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P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack?
Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's.
P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.
Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said, he would cudgel you.
P. Hen. What! he did not?
Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.
Host. Say, what thing? what thing?
Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me
Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.
Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?
Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou, or any man, knows where to have me, thou knave thou!
P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.
Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound.
P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million : thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love.
Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you.
Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as good as thy word now?
Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.
P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?
Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? an I do, I pray God, my girdle break!
P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine; it is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one. poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will
stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed?
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty. You confess then, you picked my pocket
P. Hen. It appears so by the story.
Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.--Still ?-Nay, pr’ythee, be gone. (Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad,—How is that answered ?
P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee : The money is paid back again,
Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.
P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.
Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too.
Bard. Do, my lord.
Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts ! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.
P. Hen. Bardolph-
P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster, My brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland. Go, Poins, to horse, to horse ; for thou, and I, Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.Jack, Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall At two o'clock i'the afternoon: There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive Money, and order for their furniture. The land is burning; Percy stands on high; And either they, or we, must lower lie.
[Exeunt Prince, Poins, and BARDOLPH. Fal. Rare words! brave world!- Hostess, my break
fast; come: 0, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit.
SCENE I.—The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour :
Hot. Do so, and 'tis well :-.
Enter a Messenger, with Letters.
Mess. These letters come from your father,-
Hot. 'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick,