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Heft. Throw me in the Kennel? I'll throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou baftardly Rogue. Murder, murder: 0 thou Hony-fuckle Villain, wilt thou kill God's Officers and the King's? O thou hony-feed Rogue, thou art a Hony-feed, a Man-queller, and a Woman-queller. Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.

Fang. A Refuce, a Rescue.

Hoft. Good People bring a Refcue. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempfeed. Fal Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, your Fuftilirian: I'll tuck your Cataftrophe.

Enter Chief Justice.

Ch. Juft. What's the matter? Keep the Peace here, hoa. Hoft. Good my Lord, be good to me. I beseech you

ftand to me. >

Ch. Just. How now, Sir John? what are you brawling here? Doth this become your Place, your time, and bufiness? You should have been well on your way to York. Stand from him Fellow, wherefore hang'ft upon him? Hoft. O my moft worshipful Lord, and't pleafe your Grace I am a poor Widow of Eaftcheap, and he is arrested at my Suit.

Ch. Juft. For what Sum?

Hoft. It is more than for fome, my Lord, it is for all; all I have; he hath eaten me out of House and Home; he hath put all my Substance into that fat Belly of his; but I wil have fome of it out again, or I'll ride thee o'Nights, like the Mare.

Fal. I think I am as like to ride the Mare, if I have any vantage of Ground to get up.

Ch. Juft. How comes this, Sir John? Fie, what Man of good temper would endure this tempeft of Exclamation? Are you not afham'd to inforce a poor Widow to fo rogh a course to come by her own?

Fal. What is the grofs Sum that I owe thee?

Hoft. Marry, if thou wert an honeft Man, thy felf, and the Mony too. Thou didst fwear to me on a parcel-gilt Gobler, fitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round Ťable, by a Sea-coal Fire, on Wednesday in Whitfon-week, when VOL. IV.

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the Prince broke thy Head for likening him to a Singing man of Windfor; thou didst fwear to me then, as I was wafhing thy Wound, to marry me, and make me my Lady thy Wife. Canft thou deny it? Did not Good-wife Keech, the Butcher's Wife, come in then, and call me Goffip Quick ly? coming in to borrow a Mefs of Vinegar, telling us, the had a a good Dish of Prawns; whereby thou didst defire to eat fome; whereby I told thee they were ill for a green Wound? And didft not thou, when she was gone down Stairs, defire me to be no more familiar with fuch poor People, faying, that ere long they should call me Madam? And didft thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty Shillings? I put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny it if thou canft?

She

Fal My Lord, this is a poor mad Soul; and the fays up and down the Town, that her eldest Son is like you. hath been in good cafe, and the truth is, Poverty hath diftracted her; but for these foolish Officers, I beseech you I may have redress against them.

Ch. Juft. Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true Caufe, the falfe Way. It is not a confident Brow, nor the throng of Words, that come with fuch, more than impudent, fawcinefs from you, can thrust me from a level confideration. I know you ha practis'd upon the eafie-yielding Spirit of this Woman. Hoft. Yes in troth, my Lord.

Ch. Juft. Prethee, peace; pay her the Debt you owe her, and unpay the Villany you have done her; the one you may do with fterling Mony, and the other with currant Repen

tance.

Fal. My Lord, I will not undergo this faeap without reply. You call honourable Boldness impudent Sawciness. If a Man will curt'fie, and say nothing, he is virtuous: No, my Lord, your humble Duty remembred, I will your Sutor. I fay to you, I defire deliv'rance from thefe Officers, being upon hafty Employment in the King's Affairs.

not be

Ch. Juft. You fpeak, as having Power to do wrong: But anfwer in the Effect your Reputation, and fatis fie the poor Woman.

Fal.

Fal. Come hither, Hoftefs.

Enter Mr. Gower.

Ch. Juft. Now, Mafter Gower, what News?

Gower. The King, my Lord, and Henry Prince of Wales Are near at Hand: The reft the Paper tells.

Fal. As I am a Gentleman

Hoft. Nay, you faid fo before.

Fal. As I am a Gentleman, come, no more words of it. Hoft. By this heavenly Ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my Plate, and the Tapestry of my Dining Chambers.

