Poins. O, 'tis our Setter, I know his voice. Bare dolph.-What news?

Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your visors; there's mony 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 hang’d.

P. Henry. 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. But how many be of them? · Gads. Some eight or ten.

Fal. Zounds! will they not rob us?
P. Henry. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch.

Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather'; but yet no coward, Hal.

P. Henry. Well, we'll leave that to the proof. .

Poins. Sirrah, Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge; when thou need’It him, there shalt thou find him. Farewel, and stand fast.

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang’d.

P. Henry. Ned, where are our disguises ? :
Poins. Here, hard by. Stand close.

Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, fay I; every man to his business.

9 Bardolph-What news.] In hill and Bardolph enter together, all the copies that I have seen but the old copies bring in Gadsa Poins is made to speak upon the hill alone, and we find that Falentrance of Gads hill thus,

ftaff, who knew their stations, O, 'tis our Setter, I know his calls to Bardolph among others voice. — Bardolph, What news for his horse, but not to GadsThis is absurd; he knows Gads- hill who was posted at a disance. hill to be the setter, and aks We should therefore read, Bardolph what news. To coun Poins. O pris our setter, &c. , tenance this impropriety, the Bard. What news ? later editions have made Gaisa Gadh. Cafe ye, &c.

VOL. IV.

SCENE

S CE N E IV.

Enter Travellers. Trav. Come, neighbour; the boy fliall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk a foot a while, and ease our legs.

Thieves. Stand,

Trav. Jesu bless us ! · Fal. Strike; down with them, cut the villains' throats; ah! whorson caterpillars; bacon-fed knaves; they hate us youth; down with them, fleece them.

Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever.

Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are you 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.

Here they rob and bind them : Exeunt.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins.

P. Henry. 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.

Enter Thieves again at the other part of the stage.

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.

P. Henry. Your mony.. Poins. Villains ! [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them. They all run away, and Falstaff after a

blow

blow or two runs away too, leaving the booty
· behind them.]
P. Henry. Got with much ease. Now merrily to

horse:
The thieves are scatter'd, and poffest with fear
So strongly, that they dare not meet each other;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Now Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along :
Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poins. How the rogue roar'd!

[Exeuni,

Lord Percy's House. Enter Hot-spur folus, reading a letter. D UT for mine own part, my lord, I could be well

contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your House. He could be contented to be there; why is he not then? in respect of the love he bears our House ! he dhews 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 it self unforted, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoize of fo great an opposition. Say you so, fay 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 a good 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 plot, and the

L 2

general.

general course of the action. By this hand, if 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 besides, the Dowglas ? have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month ? and are there not some of them set forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this? an infidel. Ha! you fhall 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 skimm'd milk with so honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared ; I will set forward to night.

S CE N E VI.

Enter Lady Percy.
Ilow now, Kate! I must leave you within these two

hours.
Lady. 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 thy eyes upon the earth,
And start so often, when thou fiti'it alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,
And given my treasures and my rights of thee,
To thick-ey'd musing, and curs’d melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watcht,
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

Of palisadoes, frontiers ', parapets;
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
Of prisoner's ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the current of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, .
And thus hath fo 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.

Serv. He is, my lord, an hour agone.
Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the

Sheriff ?
Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought ev'n now.
Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not ?
Serv. It is, my lord.

Hot. That roan shall 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. What say'st thou, my Lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
Lady. 3 Out, you mad-headed ape!