtwenty years, and yet I am bewitch'd with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd; 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'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn true** man, and leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chew'd with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is three score and ten miles afoot with nie; and the stouy-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 hang'd. P. Hen. 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 ancolted. 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 thy 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. Enter GADSHILL. Gads. Stand. Fal. So I do, against my will. Poins. O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice, Enter BARDOLPH, Bard. What news? Gods. 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 hang'd. 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? 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 hang'd. P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises? [Exeunt P. Henry and Poins. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business. Enter TRAVELLERS. 1 Tray. Come, neighbour; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk afoot a while, and ease our legs. Thieves. Stand. Trav. Jesu bless us! 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 shews 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 + Fat, corpulent. † Clowns. • Portion. § A subject. Drops his fat. you so? I say unto you again, cowardly hind, and you lie. Hot. Away, you are a shallow 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 Edmand 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 skimm'd 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! Of prisoners' ransome, and of soldiers slain, On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, Hot. What say'st, my lady? [Exit Servant. Lady. What is it carries you away? My love, my horse. Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen, I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary love. In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, Away you trifler!--Love? I love thee not, Lady. Do you not love me? Do you not, indeed? Hot. Not an inch further. But hark 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. 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, Half 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 sal vation, 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, clapp'd even now in my hand by an under-skinker; one that never spake other English in his life, than-Eight shitlings 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 pr'ythee, do thou stand in some by-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 shew thee a precedent. Poins. Francis! P. Hen. Thou art perfect. Poins. Francis! Enter FRANCIS. (Exit Poins. denture, and to shew it a faír pair of heels, and ruh | Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis? Fran. Let me see,-About Michaelmas next I shall be Poins. [Within.] Francis! Fran. Anon, Sir.-Pray you, stay a little, my lord. P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou gavest me,-'twas a pennyworth, was't not? Fran. O lord, Sir! I would, it had been two. P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. Poins. [Within.] Francis! Fran. Anon, anon. P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis: but to morrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thurday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,Fran. My lord? P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-ponch,Fran. O lord, Sir, who do you mean? P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink for, look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully in Barbary, Sir, it can not come to so much. Fran. What, Sir? Poins. [Within.] Francis! P. Hen. Away, you rogue; dost thou not hear them call? [Here they both call him; the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go. Enter VINTNER. Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st suci a calling? Look to the guests within. {Exit Francis. My lord, old Sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door; shall I let them in? P. Hen. Let them alone a while, and then open the door. [Exit Vintner.] Poins! Re-enter POINS. Peins. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door; shall we be merry? Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark Se; What cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? Come, what's the issue ? P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have shew'd themselves humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re-enter Francis with Wine.] What's o'clock, Francis? Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! -His industry is-up-stairs, and down-stairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wile,Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou kill'd to-day? Give my roun horse a drench, says he; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trife, a trifle. I prythee, call in Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damn'd. brawn shall play dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow. sack with lime in it; a villainous coward.--Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then ani I a shotten herring. There live not three good men tuhang'd in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old: God help the while! A bad world, I say! I would, I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing: a plague of al cowards, I say still! P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? What mutter you? Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, P'il never wear hair on my face more. You prince of Wales! P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter? Fal. Are you not a coward? Answer me to that; and Poins there? Poms. "Zounds, ye fat paurch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee. 1 Fal. I call thee coward? I'll see thee damn'd ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me.-Give me a cap of sack:I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day. P. Hen. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last. Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say 1. [He drinks. P. Hen. What's the matter? Fal. What's the matter? There be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? Where is it? Ful. Where is it? Taken from us it is: a lundred upon poor four of us. P. Hen. What, a hundred, man? Ful. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hack'd like a hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards--Let them speak: if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness. P. Hen. Speak, Sirs; How was it? Peto. No, no, they were not bound. Fol. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us, Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other. P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all? Fal. All? I know not what ye call, all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legg'd crea ture. Poins. Pray God, you have not murder'd some of them. Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: for I have pepper'd two of them: two, am sure, I have paid; two rogues in backram suits. I tell thee what, Hal,-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward;-Irere buckram let drive at me,I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in P. Hen. What, four? Thou said'st but two, even now. Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee, four. Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO. Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry, and amen!-Give me a cup of sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew netherstocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took rogue. Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks.all their seven points in my target, thus. P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? Pitiful hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the son! If thou didst, then behold that compound. Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of + Stockings. A sweet wine. P. Hen. Seven? Why, there were but four, even now. Fal. In buckram. Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. P. Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall have more anon. Fal. Dost thon hear me, Hal? P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack, Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram, that I told thee of, P. Hen. So, two more already. Fal. Began to give me ground: but I follow'd me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid. P. Hen. O monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out of two! Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me ;-for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brain'd guts; thou knotty-pated fool; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-keecht, Fal. What, art thou mad? Árt thou mad? Is not the truth, the truth? P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason; what say'st thou to this? Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! If reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward; this bed-presser, this horse-backbreaker, this huge hill of flesh;- Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish,-0, for breath to utter what is like thee!-You tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck;P. Hen. Well, breathe a while, and then to it again and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this. Poins. Mark, Jack. P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth.Mark now, now plain a tale shall put you down.Then did we two set on you four: and, with a word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can shew it you here in the house-and, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and still ran and roar'd, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done; and then say, it was in fight? What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ? Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick hast thou now? Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters:-Was it for me, to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself, and thee during my life; I, for a valiant lion, and thou, for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.-Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold. All the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play extempore? P. Hen. Content;-and the argument shall be, thy running away. Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. Enter HOSTESS. Host. My lord the prince, P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? What say'st thou to me? Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door, would speak with you; he says, he comes from your father. P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother. Fal. What manner of man is he? Host. An old man. Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. [Exit. P. Hen. Now, Sirs; by'r lady, you fought fair ;so did you, Peto; so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinet, you will not touch the true prince; no,-fie! Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came Falstaff's sword so hack'd? Peto. Why, he hack'd it with his dagger; and said, he would swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight; and persuaded us to do the like. Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass, to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and swear to it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year before, I blush'd to hear his monstrous devices. P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blush'd extempore: Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st away; what instinct hadst thou for it? Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these exhalations? P. Hen. I do. Bard. What think you they portend? Re-enter FALSTAFF. Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombast!? How long is't ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thine own knee? Fal. My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have crept into an alderman's thumb-ring :-A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: here was Sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave Amainion the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook,—What, a plague, call you him ?- Poins. O, Glendower. Fal. Owen, Owen; the same ;-and his son-inlaw, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o' horse-back up a hill perpendicular. P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying. Fal. You have hit it. P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow. Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him ; he will not run. P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running? Fal. O'horseback, ye cuckoo! but, afoot, he will not budge a foot. P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps [ more :-Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel. P. Hen. Why, then, 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds. Fal. By the mass, lad, thou say'st true; it is like, we shall have good trading that way.-But, tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? Thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Donglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it? P. Hen. Not a whit, i' faith; I lack some of thy instinct. Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, when thou comest to thy father: if thou love me, practise an answer. • In the fact. P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life. Fal. Shall I content:-This chair shall be my + Drunkenness and poverty. Bombast is the stuffing of clothes. A dæmon; who is described as one of the four kings who rule over all the dæmons in the world. Scotsmen in blue bonnets. crown. state*, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown! Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved.-Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept: for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in king Cambyses' vein t. P. Hen. Well, here is my leg. 299 roasted Manningtree • ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? Wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? Wherein cunning, but in craft? Wherein crafty, but in villainy? Wherein villainous, but in all things? Wherein worthy, but in nothing? Fal. I would, your grace would take me with yout; whom means your grace? P. Hen. That villainous abominable misleader of Fal. And here is my speech :-Stand aside, no- youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan. bility. Host. This is excellent sport, i' faith. Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain. queen, For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good ticklebrain-Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I have partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion; but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point ;-Why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher, and eat black-berries? A question not to be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief, and take purses? A question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest: for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only, but in woes also:And yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name. your P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like majesty? Fal. A good portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit, by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month? P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father. Ful. Depose me? If thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbet-sucker ** or a poulter's hare. P. Hen. Well, here I am set. Fal. And here I stand :-Judge, my masters P. Hen. Now, Harry? Whence come you? P. Hen. The complaints I hear of thee are griev ous. Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false :-Nay, I'll tickle ye for a young prince, i' faith. P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? Hence. forth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humonrs, that bolting-hutch it of beastliness, that swoin parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard II of sack, that stuff'd cloak-bag of guts, that Fal. My lord, the man I know. Fal. But to say, 'I know more harm of him than P. Hen. I do, I will. Re-enter BARDOLPH, running. much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff. Re-enter HOSTESS, hastily. Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord! Fal. Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddlestick: What's the matter? Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door: they are come to search the house; shall I let them in ? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece of gold, a counterfeit: thou art essentially mad, without seeming so. P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without in. stinct. Fal. I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, so; if not, let him enter: if I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! I hope, I shall as soon be strangled with a halter, as another. P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras ;-the rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true face, and good conscience." Fal. Both which I have had: but their date is out, and therefore I'll hide me. [Exeunt all but the the Prince and Poins P. Hen. Call in the sheriff,- Enter SHERIFF and CARRIER. Now, master sheriff; what's your will with me? Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious Čar. As fat as butter.. P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here; He shall be answerable; and so, farewell. P. Hen. I think, it is good morrow; Is it not? • In Essex, where a large ox was roasted whole. Go no faster than I can follow. |
