me fo.

ܬ

a

setting thy knighthood afide, thou art a knave to call

Fal. Setting thy, womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Hoft. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?
· Fal. What bćaft?

why, an Otter,
P. Henry. An Otter, Sir Johns why an Otter?

Fal. Why? The's neither fith nor fefh; a man knows not where to have her.

Hoft. Thou art an unjuft man in faying fo: thou, or any man knows where to have me, thoy kwayo, thou !

P, Henry Thou fay's true, holtess, and he flanders thee moft grossly. av mig

Hoft. So he doth you, my lord, and said this other day, you ow'd him a thousand pound,

P. Henry. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million, thy love is worth a million; thounow It me thy love.

Hoft, Nay, my lord, he callid you Jack, and said he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you faid lo.
Fal. Yea, if he faid, my ring was copper.

P. Henry. I say, 'ris copper. Darift thou be as good as thy word now unan-1d7a ofit

Fal. Why, Hall, thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I dare; but as chou art a Prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the Lion's whelp.

P. Henry. And why not as the Lion?

Fal. The King himself is to be fear'd as the Lion; doft thou think, I'll fear thee, as I fear thy father? nay, if I do, let my Girdle break! P. Henry: 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 bofom of rhine; it is all fill'd

up

with guts and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whorson, impudent, imboss'd rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, Memorandums of bawdy, houses, and one poor penny-worth of fugar-candy, to

make thee long-winded ; if thy pocker were chrich'd with any other injuries, but thefeptam a villain; and yet you will ftand to it, you will not pookto upwrongs. Art thou not asham'd ? Fara caninud i basd

. Fal. Doft thou hear, Hal? the know'ft,in the state of innocency, Adam fello and what! should spoor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? thou feeltzi I have more Alesh than another man, and thereforomoko frailty. You confess then, you pickt my pocket?

P. Henry. It appears fo by the ftory. Fal: Hostess, I forgive thee: go make ready Break. .

: fast ; love thy husband, look to thy servants, and che

3 rith thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason; thou feeft, I am pacify'd still. Nay, I pr'ythee, be gone.

C

289 Mid [Exit Hostess. Now, Hal, to the news at Court: for the robbery, lad, how is That apswer:d?

P. Henry. O my sweet beef, I'must still be good an: gel to thee. The mony is paid back again.

Fal. O, I do not like that paying back ; 'tis a double Jabour.

P. Henry. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing. 0236 PE got zini ci Fal . Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou

do?ft, and do it with unwash'd hands too. 10 191510sjon

Bard. Do, my lord." dj aan 'lar'ogg ol og blue

P. Henry. I haye procur’d thee, Jack, & Charge of foot.

21903ool to 2303noj 95. Fal. I would, it had been of horrevoWhere'fhall I find one, that can steal well?10, for å fine thiefs of two and twenty, or thereabout; am heinoudly un, provided. Well, God be thank?d for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous sI' laud them, I praise them.

potra P. Henry. Bardolph, Bard. My lord?

โเ

low air baju P. Henry. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lana cafer, to my brother Jobn. This to my lord of West, morland; go, Peto, to horse; for thou and I have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.' Jack, meet me to

a

morrow in the Temple Hall at two o'clock in the after-
noon, there thalt thou know thy charge, and there re-
ceive monylandlorder for their furniture,
The Land is burning, Percy stands on high;
And

eitherıthey, or weg taust lower bye.
Fal. Rare words! bravé world! hostess, my break-
skså I faltas camé: yasliiv io sysb sni, cu
Oh, it could wishotbis taverp were my drum! [Exeunt.

$191009 ymd vor eign ál:

HOTOS:
-xl.8918 ybsst Tog :93.13 97101011
-9də bas Ayal COTIV. .
Par Oj sido si n bna fiant sont

Yo llist byiis mis loin
SOENB]changes to SHREWSBURT.
ext9ddor odi 201 nuo 36 voj

Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, and Dowglas.
NE 0603

Hom' I 900 301

£1165&T S PUDOM 9 I adoobs 211 2.0

$ Buy on

ELL faid, my noble Scot; if speaking
DVV In this fine age, were not thought flattery,

Visty truth, baoin
Such attribution should the Dowglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stampa
Should go fo gen'ral currant through the World.
By heay'n, I cannot farger: I defie
The tongues of foothers. But a braver place
In my heare's love hath no man than your self.
Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.
- Dow. Thou art the King of honour;
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I wild bigard him, outily SC 10

Enter a Messenger.
Hot, Do, and 'tis wellWhat letters haft thou

I there for JI 121101 IST
I can but thank you.adT 13 14 15
y Mela These come from your father,
ci Hots Laptcks from him? whycomes he got himself?

Mef

1

WONOD

Mel. He cannot come, my lord, he's grievous fick.

Hot. Heav'ns! how has he the leisure to be fick
In such a juftling time? Who leads his Power ;
Under whose government come they along?

Mes. His letters bear his mind, not I his mind.
Wor. I pr’yrhee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?

Mel. He did, my lord, four days 'ere I set forth:
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been whole,
Ere he by sickness had been visited;
His health was never better worth than now.
Hot. Sick now? droop now? this sickness doth in-

fe&t
The very life-blood of our enterprize;
'Tis catching hither, even to our Camp.

pl
He writes me here, that inward fickness-
And that his friends by deputation
Could not so soon be drawn: nor thought he meet
To lay so dangerous and dear a Trust.
On any soul remoy'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
That with our small conjunction we fhould
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now;
Because the King is certainly postest
Of all our purposes. What fay you to it?

Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us:

Hot. A perillous garh, a very limb lopt off:
And yet, in faith, tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it. Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one Cast? to set so rich a Main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good; for therein should we read

i
The very bottom, and the soul of hope,
The very lift, the very utmoft Bound
Of all our fortunes.,

Dow. Faith, and so we should ;
Where now remains a sweet reversion.

Wc

on,

IVM

A

We now may boldly spend, upon the hope
Of what is to come in:
A comfort of retirement lives in this.

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,
If that the Devil and Mischance look big
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.

Wor. But yet I would your father had been here:
The quality and hair of our attempt
Brooks no division: it will be thought
By some, that know noo why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and meer dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence.
And think, how such an apprehenfion
May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause:
For well you know, we of th' offending side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement;
And stop all fight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
This absence of your father draws a curtain,
That shews the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt upon. 9.'!
1. Hot. You strain too far.
I rather of his absence make this use:
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger Dare to our great enterprise,
Than if the Earl were here: for men must think,
If we without his help can make a head,
To push against the Kingdoms with his help,
We shall o'erturn it topsie turvy down.
Yet all goes well, yer all our joints are whole.

Dow. As heart can think; there is not such a word
Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear,

--Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
Hot. My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul!

Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, lord.
The Earl of Westmorland, sev’n thoufand strong,
Is marching hither, with Prince John of Lançafter,
Het. No harm; what more?

Ver,