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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.
In Richard's time,-what do you call the place?-
A plague upon 't-it is in Gloucestershire ;-
'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept,
His uncle York; where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke;

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Which I shall send you written, be assur'd, Will easily be granted.

To NORTHUMBERLAND. You, my lord,
Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,
Shall secretly into the bosom creep

Of that same noble prelate weli belov'd,
The archbishop.

Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.
Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again;
We'll stay your leisure.


I have done, i' faith. Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners,

Deliver them up without their ransom straight,
And make the Douglas' son your only mean
For powers in Scotland; which, for divers


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.
Hot. I smell it :


Hot. Of York, is it not?

Wor. True; who bears hard

His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop.


Upon my life it will do wondrous well. North. Before the game's afoot thou still lett'st slip.

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. 290 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.


Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot: And then the power of Scotland and of York To join with Mortimer, ha?

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, 300 Which now we hold at much uncertainty. North. Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, I trust.

Hot. Uncle, adieu: O! let the hours be short Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport. Exeunt.


SCENE I.-Rochester. An Inn Yard. Enter a Carrier, with a lantern in his hand.

First Car. Heigh-ho! An't be not four by the day I'll be hanged: Charles' Wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packed. What, ostler !

Ostler. Within. Anon, anon.

First Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.

Enter another Carrier.

Second Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots: this house is turned upside down since Robin Ostler died.


First Car. Poor fellow! never joyed since the price of oats rose; it was the death of him.

Second Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench.

First 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.


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

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

Second Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two races of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing-cross.

First Car. God's body! the turkeys 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 on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hanged! hast no faith in thee?



Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock!

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my wind,

that rogue.

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First Car. I think it be two o'clock.

men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the Gads. I prithee, lend me thy lantern, to see stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. Eceunt. my gelding in the stable. First Car. Nay, by God, soft: I know a trick

SCENE II.— The Road by Gadshill. worth two of that, i' faith. Gads. I prithee, lend me thine.

Enter the PRINCE and Poins. Second Car. Ay, when ? canst tell ? 'Lend me Poins. Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed thy lantern,' quoth a' ? marry, I'll see thee Falstaff's horse, and he frets like a gummed hanged first.

velvet. Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean Prince. Stand close. to come to London ?

Enter FALSTAFF. Second Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbour Mugs,

Fal. Poins ! Poins, and be hanged ! Poins ! we'll call up the gentlemen : they will along

Prince. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! What with company, for they have great charge.

a brawling dost thou keep ! Exeunt Carriers.

Fal. Where's Poins, Hal ? Gads. What, ho! chamberlain !

Prince. He is walked up to the top of the hill : Cham. Within. “At hand,' quoth pick-purse.

I 'll go seek him. Gads. That's even as fair as 'at hand,' quoth

Pal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's the chamberlain ; for thou variest no more from company; the rascal hath removed my horse picking of purses than giving direction doth and tied him I know not where. If I travel but from labouring; thou layest the plot how.

four foot by the square further afoot I shall break

Well, I doubt not but to die a fair Enter Chamberlain.

death for all this, if I ’scape hanging for killing Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It

I have forsworn his company hourly holdscurrent that I told you yesternight : there's any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I a franklin in the wild of Kent hath brought three am bewitched with the rogue's company. If hundred marks with him in gold : I heard him the rascal have not given me medicines to make tell it to one of his company last night at supper;

me love him, I 'll be hanged ; it could not be else: a kind of auditor ; one that hath abundance I have drunk medicines. Poins ! Hal! a plague of charge too, God knows what. They are up upon you both! Bardolph ! Peto! I'll starve ere already and call for eggs and butter: ihey will I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere not as good a awas presently.

deed as drink to turn true man and to leave these Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed Nicholas' clerks, I'll give thee this neck.

with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is Cham. No, I 'll none of it: I prithee, keep that threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the for the hangman; for I know thou worshippest stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A Saint Nicholas as trulyas a man of falsehood may. plague upon't when thieves cannot be true to Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hang

one another!

They whistle. 31 man? if I hang I'll make a fat pair of gallows; Whew! a plague upon you all! Give me my for if I hang old Sir John hangs with me, and horse, you rogues ; give me my horse and be thon knowest he's no starveling. Tut! there hanged. are other Troyans that thou dreamest not of, the

Prince. Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down; lay thine which for sport sake are content to do the pro- the tread of travellers.

ear close to the ground and list if thou canst hear fession some grace; that would, if matters should be looked into, for their own credit sake

Pal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, Take all whole. I am joined with no foot land being down? 'Sblood ! I'll not bear mine own rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms ; father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye to but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters colt me thus ? and great oneyers ; such as can hold in, such as

Prince. Thou liest : thou art not colted; thou will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner

art uncolted. than drink, and drink sooner than pray: and

Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to ret I lie ; for they pray continually to their my horse, good king's son. saint, the commonwealth; or rather, not pray

Prince. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler ? to her, but prey on her, for they ride up and

Fal. Go, hang thyself in thine own heir down on her and make her their boots. 90 apparent garters! If I be ta’en I'll peach forthis.

Cham. What! the commonwealth their boots ? An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung will she hold out water in foul way?

to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison : Gads. She will, she will ; justice hath liquored when a jest is so forward, and afoot too ! I hate it. her. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure ; we have

Enter GADSHILL. the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible.

Gads. Stand. Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more

Fal. So I do, against my will. beholding to the night than to fern-seed for

Poins. 0! 'tis our setter : I know his voice. your walking invisible. Gads. Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a

Enter BARDOLPH and PETO. share in our purchase, as I am a true man.

Bard. What news ? Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your vizards : a false thief.

there's money of the king's coming down the Gads. Go to; homo is a common name to all hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer.




