My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack, and make him eat it.

P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? must I marry your sister?

Poins. May the wench have no worse fortune! but I never said so.

P. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with the time; and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds, and mock us. Is your master here in London?

Bard. Yes, my lord.

P. Hen. Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank 4° ?

Bard. At the old place, my lord; in Eastcheap.
P. Hen. What company?

Page. Ephesians, my lord; of the old church.
P. Hen. Sup any women with him?

Page. None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, and mistress Doll Tear-sheet.

P. Hen. What pagan may that be?

Page. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's.

P. Hen. Even such kin, as the parish heifers are to the town bull.-Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?

Poins. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow

you.

P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy,-and Bardolph ;-no word to your master, that I am yet come to town: There's for your silence.

Bard. I have no tongue, sir.

Page. And for mine, sir,-I will govern it.

P. Hen. Fare ye well; go. [Exeunt Bardolph and Page.]-This Doll Tear-sheet should be some road.

Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way between saint Alban's and London.

P. Hen. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?

Poins. Put on two leather jerkins, and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers.

P. Hen. From a god to a bull? a heavy descension! it was Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall be mine: for, in every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Warkworth. Before the Castle.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, Lady NORTHUMBerLAND, and Lady PERCY.

North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,

Give even way unto my rough affairs :

Put not you on the visage of the times,
And be, like them, to Percy troublesome.

Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more:

Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.

Lady P. O, yet for God's sake, go not to these

wars!

The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now;
When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look, to see his father
Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain.
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours lost; yours, and your son's.
For yours,-may heavenly glory brighten it!
For his, it stuck upon him, as the sun

In the grey vault of heaven: and, by his light,
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts; he was, indeed, the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait:
And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant;

For those that could speak low, and tardily,

Would turn their own perfection to abuse,

To seem like him: So that, in speech, in gait,

In diet, in affections of delight,

In military rules, humours of blood,

He was the mark and glass, copy and book,

That fashion'd others. And him,-0 wondrous

him!

O miracle of men!-him did you leave,

(Second to none, unseconded by you,)
To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage; to abide a field,

Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
Did seem defensible:-so you left him:
Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong,

To hold your honour more precise and nice
With others, than with him; let them alone;
The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong:
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.

North.

Beshrew your heart,

Fair daughter! you do draw my spirits from me,
With new lamenting ancient oversights.

But I must go, and meet with danger there;

Or it will seek me in another place,

And find me worse provided.

Lady N.

O, fly to Scotland,

Till that the nobles, and the armed commons,

Have of their puissance made a little taste.

Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the

king,

Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,

To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves,
First let them try themselves: So did your son;
He was so suffer'd; so came I a widow;
And never shall have length of life enough,
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,

For recordation to my noble husband.

North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my mind,

As with the tide swell'd up unto its height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back:-
I will resolve for Scotland; there am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV..

London. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern, in

Eastcheap.

Enter two Drawers.

1 Draw. What the devil hast thou brought there? apple-Johns? thou know'st sir John cannot endure an apple-John.

2 Draw. Mass, thou say'st true: The prince once set a dish of apple-Johns before him, and told him, there were five more sir Johns: and, putting off his hat, said, I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, wither'd knights. It anger'd him to the heart; but he hath forgot that.

1 Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down: And see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise 41 mistress Tear-sheet would fain hear some musick. Despatch:-The room where they supp'd, is too hot; they'll come in straight.