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Fal. Glaffes, Glaffes, is the only drinking; and for thy Walls a pretty flight Drollery, or the Story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in Water-work, is worth a thoufand of thefe Bed-hangings, and thefe Fly-bitten Tapestries: Let it be ten Pound, if thou canft. Come, if it were not for thy Humours, there is not a better Wench in England. Go, wash thy Face, and draw thy Action: Come, thou must not be in this Humour with me, come, I know thou wait fet on to this.

Hoft. Prithee, Sir John, let it be but twenty Nobles, I am loth to pawn my Plate, in good carneft la.

Fal. Let it alone, I'll make other fhift; you'll be a Fool ftill.

Hoft. Well, you fhall have it, although I pawn my Gown. I hope you'll come to Supper: You'll pay me all together?

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Fal. Will I live? Go with her, with her; Hook on, hook on.

Hoft. Will you have Doll Tear-fheet meet you at Sup. per?

Fal. No more Words. Let's have her.

Ch. Fuft. I have heard bitter News.
Fal. What's the News, my good Lord?
Ch. Juft. Where lay the King laft Night?
Gower. At Bafing floke, my Lord.

Fal. I hope, my Lord, all's well. What is the News, my Lord?

Ch. Fuft. Come all his Forces back?

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Gower. No; fifteen hundred Foot, and five hundred Horfe, are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster, against Northumberland and the Arch-Bishop.

Fal. Comes the King back from Wales, my noble Lord? Ch. Faft. You fhall have Letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good Mr. Gower.

Fal. My Lord.

Ch. Just. What's the matter?

Fal. Mafter Gower, I fhall entreat you with me to din

ner.

Gower. I must wait upon my good Lord here.

I thank you, good Sir John.

Ch. Fuft. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take Soldiers up in the Countreys as you go. Fal. Will you Sup with me, Mafter Gower?

Ch. Juft. What foolish Mafter taught you thefe Manners, Sir John?

Fal. Mafter Gower, if they become me not, he was a Fool that taught them me. This is the right Fencing grace, my Lord, tap for tap, and fo part fair.

Ch. Juft. Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great Fool.

SCENE II.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins.

P. Henry. Trust me, I am exceeding weary.

[Exeunt.

Poins. Is it come to that? I had thought wearinefs durft not have attach'd one of fo high Blood.

P. Henry. It doth me, though it difcolours the Complexion of my Greatnefs to acknowledge i. Doth it not thew vilely in me, to desire fmall Beer?

Poins. Why, a Prince fhould not be so loofly studied, as to remember fo weak a Composition.

P. Henry. Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely got; for, in troth, I do now remember the poor Creature, Imall Beer. But indeed thefe humble confiderations make me out of love with my Greatness. What a difgrace is it to me to remember thy Name? or to know thy Face to morrow? or to take Note how many pair of Silk Stockings

thou

thou haft? (viz. these, and those that were the peach-colour'd ones;) or to bear the Inventory of thy Shirts, as one for fuperfluity, and one other for ufe; but that the Tennis Court Keeper knows better than I, for it is a low ebb of Linnen with thee, when thou keepeft not Racket there, as thou haft not done a great while, because the reft of thy Low Countreys have made a fhift to eat up thy Holland. Peins. How ill it follows, after you have labour'd fo hard, you should talk fo idely? tell me how many good. young Princes would do fo, their Fathers lying fo fick, as yours is.

P. Henry. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?

Poins. Yes; and let it be an excellent good thing.

P. Henry. It shall ferve among Wits of no higher breed ing than thine.

Poins. Go to; I ftand the push of your one thing, that - you'll tell.

P. Henry. Why I tell thee, it is not meet that I fhould be fad now my Father is fick; albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my Friend, I could be fad, and fad indeed too.

Poins. Very hardly upon fuch a Subject.

P. Henry. Thou think'ft me as far in the Devil's Book, as thou and Falstaff; for obduracy and perfiftency. Let the end try the Man. But I tell thee, my Heart bleeds inwardly, that my Father is fick; and keeping fuch vile Company as thou art, hath in Reason taken from me, all oftentation of Sorrow.

Poins. The Reason?

P. Henry. What would't thou think of me, if I should weep?

Poins. I would think thee a moft Princely Hypocrite. P. Henry. It would be every Man's thought, and thou art a bleffed Fellow, to think as every Man thinks; never a Man's thought in the World keeps the Road-way better than thine; every Man would think me an Hypocrite indeed. And what excites your moft worshipful.thought to think fo?

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