The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

Out of my grief and my impatience,
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what,
He should, or he should not; for he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk, so like a waiting-gentlewoman,

Of guns, and drums, and wounds,(God save the mark!)
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald disjointed chat of his, my lord,

I answer'd indirectly, as I said;

And, I beseech you, let not his report

Come current for an accusation,

Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

As will displease you. My lord Northumberland,
We license your departure with your son.-
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.

[Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, and Train.
Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them,
I will not send them. I will after straight,
And tell him so; for I will ease my heart,
Although it be with hazard of my head.
North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and pause
awhile!

Here comes your uncle.

Re-enter WORCESTER.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer!

'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him.

Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high i'the air, as this unthankful king,

Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord, As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.

Whatever Harry Percy then had said,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest retold,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners;
But with proviso, and exception,

That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer,
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those, that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whose daugther, as we hear, the earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war. To prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds,
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
In single opposition, hand to hand,

He did confound the best part of an hour
In changing hardiment with great Glendower.
Three times they breath'd, and three times did they
drink,

Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood,
Who, then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did bare and rotten policy

Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly.
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt.

North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew
mad.
[To Worcester.
Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone?
Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners;
And when I urg'd the ransom once again
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale,
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd
By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood?
North. He was; I heard the proclamation;
And then it was, when the unhappy king
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition,

From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be depos'd, and shortly murdered.

Wor. And for whose death we in the world's wide
mouth

Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

Hot. But, soft, I pray you! Did king Richard then
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown?

North. He did; myself did hear it.

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starv'd.
But shall it be, that you,-that set the crown
Upon the head of this forgetful man,
And, for his sake, wear the detested blot
Of murd'rous subornation, shall it be,
That you a world of curses undergo,
Being the agents, or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?—
O, pardon me, that I descend so low,
To show the line, and the predicament,
Wherein you range under this subtle king!—
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in those days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power
Did gage them both in an unjust behalf,-
As both of you, God pardon it! have done,-
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken,

K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off

him,

By him, for whom these shames ye underwent ?
No! yet time serves, wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again,
Revenge the jeering, and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king, who studies, day and night,
To answer all the debt, he owes to you,
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore, I say ·

Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more!
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous,
As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit,

As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.

Hot. If he fall in, good night!-or sink, or swim:
Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple. O! the blood more stirs,
To rouse a lion, than to start a hare.

North. Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
Hot. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap,
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks;
So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival, all her dignities:
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.-
Good cousin, give me audience for a while!
Hot. I cry you mercy.

Wor. Those same noble Scots,
That are your prisoners,-

Hot. I'll keep them all.

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them:
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not:
I'll keep them, by this hand.

Wor. You start away,

And lend no ear unto my purposes. Those prisoners you shall keep. Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat.

He said, he would not ransom Mortimer,
Forbad my tongue, to speak of Mortimer;
But I will find him, when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla-Mortimer!
Nay,

I'll have a starling, shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,
To keep his anger still in motion.

Wor. Hear you,

Cousin, a word!

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Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke,
And that same sword-and-buckler prince of Wales,-
But that I think his father loves him not,
And would be glad, he met with some mischance,
I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale.
Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you,
When you are better temper'd to attend.
North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool
Art thou, to break into this woman's mood,
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own?

Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd
with rods,

Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.

Hot. Of York, is't not?
Wor. True; who bears hard

His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation,

As what I think might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,
And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion, that shall bring it on.

In Richard's time, what do you call the place?

A plague upon't!—it is in Gloucestershire; -
'Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept,
His uncle York, where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.
North. At Berkley castle.

Hot. You say true.

Why, what a candy deal of courtesy

This fawning greyhound then did profer me! Look,-when his infant fortune came to age,

Hot. I smell it; upon my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip.
Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot -
And then the power of Scotland, of a York, —
To join with Mortimer, ha?

Wor. And so they shall.

Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. Wor. And 'tis no little reason, bids us speed, To save our heads by raising of a head: For, bear ourselves as even as we can, The king will always think him in our debt, And think, we think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And see already, how he doth begin To make us strangers to his looks of love. Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him. Wor. Cousin, farewell!- No further go in this, Than I by letters shall direct your course! When time is ripe, (which will be suddenly,) I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer; Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once, (As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty. North. Farewell, good brother! we shall thrive, !

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2 Car. I think, this be the most villainous house in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench. 1 Car. Like a tench? by the mass, there is ne'er a king in Christendom could be better bit, than I have been since the first cock.

Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, and then we leak in your chimney; and your chamberlie breeds fleas, like a loach.

1 Car. What, ostler! come away and be hanged, come away!

2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing-cross. 1 Car. 'Odsbody! the turkies in my pannier are quite starved. What, ostler!- A plague on thee! hast | thou never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? An 'twere not as good a deed, as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain.-Come, and be hanged:hast no faith in thee?

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2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen; they will along with company, for they have great charge. [Exeunt Carriers.

Gads. What, ho! chamberlain ! Cham. [Within.] At hand, quoth pick-purse. Gads. That's even as fair as-at hand, quoth the chamberlain: for thou variest no more from picking of purses, than giving direction doth from labouring; thou lay'st the plot how.

Enter Chamberlain.

Cham. Good morrow, master Gadshill! It holds current, that I told you yesternight: There's a franklin in the wild of Kent, hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company, last night at supper; a kind of auditor, one, that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are up already, and call for eggs and butter: they will away presently.

