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 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us. Fal. But how many be there of them? Gads. Some eight, or ten.

Fal. Zounds! will they not rob us?

P. Hen. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal.

P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof.

Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge; when thou need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.

Fal. Now I cannot strike him, if I should be hang'd.

P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises?
Poins. Here, hard by; stand close.

} [Aside.

[Exeunt the PRINCE and POINS. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

[They put on their Masks, and draw their Swords.

Enter Four TRAVELLERS.

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

Fal. &c. Stand.

Trav. Thieves!-Murder !-Help !

[The TRAVELLERS run back again, followed by BARDOLPH, GADSHILL, and PETO.

Fal. Down with them; cut the villains' throats; ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them :young men must live: you are grand-jurors, are ye? We'll jure you, 'ifaith.

[Exit.

Enter HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, and POINS, in Buckram Suits.

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 jest for ever. Poins. Stand close, I hear them coming.

[They retire a little

Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO, with Bags of Money.

Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. [They sit down on the Ground.] 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 set upon them. The Rest run away; and FALSTAFF, after a Blow or two, runs away too, leaving the Booty behind him.

P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse;

The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with fear
So strongly, that they dare not meet each other;
Each takes his fellow for an officer,

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!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Warkworth.

A Room in the Castle.

Enter HOTSPUR, reading a Letter.

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. The purpose, you undertake, is dangerous; the friends, you have named, uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.— Say you so? say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, 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 constant: an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frostyspirited 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 rascal, 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, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters,

to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are they not, some of them, set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all our proceedings. Oh, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! let him tell the king, we are prepared: 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?
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 stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth;
And start so often, when thou sitt'st alone?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars:
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
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.
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hot. What, ho!-

Enter RABY.

Is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Rab. He is, my lord, an hour ago.

Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?

Rab. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? Rab. It is, my lord.

Hot. That roan shall be my

throne.

Well, I will back him straight.-O esperance!

Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit RABY.
Lady. But hear you, my lord.

Hot. What say'st thou, my lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.
Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weazle hath not such a deal of spleen,
As you are toss'd with.-In faith,

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.
Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question that I ask.

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

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:
We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns,
And pass them current too.--Gods me, my horse!—
What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have
with me?

Lady. Do you not love me? do you not indeed?
Well, do not, then; for, since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
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:
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.