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Now merrily to horse.

Prince. Got with much ease.
Away, good Ned. 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!

Warkworth Castle.

[Exeunt. 68

Enter HOTSPUR, alone, reading a letter.

Hot. ‘But, 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: why is he not, then? In respect of the love he bears our house: he shows 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. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! O, I could divide myself and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action! 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?

Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth?
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 watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars;

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Cry Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd
Of prisoners' ransom and of soldiers slain,

And all the currents of a heady fight.

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,

That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow;

And in thy face strange motions have appear'd.
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hear you, my lord?

Hot. What sayest thou, my lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?

Hot.

Why, my horse, my love, my horse.

Lady. 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 enterprise: but if you go,—

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.

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Lady. In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.

Hot. 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.

111

What say'st thou, Kate? What would'st thou have with me ?
Lady. Do you not love me? Do you not, indeed ?
Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o' horseback, 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.
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no farther 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 ùtter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

The Boar's-Head Tavern, Eastcheap.

Enter the PRINCE and POINS.

120

[Exeunt.

Prince. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door: shall we be merry P

Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad.

127

Prince. I am now of all humours that have show'd themselves humours since the old days of goodman Adam. But 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 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet Harry,' says she, how many hast thou kill'd to-day ?3 'Give my roan horse a drench,' says he; and answers 'Some fourteen,' an hour after; a trifle, a trifle.' I prithee, call in Falstaff.

Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO; FRANCIS following with wine.

Poins. Welcome, Jack: where hast thou been?

137

Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say. Give me a cup of sack, poy. Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks.] 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

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herring. There live not thrèe good men unhang'd in England; and one of them is fat and grows old: a bad world, I say. I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say still.

Prince. How now, wool-sack! what mutter you?

149 Fal. A king's sòn! 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. Yòu Prince of Wales!

Prince. Why, what's the matter?

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

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

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Fal. 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 whò sees your back. Give me a cup of sack: I am a rogue, if I've drunk to-day.

Prince. O villain! thy lips are scare wiped since thou drunkest last.

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

Prince. What's the matter?

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

Prince. Where is it, Jack? where is it?

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Fal. Where is it! Taken from us it is: a hundred upon poor four of us.

Prince. What, a hùndred, man?

I am

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hack'd 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 thèm speak: if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness.

Prince. 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.

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Fal. You rogue, they wère bound, every man of them. 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. 190 Prince. What, fought you with them àll?

Fal. All! I know not what you call àll; 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 twolegg'd creature.

Prince. Pray Heaven you have not murder'd some of them. Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I have pepper'd two of them; twò I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits.

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I tell thee what, Hal, thou knowest my old ward; here I lay, and
thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me—
Prince. What, fòur? Thou saidst but two even now.
Fal. Four, Hal; I tòld thee fòur.

Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

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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.

Prince. Seven? Why, there were but fòur even now.

Fal. In bùckram ?

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.

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

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Prince. Prithee, let him alone; we shall have more anon.
Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

Prince. 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, their points being broken, 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 paid.

twò.

Prince. O monstrous! elèven buckram men grown out of

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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.

Prince. These lies are like their father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brain'd knotty-pated fool, thou―

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

Prince. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kèndal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this?

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

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Fal. What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were 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 plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.

Prince. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this horse back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,—

Fal. 'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! You tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case,—

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Prince. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.

Poins. Mark, Jack.

Prince. We twò saw you four set on four and bound them, and were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we twò set on you four; and, with a word, out-fac'd you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house. And, Falstaff, you carried yourself away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and still run and roar'd, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slàve art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then

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