Fal, I hope, my lord, all's well: What's the news, my lord?

Ch. Juft. Come all his forces back?

Gower. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, Are march'd up to my lord of Lancaster,

Against Northumberland, and the archbishop.

Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord? Ch. Juft. You fhall have letters of me presently: Come, go along with me, good mafter Gower. Fal. My lord!

Ch. Juft. What's the matter?

Fal. Mafter Gower, fhall I entreat you with me to dinner?

Gower. I must wait upon my good lord here: I thank you, good fir John.

Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take foldiers up in counties as you go.

Fal. Will you fup with me, mafter Gower?

Ch. Juft. What foolish mafter taught you these manners, fir John?

Fal. Mafter Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me.-This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, and fo part fair.

Ch. Juft. Now the Lord lighten thee! thou art a great

fool.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Continues in London.

Enter Prince Henry, and Poins.

P. Henry. Trust me, I am exceeding weary.

Poins. Is it come to that? I had thought, weariness

durft not have attach'd one of fo high blood.

P. Henry.

P. Henry. 'Faith, it does me; though it difcolours the complexion of my greatnefs to acknowledge it. Doth it not fhew vilely in me, to defire small beer?

Poins. Why, a prince fhould not be fo loosely ftudied, as to remember to weak a compofition.

P. Henry. Belike then, my appetite was not princely got; for, in troth, I do now remember the poor creature, fmall beer. But, indeed, thefe humble confiderations make me out of love with my greatness. What a difgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? or to know thy face to-morrow? or to take note how many pair of filk stockings thou haft; viz. these, and those that were the peachcolour'd ones? or to bear the inventory of thy fhirts; as, one for fuperfluity, and one other for use?—but that, the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee, when thou keepeft not racket there; as thou haft not done a great while, because the reft of thy low-countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland: and God knows, whether those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen, fhall inherit his kingdom: but the midwives fay, the children are not in the fault; whereupon the world encreases, and kindreds are mightily strengthen'd.

Poins. How ill it follows, after you have labour'd fo hard, you should talk fo idly? Tell me, how many good young princes would do fo, their fathers being fo fick as yours at this time is?

P. Henry. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?

Poins. Yes; and let it be an excellent good thing. P. Henry. It fhall ferve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.

athy low-countries]-thy vices.

and God knows, whether thole that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen, fball inherit bis kingdom: &c.]-whether thy baftards are christened,

Poins. Go too; I ftand the push of your one thing that you will tell.

P. Henry. Why, I tell thee,-it is not meet that I should be fad, now my father is fick albeit I could tell to thee, (as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend) I could be fad, and fad indeed too.

Poins. Very hardly, upon fuch a fubject.

P. Henry. By this hand, thou think'st me as far in the devil's book, as thou, and Falstaff, for obduracy and perfiftency: Let the end try the man. But I tell thee,-my heart bleeds inwardly, that my father is fo fick and keeping fuch vile company as thou art, hath in reason taken from me all' oftentation of forrow.

Poins. The reason?

P. Henry. What would'st thou think of me, if I should weep?

Poins. I would think thee a moft princely hypocrite.

P. Henry. It would be every man's thought: and thou art a bleffed fellow, to think as every man thinks; never a man's thought in the world keeps a road-way better than thine every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what 'accites your most worshipful thought, to think fo?

Poins. Why, because you have been fo lewd, and fo much engraffed to Falstaff.

P. Henry. And to thee.

Poins. Nay, by this light, I am well spoken of, I can hear it with my own ears: the worst that they can say of me is, that I am a fecond brother, and that I am" a proper fellow of my hands; and thofe two things, I confefs, I cannot help. Look, look, here comes Bardolph.

⚫ oftentation]-outward fhew.

taccites]-induces.

a proper fellow of my bands;]-a handfome, well made fellow of my inches.

P. Henry.

P. Henry. And the boy that I gave Falstaff: he had him from me chriftian; and fee, if the fat villain have not transform'd him ape.

Enter Bardolph, and Page.

Bard. 'Save your grace!

P. Henry. And yours, most noble Bardolph!

Bard. [to the page.] Come, you virtuous afs, you bashful fool, muft you be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man at arms are you become? Is it such a matter, to get "a pottle-pot's maidenhead?

Page. He call'd me even now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could difcern no part of his face from the window at laft, I spy'd his eyes; and, methought, he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat, and peep'd through.

P. Henry. Hath not the boy profited?

Bard. Away, you whorefon upright rabbet, away! Page. Away, you rafcally' Althea's dream, away! P. Henry. Inftruct us, boy: What dream, boy? Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dream'd fhe was deliver'd of a firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream. P. Henry. A crown's-worth of good interpretation.— There it is, boy. [Gives him money.

Poins. O, that this good bloffom could be kept from cankers !-Well, there is fix-pence to preferve thee.

Bard. An you do not make him be hang'd among you, the gallows fhall have wrong.

P. Henry. And how doth thy mafter, Bardolph?

a pottle-pot's maidenhead?]-half feas over.
new]-fcarlet petticoat.

Althea's dream,]-the firebrands of Hecuba and Althea are here confounded; Althea's was real, Hecuba's the fubject only of a dream. HENRY VI. Part II. A&I. S. 1. York. Bard.

Bard. Well, my good lord. He heard of your grace's: coming to town; there's a letter for

you.

Poins. Deliver'd with good refpect.-And how doth. 2 the martlemas your master?

Bard. In bodily health, fir?

a

Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician: but that moves not him; though that be sick, it dies not. P. Henry. I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog and he holds his place; for, look you, how he writes.

Poins reads. John Falstaff, knight,-Every man must know that, as oft as he hath occafion to name himself. Even like thofe that are kin to the king; for they never prick their finger, but they fay, There is fome of the king's blood fpilt: How comes that? fays he, that takes upon him not to conceive: the answer is as ready as a borrowed cap; I am the king's poor coufin, fir.

b

P. Henry. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. But to the letter:

Poins. Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the fon of the king, nearest his father, Harry prince of Wales, greeting.—Why, this is a certificate.

P. Henry. Peace!

Poins. I will imitate the honourable Roman in brevity: -fure he means brevity in breath; fhort-winded.-I.commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he mifufes thy favours fo much, that he fwears, thou art to marry his fifter Nell. Repent at

2 the martlemas]-the old fellow with young paffions.

a this wen]-this fwoln excrefcence.

b as ready as a borrowed cap ;]—as a fmart retort furnished by a good memory. "I will cap that prover," &c.

HENRY V. Act III. S. 7. Con.

—as a borrower's cap-which must be ever at hand. the bonourable Roman in brevity:]—Julius Cæfar's veni, vidi, vici.