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P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal; What a brawling dost thou keep?
Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?
P. Hen. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill; I'll go seek him.
[Pretends to seek Poins. Fal. I am accurst 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 squire 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 bewitch'd with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd; 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 chew'd with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threescore and ten miles afoot with me; and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough: A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true to one another! [They whistle.) Whew!-A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be hang'd.
P. Hen. 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?
P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.
Fal. I pr’ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my horse; good king's son.
P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler?
Fal. Go, hang thyself 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 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 BARDOLPH. Bar. What news?
Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your visors; 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 tayern,
Gads. There's enough to make us all.
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.
Peto. How many be there of them?
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 cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'a.
P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises?
[Exeunt P. Henry and Poins. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.
i Trav. Come, neighbour; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill: we'll walk afoot a while, and ease our legs.
throats: Ah! whorson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them.
i Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours, for
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 grand jurors are ye? We'll jure ye, i'faith. [Exeunt Falstaff, &c. driving the Travellers out.
Re-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 jest for ever. Poins. Stand close, I hear them coming.
Re-enter Thieves. 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.
P. Hen. Your money. [Rushing out upon them.
upon them. Falstaff, after a blow or two, with
them.) P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse:
The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with fear
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