Guds. Sirrah, if they meet not with saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll give thee this neck.

Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? will she hold out water in foul way?

Gads. She will, she will; justice hath liquored her. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible.

Cham. Nay, by my faith! I think, you are more beholden to the night, than to fern-seed, for your walking invisible.

Gads. Give me thy hand! thou shalt have a share in our purchase, as I am a true man, Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.

Gads. Go to! Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable! Farewell, you muddy knave! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The road by Gadshill. Enter Prince HENRY, and POINS; BARDOLPH and PETO, at some distance.

Poins. Come, shelter, shelter! I have removed Falstaff's horse, and he frets, like a gummed velvet. P. Hen. Stand close!

Enter FALSTAFF.

Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! What a brawling dost thou keep? Ful. Where's Poins, Hal?

P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill; I'll go seek him. [Pretends to seek Poins. Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's company: the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him, I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; it could not be else; I have drunk medicines.. -Poins! -Hal! - a plague upon you both! Bardolph! - Peto! I'll starve, ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man, and leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet, that ever chewed with and ten miles afoot with me; and the stony-hearta tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threescore ed villains know it well enough. A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true to one another! [They whistle.] Whew! -A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged!

Cham. No, I'll none of it. I pr'ythee, keep that for P. Hen. Peace, ye fat4guts! lie down! lay thine the hangman! for, I know, thou worship'st saint Ni-ear close to the ground, and list, if thou canst hear the tread of travellers!

cholas as

truly, as a man of falsehood may. Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? if I hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows: for, if I hang, old sir John hangs with me; and, thou knowest, he's no starveling. Tut! there are other Trojans, that thou dreamest not of, the which, for sport sake, are content to do the profession some grace; that would, if matters should be looked into, for their own credit sake, make all whole. I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers; none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued malt-] worms: but with nobility, and tranquillity; burgomasters, and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray; and yet I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the commonwealth, or, rather, not pray to her, but prey on her; for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots.

Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear my own flesh so far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What plague mean ye to colt me thus? colted. P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art unFal. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's son!

Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent garP. Hen. Out, you rogue, shall I be your ostler? lads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup ters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not balof sack be my poison! When a jest is so forward, and afoot too,-1 hate it.

Gads. Stand!

Enter GADSHILL.

Fal. So I do, against my will.

Poins. O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice.

Enter BARDOLPH.

Band. What news?

Gads. Case ye, case ye! On with your visors! there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer.

Fal. You lie, you rogue; 'tis 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 y
n your encounter, then they light on us.
Peto. How many be there of them?
Gads. Some eight or ten.

Fal. Zounds! will they not rob us?

P. Ilen. What, a coward, sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your father; but yet no coward, Hal.

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 opposi tion.-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 as good a plot, as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation: an excelgrand-lent 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, beside, 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.

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, 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 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! 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. [Exeunt Falstaff,etc. driving the Travel

lers out.

Re-enter Prince HENRY and Poiss. 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 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, ny masters, let us share, and then to horse before day! Anthe 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. 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 their 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!
SCENE III. - Warkworth. A room in the castle.
Enter HOTSPUR, reading a letter.
But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well
contented to be there, in respect of the love, I bear

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady PERCY.

How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two
hours.

Lady. O my good lord, why are youthus 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,
Andgiven 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' ransome, 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 bestir'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 haste. 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?

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

rill?

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

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 his title, and hath sent for you,
Te line his enterprize. 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 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'horse-back, 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 farther. But hark you, Kate?
Whither I go, thither shall you go too;
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.―
Will this content you, Kate?

Lady It must, of force.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-East cheap. A room in the Boar's Head

Tavern.

Enter Prince HENRY and POINS.

life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned,—to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now in my hand by an under-skinker, one, that never spake other English in his life, than Eight shillings and sixpence, and You are welcome; with this shrill addition, Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Halfmoon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr'ythee, do thou stand in some byroom, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent.

Poins. Francis!

P. Hen. Thou art perfect.
Poins. Francis!

Enter FRANCIS.

[Exit Poins.

Fran. Anon, anon, sir!— Look down into the Pomegranate, Ralph!

P. Hen. Come hither, Francis!

Fran. My lord!

P.Her. How long hast thou to serve, Francis? Fran. Forsooth, five year, and as much as to — Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. Five years! by'rlady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and to shew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it? Fran. O lord, sir! I'll be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heartPoins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis?

Fran. Let me see!- About Michaelmas next I shall be

Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, sir.- Pray you, stay a little, my lord! P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou gavest me, -'twas a pennyworth, was't not? Fran. O lord, sir! I would, it had been two. P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon.

P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis: but to-mor-
row, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed,
Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,
Fran. My lord?

P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-
button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, cad-
dis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch, -
Fran. Olord, sir, who do you mean?

P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard is your only and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. drink: for, look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.

Poins. Where hast been, Hal?

P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by their Christian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy, and tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, by the Lord, so they call me. And when I am king of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dying scarlet: and when you breathe in your watering, they cry hem! and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my

Fran. What, sir?
Poins. [Within.] Francis!

call?
P. Hen. Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them

[Here they both call him; the Drawer stands
amazed, not knowing which way to go.
Enter Vintner.

Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Look to the guests within! [Exit Fran.] My lord, old sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door. Shall I let them in?

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

Re-enter POINS.

Poins. Auon, anon, sir.

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