P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts *fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, no rhonesty, in this bosom of thine; it is all filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in thy pocket but tavern reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor pennyworth 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 villany? Thou see'st 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 see'st 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 anything. 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 thereabout! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God 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 Lancaster, To my brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland.. Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou and I 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, POINS, and BARDOLPH. Fal. Rare words! brave world! breakfast; come : Hostess, my [Exit. O, I could wish this tavern were my drum. VOL. VI. 12 ACT IV. SCENE I. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS. W Hotspur. ELL said, my noble Scot; if speaking In this fine age, were not thought flattery, have, As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should go so general current through the world. The tongues of soothers; but a braver place No man so potent breathes upon the ground, 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 himself? Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous sick. Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along? 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. The very life-blood of our enterprise : For, as he writes, there is no quailing now; 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, it is not; his present want On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? The very bottom and the soul of hope; The very list, the very utmost bound Doug. 'Faith, and so we should ; Where now remains a sweet reversion : A comfort of retirement lives in this.— Wor. But yet I would your father had been here. The quality and hair of our attempt Brooks no division: it will be thought By some, that know not why he is away, May turn the tide of fearful faction, And breed a kind of question in our cause : You strain too far. Hot. think, If we, without his help, can make a head must |