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Prince. Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink, for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully; in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much. Francis. What, sir?

Poins. [Within] Francis!

Prince. Away, you rogue! dost thou not hear them call?

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[Here they both call him; he stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.

Enter Vintner

Vintner. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such 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?

Prince. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door.- [Exit Vintner.] Poins!

Re-enter POINS

Poins. Anon, anon, sir.

Prince. 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 ye ; what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? come, what 's the issue?

Prince. I am now of all humours that have showed themselves humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight.

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Re-enter FRANCIS

What 's o'clock, Francis?

Francis. Anon, anon, sir.

[Exit.

Prince. 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 100 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 wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.' 'O my sweet Harry,' says she, how many hast thou killed to-day?' 'Give my roan horse a drench,' says he; and answers 'Some fourteen,' an

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hour after; a trifle, a trifle.'. -I prithee, call in Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. 'Rivo!' says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.

III

Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO; FRANCIS following with wine

Poins. Welcome, Jack, where hast thou been? Falstaff. 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 nether stocks and mend them and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! - Give me a cup of sack, rogue. — Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks. Prince. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish

of butter? pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun! if thou didst, then behold that compound.

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Falstaff. You rogue, here 's lime in this sack too. There is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man; yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it. A villanous coward! — Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat and 130 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 all cowards, I say still.

Prince. How now, wool-sack! what mutter you? Falstaff. 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, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales ! Prince. Why, you whoreson round man, what 's the matter?

Falstaff. Are not you a coward? answer me to that, and Poins there?

Poins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by the Lord, I 'll stab thee.

Falstaff. I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned 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 I HENRY IV— 5

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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 cup of sack; I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.

Prince. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunkest last.

Falstaff. All's one for that.

plague of all cowards, still say I.

Prince. What 's the matter?

[He drinks.] A

Falstaff. What's the matter! there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day morning. Prince. Where is it, Jack ? where is it?

Falstaff. Where is it! taken from us it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.

Prince. What, a hundred, man?

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Falstaff. 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 hacked like a handsaw - ecce signum ! I never dealt better since I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cow- 170 ards! Let them speak; if they speak more or less

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than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness. Prince. Speak, sirs; how was it?

Gadshill. We four set upon some dozen
Falstaff. Sixteen at least, my lord.

Gadshill. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Falstaff. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.

Gadshill. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us —

Falstaff. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.

Prince. What, fought you with them all?

Falstaff. All I know not what you 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 I am no two-legged creature.

Prince. Pray God you have not murthered some of them.

Falstaff. Nay, that 's past praying for. I have peppered two of them; two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me— Prince. What, four? thou saidst but two even now. Falstaff. Four, Hal; I told thee four.

Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Falstaff. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me.

I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

Prince. Seven? why, there were but four even now.
Falstaff. In buckram?

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.

Falstaff. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.

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