Poins. Pray heav'n, you have not murthered fome of them.

Fal. Nay, that's paft praying for. I have pepper'd two of them; two, I am fure, I have pay'd, two rogues in buckram fuits. I tell thee what, Hal, If I tell thee a lie, fpit in my face, call me horse; thou know'ft my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four rogues in buckram let drive at me.

P. Henry. What, four? thou faidft but two, even

now.

Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four.
Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal. Thefe four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me; I made no more ado, but took all their feven points in my target, thus.

P. Henry. Seven? why there were but four, even

now.

Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram fuits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
P. Henry. Pr'ythee let him alone, we shall have more

anon.

Fal. Doft thou hear me, Hal?

P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do fo, for it is worth the liftning to: thefe nine in buckram, that I told thee of

P. Henry. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points being broken
Pains. Down fell his hofe,

Fal. Began to give me ground; but I follow'd me clofe, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, feven of the eleven I pay'd.

P. Henry. O monftrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal. But as the devil would have it, three mif-begoten knaves in Kendal green came at my back, and let drive at me; (for it was fo dark, Hal, that thou couldst not fee thy hand.)

P. Henry. Thefe lies are like the father that begets them, grofs as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou

F 4

clay.

clay-brain'd guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whorfon obfcene greafie tallow-catch

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth?

P. Henry. Why, how could't thou know thefe men in Kendal green, when it was fo dark, thou could'st not fee thy hand? come, tell us your reason: what say'st thou to this?

Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.

Eal. What, upon compulfion? ne; were I at the ftrappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulfion. Give you a reafon on compulfion! if reasons were as plenty as black-berries, I would give no man a reafon upon compulfion, I.

P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this fin. This fanguine coward, this bed-preffer, this horfe-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,

Fal. Away, you ftarveling, you elf-skin, you dry'd neats-tongue, bull's pizzel, you ftock-fifh: O for breath to utter! What is like thee? You taylor's yard, you fheath, you bow-cafe, you vile ftanding tuck,

P. Henry. Well, breathe a while, and then to't again; and when thou haft tir'd thy felf in base comparisons, hear me fpeak but this.

Poins. Mark, Jack.

P. Henry. We two faw you four fet on four, you bound them, and were mafters of their wealth: mark now, how a plain tale fhall put you down. Then did we two fet on you four, and with a word, out-fac'd you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can fhew it you here in the houfe. And, Falstaff, you carry'd your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and ftill ran and roar'd, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a flave art thou, to hack thy fword as thou haft done, and then say it was in fight-What trick? what device? what starting hole, canft thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent fhame?

Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack: what trick haft thou now?

Fal.

Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my mafters; was it for me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true Prince Why, thou knoweft, I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware instinct, the Lion will not touch the true Prince: instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct I fhall think the better of myself, and thee, during my life; I, for a valiant Lion, and thou for a true Prince. But, by the lord, lads, I am glad have the mony. Hoftefs, clap to the doors; watch to night, pray to morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, fhall we be merry, fhall we have a play extempore?

you

P. Henry. Content : thy running away.

and the argument shall be

Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hall, if thou loveft me.

Enter Hoftefs.

Hoft. O Jefu! my lord the Prince!

P. Henry. How now, my lady the Hostess, what fay'st thou to me?

Hoft. Marry, my lord, there is a Nobleman of the Court at door would speak with you; he says, he comes from your father.

P. Henry. Give him as much as will make hm a royal man, and fend him back again to my mother.

Fal. What manner of man is he?

Hoft. An old man.

Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him his answer?

P. Henry. Pr'ythee, do, Jack.

Fal. Faith, and I'll fend him packing.

[Exit.

P. Henry. Now, Sirs, by'r lady, you fought fair; fo did you, Peto; fo did you, Bardolph: you are Lions too, you ran away upon instinct; you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie!

Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I faw others run.

P. Henry. Tell me now in earneft; how came FalBaff's fword fo hackt?

Peto. Why, he hackt it with his dagger, and faid he would fwear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and perfuaded us to do the like.

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our nofes with fpear-grafs, to make them bleed; and then beflubber our garments with it, and fwear it was the blood of true men. I did That I did not these feven years before, I blush'd to hear his monftrous devices.

P. Henry. O villain, thou ftolleft a cup of fack eighteen years ago, and wert taken in the manner, and ever fince thou haft blufh'd extempore; thou hadft fire and fword on thy fide, and yet thou ranneft away; what inftinct hadst thou for it?

Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors; do you behold thefe exhalations?

P. Henry. I do.

Bard. What think you they portend?
P. Henry. Hot livers, and cold purfes.
Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
P. Henry. No, if rightly taken, halter.

Re-enter Falftaff.

Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How now, my fweet creature of bombaft, how long is❜t ago, Jack, fince thou faw'ft thy own knee?

Fal. My own knee? when I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an Eagle's talon in the wafte; I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: a plague of fighing and grief, it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: here was Sir John Braby from your Father; you muft go to the Court in the morning. That fame mad fellow of the north, Percy, and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true Liegeman upon the cross of a Web-hook : what a plague call you him

Poins. ¤, Glendower.

Fal. Owen, Owen; the fame; and his fon-in-law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly

Scot

Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runs a

perpendicular

P. Henry. He that rides at high speed, and with a pi ftol kills a fparrow flying.

Fal. You have hit it.

P. Henry. So did he never the Sparrow.

Fal. Well; that rafcal hath good mettle in him, he will not run.

P. Henry. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him fo for running?

Fal. A horfeback, ye cuckow, but afoot, he will not budge a foot.

P. Henry. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct; well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more. Worcefter is ftoln away by night: thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news; you may buy land now as cheap as ftinking mackerel,

P. Henry. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and this civil buffetting hold, we fhall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundred.

Fal. By the mafs, lad, thou fay'ft true; it is like, we fhall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horribly afeard? thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out three fuch enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that fpirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? art thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it?

P. Henry. Not a whit, i' faith; I lack fome of thy inftinct.

Fal. Well, thou wilt, be horribly chid to morrow, when thou com'ft to thy father: if thou do love me, practise an answer.

P. Henry. Do thou ftand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life.

Fal. Shall I content, this Chair fhall be my State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my Crown. P. Henry. Thy ftate is taken for a joint-tool, thy golden fcepter for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich Crown for a pitiful bald crown.

Fal