Poins. My Lord, I will steep this letter in fack, and make him eat it.

P. Henry. That's to make him eat plenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? muft I marry your Sifter?

Poins. May the wench have no worse fortune! But I never faid fo.

P. Henry. Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the fpirits of the wife fit in the clouds and mock us is your mafter here in London?

Bard. Yes, my lord.

:

P. Henry. Where fups he doth the old Boar feed in the old frank?

Bard. At the old place, my lord, in Eaft-cheap.
P. Henry. What company?

Page. Ephefians, my lord, of the old church.
P. Henry, Sup any women with him?

Page. None, my lord, but old Mrs. Quickly, and Mrs. Doll Tear-Sheet.

P. Henry. What Pagan may that be?

Page. A proper gentlewoman, Sir, and a kinfwoman of my master's.

P. Henry. Even such kin, as the parish heifers are to the town Bull. Shall we fteal upon them, Ned, at fupper?

Poins. I am your fhadow, my lord, I'll follow you. P. Henry. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. There's for your filence.

Bard. I have no tongue, Sir,

Page. And for mine, Sir, I will govern it.
P. Henry. Fare ye well: go.

fhould be fome road.

This Del Tear-Sheet

Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way tween St. Albans and London.

be

P. Henry. How might we fee Falftaff beftow himself to night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? * in the old frank?] i. c. Hogfty. Mr. Pope.

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

P. Henry. From a God to a Bull? a heavy descenfion. It was Jove's cafe. From a Prince to a prentice? a low transformation; that fhall be mine: for in every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Changes to Northumberland's Cafle.

Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and Lady Percy.

North. I

Pr'ythee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs. Put not you on the vifage of the times, And be like them to Percy, troublesome.

L. North. I have giv'n over, I will speak no more: Do what you will: your wisdom be your guide. North, Alas, fweet wife, my Honour is at pawn, And, but my Going, nothing can redeem it.

L. Percy. Oh, yet, for heav'n's fake, go not to thefe wars.

1

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-dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look, to fee his father
Bring up his Pow'rs: but he did long in vain!
Who then perfuaded you to stay at home?
There were two Honours loft!
yours and your fon's.
For yours, may heav'nly glory brighten it!
For his, it ftuck upon him as the Sun
In the grey vault of heav'n: 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 drefs themfelves.
He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait:

G 6

And

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 feem like him. So that in fpeech, 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, wondrous him!
O miracle of men! him did you leave
(Second to None, unfeconded by You ;)
To look upon the hideous God of War
In difadvantage; to abide a field.

Where nothing but the found of Hot-fpur's Name
Did feem defenfible: fo you left Him.
Never, O, never do his Ghoft the wrong,
To hold your honour more precife and nice
With others, than with him. Let them alone:
The Marfhal and the Archbishop are ftrong.
Had my fweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I, (hanging on Hot-fpur's neck)
Have talk'd of Monmouth's Grave.

North. Behrew your heart,

Fair daughter, you do draw my fpirits from me,
With new-lamenting ancient over-fights.

But I must go and meet with danger there;
Or it will feek me in another place,

And find me worse provided.

L. North. Fly to Scotland,

'Till that the Nobles and the armed Commons

Have of their puissance made a little taste.

L. Percy. If they get ground and 'vantage of the
King,

Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
To make ftrength ftronger. But, for all our loves,
Firft let them try themselves. So did
So did your fon:
He was fo fuffer'd; fo came I a widow:
And never shall have length of Life enough,

To

To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and fprout as high as heav'n,
For recordation to my noble husband.

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

As with the tide fwell'd up unto his height,
That makes a fill-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back:
I will refolve for Scotland; there am I,

'Till time and 'vantage crave my company. [Exeunt

Changes to the Boar's-head Tavern in Eaft-cheap..

Enter two Drawers.

1 Draw. W there? Apple-Johns? thou know'ft, WHAT Sir John cannot endure an Apple-John.

WHAT the devil haft thou brought

2 Draw. Mafs! thou fayeft true; the Prince once fet a dish of Apple-Johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, faid, I will now take my leave of thefe fix dry, round, old, wither'd knights. It anger'd him to the heart; but he hath forgot That.

1 Draw. Why then, cover, and fet them down; and fee if thou canft find out Sneak's Noife; Mrs. TearSheet would fain hear fome mufic. Dispatch! the room where they fupt is too hot, they'll come in ftraight.

2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be the Prince, and Mafter Poins anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John muft not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.

1 Draw. Then *here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent ftratagem.

2 Draw. I'll fee, if I can find out Sneak.

[Exeunt.

*here will be hold Utis:] Utis, an old Word yet in use in some Coun

tries, fignifying a merry Festival.

Mr. Pope. SCENE

Hoft. T'FAITH, fweet heart, methinks, now you are in an excellent good temperality: your pulfidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would defire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rofe: but, i'faith, you have drank too much canarys, and that's a marvellous fearching wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere we can say what's this. do you now?

Dol. Better than I was: hem.

How

Hoft. Why, that was well faid: a good heart's worth gold. Look, here comes Sir John.

Enter Falftaff.

Fal. When Arthur first in Court-empty the jorden -and was a worthy King: how now, Mrs. Dol. Hoft. Sick of a calm: yea, good footh.

Fal. So is all her fect; if they be once in a calm, they are fick.

Dol. You muddy rafcal, is that all the comfort you give me?

Fal. You make fat rafcals, Mrs. Dol.

Dol. I make them! gluttony and diseases make them, I make them not.

Fal. If the cook make the gluttony, you help to make the difeafes, Dol; we catch of you, Dol, we catch of you; grant That, my poor Vertue, grant

That.

Dol. Ay, marry, our chains and our jewels.

Fal. Your brooches, pearls and owches: for to *Your brooches, pearls and owches:] Brooches were Chains of Gold that Women wore formerly about their Necks. Owches were Boffes of Gold fet with Diamonds.

M. Pope.

ferve