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P. Henry. Did I ever call thee to pay thy part ?

Fal. No, I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

P. Henry. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would streich ; and where it would not, I have us'd my credit,

Fal. Yea, and so us'd it, that were it not here apparent, that thou art heir apparent-But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be Gallows standing in England, when thou art King ? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic, the law? Do not thou, when thou art a King, hang a thief.

P. Henry. No: thou shalt.

Fal. Shall 1? O rare ! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

P. Henry. Thou judgeft false already: I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps - with my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I

P. Henry. For obtaining of suits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits; whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugg'd bear.

P. Henry. Or an old Lion, or a lover's lute.
Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

P. Henry. What say'ft thou to a Hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Fal. Thou haft the most unfavoury fimilies; and art, indeed, the most incomparative, rascalliest, sweet young Prince-But, Hal, I prythee, trouble me no more with vanity ; I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: an old lord of the Council rated me the other day in the street about you, Sir; but I mark'd him not, and yet he talk'd very wisely, and in the street too.

P. Henry.

can tell

P. Henry. Thou didft well ; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

Fal. O, thou haft damnable attradion, and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou haft done much harm unto me, Hal, God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a map should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the lord, an I do not, I am a villain. I'll be damn'd for never a King's son in christendom.

P. Henry. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack?

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do not, call me villain, and baffle me.

P. Henry. I see a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purse-taking.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal. 'Tis no fin for a Man to labour in his vocation. Poins !-Now shall we know, if Gads-hill have set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him! S C E Ε Ν Ε III.

Enter Poins. This is the most omnipotent Villain, that ever cry'd, Stand, to a true Man.

P. Henry. Good-morrow, Ned.

Poins. Good-morrow, sweet Hal. What fays Monfieur Remorse? what says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack! how agree the devil and thou about thy soul, that thou foldest him on Good-Friday last, for a cup Madeira, and a cold capon's leg ?

P. Henry. Sir John stands to his word; the devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs; He will give the devil his due.

Poins. Then thou art damn'd for keeping thy word with the devil. B6

P. Henry.

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P. Henry. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the devil. :

Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gads-hill; there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses. I have visors for you all; you have horses for yourselves : Gads-hill lies to-night in Rochester, I have bespoke supper tomorrow night in East-cheap; we may do it, as secure as sleep: if you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd.

Fal. Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going.

Poins. You will, chops ?
Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ?
P. Henry. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith.

Fal. There is neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam't not of the blood royal, if thou dar ft not cry, stand, for ten shillings.

P. Henry. Well then, once in my days I'll be a mad-cap.

Fal. Why, that's well said.
P. Henry. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

Fal. By the lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art King

P. Henry. I care not.

Poins. Sir John, I pr’ythee, leave the Prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.

Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuafion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou fpeak’It may move, and what he hears may be belicy’d; that the true Prince may (for recreation-fake, prove a false thief; for the poor abufes of the time want countenance. Farewel, you thall find me in Eall-cheap.

P. Henry. Farewel, thou latter fpring! Farewel, allhallown fuminer!

[Exit Fal. Poins. Now, my good sweet lioney lord, ride with

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us to-morrow. I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, fall rob those men that we have already way-laid ; yourself and I will not be there ; and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.

P. Henry. But how shall we part with them in setting forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them; and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have no sooner atchiev'd, but we'll set


them. P. Henry. Ay; but, 'tis like, they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.

Poins. Tut, our horses they shall not fee, I'll tie ihem in the wood; our vizors we will change after we leave them; and, firrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.

P. Henry. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us.

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turn'd Back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he fees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jelt will be, the incomprehen ble lies that this fame fat rogue will tell us when we meet at fupper; how thirty at lealt he fought with, what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, lies the jest.

P. Henry. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in East cheap, there I'll fup. Farewel. Poins. Farewel, my lord.

(Exit Poins. P. Henry. I know you all, and will a while uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness; Yet herein will I imitate the Sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds


To smother up his beauty from the world;
That when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To fport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they feldom come, they wilht-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare Accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised;
By how much better than

By so much shall I fall fy men's fears;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My Reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than That which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll fo offend, to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time, when men think least I will. (Exit.

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K. Henry. M

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.
Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Worcester, Hot-

fpur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others.
Y blood hath been too cold and tem-

Unapt to ftir at these indignities;
And you have found me; for accordingly
You tread upon my patience: but be sure,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my Condition;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft, as young down,
And therefore lost that title of Respect,
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud.

Wor. Our House, my sovereign Liege, little deferves The scourge of greatness to be used on it;


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