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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? mult 'I

marry your Sifler?

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

P. Henry. 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. Henry. Where fups he : doth the old Boar feed in the old frank? Bard. At the old place, my lord, in East-cheap. P. Henry. What company? Page. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. P. Henry, Sup any women with him? Page. None, ny lord, but old Mrs. Quickly, and Mrs. Doll Tear-Sheet.

P. Henry. What Pagan may that be?

Page. A proper gentlewoman, Sir, and a kinswoman of my

master's. P. Henry. 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. Henry. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word

master that I am yet come to town. There's for your Glence. Bard. I have no tongue,

Sir,
Page. And for mine, Sir, I will govern it.

P. Henry. Fare ye well: go. This Del Tear-Sheet should be some road. Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way

between St. Albans and London.

P. Henry. How might we fee Falstaff beftow himself io night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? * in the old frank?] i. 6. Hogsty.

Mr. Pope.

to your

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 shall be mine: for in every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.

[Exeunt.

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S CE N E VI.

Changes to Northumberland's Cafle.
Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and

Lady Percy,

North. I Peythee boving wife, and gentle daughter

,

1

Give even way rough affairs.
Put not you on the visage 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, sweet 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

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-dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look, to see his father
Bring up his Pow'rs: but he did long in vain !
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two Honours loft!

yours

and
your

son's.
For yours, may heav'nly glory brighten it!
For his, it stuck 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 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, wondrous him!
() miracle of men ! him did

you

leave
(Second to None, unfeconded by You ;)
To look upon the hideous God of War
In disadvantage; to abide a field,
Where nothing but the found of Hot-spur's Name
Did seem defenfible : 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 Hot-Spur's neck)
Have talk'd of Monmouth's Grave.

North. Belbrew your heart,
Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me,
With new-lamenting ancient over-fights.
But I must go and meet with danger there;
Or it will seek 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 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

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VII.

WHAT the devil haft thou brought

To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout 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 swell'd up unto his height, That makes a ftill 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. (Excunt

S CE N E
Changes to the Boar's-head. Tavern in East-cheap.

Enter two Drawers. i Draw.

there ? Apple-Johns? thou know'st, Sir John cannot endure an Apple-John.

2 Draw. Mafs ! thou sayest 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 fix dry, round, old, wither'd knights. It angerd him to the heart ; but he hath forgot That.

i Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down; and see if thou canst find out Sneak's Noise; Mrs. TearSheet would fain bear some music. Dispatch ! the room where they supt is too hot, they'll come in straight.

2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be ihe Prince, and Master Poins

anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.

I Draw. Then * here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent stratagem.

2 Draw. I'll see, if I can find out Sneak. (Exeunt. * here will behold Utis :) Utis, an old Word yet in use in someCoun. trics, fignifying a merry Festival.

Mr. Pope. SCENE

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Hoj.

Enter Hoflefs and Dol.
FAITH

are in an excellent good temperality: your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would defire; and

your
colour, I warrant you,

is as red as any rose : but, i' faith, you have drank too much canarys, and that's a marvellous searching wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere we can say what's this. How do you now?

Dol. Better than I was: hem.

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

Enter Falstaff. Fal. When Arthur first in Court-empty the jorden and was a worthy King : how now, Mrs. Hol.

Hoft. Șick of a calm: yea, good footh.

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

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

Fal. You make fat rascals, 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 diseases, 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 set with Diamonds.

serve

M. Pope.

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