Of palifadoes, frontiers', parapets; Of prisoner's ransom, and of foldiers flain, 2 Thy fpirit within thee hath been so at war, And in thy face ftrange motions have appear'd, Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it; elfe he loves me not. Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone? Enter Servant. Serv. He is, my lord, an hour agone. Hot. Hath Butler brought thofe horses from the Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought ev'n now. Hot. That roan fhall be my Throne. Well, I will back him ftrait. O Esperance! Bid Butler lead him forth into the Park. Lady. But hear you, my Lord. Hot. Why, my horfe, my love, my horse. 3 Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! mer, A weazle For frontier Sir Thomas Han- 3 Out, you mad-headed ape!]. and after him Dr. Warbur-. ton, read very plaufibly fortins. 2 And thus bath fo beftir'd-] Perhaps, And thought hath jo disturb'd. This and the following speech of the lady are in the early editions printed as profe; those editions are indeed in such cases of no great authority, but perL 3 haps A weazle hath not fuch a deal of fpleen In faith, I'll know your business, that I will. 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 4, I care not for thee, Kate; this is no world 5 To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips. We must have bloody nofes, and crack'd crowns, And país them current too gods me! my horfe. What fay'ft thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have with me? Lady. Do ye not love me? do you not, indeed? haps they were right in this place, for fome words have been left out to make the metre. 4 Hot. Away, away, you trifler: love! I love thee not,] This I think would be better Conftant you are, But yet a woman; and for fecrefie, No lady clofer, for I well believe, Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; Lady. How! fo far? Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate, Whither I go, thither fhall you go too; To-day will I fet forth, to-morrow you. Will this content you, Kate? Lady. It muft of force. SCENE [Exeunt. VII. Changes to the Boar's-Head Tavern in East-cheap. Enter Prince Henry and Poins. P. Henry.NE ED, pr'ythee come out of that fat room and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Poins. Where haft been, Hal? P. Henry. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or fourfcore hogfheads. I have founded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am fworn brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their Chriftian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their confcience, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of courtefie; telling me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy (by the Lord, fo they call me); and when I am King of England, I fhall command all the good lads in Eaft-cheap. They call drinking deep, dying fcarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they cry, hem! and bid you play it offTo conclude, I am fo 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 Carinthian,] A wencher. L4 thee, thee, Ned, thou haft loft much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action; but, fweet Ned,—to fweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of fugar, clapt even now into my hand by an under-fkinker', one that never spake other English in his life, than Eight Shillings and Six Pence, and You are welcome, Sir: with this fhrill addition, Anon, anon, Sir; Score a pint of baftard in the half moon, or fo. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr'ythee, do thou stand in fome bye-room, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the fugar; and do thou never leave calling Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but, anon. Step afide, and I'll shew thee a precedent. [Poins retires, Poins. Francis P. Henry. Thou art perfect. SCENE VIII. Enter Francis the Drawers. Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.-Look down into the pomgranet, Ralph. P. Henry. Come hither, Francis. Fran. My lord. P. Henry. How long haft thou to ferve, Francis? Fran. Forfooth, five years, and as much as to-Poins. Francis, Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Henry. Five years; by'rlady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, dareft thou be fo 7 under-fkinker,] A tapfter; an under-drawer. Skink is drink, and a kinker is one that ferves drink at table. Enter Francis the drawer.] This fcene, helped by the difĮ traction of the drawer, and grimaces of the prince, may entertain upon the ftage, but afford not much delight to the reader. The authour has judiciously made it fhort, valiant valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and fhew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it? Fran. O lord, Sir, I'll be fworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heart Poins. Francis, Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Henry. How old art thou, Francis? Fran. Let me fee, about Michaelmas next I fhall be Poins. Francis, Fran. Anon, Sir.- Pray you ftay a little, my lord. P. Henry. Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the fugar thou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was't not? Fran. O lord, I would it had been two. P. Henry. I will give thee for it a thousand pound : ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. Poins. Francis. Fran. Anon, anon. P. Henry. Anon, Francis? no, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis, Fran. My lord? P. Henry. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystalbutton, knot-pated, agat ring, puke-stocking, caddice-garter, fmooth tongue, Spanish-pouch. Fran. O lord, Sir, who do you mean? P. Henry. Why then your brown' bastard is your only drink; for look for look you, Francis, your white canvas |