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 frostyspirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. Zounds, an 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, beside, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the 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. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so 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. O my good lord, why are you thus alone?

For what offence have I, this fortnight, been
A banished 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 sit'st 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 bave 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' ransome, 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 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 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.

Hot. 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. But hear you, my lord. Hot. What say'st, my lady? Lady. What is it carries you away? Hot. My horse,

My love, my horse.

Lady. 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 enterprize: But if you go-

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to 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,

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.-Gods me, my
horse!-

What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have with me?

Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, in

deed?

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'horse-back, 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! Lady. How! so far?

shewed themselves humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re-enter Francis, with wine.] What's o'clock, Francis? Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman!-His industry is-upstairs, and downstairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he, that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife,-Fye upon this quiet life! | I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed to-day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.

Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee darnned ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me.Give me a cup of sack :—I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.

P. Hen. Ó villain! thy lips are scarce wiped

since thou drunk'st last.

Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cow. ards, still say I. [He drinks.

P. Hen. What's the matter? Fal. What's the matter? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it? Fal. Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us.

P. Hen. What, a hundred, man?

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I

РЕТО.

Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a Vengeance too! marry, and amen!-Give me a cup of sack, boy.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether-stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, rogue.-Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks.

· P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the son? If thou didst, then behold that compound.

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack 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 shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat, and grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say! I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing: A plague of all cowards, I say still.

P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? what mutter

you?

Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You prince of Wales!

P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that; and Poins there?

Poins. "Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

thrust through the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards!-Let them speak: if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.

P. Hen. Speak, sirs; how was it?
Gads. We four set upon some 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 Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us,—

Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.

P. Hen. 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 am I no two-legged creature.

Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some of them.

Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: for I have peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal,-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward;here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me,

P. Hen. What, four? thou said'st but two,

even now.

Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four.

Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus

even now.

Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.

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

P. Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall have more anon.

Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram, that I told thee of,— P. Hen. So, two more already. Fal. Their points being broken,Poins. Down fell their hose.

Fal. Began to give me ground: But I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid.

P. Hen. O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me;-for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.

P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-pated fool; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-keech,

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

P. Hen. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand? come tell us your reason; What sayest thou to this?

Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.

P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh;Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neats-tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish, -0, for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck

P. Hen. Well, breath awhile, and then to it again and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.

:

Poins. Mark, Jack.

P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth.-Mark now, how plain a tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four: and, with a word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house :-and, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and

What a slave

art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast 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 hast thou now?

Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it for me to kill the heir-apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself 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 money.-Hostess, 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, shall we be merry? shall we have a play extempore?

P. Hen. Content ;-and the argument shall be thy running away.

me.

Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest

Enter Hostess.

Host. My lord the prince,

P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? what say'st thou to me?

Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door, would speak with you: he says he comes from your father.

P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him back again to my mother.

Fal. What manner of man is he?
Host. An old man.

Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?-Shall I give him his answer? P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do, Jack.

Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing.

Exit.

P. Hen. Now, sirs; by'r-lady, you fought fair;-so did you, Peto;-so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true prince; no,-fye!

Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came Falstaff's sword so hacked?

Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger; and said, he would swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight; and persuaded us to do the like.

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass, to make them bleed; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and to swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven years before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices.

P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack