P. HEN. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill, I'll go feek him.

FAL. I am accurft to rob in that thief's company: the rafcal hath remov'd my horfe, and ty'd him, I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the fquare farther afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'fcape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forfworn his company hourly any time this two and twenty years, and yet I am bewitch'd with the rogue's company. If the rafcal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd; it could not be elfe; I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! a plague upon you both. Bardolph! Peto! I'll ftarve, ere I'll rob a-foot further. An 'twere not as good a deed as to drink, to turn true man, and to leave these rogues, I am the verieft varlet that ever chew'd with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threefcore aud ten miles afcot with me; and the ftony hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true one to another. (They whiftle.) Whew!-a plague upon you all. Give me my horse; you rogues, give me my horse, and be hang'd.

P. HEN. Peace, you fat guts! lye down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and lift if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.

FAL. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh fo far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye, to colt me thus ?

P. HEN. Thou lieft, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

FAL. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's fon.

Dd 3

P. HEN. Out, you rogue! shall I be your oftler?

FAL. Go hang thy felf in thy own heir apparent garters; if I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An' I have not ballads made on you all, and fung to filthy tunes, let a cup of fack be my poifon. When a jeft is so forward, and afoot too?—I hate it. Enter Gads-hill.

GADS. Stand,

FAL. So I do against my will.

POINS. O, 'tis our fetter, I know his voice. Bardolph. -What news?

GADS. Cafe ye, cafe ye; on with your vifors; there's money 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. HEN. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower; if they 'fcape from your encounter, then they light on us.

PETO. But how many be there of them?

GADS. Some eight or ten.

FAL. Zounds! will they not rob us?

P. HEN. What, a coward, fir John Paunch.

FAL. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grand-father; but yet no coward, Hal.

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

POINS. Sirrah, Jack, thy horfe ftands behind the hedge; when thou need'ft him, there fhalt thou find him. Farewel, and ftand fast.

FAL. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.
P. HEN. Ned, where are our disguises?

POINS. Here, hard by. Stand clofe.

FAL. Now, my mafters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his bufinefs.

SCENE IV. Enter Travellers.

TRAV. Come, neighbour; the boy fhall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk a foot a while, and ease our legs.

THIEVES. Stand,

TRAV. Jefu bless us!

FAL. Strike; down with with them, cut the villains' throats; ah! whorfon 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. HEN. 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 jeft for ever,

POINS. Stand clofe, I hear them coming.

Enter Thieves again at the other part of the stage.

FAL. Come, my masters, let us fhare, 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. HEN. Your money.

POINS. Villains!

[As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins fet upon them

They all run away, and Falstaff after a blow or two,

runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.] P. HEN. Got with much eafe. Now merrily to horfe : The thieves are fcatter'd, and poffeft with fear

So ftrongly, 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!

SCENE V. Lord Percy's house.

Enter Hot-fpur folus, reading a letter.

[Exeunt:

"But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well con"tented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your "houfe." He could be contented to be there, why is he not then?" in respect of the love he bears our house!" he fhews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me fee fome more. "The purpofe you "undertake is dangerous." Why, that's certain: 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to fleep, to drink : but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, fafety. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the "friends you have named uncertain, the time itself unfort"ed, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoize of "fo great an oppofition." Say you fo, fay you fo? I fay unto you again, you are a fhallow 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 conftant; a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an ex

cellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rafcal, 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 befides, the Dowglas? have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are there not fome of them fet forward already? What a Pagan rafcal is this? an infidel. Ha! you fhall fee now, in very fincerity 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 fuch a dish of skimm'd milk with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the king. We are prepared; I will fet forward to night.

How now,

SCENE VI. Enter lady Percy.

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 ftomach, pleasure, and thy golden fleep? Why doft thou bend thy eyes upon the earth, And ftart fo often, when thou fitt'ft alone? Why haft 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 flumbers I by thee have watcht, And heard thee murmer tales of iron wars, Speak terms of manage to thy bounding fteed; Cry, "courage! to the field!" and thou hast talk'ð