Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked.

P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack?

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Hen. What! he did not?

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.

9

Host. Say, what thing? what thing? I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
Fal. What beast? why an otter.

P. Hen. An otter, sir John! why an otter?
Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so.
P. Hen. Thou sayest true; hostess; and he
slanders thee most grossly.

Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound.

P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

9 A female character, who attends morris dancers; generally a man dressed like a woman.

Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?

Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so.

Fal. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper.

P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as good as thy word now?

Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? P. Hen. O, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou impudent rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed?

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man ; and therefore more frailty.- -You confess then,

you picked my pocket?

P. Hen. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.— Still? Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad, How is that answered?

P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:The money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too.

Bard. Do, my

lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two-and-twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, Heaven be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.

P. Hen. Bardolph

Bard. My lord.

P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lan

caster,

My brother John; this to my lord of Westmore

land.

Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I,
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
Jack,

Meet me to-morrow i' the Temple-hall

At two o'clock i'the afternoon:

There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive

Money, and order for their furniture.

The land is burning; Percy stands on high;

And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt Prince, Porns, and BARDOLPH.

Fal. Rare words! brave world!.

breakfast; come :

Hostess, my

O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter HOTSPUR, Worcester, and DOUGLAS. Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth,

In this fine age, were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas' have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy

The tongues of soothers; but a braver place
In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself:
Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour:

No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.

Hot.

Do so, and 'tis well :

Enter a Messenger, with Letters.

What letters hast thou there?-I can but thank

you.

Mess. These letters come from your father,
Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not him-

self?

Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous

sick.

Hot. O how has he the leisure to be sick,
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?

This expression is applied by way of pre-eminence to the head of the Douglas family.

Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; And at the time of my departure thence,

He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been whole,

Ere he by sickness had been visited;

His health was never better worth than now. Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect

The very life-blood of our enterprize;
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.-
He writes me here, that inward sickness-
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul remov'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,-
That with our small conjunction, we should on,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now;
Because the king is certainly possess'd

2

Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off:-
And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it :- Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states

All at one cast? to set so rich a main

On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good: for therein should we read
bottom and the soul of hope;
The very list3, the very utmost bound

The very

Of all our fortunes.

Doug.

2 Languishing.

'Faith, and so we should;

3 Limit, boundary.