Fal. You lie, ye rogue; 'tis going to the | Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death king's tavern. And lards the lean earth as he walks along: Were 't not for laughing I should pity him. Poins. How the rogue roar'd! Exeunt. 150

Gads. There's enough to make us all.
Fal. To be hanged.

Prince. 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. How many be there of them?
Gads. Some eight or ten.


Fal. 'Zounds! will they not rob us? Prince. What! a coward, Sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal.

Prince. Ned, where are our disguises? Poins. Here, hard by; stand close. Exeunt PRINCE and POINS. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I every man to his business.

Prince. 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.

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.


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Prince. 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. 110

Prince. Your money!
Poins. Villains!

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. Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily


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 your house.

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.

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; 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 as good a 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 Zounds! an I were now by this rascal, I could plot and the general course of the action. father, my uncle, and myself? Lord Edmund brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen GlenI not all their letters to meet me in arms by the dower? Is there not besides the Douglas? Have 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. moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so O! I could divide myself and go to buffets, for 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 P. 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 sitt'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 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?

Lady P. How! so far?


Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate;
60 Whither I go, thither shall you go too;
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.
Will this content you, Kate?
Lady P.
It must, of force.

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


Enter Servant.

Is Gilliams with the packet gone?
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.
That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight: O Esperance!
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.

Exit Servant.

Lady P. But hear you, my lord.
Hot. What say'st thou, my lady?
Lady P. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
Lady P. 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
To line his enterprise. But if you go-


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


Prince. 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 christen 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, dyeing 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 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 into 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 Half-moon,' or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee do thou stand in some by-room, 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 !

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. God's me, my horse!
What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou
have with me?


Lady P. 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.


SCENE IV.-Eastcheap. A Room in the
Boar's Head Tavern.


Enter the PRINCE and POINS.

Prince. Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Poins. Where hast been, Hal?

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Prince. How old art thou, Francis ?

an hour after ; 'a trifle, a trifle.' I prithee, call Pran. Let me see--about Michaelmas next I in Falstaff : I'll play Percy, and that damned shall be

60 brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. “Rivo!' Poins. Within. Francis !

says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow, Pran. Anon, sir. Pray you, stay a little, my lord.

Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, Prince. Nay, but hark you, Francis. For the

PETO, and FRANCIS. sugar thou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was 't Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been! not ?

Pal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a Pran, O Lord, sir! I would it had been two. vengeance too! marry, and amen! Give me a

Prince. I will.givethee for it a thousand pound: cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I 'll ask me when thou wilt and thou shalt bave it. sew nether-stocks and mend them and foot them Poins. Within. Francis !

too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup Fran. Anon, anon.

of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? Prince. Anon, Francis ? No, Francis ; but to

He drinks. morrow, Francis; or, Francis, o' Thursday; or, Prince. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish indeed Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis ! of butter, pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at Fran. My lord ?

the sweet tale of the sun ? if thou didst then Prince. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, behold that compound. crystal-button, knot-pated, agate-ring, puke. Pal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish- there is nothing but roguery to be found in vil. pouch,

lanous man : yet a coward is worse than a cup Fran. O Lord, sir, who do you mean ? 80 of sack with lime in it. A villanous coward!

Prince. Why then, your brown bastard is your Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt. If only drink ; for look you, Francis, your white manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the canvas doublet will sully. In Barbary, sir, it face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. cannot come to so much.

There live not three good men unhanged in Pran. What, sir ?

England, and one of them is fat and grows old : Poins. Within. Francis !

God help the while! a bad world, I say. I would Prince. Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any them call ?

thing. A plague of all cowards, I say still. Here they both call him; the Drawer stands Prince. How now, wool-sack! what mutter you! amazed, not knowing which way to go. Pal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out

of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive Enter Vintner,

all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild Vint. What! standest thou still, and hearest geese, I 'll never wear hair on my face more. You such a calling? Look to the guests within.

Prince of Wales !

Exit FRANCIS. Prince. Why, you whoreson round man, what 's My lord, old Sir John, with half-a-dozen more, the matter? are at the door : shall I let them in ?

Fal. Are you not a coward ? answer me to that; Prince. Let them alone awhile, and then open

and Poins there? the door.

Exit Vintner.

Poins. 'Zounds ! ye fat paunch, an ye call me Poins!

coward, I'll stab thee. Re-enter POINS.

Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned

ere I call thee coward ; but I would give a Poins. Anon, anon, sir.

thousand pound I could run as fast as thou Prince. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders; thieves are at the door : shall we be merry ?

you care not who sees your back: call you that Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark backing of your friends? A plague upon such re; what cunning match have you made with backing ! give me them that will face me. Give this jest of the drawer? come, what 's the issue ? me a cup of sack: I am a rogue if I drunk

Prince. I am now of all humours that have to-day. showed themselves humours since the old days Prince. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this pre- since thou drunkest last. sent twelve o'clock at midnight.

Fal. All's one for that.

He drinks. Re-enter FRANCIS.

A plague of all cowards, still say I.

Prince. What's the matter ? What's o'clock, Francis ?

Fal. What's the matter! there be four of us Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

Exit. here have ta'en a thousand pound this day Prince. That ever this fellow should have fewer morning. words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! Prince. Where is it, Jack? where is it? His industry is up-stairs and down-stairs ; Fal. Where is it ! taken from us it is: a eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not hundred upon poor four of us. yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North ; Prince. What! a hundred, man? he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his with a dozen of them two hours together. I wife · Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.' have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times "O my sweet Harry,' says she, 'how many hast thrust through the doublet, four through the thou killed to-day?' Give my roan hörse a hose ; my buckler cut through and through ; drench,' says he, and answers • Some fourteen,' | my sword hacked like a hand-saw: ecce signum !



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