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Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?

P. Hen. He is walked 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-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the 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 l'll rob a foot further. 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man, and 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. 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 my 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, 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

Enter GADSHILL.
Gads. Stand.
Fal. So I do, against my will.
Poins. 0, 'tis our setter: Í know his voice.

Enter BARDOLPH.
Bard. What news ?

Gads. 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 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.

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P. Hal. 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. Ned, where are our disguises ?
Poins. Here, hard by; stand close.

[Exeunt P. Henry and Poins. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

Enter Travellers. i Trav. 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 !

Fal. Strike; down with them ; cut the villains' throats : Ah! whorson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth : down with them; fleece them.

i Trav. 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. 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.

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Re-enter Thieves. 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.

[Rushing out upon them. .
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 his 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 !

[Ereunt.

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 more.

The
purpose you

under

take, 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 as good a 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, beside, 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

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