Scene II.

The highway, near Gadshill.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins.

Poins. Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed Falstaff's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. Prince. Stand close.

Enter Falstaff.

Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!
Prince. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! what a
brawling dost thou keep!

Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?

Prince. He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll go seek him.

Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's company:

the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied
him I know not where. If I travel but four
foot by the squier further afoot, I shall break
my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair
death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing
that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly
any time this two and twenty years, and yet I
am bewitched with the rogue's company. If
the rascal have not given me medicines to make

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me love him, I'll be hanged; it could not be else; I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! a plague upon you both! Bardolph! Peto! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man and to leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles afcot with me; and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough a plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! [They whistle.] Whew! 30 A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged! Prince. Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine

ear close to the ground and list 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
so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's
exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me
thus?

Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art

uncolted.

Fal. I prithee, good prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's son.

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Prince. Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostler?
Fal. Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent
garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this.
An I have not ballads made on you all and sung
to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison:
when a jest is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it.

Enter Gadshill, Bardolph and Peto with him.
Gads. Stand.

Fal. So I do, against my will.
Poins. O, 'tis our setter:
Bardolph, what news?

I know his voice.

Bard. Case ye, case ye; on with your vizards: there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer.

Fal. You lie, ye rogue; 'tis going to the king's

tavern.

Gads. There's enough to make us all.

Fal. To be hanged.

Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower: if they 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us.

Peto. How many be there of them ?

Gads. Some eight or ten.

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Fal. 'Zounds, will they not rob us?

Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?

Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grand- 70 father; but yet no coward, Hal.

Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof.

Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge: when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged.

Prince. Ned, where are our disguises?

Poins. Here, hard by: stand close.

[Exeunt Prince and Poins.

Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say 80 I: every man to his business.

Enter the Travellers.

First Trav. Come, neighbour: the boy shall lead our horses down the hill; we'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs.

Thieves. Stand!

Travellers. Jesus bless us!

Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats: ah! whoreson caterpillars! baconfed knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them.

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Travellers. O, we are undone, both we and ours for

ever!

Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone ?

No, ye fat chuffs; I would your store were
here! On, bacons, on! What, ye knaves!
young men must live. You are grandjurors,
are ye? we'll jure ye, 'faith.

[Here they rob them and bind them. Exeunt.

Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins disguised. Prince. 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 100 a week, laughter for a month and a good jest for ever.

Poins. Stand close; I hear them coming.

Enter the Thieves again.

Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, 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.
Prince. Your money!