Fal. So I do, against my will.

Poins. O! 't is our setter: I know his voice.

Bard. What news?

Gads.

Enter BARDOLPH.

Case ye, case ye; on with your visors: there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 't is going to the king's ex

chequer.

Fal. You lie, you rogue: 't is going to the king's tavern.
Gads. There's enough to make us all.

Fal.

To be hanged.

P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower: if they 'scape from your encounter', then they light on us.

Peto. But how many be there of them?

Gads. Some eight, or ten.

Fal. Zounds! will they not rob us?

P. Hen. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?

Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal.

P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof.

Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge: when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged.
P. Hen. Ned, [Aside to POINS] where are our disguises?
Poins. Here, hard by: stand close.

[Exeunt P. HENRY and POINS. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I every man to his business.

Enter Travellers.

1 Trav. Come, neighbour: the boy shall lead our horses down the hill; we 'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs.

Thieves. Stand!

Trav. Jesu bless us!

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats. Ah!

whorson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them.

1 Trav. O! we are undone, both we and ours, for ever.

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.

P. Hen.

[Exeunt FAL. &c. driving the Travellers out.

Re-enter Prince HENRY and POINS.

The thieves have bound the true men.

Now could thou and I rob the thieves, and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever.

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 valour in that Poins, than in a wild duck.

P. Hen.
Poins,

Your money.
Villains.

[Rushing out upon them.

[As they are sharing, the PRINCE and POINS set upon them. They all run away, and FALSTAFF, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.]

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

The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd 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 roar'd!

[Exeunt.

"But for mine 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 baru better than he loves our house. Let me see some more.

"The purpose you undertake, is dangerous; - Why, that 's certain: 't is 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 lackbrain 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 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 honourable 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 banish'd 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-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars;
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
Cry, "Courage! to the field!"

And thou hast talk'd

Of sallies, and retires; of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets;
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 bestirr'd 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 appear'd,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath

On some great sudden hest. O! what portents are these?
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?

Serv.

Enter Servant.

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.

esperance!

Well, I will back him straight: 0,
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.
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 toss'd with. In faith,

I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About this title; and hath sent for you,

To line his enterprize: but if you go –

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

[Exit Servant.

Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly unto 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 crack'd crowns,
And pass them current too. Gods me, my horse!
What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st 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.