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S CE N E V.

Lord Percy's House. Enter Hot-spur folus, reading a letter. BUT for mine own part, my lord, I could be well con

tented to be there, in refpe&t of the love I bear your House. He could be contented to be there'; why is he not then? in respect of the love 'he bears our House ! he shews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our House. Let me fee foine 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 unforted, and your whole plot too tight, for the counterpoize of so great an opposition. Say you so, say you so ? I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this ? By the lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and conftant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frofty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rafcal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower ? Is there not besides, the Dowglas ? have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are there not some of them fet forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this ? an infidel. Ha !

you

shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a

dish of skimm'd milk with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will set forward to night.

S CE N E VI.

Enter Lady Percy. How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two

ho!rs. Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus alone ? For what offence have I this fortnight been A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden fleep? Why dost thou bend thy eyes upon the earth ? And start fo often, when thou fitt'st alone ? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ? And given my treasures and my rights of thee, To thick-ey'd muling, and curs d melancholy ? In thy faint flumbers I by thee have watcht, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wats : Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; Cry, courage! to the field! and thou haft talk'd Of fallies, and retires; of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, fortins, parapets; Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, Of prisoner's ransom, and of soldiers flain, And all the current of a heady fight.'' Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, And thus hath fo beftir'd thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream: And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are

these? Some heavy business háth my lord in hand, And I must know it ; else he loves me not.

Hot,

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Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Enter Servant. Serv, He is,

my

lord, an hour agone.
Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the

Sheriff ?
Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought ev'n now.
Hot. What horse ? 'a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
Serv. It is, my lord.
Hot. That roan shall be

my

Throne.
Well, I will back him ftrait. O Esperance !
But Butler lead him forth into the Park.

Lady. But hear you, my Lord.
Hot. What say'st thou, my Lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, niy horse.

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! a weazel hath not
Such a deal of spleen as you are tost with.-
In faith, I'll know your business, that I will.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his Title, and hath sent for you
To line his enterprize : but if you go

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me
Direály to this question, I fall afk.
I'll break thy little Finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
Hot. Away, away, you trisler:- love! I love thee

not,
I care not for thee, Kate; this is no world
To play with * mammets, and to tilt with lips. :
We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns,
And pass them currant too--gods me! my horse.
What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have with

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lady. Do ye not love me? do you not, indeed? Well, do not then. For, since you love me not, * mammets,] i. 6. Girls.

Mr. Pope.

I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no ?

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o'horse-back, I will swear,
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kale,
I must not have you henceforth question me,
Whither I go; nor reason, where about.
Whither I must, I must, and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave thee, gentle Kate.
I know you wise; but yet no further wise
Than Harry Percy's wife. Constant you are,
But

yet a woman; and for secresy,
No lady closer. For I well believe,
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate,
Whither I

go,
thither shall

you go too; To day will I set forth, to-morrow you. Will this content you,

Kate? Lady. It must of force.

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Changes to the Boar's-Head Tavern in East-cheap.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins. P. Henry. NED; pr’ythee come out of that fat room,

and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. Poins. Where haft been, Hal?

P. Henry. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or fourscore hogsheads. I have founded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am fworn brother 10 a lealh of drawers, and can call them all by their Christian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their conscience, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of courtesy; telling me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff, but

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a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy: (by the Lord, so they call me ;) and when I am King of England, I shall command all the good lads in East-cheap. They call drinking deep, dying scarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they cry, hem; and bid you play it off.

-To conclude, I am so good a profi-) cient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou haft loft much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action; but, sweet Ned,-(to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this penny: worth of sugar, clapt even now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that never fpake other English in his life, than Eight Shillings and Six Pence, and you are welcome, Sir : with this shrill addition, Anon, anon, Sir; Score a pint of bastard in the half moon, or so.) But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr’ythee, do thou stand in some bye-room, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the fugar; and do thou never leave calling Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but, anon. Step aside, and I'll shew thee a precedent.

[Poins retires. Poins. Francis, P. Henry. Thou art perfect. Poins. Francis.

S CE N E VIII.

Enter Francis the drawer.

ANOM, anon, Sir; look down into the

Fran.

pomgranet, .
P. Henry. Come hither, Francis.
Fran. My lord.
P. Henry. How long halt thou to serve, Francis ?
Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to-
Poins. Francis,
Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.

P. Henry.

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