Poins. Francis !

P. Henry. Away, you rogue, doft thou not hear them call?

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

Vint. What, ftand'ft thou ftill, and hear'ft fuch a calling? Look to the guests within. My Lord, old Sir John with half a dozen more are at the door; fhall I let them in? P. Henry. Let them alone a while, and then open the door. Poins! [Exit Vintner

Enter Poins.

Poins. Anon, anon, Sir.

P. Henry. Sirrah, Falfaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door; fhall we be merry?

Poins. As merry as Crickets, my lad. But hark ye, what cunning match have you made with this jeft of the drawer? come, what's the iffue?

P. Henry. I am now of all humours, that have show'd themselves humours, fince the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve a-clock at midnight. What's a-clock, Francis ?

Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.

P. Henry. That ever this fellow fhould have fewer words than a Parrot, and yet the fon of a Woman! His industry is up ftairs and down stairs; his eloquence the par... cel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the hot-fpur of the north; he that kills me fome fix or feven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands and fays to his wife, Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my Sweet Harry, fays fhe, how many baft thou kill'd to-day? Give my roan horfe a drench, fays he, and answers, fome fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falftaff, I'll play Percy, and that damn'd brawn fhall play dame Mortimer his wife, Ribi! fays the drun-y kard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.'

SCENE IX.

Enter Falstaff, Gads-hill, Bardolph, and Peto. Poins. Welcome, Jack, where haft thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I fay, and a vengeance

tco,

too, marry and Amen! Give me a cup of fack, boy — Ere I lead this life long, I'll fow nether focks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of fack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant?

[He drinks. P. Henry. Didft thou never fee Titan kifs a difh of butter? pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the fweet face of the fun? if thou didft, then behold that compound.

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this fack too; there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man; yet a coward is worse than a cup of fack with lime in it.. A villainous coward Go thy ways, old Jack, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a fhotten herring: there live not three good men unhang'd in England, and one of them is fat and grows old, God help the while, a bad world I fay. I would I were a weaver, I could fing pfalms, and all manner of fongs. A plague of all cowards, I fay ftill.

P. Henry. How now, Woolfack, what mutter you ?

Fal. A King's fon? if I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy fubjects afore thee like a flock of wild geefe, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales?

P. Henry. Why, you whorefon round man! what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward? anfwer me to that, and Poins there?

P. Henry. Ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll ftab thee.

Fal. I call thee coward! I'll fee thee damn'd ere I'll call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are ftrait enough in the shoulders, you care not who fees your back: call you that backing of your friends? a plague upon fuch backing! give me them that will face me - Give me a cup of fack, I am a rogue if I drunk to-day.

P. Henry. O villain, thy lips are scarce wip'd fince thou

drunk'ft laft.

Fal. All's one for that.

A plague of all cowards, ftill, fay I.

P. Henry. What's the matter?

Fal. What's the matter! here be four of us, have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.

P. Henry. Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Fal. Where is it! taken from us, it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.

P. Henry, What, a hundred, man?

Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at half fword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have escap'd by miracle. I am eight times thrust though the doublet, four through the hofe, my buckler cut through and through, my fword hack'd like a hand-faw, ecce fignum. I never dealt better fince I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cowards let them fpeak; if they fpeak more or lefs than truth, they are villains and the fons of darkness. P. Henry, Speak, Sirs, how was it? Gads. We four fet upon fome dozen. Fal. Sixteen, at least, my Lord. Gads. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them," or I am a few elfe, an Ebrew Jew.

Gads. As we were sharing, fome fix or seven fresh men fet upon us.

Fal. And unbound the reft, and then came in the other. P. Henry. What, fought ye with them all?

Fal. All! I know not what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish; if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-legg'd creature.

Poins. Pray heav'n you have not murthered some of them. Fal. Nay, that's paft praying for. I have pepper'd two of them; two I am fure I have pay'd, two rogues in buckram fuits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie,' fpit in my face, call me horfe; thou know'ft my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four rogues in buckram let drive at me.

P. Henry. What, four? thou faidft but two, even now. Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four.

Poins

Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal. Thefe four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me; I made no more ado, but took all their feven points on my target, thus.

P. Henry. Seven? why there were but four, even now.
Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram fuits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.

P. Henry. Pr'ythee let him alone, we shall have more

anon.

Fal. Doft thou hear me, Hal?

P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do fo, for it is worth the liftning to: these nine in buckram that I told thee of

P. Henry. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points being broken

Poins. Down fell their hofe.

Fal. Began to give me ground; but I follow'd me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seven of the eleven I pay'd..

P. Henry. O monftrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal. But as the Devil would have it, three mif-begotten knaves in Kendal green came at my back, and let drive at me; (for it was fo dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.)

P. Henry. Thefe lies are like the father that begets them, grofs as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou claybrain'd guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whorefon obfcene greafie tallow-ketch

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

P. Henry. Why, how could'ft thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was fo dark, thou could'ft not fee thy hand? come, tell us your reafon: what say'st thou to this?

Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.

Fal. What, upon compulfion? no; were I at the ftrappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on Compulsion. Give you a reafon on compulfion! if reafons

were

were as plenty as black-berries, I would give no man á reafon upon compulfion, I.

P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this fin. This fanguine coward, this bed-preffer, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,

Fal. Away, you ftarveling, you Eel-skin, you dry'd neatstongue, bulls-pizzel, you stock-fish: O for breath to utter what is like thee! You taylor's yard, you sheath, you bowcafe, you vile ftanding tuck.

P. Henry. Well, breathe a while, and then to't again ; and when thou haft tir'd thy self in base comparisons, hear me fpeak but this.

Poins. Mark, Jack.

P. Henry. We two faw you four fet on four, you bound them, and were mafters of their wealth: mark now, how a plain tale fhall put you down. Then did we two fet on you four, and with a word, out-fac'd you from your prize, and have it, yea, and can fhew it you here in the house. And, Falstaff, you carry'd your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and ftill ran and roar'd, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a flave art thou, to hack thy fword as thou haft done, and then say it was in fight! What trick? what device? what starting-hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent Shame ?

Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack, what trick haft thou now? Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my mafters; was it for me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true Prince? Why, thou knoweft I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware inftinct, the Lion will not touch the true Prince: inftinct is a great matter. I was a coward on inftin&t: I fhall think the better of my felf, and thee, during my life; I, for a valiant Lion, and thou for a true Prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the mony. Hoftefs, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, fhall we be merry? fhall be have a play extempore?

P. Henry,