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Enter Travellers. 1 Trav. Come, neighbor; 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! whoreson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves ! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them.

i Trav. 0, we are undone, both we and ours, forever.

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 Fal. fic., 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 3 for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest forever.

Poins. Stand close; I hear them coming.

. 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 valor 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 the booty behind them.

1 Gorbellied is big-paunched, corpulent.

2 A term of reproach usually applied to avaricious old citizens. It is of uncertain derivation. Cotgrave interprets “Un gros marroufie, a big cat; also an ouglie luske or clusterfist ; also a rich churl or fat chuffe."

3 Argument is subject matter for conversation.

P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to

The thieves are scattered, and possessed 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 roared !


SCENE III. Warkworth.

A Room in the Castle.

Enter Hotspur, reading a letter.! -But, for my 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 undertake 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 a good 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

1 This letter was from George Dunbar, earl of March, in Scotland. 2 Richard Scroop, archbishop of York.

father, my uncle, and myself? lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower ? Is there not, besides, 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 honorable 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 A banished woman from my Harry's bed ? Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, And start so often when thou sit'st alone ? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks, And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, To thick-eyed musing, and cursed melancholy ? In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watched, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars; Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; Cry, Courage !-to the field! And thou hast talked Of sallies, and retires ;2 of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ;

1 Shakspeare either mistook the name of Hotspur's wife (which was not Katharine, but Elizabeth), or else designedly changed it, out of the remarkable fondness he seems to have had for the name of Kate. Hall and Holinshed call her, erroneously, Elinor.

2 Retires are retreats.

3 Frontiers formerly meant, not only the bounds of different territories, but also the forts built along or near those limits.

Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin;
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the 'currents ? of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream;
And in thy face strange motions have appeared,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.

Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Enter Servant. Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the

sheriff ? Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. Hot. What horse ? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not ? Serv. It is, my lord. Hot.

That roan shall be my throne. Well, I will back him straight. O esperance !-3 Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.

[Exit Servant.
Lady. But hear you, my lord.
Hot. What say'st thou, my lady ?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen,
As you are tossed with. In faith,
I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir

1 Basilisks are a species of ordnance, probably so named from the imaginary serpent or dragon, with figures of which it was ordinary to ornament great guns. 2 Occurrences.

3 The motto of the Percy family.

S question thar araquito, ang

In faith, Il

About his title ; and hath sent for you,
To line' his enterprise. But if you go

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.

Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question that I ask.
In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.

Hot. Away,
Away, you trifler!-Love? I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate. This is no' world,
To play with mammets,” and to tilt with lips;
We must have bloody noses, and cracked crowns,
And pass them current too.—Gods me, my horse !-
What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have

with me?
Lady. Do you not love me? do you not indeed ?
Well, do not then ; for since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no ?

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o'horseback, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate ;
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout.
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise ; but yet no further wise,
Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are ;
But yet a woman : and for secrecy,
No lady closer; for I well believe
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate ! Whither I go, thither shall you go too;

1 i. e. to strengthen.

2 Mammets were puppets or dolls, here used by Shakspeare for a female plaything ; a diminutive of mam. Mr. Gifford has thrown out a conjecture about the meaning of mammets from the Italian mammetta, which signified a bosom as well as a young wench.

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