SCENE II. The highway, near Gadshill, Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS. Poins. Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed Falstaff's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. Prince. Stand close. Enter FALSTAFF. Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! Prince. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! what a brawling dost thou keep! Fal. Where's Poins, Hal? Prince. He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll go seek him. Fal. I am accursed 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 squier 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 bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; 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. a deed as drink, to turn these rogues, I am the chewed with a tooth. 2. frets like a gummed velvet; velvet stiffened with gum, and An 'twere not as good true man and to leave veriest varlet that ever Eight yards of uneven ΙΟ 20 thence rapidly frayed and worn. 13. squier, measure, : ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me; and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough a plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! [They whistle.] Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged! Prince. 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 ? Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's son. Prince. Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostler? Fal. Go, hang thyself in thine own heirapparent 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 GADSHILL, BARDOLPH and PETO with him. Gads. Stand. Fal. So I do, against my will. Poins. O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice. Bardolph, what news? Bard. Case ye, case ye; on with your vizards: there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the king's exchequer. 30 50 'Hang thyself in thy own garters was a current objurgatory formula. Fal. You lie, ye rogue; 'tis going to the king's tavern. Gads. There's enough to make us all. Fal. To be hanged. Prince. 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. 'Zounds, will they not rob us? 60 Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your 70 grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal. Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof. Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast. : Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged. Prince. Ned, where are our disguises? Poins. Here, hard by: stand close. [Exeunt Prince and Poins. Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his 80 dole, say I every man to his business. : Enter the Travellers. First Trav. Come, neighbour: the boy shall lead our horses down the hill; we'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs. Thieves. Stand! Travellers. Jesus bless us. Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats: ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed 80. happy man be his dole, be it his lot to be a happy man. knaves! they hate us youth: down with them: fleece them. Travellers. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever! 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 grandjurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, 'faith. [Here they rob them and bind them. Exeunt. Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS. 90 Prince. 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 100 week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. Poins. Stand close; I hear them coming. Enter the Thieves again. 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. Prince. Your money! Poins. Villains! [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them; they all run away; and Falstaff, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.] 93. gorbellied, big-bellied, 'paunchy.' 94. chuffs, rich churls. The word was strictly applied to the well-to-do miserly clowns. 110 96. grandjurors, i.e. men of social pretensions. Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse : The thieves are all scatter'd and possess'd with fear So strongly that they dare not meet each other; Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, [Exeunt. SCENE III. Warkworth castle. Enter HOTSPUR, solus, reading a letter. there, in respect of the Let me Hot. But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be love I bear your house.' 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. 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 Sc. 3. reading a letter. The writer of the letter is not indicated; but Yorkshire tradition (reported in 1811 to Scott by his friend Morritt of Rokeby) identified him with Rokeby, High Sheriff of the county, who 13. unsorted, ill-chosen. > |